Pete (The Cowboys) (36 page)

“No. I realized I loved a boy.. Peter Warren vanished years ago.”

For a moment she thought she’d lost. His chin seemed jutted in defiance of everything she said. She wondered if she could take his gun, force him to take Pete to Big Bend.

“We’ll take him to my ranch,” Mason said. “Once we’re there, I’ll decide what to do.”

That wasn’t the clear victory Anne had been hoping for, but she didn’t dare push him further now. Mason had given her more time. She had to use it to figure out how to save Pete.

Mason’s ranch came into sight shortly before midafternoon. Anne felt she was being drawn further and further into a trap. Several hours in Bill Mason’s company hadn’t caused her to like him any better. He was a rough, cruel man, who treated his cowhands with thoughtless disregard. His treatment of Pete was even worse. Pete had been bound hand and foot to his horse and driven over the plain at a trot that bounced him painfully and caused the rawhide to cut into his wrists. When Anne pointed that out, Mason had replied that it was better to suffer a few cuts than a broken neck.

Anne decided silence would be better for both her and Pete. If she made Mason angry by continued opposition, he would take it out on Pete.

Much to her surprise, Ray came down the steps of the ranch house when they arrived.

“I been looking everywhere for Mrs. Warren,” he said to Mason. “I been waiting here to see if you knew where she was.”

“As you can see, I’ve brought her safely home. I caught the low-down murdering dog who pretended to be her husband.”

Anne had an idea. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, walking up to Ray. “I need some fresh clothes. I feel like these have grown to my skin.”

“Git on your horse and go get the lady her things,” Mason said.

“I need to make a list,” Anne said. “I need much more than dresses. Do you have a table where I can write?”

“Inside. The cook will show you. Okay, boys, bring our prisoner to the barn. Make sure you tie him up nice and tight. I’d hate to see him get loose and have someone shoot him by accident.”

He cast Anne a mocking look, but she returned it with what she hoped was unsuspecting innocence.

“I don’t need clothes,” Anne whispered as soon as Mason went off with his men. “I need you to ride into Big Bend and tell the sheriff that Mason has captured the man who pretended to be my husband and that they plan to hang him. Then I want you to go to Mrs. Dean’s home. Tell her I apologize for doubting her, that she was right about Pete from the beginning. Then beg her to come to Mason’s ranch as soon as possible to act as my chaperone. He means to keep me here until I’m free to marry him, but there’s no female here to give me countenance.”

“What about the clothes?”

“Take my messages to town first. Then get my clothes.”

“What about the list?”

“Forget the list. Just bring everything. I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave here.”

“You don’t think he’s guilty, do you?”

Ray’s question went to the heart of what she was doing, of his helping her. “No, I don’t, but I don’t have any proof.”

“I don’t think he’s guilty either.”

“Then we’ve got to do our best to save him. Now go quickly, before Mason comes back.”

Pete tried to shift his position so the weight of his body wouldn’t pull on the rawhide that tied him to the inside of a stall. Mason had intentionally tied him in a manner guaranteed to make the rawhide strips cut deeply into his skin. Despite the pain, he had few thoughts to spare for his wrists. Anne’s intervention had saved him from being hanged. He knew she loved him. That must mean she believed him.

He didn’t know how a man could be happy tied to a wall with his captor itching to hang him at the first opportunity, but he had been. However, the euphoria he first felt had been replaced by calm acceptance of the fact his life was in grave danger. If he didn’t do something soon, Anne was going to be in love with a dead man.

For the second time within a month.

But tied up as he was, he didn’t have any options. He had to wait for an opportunity. He knew Bill Mason was going to do his best not to give him one.

Anne didn’t like the way Bill Mason looked at her, as though she were prey and he a hungry predator. Mason was so happy with his capture of Pete, he’d given the men the rest of the day off. A constant flow of men had come through the house all afternoon and evening, but soon everyone would be moseying out to the bunkhouse, and she’d be left alone with Mason. There was no woman in the house. The cook was a thin, silent man who moved about the place like a shadow.

She longed to go see Pete, but she couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t arouse Mason’s suspicion. She’d mentioned him once during dinner—asked the foreman how the prisoner was doing—and Mason had turned on her with the speed of a striking snake, demanded to know why she should be asking about a murderer. She passed it off as idle curiosity.

“After all, I did live with the man for several weeks. I can’t forget him as if he never existed.”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” Mason replied. He’d then started asking about their relationship, wanting to know if they’d been intimate. Anne thought it was inexcusable of him to expect her to answer in front of several hired hands.

“I’ve told you before, I felt uneasy,” she said. “Peter and I hadn’t seen each other in years. We decided to keep to ourselves until we became better acquainted.”

“Eddie said you slept in the same bed.”

A bell rang in the back of her head. Pete had said he thought Eddie and Mason were somehow working together. This proved it. There couldn’t be any other reason for Eddie to pass along such personal information.

“We didn’t have any choice, not with Belser accusing Pete of being an imposter and me of marrying him only to get a rich husband. But Pete never once crossed the center of that bed.”

The men had looked embarrassed, had kept their gazes on their plates. She didn’t think Mason even noticed.

She was forced to pass the time after supper in complete idleness. Mason ignored her for his card games. Finally, in desperation, she went to the kitchen and begged the cook to allow her to prepare the coffee, serve it, wash cups, anything to keep busy.

“Okay.”

That was all he would say. If she asked where to find something, he either got it or pointed to it. She gradually limited herself to questions that could be answered by a shake or nod of the head.

That was how the situation remained until she saw the saddlebags.

They were lying in the corner of the storage room. Saddlebags with a J stenciled on the side and decorated with Indian beadwork. Pete’s saddlebags! The ones he said had been stolen by the men who shot him and killed Peter. It was the first piece of evidence she’d found that might corroborate Pete’s story, might help prove he didn’t kill Peter.

“What attractive saddlebags,” she said to the cook, trying to control the excitement in her voice. “Are they yours?”

He shook his head.

“Who do they belong to?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

She picked them up. They were empty. Whatever had been in them had been removed. She turned the saddlebags around, pretending to inspect them. The seams hadn’t been cut. If Pete really had put the money inside, it was still there.

“I think they’re very pretty. I’d love to have some like this.”

He looked at her with no interest.

“Who do they belong to? I want to see if he’ll sell them.”

“They don’t belong to anybody,” he said, speaking at last.

“Someone must own them. They’re too nice to be cast off.”

“They belonged to a man who stopped at our chuck wagon one night. He said he didn’t like bead-work.”

“That’s why I like them.”

“He left them in the chuck wagon, said it was in exchange for feeding him and his friend. None of the boys wanted them, so I threw them in there. I don’t want them, either, but they look too good to waste.”

“Can I have them?”

“If you marry Mr. Mason, you can have anything you want.”

She wanted to take them with her, but Mason hadn’t given her a room. She couldn’t explain why she’d want to walk around clutching a pair of saddlebags all evening. She didn’t dare try to open them unless she was assured of absolute privacy.

She’d have to leave them for now. She dropped them back into the corner with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “I’ll leave them here for the time being,” she said. “I really don’t have any use for them just now.”

But the thought of those saddlebags sitting unprotected in the storage room nagged at her all evening. She kept telling herself nobody wanted them, that they were safe, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until she had them in her possession. She couldn’t do that until she knew which room was to be hers. When she’d asked him earlier, Mason had acted irritated, said he hadn’t made up his mind yet. She decided he just didn’t want the card game interrupted. She supposed he would tell her at bedtime.

Finally the time came when the men had gone off to their own quarters, no one wanted anything else to eat or drink, and everything in the kitchen had been washed and put away.

When the clock stuck ten, Mason announced, “It’s time to go to bed.”

“I can’t go yet,” she said. “I don’t have any night-clothes.”

She could have sworn she saw a gleam in his eye.

“You won’t need any. I can keep you warm.”

She pretended he hadn’t spoken. “I asked Ray to bring my clothes tonight no matter how late it was. I’ll wait up until he comes.”

“He could be hours.”

“I don’t mind. I’m not really sleepy. You can go on to bed.”

“I don’t want to go to bed alone.”

That was putting things on the line with a vengeance. He wasn’t going to pretend he intended to wait for the marriage vows before he deflowered her. It would take him only minutes to discover he was too late.

“You can’t think I would come into this house, even as your affianced bride, and go to bed with you the first night.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not proper.”

“I don’t give a damn what’s proper.” He took a step nearer. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a whole year.”

She took a step back. “You never said anything.”

“You couldn’t talk about anybody but that silly fool Peter Warren. He was so pathetic, even his uncle didn’t want to leave the ranch to him. He’d have been better off to leave it to Belser.”

“Uncle Carl believed very strongly in blood ties.” She had to talk, do anything to keep him at a distance while she tried to think of a way to escape being carried off to his bed. The thought of opening her body to him in the same way she’d given herself to Pete made her feel physically ill. It also made her furious. He had no right to force himself on any female, but especially not one he said he cared for and wanted to marry.

“Peter was his only living relative,” she continued. “In his mind, he had no choice but to leave the ranch to him.”

“That accident turned Carl into an old fool,” Mason said. “It would have been better if it had killed him.”

Another bell rang. Pete had wondered if the fall had been an accident. He said it wasn’t the kind of thing that would happen to an experienced rider like Carl.

“Uncle Carl agreed with you, especially when the pain was really bad.”

“I’m tired of talking about Carl. I’m ready to go to bed, and I mean for you to go with me.”

She backed farther away until she backed into a table. “You can’t want to disgrace the woman you intend to marry. Think of what people will say.”

“I don’t care what anybody says.” He closed in on her. “You’re a mighty tasty morsel. I always wondered who would get you first, Carl or Belser.”

Anne was horrified. Such a thought had never crossed her mind.

“Or maybe they had you already.”

“I can’t believe you’d say such a thing,” Anne said. “You call yourself Carl’s friend, yet you desecrate his memory.”

“Come down off your high horse, girl. It’s not desecration to bed a breed and not marry her. Most respectable men wouldn’t even consider marriage. I’m considering it.”

Peter had said Mason didn’t want to marry her, that he would do it only to gain control of the ranch, that he would find some way to get rid of her once he had legal possession.

“Now stop resisting.” He reached out, grabbed hold of her wrist, and pulled her to him. “And don’t think you have me believing that story about you and Pete staying on opposite sides of the bed. I bet he had his hand up your dress before the door was closed good. I bet you liked every minute of it.” He grabbed her breast and pawed it roughly. “I hear breeds really like it when a man is rough. I hear it makes them really hot.”

“It doesn’t make me hot,” Anne said, struggling to break his hold. But he was too strong. He backed her up against the table, bent her so far back, she could barely keep from falling.

“I bet I can make you hot. I’m twice as much man as anybody you ever had. Belser was a fool. Carl was senile. The only one who was any better than a piece of dead wood was that man out in the barn, the one I’m going to hang tomorrow. I bet that’s why you didn’t want to admit he was an imposter. After Belser and Carl—did you bed Eddie, too?—I bet you were anxious to keep him between your legs.”