Taking her into his arms, Reed held her close. She felt his strong body shuddering, and she raised her face to his. She saw the torment in his gaze, and the pain of it squeezed tightly inside her. His need was her need. She lifted her mouth to his. She slid her hands into his hair and drew his mouth to hers. She parted her lips to taste his kiss more freely, offering herself to him with all the love in her heart.
"What do you suppose they're doin' now?"
Turner gave a harsh laugh. The sun was set ting; they had made a campfire and laid out their bedrolls in a spot where the brisk breeze and the steady heat of the afternoon sun had removed all trace of dampness from the ground. And it looked as if it was going to be a balmy night. Hell, nothing could be better!
Biting off another piece of jerky, Turner chewed it with a satisfied smile, continuing, "I'm bettin' that just about now, Morgan's fit to be tied. I'm thinkin' he had Walker and Simmons jumpin' this way and that all day long while he was watchin' over his shoulder for us to come back."
"Yeah, but I don't know what you're smilin' about." Bartell frowned. "I'm not so sure what we're goin' to be in for when we get back if Morgan's that mad."
"Losin' your nerve, Bartell?" Turner's familiar sneer returned.
"You talk real big out here." Bartell turned angrily toward him. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this!" He glanced at the cattle grazing close by. Second thoughts about the prudence of their actions had loomed ever greater as the day passed. The cattle had been waiting on the other side of the knoll, just as Turner said. They had rounded them up, driven them to join the others, and had settled down for a leisurely afternoon. Turner had dozed most of the time, but he hadn't been that lucky. He had lain awake and started thinking.
"Do you know what the matter with you is, Turner?" Bartell was growing
more angry
by the second. "You think you're smarter than Morgan, but you ain't."
"I ain't listenin'."
"Well, you'd better! I had a lot of time to think while you
was
sawin' wood all afternoon! I must've been crazy to let you talk me into this. Hell, if it wasn't gettin' dark, I'd get these beeves movin' right now!"
"Yeah, but it is gettin' dark, and it wouldn't do you no good, and you know it."
Bartell glared.
"Relax! Morgan ain't goin' to do nothin'! He's so hot to get back to Sedalia that he can't take a chance of doin' nothin' that might complicate things." Turner smiled. "He needs us. And when he
don't
need us anymore, I'm goin' to be long gone."
Bartell reached for his canteen and took a long drink. The water was warm and it tasted foul. He spat it out. He looked up to see Turner still staring at him.
"What are you lookin' at, Turner?"
"You don't have to look so worried. We're goin' back tomorrow."
"At sun- up."
"Hell, no!"
"At sun- up, I said, damn it!" Bartell's face flamed. "And if you give me any trouble, I'll make sure you regret it."
Turner stiffened. "Is that a threat?"
"We're startin' back at sun-up, and that's the end of it." Standing up abruptly, Bartell walked into the bushes and out of sight.
The cabin was silent. The supper meal had been eaten in silence. The table had been cleared in silence. The silence was so heavy that neither Walker nor Simmons dared look at Morgan's face for fear of what they would see.
The day had stretched on, with Morgan driving Simmons and Walker relentlessly, but neither had dared to complain because Morgan had worked right alongside them, pushing
himself
as hard as he was pushing them. The tension had started growing at midday. Walker did not care to remember how many times he had raised his head to see Morgan scanning the horizon. All he knew was that each time, the knot in his stomach had twisted tighter.
Walker silently cursed. He had the feeling that Morgan knew as well as he did that he had made a mistake sending Turner and Bartell after those cattle. And he had the feeling that Morgan suspected just as he did what was happening. There was no way those cattle ran so far that they couldn't be driven back before sundown. Those boys thought they were teachin' Morgan a lesson and gettin' out of some heavy branding at the same time.
Walker glanced at Morgan, who sat tight-lipped. He looked at the Mexican whore to see that she was as tense as he was. He didn't trust the look in her eyes, either, and he wondered if Morgan realized that she was smarter than he gave her credit for.
Walker shifted uncomfortably and pulled at his wiry mustache. Unable to stand it any longer, he addressed Morgan.
''What do you suppose happened to them?"
Morgan snapped back toward him. The expression on his youthful face was so vicious that it forced Walker back an involuntary step as Morgan hissed, "Those bastards you know as well as I do what's keepin' them."
Walker darted a look at Simmons. Realizing there would be no help there, he managed a casual shrug. "Maybe they ran into some kind of trouble that held them up. This is Injun territory, you know."
"The Indians aren't the problem, and you know it."
"Yeah, well…"
Morgan's face twitched. "They'll drive those cattle in here tomorrow like nothin' happened, thinkin' they put one over on me, but they've got a surprise comin'."
A chill crawled up Walker's spine. "What do you mean?"
Morgan's dark eyes met his with a gaze so cold that Walker almost shivered. "Turner's got to be taught a lesson."
Walker swallowed. "Turner's all right. He's just been cooped up here too long. He'll be all right when he gets back to civilization for a while and gets a chance to blow off some steam."
Morgan did not reply. Instead, he stood up abruptly and walked with a slow, measured tread toward the bedroom door. Walker saw the Mexican whore follow him with her gaze. She was still staring when he slammed the door behind him.
Walker looked at Simmons, then back at the woman. The look in her eye compelled him to offer, "I wouldn't worry about Morgan. He's a little upset, is all. He'll be all right in the mornin'."
Conchita turned toward him, her expression frigid. "Do not waste your pity on me. Pity Turner! He is the one who will need it!"
Dismissing him with a scornful glance, Conchita walked to the bedroom door. She paused only briefly before knocking. He saw her raise her chin as Morgan replied with
a
admonition to enter.
"Women!"
Walker turned toward Simmons's low-voiced comment, responding, "I don't give a damn about that whore. All I know is that Turner's in for
it,
and it looks to me like Bartell just might get caught in the crossfire. When
them
two get back tomorrow, I'm goin' to make sure I give them all plenty of room."
"Morgan's gettin' crazier every day."
Walker glanced at the door,
then
hissed, "What's the matter with you? What if Morgan heard you? He'd kill both of us!"
Simmons held his gaze. "Yeah… I know."
Simmons was a man of few words, but his message came through loud and clear.
The message lingered as Walker drew himself to his feet. He was going to have to make some hard decisions soon.
Tomorrow would tell the tale.
The sun was up. The day was clear.
Reed glanced cautiously around him as he affixed the parson's collar that chafed more at his conscience with every passing day. But he was never more aware that he was bound to the course of action he had set for himself, just as he was bound to the parson's collar that would be Chastity's greatest protection in the days to come.
Reed reviewed Jenkins's map again in his mind. If all went well, he would be in the vicinity of Morgan's hideout sometime that day. He had already decided to keep his surveillance as brief as possible.
Involved with harnessing the horses, Reed looked up as Chastity returned from the stream. His heart jumped in his chest at the sight of her. Freshly bathed, her skin was almost luminous. Her hair was knotted loosely at her neck, the color seeming to glow in the light of early morning. She was lost in thought, her expression sober. As he watched, she touched her locket,
then
gripped it in her palm…
…
and
he remembered.
Reed swallowed, the import of his recollection setting his heart to pounding. It had been a year earlier. He had been in Texas, on the trail of a rustler who was raiding ranches in the south. He remembered passing the camp of some drovers. He had asked for the boss of the outfit and the foreman said the boss had ridden ahead. He made his inquiries and was about to leave when the boss rode up. The boss was a woman. He didn't speak more than a few words to her. Dressed in drover's gear with her hat pulled down low on her forehead, she was tall and slim. At first glance, her gender was betrayed only by the long, blond braid that trailed down her back…
and the gold, heart-shaped locket visible in the open neck of her shirt.
Her face was in the shadows. He did not get a good look at her, but looking back, he saw her seated on her mount, supervising as the men cut an injured calf out of the herd. She was frowning, and while he watched, she reached up to grasp her locket in her palm. She was still clutching it when he turned away and rode off.
Reed swallowed. Chastity was right. She had said her sister was close by.
But so was Morgan.
Reed stared at Chastity. Should he tell her?
So much depended on the next few days.
Reed abruptly realized the full absurdity of that thought. One more omission… a few more lies.
Chastity turned toward him and her frown became a smile. The dwindling hours before the full scope of his deceit was revealed to her were suddenly priceless. He could not sacrifice them.
The image of Jenny's lifeless countenance suddenly bright before his mind, Reed felt his throat close. Images haunted Chastity. She needed to put them to rest.
But he had haunting images of his own.
Breaking contact with Chastity's gaze, Reed buckled the harness tight,
then
checked it, allowing long moments to regain control of the tumult inside him. He turned back to Chastity at last and forced a smile.
"Are you ready to go?"
He approached her, unable to resist sliding his arm around her when he reached her side. She leaned against him, and the knot within him tightened to pain.
Chastity's locket glinted in the rays of the morning sun, mocking his smile as he brushed her lips with his,
then
lifted her up onto the seat.
The scent of slaughter abounded.
Mounted, quaking with rage, Bartell surveyed the carnage before him. Five steers six lay butchered and bloody. Nearby, several others stood wobbling on their feet, slashed and bleeding profusely. Such had been the scene when he had awakened and ridden out to check on the steers they had assembled for the short drive back to the cabin.
He had ridden back to their camp and awakened Turner. He had pulled him to his feet, furious when he resisted. He had dragged him back to see the result of the nighttime predators' attack, with Turner getting
more surly
by the moment.
Perspiration trailed from beneath the brim of Bartell's hat despite the brisk, early-morning breeze. He turned toward Turner where he sat his horse beside him. His unshaven face twitching, Bartell shouted, "This is your fault! I wanted to bring them steers back yesterday! Now look what happened!"
"Pull yourself together. It ain't the end of the world! So we lost a few steers! What's Morgan goin' to do about it?"
"It ain't only the steers we lost…" Bartell looked back at the bloodied scene, disbelieving he could have slept through the sounds of the savage attack. He took a shaken breath. "We can't be sure how long it's goin' to take us to round up the rest of them steers again. Morgan will be foamin'."
"You make me sick, you know that, Bartell!"
"Yeah…" Bartell was seething. Turner was a big talker, but he knew what would happen to all that big talk when he faced Morgan again. He was tired of covering for Turner, and he had been a fool to let himself be talked into a situation that was getting worse by the minute. He stated flatly, "Well, I'm tellin' you somethin' here and now. We're goin' to round up them cows quick, and we're goin' to drive them back to Morgan just as quick, or I'm ridin' back by myself. And if I do, there's no way you'll live to collect your share when Morgan sells off that herd."
"Remember somethin', Bartell! You agreed to this little game we're playin'. I didn't twist your arm!"
"Get movin', Turner, or I swear"
"All right!"
Turner jerked his reins tight. "Let's go, but don't say another word, damn it! I'm warnin' you, I've had all I can take!"