The Forbidden Ranch: Honor Elizabeth Wilde Tale 0f Suspense (Half Breed Haven Book 5)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  “I would surely enjoy the pleasure of your company, in my bed over there, assuming you have no issues with me being colored,” she told him forthrightly as they broke the kiss.

  “Are you kidding? That makes me want you even more,” she heard him groan. “You’re the most exotic thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, the perfect blend between two worlds,” he told her in a rush, bending for another kiss while she wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the feeling of his around her trim waist.

  Her large breasts pressed against his strong chest as she clustered close. Being so near to him caused her inner warmth to grow a tingle that she loved. Then she gave a soft cry of surprise as he scooped her up and carried her to the side of the bed when suddenly a wave of conflicting emotions cascaded over her and she called out.

  “Put me down!”

  He moved to lay her on the bed when she surprised him by gripping his shoulder and adding. "On my feet." A moment later she stood before him, guilt stabbing away at her as she looked into his puzzled eyes.

  “I am sorry. I truly am. I want to … please believe it, but I can’t.”

  “No, I should apologize. Whatever I might have done to offend you, I am sorry.”

  “No, please, Jeb. You did nothing wrong. I meant what I said. I want to. It just cannot be here.”

  It was the truth. Honor burned to be with this man, but it was only on the rarest of occasions that the sisters would lay with a man under their father's roof. Whip loved his daughters to no end and he was fully aware of their dalliances with men, but never tried to stop them. Out of respect for him, they avoided having men at Cedar Ledge and never, absolutely never, would they engage in one of their flings with Whip in the house. Here tonight she had nearly broken that covenant which would have left her with all manner of guilt to deal with. Guilt for disrespecting her father, guilt for willingness to break the unspoken rule which the sisters had always abided. There was no escaping any guilt, though, because she felt horrible about seeming like a tease to this fine lawman.

  "It is my father being downstairs. I cannot," she finally said, the honesty mirrored in her eyes. He smiled and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “You’re a fine daughter, Miss Honor Elizabeth.”

  “We will pick this up again. That I can assure you.”

  “I await the moment.” A long moment of silence and longing passed between them before Jeb spoke again.

  "I suppose it's high time I dealt with your guest from the wrecked stagecoach, Miss San Cristobel. I need to see her baggage. Marisol is a messenger for her brother, Esteban," he told her as he squeezed her hand and gestured for her to lead the way.

  CHAPTER 14

  * * *

  Arriving downstairs, they found that, luckily, Marisol was still sleeping while Whip was dozing in the nearby chair.

  “Daddy decided it was best to keep her on the ground floor so she did not have to deal with the stairs in her injured state,” she told Jeb, or Pat, she reminded herself of his real name. She should properly get used to that, but to her, he was still Jeb.

  “Your father’s a good man from what I’ve heard,” Jeb nodded. “It’s too bad he’s wasting his good will on the sister of a criminal,” he said sadly, watching as Honor walked over to her father and shook his shoulder.

  “Daddy, Daddy wake up,” she said.

  The older man roused awake immediately. It was an old habit from his youth as a naval officer when becoming alert and able to get on deck could mean the difference between life and death.

  “What? Oh, Honor. What is it, honey?” he said just as Honor noticed his eyes sliding over to Jeb, or Pat. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” he asked, surging to his feet.

  “It is okay, Daddy, it is okay. This is the man, Jeb that I told you about. It turns out he is a U.S. Marshall out to bring down a cattle smuggling ring that Dewitt’s syndicate is running between here and Mexico. He needs to see Marisol’s baggage,” she told him.

  The judge was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes carefully going over Jeb. “It’s right over there,” he finally answered, pointing to the bag beside the bed that Marisol slept on. “Exactly how long have you been in my house, son?” He asked Jeb bluntly.

  “Daddy!” Honor exclaimed, surprised. Jeb started rifling through the bag and deflected the old rancher’s question.

  “I have been doing my undercover work for over a year, here and in Mexico using a dead killer’s name,” he began to mutter. “This woman, Marisol is a messenger for her brother Esteban, one of Mexico’s more notorious criminals. Our government has teamed up with the federales down there to put an end to his operation. Now that my cover is blown, I need to contact my boss over in White Stone Canyon,” he finished, speaking to the judge and Honor at the same time.

  He dug through the unconscious woman’s bag once more, and then with a soft exclamation, he pulled out a sheaf of papers.

  “Excellent. These are bills of lading and transfer of funds papers between Esteban and Dewitt. They are the proof we need!” He said with approval.

  “In Mexico, spies earn themselves a death warrant you know.”

  Jeb, Honor, and her father jumped as Marisol spoke from the bed. Somehow, she had been awake the entire time and had a gun pointing at them now.

  “That’s my gun!” Whip said in surprise.

  "I came to an hour ago," she revealed. "… and was going to leave. I made it to the door but realized the medicine is keeping me too groggy. I did notice your holster hanging there and took the gun for my own use in the morning if it became necessary," she explained.

  “You don’t want to do this, Marisol. There is good in you. I saw that when we first spoke,” he told her pleadingly.

  “You are right, Señor, there is good in me. I do not wish to do this, but you do not know my brother. He does not hold his power by being a kind old soul. He does it with fear and violence, intimidation and murder. He told me that sister or not, he would have me killed if I didn’t warn DeWitt about this spy to save the operation,” she said.

  Her explanation got a long sigh from the judge. “You are on our side of the border, we can protect you,” he said.

  Marisol looked flushed and drowsy, the drug still having an effect on her, combined with the fact that she was currently stressing herself with the current situation. She shook her head as if to clear it, though, still pointing the gun at all three of them.

  “So hard to think … I want to believe you,” she stammered.

  “Turn evidence against your brother and Dewitt. It will guarantee your safety. They will either be behind bars or swinging from the gallows,” Jeb urged her.

  “To be free of my brother … he is such a monster. It is what I have dreamed of my whole life. Can you do this? Is it possible?” she questioned vaguely, looking confused.

  “I will help you, Marisol. You can trust me,” Whip urged her.

  “You can believe him when he speaks. My father is one of the most respected men in the entire Arizona territory,” Honor told the woman.

  “He is a kind man, a wonderful man, I can tell, but no … my brother is too deadly. You don’t know him,” she said suddenly, raising the gun with grim determination. She, however, slowly passed out before she could aim properly, her body falling sideways onto the bed. The gun went off and Honor heard a ricochet. Jeb gasped a second later, grabbing his arm.

  “Jeb!” she called out. Her father was closer to Jeb, so he attended to him while she quickly went to the woman on the bed.

  “She is crazed with sleep drugs, she fainted!” Honor announced.

  “How bad are you hit, son?” her father was already asking Jeb.

  "I am okay, but I surely can't ride anymore, Judge Wilde. He held up his left hand and Honor gasped at the sight of where the bullet had torn its way through the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and first finger. "Not with this hand. Can't hold the reins to make it on horseback. I'm done unless you help me. My saddlebags, a coded report se
wed inside; take them plus the papers I found in Marisol's bag to Marshal Bill Rodgers at the Waverly Ranch in White Stone Canyon. Tell 'em, the iron is hot!" He finished with a slight gasp. His wound was hurting him and he swayed unsteadily. As Honor Elizabeth wrapped his hand, neither her nor her father saying anything until she spoke what they all knew she would say, which was her decision that she would deliver the message.

  “I can get the message through, but I am worried about you, Jeb, and you too Daddy. Those ruffians could indeed be on their way and they will want to see Jeb dead,” she told him worriedly as she began to edge out of the room, ready to race to the stable and saddle up her mount, this time, for the ride to White Stone Canyon.

  “No, I’ll still be here when you come back. Waiting to tell you what a wonder you are,” Jeb managed to reply, attempting to put her mind at rest.

  She felt a warmth tingle within her at his kind words. She silently vowed she would return to him as quickly as possible as she winked at her father and dashed out of the house. Slowly the pair of men looked at each other.

  “They will come,” Jeb said at last.

  “Then we will be ready for them. Find the kitchen. Just off it are the quarters for our help. Tell them to get ready to flee Cedar Ledge,” Whip said as he turned away from the man, expecting his requests to be carried out. The sound of Jeb’s receding footsteps told him that it had.

  A moment later he was at Marisol's bedside. She was no longer out but semi-conscious and she was mumbling, but it this time it was all English. Whip could sense she was aware of him especially by what she was saying.

  "So sorry. Didn't mean it … so sorry. You can't understand … you can't know what my brother is like … he is a pure evil. Pleasure … he takes pleasure in being evil." With that, she closed her eyes and was out again. Gently Whip picked up her hand and pondered what she said. What kind of monster takes pleasure in evil?

  ***

  Across the border, in his compound in the Canebraro Valley, the pleasure Esteban San Cristobel was taking was in the form of one of his maids, the fetching, brown-eyed beauty Rafaella.

  From his position where he sat on a chair across his brown office table loaded with ledgers concerning his criminal empire, he grunted as she stepped into the room showing her a grimace that indicated that he wasn’t happy with her.

  “You didn’t show up immediately when I summoned you, wench!” He hissed at her.

  Rafaella smiled inwardly. Of course, she had shown up in his office immediately after she had got word that he had summoned her. Perhaps she did pause for a bit to beautify herself first, but that was for her benefit. So was the removal of her clothes. She would soon calm his impatience and would please him though. Rafaella knew what he wanted and wasn't the kind of woman to hold back from fulfilling his desires. She basked in his power, and as long as she stuck by him, she would benefit from it herself.

  So, she stepped towards the table, wiggling her body out of the robe she had slipped on before making her way across the compound to the big house. Underneath she was completely naked and as soon as the fabric dropped to the floor, she saw the expected delight in Esteban's eyes. He groaned satisfyingly and stood from his chair. As he walked around the table to meet her, Rafaella batted her eyelashes seductively at him and raised her leg to rest on the edge of the table.

  He knew what he had to do, as much as she knew what he wanted. He drew down his pants instantly and held his cock in between his fingers.

  “You want this too, uh?” He muttered.

  Rafaella managed to nod as he drew back her arms and stretched them to hang behind her back. He pushed her forward, making sure her shapely breasts were plastered to the smooth surface of the table. Immediately, she felt the tip of his cock as it dipped slowly within her but not in her honeywell. Rafaella had heard often enough he did not wish to see her body corrupted with a bulging abdomen heavy with child so he always chose her other entrance.

  "Oh, Esteban…."

  Further words were unable to slip out of her lips. The entire length of his cock rammed into her hole, stealing her breath away. Rafaella tried to move her hips, creating more space for his cock down there but he wouldn’t have it. He held her legs in place with his strong thighs and began to thrust viciously,

  She didn't have a choice, this was what he preferred and this was her lot in life as a gangster's woman. It surely beat her true job as one of the maids. Any work she did now was just for show. As Rafaella gritted her teeth and breathed through her nose she knew this was worth it, and besides, she had learned to enjoy it this way. She moaned endlessly, feeling an electrifying jolt coursing through her spine as he continuously thrust, intending to never stop until his balls clenched from his own climax.

  “Senor San Cristobel?” a woman’s voice called from behind the door.

  “Come!” he bellowed, having no intention of stopping what he was doing. Nothing came before his pleasure. Nothing.

  Rafaella, however, groaned out loud, complaining, as the door behind them suddenly jerked open. She became more annoyed when she looked over her shoulder to see who it was. Manuela, the older maid in the house and a previous plaything of Esteban was staring at them from the door with an equally irritated look. She seemed to be more displeased with Rafaella though … who happened to also be her daughter. Her resentment ran deep at being displaced by her own offspring when she had aged and lost Esteban's interest to Rafaella.

  “Report!” Esteban groaned, still thrusting fast and refusing to stare behind his shoulder at Manuela. He had summoned her earlier at the same time as he had sent for her daughter.

  “Señor … No … no word from your sister, Marisol,” Manuela managed in a strained voice as her gaze moved from Rafaella to Esteban and then back to Rafaella. She spat in Rafaela’s direction in the moment before Esteban finally glanced over the shoulder at her with a frown.

  “No word?” He asked as if the words just registered in his thoughts.

  “Not a single word. Ricardo has just come from the telegram office in town. There was nothing for you,” Manuela repeated.

  A deeper frown crossed over Esteban’s face. His letter to DeWitt had instructed him to send a coded message by telegram that the undercover man had been dealt with before he could harm their cross-border operation. Irritated with a wave of his hand he dismissed Manuela.

  “Out!” He bellowed. “Out!”

  Preferring to take his mind off potential disaster brewing on the Arizona side of the border he began thrusting deeper and faster, oblivious of the ominous look that Manuela threw at Rafaella again before she sauntered out of the room.

  Rafaella didn’t mind any of that though. She was already lost in between a sea of rippling pleasure that washed over her. She closed her eyes as Esteban’s thrusts reached a frenzy while he was gripping and squeezing her breasts at the same time and driving desktop romp towards its apex.

  Seconds later, out in the hallway, Manuela stopped in her tracks, looking at the antique musket of a conquistador that hung in a sizeable alcove off hallway wall. San Cristobel liked to tell everyone it had belonged to Cortez itself; a lie of course, but none would challenge him on it. Manuela gazed at it but not seeing it. All that had her attention was the pair's moans and screams that echoed through the walls of the house as they climaxed as she remembered how once they would have belonged to her.

  CHAPTER 15

  * * *

  With every turn that she made through the dark trails towards White Stone Canyon, Honor felt her heart thumping so hard it felt heavy in her chest. The wind blew harshly across her face too, reminding her how fast she rode and the severity of her mission. When she finally got to Waverly Ranch, she demanded to see Bill Rodgers immediately, ignoring the weapons that were drawn at her as her horse halted to a quick stop in front of the ranch house with eager eyes watching her movements. When she insisted one last time on seeing Marshal Bill Rodgers, a hairy, fair-skinned man with a white mustache finally stepped out from withi
n the men, his hat tipped to receive her.

  She went right on to delivering her message immediately, having no time to waste on courtesy.

  “The iron is hot …” she told the men, repeating the exact words that Jeb had sent to them.

  The men stopped aiming at her afterward, their gaze uniformly moving on to Bill Rodgers. He seemed to have detected the urgency in her voice and rounded up the men instantly with a whistle and another tip of his hat. It was not long before the men mounted their horses, getting ready to ride and trading comments on the mission.

  “The words come, boys. Boots and saddles!” Bill Rodgers cheered.

  “Raid on the Triple W home place. We’ll smell plenty of powder tonight!” one of the men shouted with gusto, exciting his horse with pats from his boots.

  “But the men probably aren’t at Triple W, but onto Jeb—Pat Nevers!” Honor mounted up beside Bill Rodgers, hoping to get them to focus on getting back to Cedar Ledge first before taking on Triple W.

  “Dewitt’s men may well have figured he was heading for my family’s ranch! We have to get back there fast!” She tried to explain to Bill Rodgers.

  “Don’t worry, little lady. Pat Nevers is the best deputy this marshal has ever had, and I don’t intend to lose him,” Bill Rodgers told her with a grim smile. “This showdown’s been planned for a month, awaiting word from Pat about real evidence. He schemed this deal from start to finish. We’ll split our forces in half. Some to the Triple W and others and you and I will head to Cedar Ledge!”

  This older gentleman with his bushy white mustache, Bill Rodgers surely looked like he knew what he was doing. Despite his age, Honor did not make the mistake of thinking the man wasn’t up to snuff. There was a hardness in his eyes that spoke of courage and resilience.