Runaway

“No, I’m gonna buy her for me. I’ll just let you ride her,” he corrected her. “You stay right here while I talk to the man.”

Cassie nodded, willing to be removed from the flurry of activity at the corral. She stepped to a bale of hay and sat, conscious of the pants she wore and the occasional looks of speculation drifting her way from one or another of the cowhands. There was an air about some of them, a hint of furtive searching of her person that reminded her of Remus Chandler, and she shivered at the memory.

From within the barn she heard the shuffling of feet, a murmur of voices, and then in the doorway beside her a man appeared, the strong odor of perspiration announcing his presence. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her gaze colliding with narrowed eyes that slid over her slender form.

“Hey, there, missy. Want to step in here a minute?” His voice was low, almost guttural, and Cassie’s eyes widened as another man appeared just behind the first.

She shook her head. “No, I sure don’t, mister.” A quick look toward Will, who stood near the corral, prompted her to speech and she opened her mouth to call his name. A grimy hand whipped through the air to cover her mouth, and she was hauled with harsh hands into the yawning mouth of the barn.

“No need to be shy, honey,” her captor whined, releasing her mouth, turning her to face him. “I’ll warrant I can cut you a better deal than the one you got from that fella you rode in with.”

“Let go of me!” Cassie struggled against the grimy hands holding her.

“I’m not hurtin’ you, honey. Just want to give you the taste of a real man.”

The second assailant chuckled behind her and Cassie turned her head to shoot a vengeful glare in his direction. “I’m not interested,” she said, her stomach rolling as she turned her head aside, avoiding his seeking mouth.

“The lady already has a man.” From the shadows a third figure stepped into view and Cassie’s eyes pinned him with the terror she made no attempt to hide.

“Outta here, half-breed.” Snarled from the mouth she’d been trying so desperately to avoid, the words carried the stench of cigarettes. She gagged, turning from the fetid breath of the man holding her.

The Indian stepped closer, his lithe body tense as he surveyed the two cowhands. “Let her go.” It was the bravest display Cassie had seen in a month of Sundays, this dark-skinned horseman confronting two white cowhands.

Gasping for breath, wiggling against the grimy hands that held her, Cassie flung herself in desperation toward the ground. Her legs collapsed beneath her and the man holding her lost his grip for a moment.

She inhaled and shrieked for Will, attempting to crawl toward the open barn door. The second man lurched toward her, grasping her ankle. She kicked out at him. His yelp of surprise spurred Will into a loping run, catching the attention of several other cowhands.

“Damn stinkin’ Indian! Get movin’.”

The two men had their hands full tussling with the Indian, who had blocked their exit, and Cassie scrambled to sit against the barn wall as Will burst through the doorway.

Cassie’s bronze-skinned defender staggered into the shadow of a stall, reeling from a blow. Will ignored him, his hands fisting as he considered the two cowhands facing him. Barely pausing, he drew back to deliver a telling blow to the nearest of the pair.

The cowhand’s head lolled to one side as he slumped to the floor. Without pause, Will swung to size up the second man. Cassie’s eyes widened in dismay as her assailant’s hand reached for his holster, drawing a gun even as he backed from the brief battle before him.

Dropping to the floor and rolling in automatic reflex, Will ducked as the bullet hit the wall behind him. He came to his feet smoothly, his hand flashing with the knife he had drawn from his boot. In one shimmering, underhand movement, the blade flew to lodge in the cowhand’s shoulder. With a clatter, his gun fell to the barn floor.

“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” The man from the corral stood in the doorway, his keen gaze focused on Will, then sweeping over the two cowhands and finally coming to rest on Cassie.

“You hurt, girl?” he asked bluntly.

“No, sir.” She shook her head, pressing back against the wall, brushing distractedly at her clothing.

“You particularly attached to these men?” Will asked harshly.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m bleedin’ bad,” the wounded man whined, and then, at Will’s vengeful glance, subsided.

“I’ll pull out my knife, but that’s all the help you’ll get from me,” Will told him, fury alive in each word. “If I had my way, you’d be on your way to a hangin’ tree.”

“She was askin’ for it.” He twisted his head to inspect his injury, then yelped as Will’s hand grasped the handle of the knife and pulled it from the wound in a swift movement.

With contempt, Will wiped the blood from the blade against the victim’s pant leg, then slid it into the sheath inside his own boot. “You’d do well to shut up while you’re still able to talk, mister, or the next thing she’ll be askin’ for is your head on a platter,” Will said with deceptive mildness.

The cowhand stifled his muttering and appealed with an uplifted hand to his employer.

“I’ll give you a rag to wrap your shoulder with, Hopkins, and then you’ll be out of here. You’d be advised to make tracks before this gentleman changes his mind. From the way that knife stopped you dead, I’d say he’s quite a hand in a fight.”

Will turned to where Cassie sat against the wall, and dropped to one knee beside her. “Sure you’re all right?” he asked. At her quick nod, he lifted her to her feet, steering her outside to sit atop a bale of hay.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Cassie said softly. “I truly didn’t say or do anything to give them leave to act that way.”

“Just bein’ here was enough of a nudge where men like those two are concerned.” He tilted his hat back and surveyed her, his eyes still dark with the residue of anger. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cass. Just remember that.”

With long strides he walked to where the older man stood. Gesturing toward the barn, he was sending several men on a mission, guaranteed to rid his operation of the pair of troublemakers. His look toward Will was apologetic, and his hand swept out in a gesture of respect.

Will grasped it firmly and shook it, then dipped his hand into his side pocket. Quickly he counted out cash, paying for the horse he’d chosen, and turned to where the mare was tied to the top pole of the corral.

Motioning Cassie to join him, he handed her the reins. “The fella’s gonna write me up a bill of sale. We’ll get some food from the house. Just have to tell the cook he sent us.” Gathering up the reins of his stallion, Will started toward the house.

Breakfast had been scant—flat biscuits and some stringy, dried meat that required an enormous amount of chewing. Food freshly cooked would taste like manna from heaven, Cassie thought, trailing behind Will.

Tying the reins to a hitching rail near the back door of the big farmhouse, Will shot her a glance. “Wait here. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Cassie nodded, then turned to the brown mare. She lifted one hand to touch the side of the animal’s jaw, felt the flinch of alarm as the horse responded to the unaccustomed handling. “It’s all right, girl. It’s all right,” she murmured beneath her breath, feeling a measure of bravery as she increased the pressure of her stroking.

“You ride much, ma’am?” From behind, the raspy voice startled her and Cassie jerked. The mare whinnied, tossing her head, and Cassie turned quickly.

The tall man from the corral had followed them, and now he eyed the young woman before him, her face flushed from the sun and no small amount of anger. “She’ll settle down,” he said quietly. “You married to that cowboy?”

Cassie swallowed, wary of the lie she must tell. Her chin tilted as she considered the man who watched her. “Will Tolliver’s my husband, yes,” she said finally. “I’m Sarah Jane Tolliver.”

“You’re not in trouble, are you, Sarah Jane Tolliver?” The eyes watching her narrowed a bit, taking on a speculative gleam as he awaited her reply.

Cassie stiffened, her gaze meeting his. “No sir, mister. I’m not.”

“I’ve got a daughter about your age, girl. I’m not sure I’d want her ridin’ around the country dressed in a man’s duds, drawin’ the eye of every cowhand and stray Indian.”

Cassie’s mouth firmed, her jaw tightening at his words. “That Indian in the barn didn’t hurt me.”

“You didn’t answer me, girl. I asked if you do much ridin’.”

“Not much, lately. But Will says I can handle her all right.” Cassie drew in a deep breath. “Mister, that Indian in the barn was trying to help me.”

“He was part of the problem, miss. He’s already on his way.”

She flinched at his words, but subsided, aware that nothing she said would make a difference.