Texas Proud (Vincente 2) (23 page)

She twisted and kicked, but his grip only tightened on her wrists, and he slammed them above
her head. "I'll have you just the way Noble Vincente did."

Her eyes had become more accustomed to the dark, and she saw the chilling smile on his lips.
"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Noble bedded you and he bedded my wife. It's
only right that we should share our women, don't
you think?"

He was disgusting, malignant, evil. Why hadn't
she seen these traits in him before now? "You are
loathsome," she said bravely, while shaking inside. "I haven't been with Noble in the way you
imply."

"Don't take me for a fool," Whit said coldly. "I
know much more than you think I do about you
and Noble."

She tried again to throw him off her, but his
hands grasped the thin material of her chemise,
and when it ripped, he kneaded her breasts while
his sickening, whiskey-scented breath choked her.
His mouth was hot and slippery, and she gagged
when he covered her lips with his. She could sense
the urgency in him, and fought even harder.

He was going to take her right here, in her own
house, with her sister sleeping next door, and
there was no one to help her. Paralyzed with
dread, she knew what was going to happen to her.

"Please, no," she said, turning her head away
from him. Her chest felt tight with terror, and her
shallow breathing was painful. Still, she managed
to say with feeling, "Leave me alone, Whit!"

He fumbled with his pants, and she struggled
with all her might. She did not see it coming, but he struck her hard across the face, and she tasted
her own blood.

"Be still! I'm going to drive into you like I dream
of doing every time I see you. You'll like me better
than that bastard, Noble."

At that moment the door opened and light
spilled into the room. Rachel threw her head back
and cried out to Winna. Mae, whose figure was
outlined by the lamp she held. "Help me. Dear
God, help me!"

Whit froze with his trousers halfway down.
"What the hell?"

"Miss Rachel," Winna Mae said as easily as if
she'd been discussing the weather, "I put the milk
on the back of the stove to clabber. Will you be
wanting me any more tonight?"

Whit scrambled to his feet, jerking up his trousers. "Rachel wanted me here," he said to Winna
Mae. "She's been asking for it." When he drew
even with the housekeeper, he hissed at her. "If
you are thinking of telling my wife, I wouldn't if I
were you. Delia doesn't need to know that her sister's a whore."

Winna Mae's free hand was crammed deeply in
her apron pocket to hide her balled fist. Her voice
was soft, but it cut through Whit's drunken stupor. "If you ever come near Rachel again, I'll kill
you, you bastard. We Indians have ways of dealing
with your kind, and it involves cutting off private
parts."

Whit turned quickly away and stumbled down the hallway, the echo of his weaving footsteps finally fading behind Delia's bedroom door.

Rachel was still dazed from Whit's blow. She
stood and stumbled to the bed, collapsing across
the multicolored quilt. She was shaking violently
and couldn't stop.

Winna Mae put the lamp on the table and
rushed to her. She bent down and brushed Rachel's hair out of her face, and frowned when she
saw that her lip was bleeding, and a purple bruise
was visible on her cheek. The housekeeper pulled
the quilt over Rachel and said soothingly, "Rachel,
child, did he get to you?"

Rachel sobbed and threw her arms around
Winna Mae. "No, but he would have if you hadn't
come in when you did. I hate him! I hate him more
than I ever hated anyone. My poor sister. She's
married to a monster. No wonder she drinks too
much."

Winna Mae held Rachel in her arms and rocked
her back and forth, much as she would have a
child. "Hush now. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll
stay with you. Hush, go to sleep."

Rachel threw the covers aside and slid off the
bed. "I can't sleep. I keep feeling his hands on me."
She shook so badly she wrapped her arms around
her shoulders, hoping to stop.

Winna Mae took her hand and led her back to
bed. "You've had a shock. You need sleep."

"How can I sleep under the same roof with that
man?" Panic rose in Rachel's voice. "I want him to leave the Broken Spur right now, and never
come back."

"No, what you want is to sleep." Winna Mae
folded aside the covers and helped Rachel into
bed; then she covered her. "I'll be right here if you
need me."

"You won't leave me?"

"I won't leave you."

Rachel finally fell asleep, but she dozed fitfully,
waking several times, frightened that Whit might
be in the room with her.

But Winna Mae was always there, and Rachel
went back to sleep feeling safe.

Rachel awoke to find sunlight streaming through
the window. When she remembered what had
happened the previous night, she paled and
looked fearfully about her. She had expended all
of her energy fighting Whit, and she felt as limp
as a rag doll.

She'd never been frightened of anyone, not until
last night. She had never realized that there were
men and situations that she couldn't control. Whit
was dangerous. A haunting thought swept
through her mind he wasn't through with her,
not yet. But the next time he tried anything with
her, she would be ready for him. She'd blow his
damned head of P

The door opened and Winna Mae entered,
carrying a tray with Rachel's breakfast.

"I thought you might like to eat in bed, and then
sleep for another hour or so."

Rachel shook her head.

"He's gone. They left at first light. Delia said to
tell you she'd write."

"What about Whit?"

"I never saw a man in such a hurry to leave.
Delia wanted to wake you and say good-bye, but
he ushered her straight downstairs to his waiting
coach." A slight smile curved Winna Mae's lips. "I
guess an important person like Whit Chandler has
much to do elsewhere." She placed the tray on Rachel's lap. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You didn't eat much yesterday, so you need
breakfast."

Rachel sighed and obliged her.

"You must put last night out of your mind."
Winna Mae sat down in the big rocker that had
belonged to Rachel's mother. "He won't come
near you again if I can help it. If any one of your
cowhands knew what happened here last night,
they'd give him Indian justice and castrate him."

Rachel's eyes widened. "You won't tell them.
You won't tell anyone what happened, will you?"

"No. Of course not."

Rachel lifted a fork full of fluffy scrambled egg,
and took a bite. "I've been thinking about Delia.
She's married to such a monster, and I feel pity
for her."

"Your sister wouldn't want your pity," Winna
Mae said with her usual directness. "She knew exactly what she was getting when she married
Whit."

Rachel remembered Delia telling her much the
same thing. She shoved the tray aside and sank
back onto her pillow. "I always thought the act of
love would be beautiful. Whit made me see that
there is no beauty in the act." An involuntary
shiver ran down her spine. "It was so ugly so
ugly."

"That wasn't love." Winna Mae's eyes took on a
glow as if she were remembering. "Love-real,
deep love can be beautiful."

Rachel thought of Noble and closed her eyes. "I
want to believe you." She threw off the covers and
with strong strides walked to the window, staring
at the far horizon. Numbness spread over her like
a blanket, stifling her beneath its heaviness. She
inhaled a long, shaky breath, wishing she could
forget the sickening feel of Whit touching her, his
disgusting kiss, his hateful words.

She wondered what torment her sister must endure with that man. A tight knot formed in her
stomach and squeezed her like a physical pain.
She took another deep breath. "Winna Mae, I just
have to believe there is beauty in love-beauty
that feeds the soul as well as the heart."

"I have known such a love," Winna Mae said
softly.

Rachel went to her bed and sat down, trying to think of Winna Mae with a man. "You loved someone?

The older woman closed her black eyes as if she
were remembering. "I had a love so pure and
sweet that it is still with me, even now after all
these years."

"Tell me," Rachel said gently.

"I have never spoken of this to another living
soul, and it won't be easy."

For a long moment it seemed as if Winna Mae
was lost in her own memories. At last she said,
"My father was a white man, a buffalo hunter. My
mother was of the Kiowa tribe." She paused as if
gathering her thoughts. "I was named after my father's mother. He left when I was a baby and
didn't come back into my life until the spring I
turned sixteen. My mother had died, and to be fair
to my father, he did what he thought was right.
He put me into one of those boarding schools. I
was miserable there. The other girls were all
white, and either made fun of me or ignored me
completely. I threw myself into my schoolwork,
studying hard and trying to ignore the others. I
did get a good education, so something good came
of those years."

Rachel touched Winna Mae's hand, wanting to
comfort her. "What did you do?"

"After two years I could not stand another day,
so I ran away and found my way back to my
mother's people. That's when I met Lone Wolf. He was so brave, so daring, and I loved him immediately."

"And he loved you?"

"I didn't think so at first. I was a woman alone,
and unless someone claimed me for his wife, I
would have no respect and no man to hunt for me.
In the harsh Indian world such a woman cannot
survive for very long." She smiled, and it softened
her eyes. "I was so happy when Lone Wolf asked
me to be his woman. He was considered a mighty
warrior, and yet he was so gentle with me. He
found no shame in the fact that I was half white.
The three years I spent with him were the happiest
of my life."

Rachel sensed a change in Winna Mae's mood,
and she felt her sadness as if it were her own.
"Don't tell me more if you don't want to."

"I want you to know." Winna Mae looked at her
for a long moment before continuing. "When I lay
in my husband's arms and our bodies became one,
it was a precious and beautiful gift. It is because
of his love that I was able to go on living when life
got hard."

Rachel took Winna Mae's scarred hands in hers,
hoping to give her comfort. "What happened to
Lone Wolf?"

"We had a son," she said, smiling sadly. "He was
dark skinned like his father, and Lone Wolf was
so proud of him. He would ride through the village with our son propped in front of him, just so
everyone would comment upon what a remark able son he had. We called our son Silent One,
because he never cried. Of course when he was
older, he would have earned his own name."

Rachel lowered her eyes, dreading what was to
come and feeling it like a chill in her bones.

Winna Mae drew in a trembling breath. "On this
one day, I rose early, leaving my husband and
baby sleeping while I went into the mountains to
pick chokeberries. I did not know when I left that
it would be the last time I would ever see them."

Rachel glanced to the window, willing herself
not to cry, but tears still gathered in her eyes and
slid down her cheeks.

"I returned to the village around midday to find
nothing but smoldering ashes and dead bodies. I
saw enough to know that the bluecoats had raided
the village. Those they didn't kill, they had taken
as prisoners." Her shoulders slumped and she was
quiet for a moment, as if she couldn't find the
words to express her grief.

At last she said, "Our lodge was burned, and I
searched frantically among the ashes, trying to
find my husband and son."

Rachel's eyes dropped to Winna Mae's scarred
hands. So that was how she'd been burned. "You
didn't find them, did you?"

She shook her head. "There were so many
burned bodies, and it was difficult to identify anyone. Hoping that they had been taken away as
prisoners, I decided to follow the tracks. I walked
many days and nights without food, following the trail left by the white soldiers. Finally I came to a
fort. I inquired about my husband and son there,
but the soldiers drove me away. A kind man, a
sergeant I believe, came to me and told me that
those of my people who had not been killed had
been taken to a reservation. He explained where
it was, so I walked for many more days until I
came to the place he'd told me about. None of my
tribe were there. It was as if they all died that day,
or the earth opened up and swallowed them."

"Winna Mae, I am so very sorry," Rachel said,
trying not to cry. "Did you never find them?"

"I looked through the long summer and into the
fall. Years passed, I don't know how many, but I
was compelled to keep looking. My aim was always to find my husband and son, but each lead
proved as false as the last one. One winter, several
men came upon me-they were buffalo hunters.
I will not speak of what they did to me, but afterward I wanted to die, and I would have if your
father had not found me and brought me here. I
cry no more tears, because I have none left."