Pete (The Cowboys) (31 page)

She wondered what he would do to convince her to continue to support his lie. With Peter dead, there was no one to prove they had ever been married. Without that, she couldn’t inherit anything as his widow. She would have no money, no place to live, nowhere to go. Would Pete threaten to turn her over to her uncle and Cyrus McCaine? Wouldn’t marriage to Pete, even if he were a murderer, be better than a lifetime sentence as Cyrus’s wife?

Anne refused to let herself consider such an option. Nothing could be worse than being married to a murderer.

Pete had been kind to her. He’d treated her better than anyone had ever treated her, including Peter. He hadn’t forced himself on her that first night or any of the nights after that. When she’d made love to him, she’d done so because she wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Love! How could she use such a word! How could any woman love a man who’d done what he’d done?

But he’d been sweet and charming and thoughtful. He’d bought her clothes, a beautiful ring, told her she was beautiful,
treated
her as if she was beautiful. He’d even acted as if he loved her.

She was thinking like a fool. She’d been starved for love and affection for so long that she was willing to defend the first man who gave it to her, even if he was a criminal. She had to get her emotions under control. She didn’t know anything about killers. She’d always assumed they were vicious. But it would seem logical that any man who wanted to pretend to be someone he wasn’t would have to be charming enough to make the victims want him to be that person. Dozens of little things had warned her, had made her question whether Pete was Peter.

But he’d been so charming, sweet, generous, considerate, appreciative, capable, masterful, big, strong, handsome—all the things a woman wanted in a husband—it was no wonder she’d wanted to believe he was Peter.

She couldn’t imagine any other man spending so much time or money making certain she found just the right dresses to flatter her face and figure. Nor had he quibbled at all the extras she bought to make herself beautiful. He’d given with a free hand.

And the ring! She could still remember the tears she’d shed when he’d slipped it on her finger.

Fool! Why shouldn’t he be generous? It wasn’t his money. And every penny he spent made her more determined than ever to believe in him. She didn’t doubt him even when Mrs. Dean said he was an imposter. She didn’t believe anyone until Pete himself told her he wasn’t Peter.

That didn’t make any sense. Why should he have told her he wasn’t Peter? He needed her support now more than ever. As far as she could see, he had everything to lose and nothing to gain.

But he’d only told her when he came up against Bill Mason and his armed cowhands. Maybe he thought that by confessing to the smaller crime of being an imposter, she wouldn’t believe him guilty of the bigger one, killing Peter and Belser. But why confess to any crime? Why not go on pretending complete innocence? After that night in his arms, she would have believed anything he said.

She tried not to remember that evening, but it was impossible. She had been certain she’d found love, a place to belong forever. She’d thought she had finally been transformed from a girl into a woman. She doubted Pete was in love with her yet, but she was certain he soon would be.

She wasn’t experienced in love. But she couldn’t believe a man could make her feel that wonderful, so totally re-created, unless he cared deeply. She wasn’t very good with the physical sensations connected with love—they were too new to her—but she was an expert in feelings of the heart. She knew when people disliked her, looked down on her, didn’t think her worth considering.

Pete cared. No matter what he’d done, she knew he cared.

And she cared about him. She couldn’t deny that. How could she not care for a man who’d made her feel wanted, valued, safe, beautiful, intelligent—all the things Uncle Carl and the other men she’d known had made it a point to deny. For the first time in her life, she’d felt good about herself. She’d felt confident enough to stand up to Mrs. Dean, to fire Belser, to ride ten miles across the plains to the roundup when she’d never been more than a hundred yards from the ranch house in her life. She’d even felt confident enough to stop apologizing for being part Indian.

But none of that should count when set against the horrible crimes he’d committed. There was no telling how many men he’d killed before he ran into Peter Warren and realized what an opportunity had fallen into his lap. For all she knew, he could be a notorious killer, wanted all over the West for dozens of horrible crimes. She was lucky he hadn’t killed her. She’d have to escape.

She got out of bed and checked the door to the cabin. Locked. That didn’t surprise her. She’d expected it. But he couldn’t lock her in all the time. There would be times when he wasn’t watching, when her horse would be ahead or behind his, times when she would need to disappear into the woods to be alone. She just had to be ready to take advantage of the opportunity when it came.

Yet as she climbed back into her bed and pulled the rough covers over her, a part of her couldn’t admit Pete was a murderer. A part of her brain said no man who’d treated her as he had could be such a vicious criminal.

What if Pete was telling the truth?

But that was impossible. There was no point in trying to make him innocent. She just had to think of him as two people. One of those people was a wonderful man who was on the verge of falling in love with her. The other was a vicious killer willing to do anything to get his way. She just had to keep reminding herself that she couldn’t have one without the other.

Pete had awakened to look out on a ground stiff with frost. Sudden snows could come at any time of the year in the higher elevations. By the time the sun had melted the frost, he’d fed and watered the horses, loaded the packhorse, and saddled the others. He didn’t want to stay here too long. This cabin looked too well used. He was certain someone would think to look here. He wanted to be gone before that happened.

He woke Anne, but she refused to speak to him, look at him, or eat any of the food he offered. He supposed she would become a little more accommodating when she got hungry, but he didn’t have time to wait. Right now he wanted to get on the horses and leave. The sun had disappeared, the wind had picked up, and the sky had turned a dull blue-gray. It looked like snow.

“You need to get dressed and packed,” he said when it became clear Anne wasn’t going to eat.

“Why?”

“I’m sure Mason or his men will think to check this cabin before long.”

“Good. I want them to find me. I want them to shoot you.”

“Well, I don’t, so oblige me by being ready in five minutes.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“What will you do if I don’t, beat me?”

He stomped out of the cabin, afraid he’d say something unforgivable. Though why he should worry about that now he couldn’t say. If she really did want Mason to shoot him, he didn’t have an awful lot more to lose. He’d made a mistake in telling her the truth.

He hadn’t gone ten steps from the cabin before movement on a distant slope caught his attention. Riders. Six of them. He didn’t need binoculars to know they were Mason’s men. He raced back to the cabin.

“Riders are coming. We’ve got to leave now.”

“You go if you want. I can’t stop you, but I’m staying here.”

“Mason wants your ranch. He intends to marry you to get it. If you don’t say yes, he’ll take you to his ranch and keep you there until you do. Once you’re pregnant with his child, you won’t have much choice.”

He’d expected her to show surprise, shock, even a little fear. He saw none of those—only anger.

“I’d rather be pregnant with his child than yours.”

Pete hadn’t thought of the possibility that she might already be carrying his child. It was a slim chance, but the notion nearly unmanned him. He’d never thought of children except as belonging to someone else. Even then he wasn’t too high on them. They were always underfoot, always demanding something, needing something. Their parents couldn’t seem to talk about anything else.

But the possibility that he and Anne might have created a child together raised the concept of fatherhood to quite a different status. He couldn’t think of giving up his kid. Even less could he accept the idea that his son might be raised by another man. Especially a man like Bill Mason, who would have no interest in seeing that the child of another man lived to grow up.

“Are you pregnant?” Pete asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. You know it’s impossible to tell this early.”

He didn’t know. It was something that had never concerned him.

“Well, I’m not letting Bill Mason get his hands on you until we know for sure.”

“I told you I’m not leaving here.”

“I’ll carry you over my shoulder if I have to, but you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“They’ll be here before long. We’ve got to leave.”

“No.”

He didn’t have time to argue. “I’m sorry, but you made me do this.”

She tried to dodge him when he moved toward her, but there wasn’t enough room in the cabin. He reached out when she tried to dash by, caught her arm, and pulled her to him. She struck out at him with her fists, but he caught her arms and pinned them behind her.

“We don’t have to do it this way.”

“You do if you plan to take me out of this cabin.”

She struggled against him. But after years of back-breaking work in the minefields, he was far too strong for her. He picked her up and carried her outside.

“You can’t leave all my things inside.”

“I’ll get them once you’re on your horse.”

She didn’t say a word when he lifted her into the saddle. But the instant he turned back to the cabin, she jumped off the horse and started to run. He caught her before she’d gone twenty yards.

“I’m not going,” she said, panting heavily from her exertions.

“Yes, you are, so you might as well stop fighting.”

“I’ll just run away again as soon as you turn your back.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to tie your hands behind you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m trying to save my neck. Whether you believe it or not, I’m trying to save yours as well. I’ll do anything I have to.”

She fought like a little tiger, but he had her hands tied behind her back in a trice. “Now if you try to jump off your horse, you’ll fall.”

“Help!”

The scream caught him by surprise. The mountainside threw it back at him.

“Stop, you little fool. They’ll hear you.”

“That’s what I want.” She screamed again.

Pete clamped his hand over her mouth. He studied the group of riders nervously. They showed no signs they’d heard her cry for help, but they’d soon be close enough to hear.

“Don’t do that again.”

She stared defiantly at him.

“I’m going to uncover your mouth. If you—”

She screamed before he had fully removed his hand. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she was going to scream every chance she got.

“I’m sorry to do this, but you give me no choice.” He pulled his handkerchief from around his neck and gagged her.

She looked shocked. More than that, she looked absolutely furious.

“I hate to do this, but I can’t trust you not to scream again.”

She fought him hard, but with her hands tied behind her back, there wasn’t much she could do.

He lifted her into the saddle. “In case you are stubborn enough to throw yourself from your horse again, I’m going to tie your feet below the saddle. No point kicking,” he said when she did her best to kick him in the head. “I’m ten times as strong as you. You might as well give in and wait for a better chance to escape.”

Apparently she agreed, for she stopped struggling the moment he tied her feet. “I have to collect the rest of our things. I don’t want to leave any signs we’ve been here.” Just in case she decided to spur her horse in an effort to run away while he was inside, he tethered the horse to the rail. She rewarded him with an evil glare.

It took precious minutes to collect Anne’s belongings and return the cabin to its previous look of neglect. Once outside, he did his best to erase the hoof-prints the horses had left around the cabin. A line rider could account for a few tracks but not all that their three horses had created since yesterday.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” he said to Anne when he mounted up. “If we get lucky, we might find another line cabin. If not, Ray says there are caves up in those mountains. They might have to do.”

Anne didn’t show any response, but then he couldn’t expect much with her hands and feet tied and a gag in her mouth. He didn’t know how she would react to hiding in a cave. He wouldn’t like it much, but he’d lived in worse conditions at more than one mining camp. All he asked was that water didn’t drip from the ceiling.

The first snowflakes started to fall as they rode away from the cabin. Finally, a piece of good luck. The snow would cover the hoofprints. With luck, Mason’s men would decide they’d never been here and stop searching this part of the ranch. Pete didn’t know how much they knew about these hills. The land belonged to the Tumbling T, but he figured Mason already considered it his own.