Shadow Walker (2 page)

“That’s not necessary. I’ll find the loot if I have to turn the cabin, outbuildings and grounds upside down to do it.”

Tayler nodded. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Oh, one other thing, Sheriff. If my partner shows up, tell him where to find me. His name is Sandy Johnson.”

Cole gave the sheriff directions to the cabin and then took his leave. He had no idea how long it would take to locate the money, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave until he recovered every last dime.

Cole approached the cabin cautiously. The noises he’d heard earlier, before Cobb left, warned him that someone was inside. A close inspection of the outbuildings revealed a swaybacked mule in the lean-to, but no horses. He paused before the cabin door, his hand inches from his gun. He lifted the latch and pushed it open. At first glance the one tiny room appeared empty. Then he saw her, backed into a dim corner like a frightened doe.

The woman’s waist-length black hair fell across her face in a wild tangle, obscuring her features. His mind spun dizzily as he stared at her. He was reminded of another woman with hair as black as midnight. A woman he’d loved more than his own life.

“Morning Mist …” The name slid past his lips like a caress. Speaking his beloved’s name aloud
jerked him back to reality. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The woman in the shadows seemed to collapse inwardly. Cole couldn’t tell whether it was from relief or fear. He motioned her forward, but she remained firmly planted within the shadows.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Can’t you talk? Who are you? What are you doing here?”

He heard her sigh, saw her straighten her shoulders. “I can speak. I thought you were Billy.” Her voice was soft and breathy; the sound slid over him like warm honey.

“Come out where I can see you.”

“Are you a friend of Billy’s? I haven’t seen you before. Billy’s not here.”

“I know he’s not here. You can rest assured I am no friend of Billy Cobb’s. Are you his woman?”

She hesitated. “I’m his wife.”

Cole let loose a string of oaths. Cobb had had a wife! If that didn’t beat all. He supposed it was up to him to tell her he’d just killed her husband. He hoped she didn’t go all hysterical on him, for he doubted he could deal with it.

The woman stepped out from the shadows; her face was all but hidden behind the thick black veil of her hair. “Are you the law?”

“In a manner of speaking. What is your name?”

“Dawn. Are you going to take Billy to jail?” She looked small and defeated, and Cole felt a pang of pity for the woman. He’d pity any woman who’d had to put up with a man like Cobb.

Though he could see little of her face, Cole was captivated by the rare smoky quality of her husky voice. He shook himself free of its enchantment.
“There is no way to soften this, Mrs. Cobb. Your husband is dead.”

Dawn’s head shot up, giving Cole the full benefit of her vivid blue eyes … and his first glimpse of her battered face. He exhaled sharply. Both of her eyes were black, and the high ridges of her cheekbones bore purple bruises. Her swollen, split lips still oozed blood.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Cobb! I hate the name.”

“Son of a bitch! Did Cobb do that to you? He died too easily,” Cole said fiercely. “You need a doctor.”

Dawn shook her head. “No, I’ll heal. I always have before. Are you sure Billy is dead?” Her voice trembled with burgeoning hope.

“By now he’s planted in Boot Hill. I took his body to the undertaker myself.”

“Who killed him?”

Cole flinched. Did she love a bastard like Cobb? Obviously, this wasn’t the first beating he’d given her. What made a woman stay with a man like that?

“I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him. I would have preferred him alive.”

Dawn gave him a mirthless laugh. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad.” Deep inside she was more than glad. She was quietly, joyfully grateful. Her eyes glinted with a fierceness that bordered on madness. “The man was a vile beast, I hated him!” Her painfully thin body was taut with pent-up emotion, and something else.

Elation.

“Why did you marry a man you hated?”

“My father sold me to Cobb five years ago. The
only way Pa would let Cobb have me was if he married me.”

“Had you no choice in the matter?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, mister, I’m a half-breed. Indians don’t have much choice these days.”

“What about your mother? Couldn’t you go back to her people?”

“My mother is dead. She was Sioux. Crow warriors captured her in a raid and eventually sold her to my father. She was his squaw; he never married her. I know nothing about Indians except for the Sioux tongue, which my mother taught me.”

“Why did Cobb beat you? Obviously, it’s not the first time.”

Dawn stiffened. “I don’t wish to talk about it. Why are you here?”

She moved away from the corner. Cole noted her stiffness and wondered if Cobb had beaten her about the body as well as the face.

“My name is Cole Webster. I work for the railroad. A few days ago your husband’s gang robbed the Union Pacific somewhere between Dodge City and Garden City. A great deal of money was taken. I tracked Cobb to this cabin in hopes of recovering the loot. I saw him leave the cabin earlier today and followed. There was an exchange of shots. Cobb was killed but he didn’t have the loot with him. I’ve come back to search for it. Do you know anything about the missing money? We’re pretty sure Cobb carried it away when the gang split up.”

Dawn’s expressive blue eyes slid away from Cole. “Billy never told me anything. I was merely
his slave. I cooked and cleaned and served as his punching bag.”

“And warmed his bed,” Cole added with a hint of sarcasm. The moment the words left his lips, Cole wished them back. He gazed into Dawn’s haunted eyes and saw bleak despair. He had no cause to remind a woman of her husband’s brutality in bed or out of it. Her battered face was visual proof of her suffering.

Dawn regarded Cole through hollow eyes. Then, sullen and uncommunicative, she turned away.

Cole studied Dawn through narrowed lids. Her shoulder bones made sharp ridges beneath the bodice of her faded, far-too-large dress. He could see no visible indication of waist or hips beneath the shapeless garment. Only the telltale rise of firm, rounded breasts gave hint of the womanly form beneath the worn fabric.

Dawn flushed beneath Cole’s scrutiny. She knew he thought her a scrawny excuse for a woman, but she didn’t care. The less she had to do with men, the better she liked it. She was fiercely glad that Cobb was dead; she had thought of killing him herself many times during the past five years. She was grateful to this man for doing what she had feared doing herself, but the sooner he left, the better. As for the money…. it was hers. Billy owed her for all she’d had to endure as his wife. The money would help her to forge a new life for herself.

“Are you sure you know nothing about the train loot?” Cole repeated sharply.

“Billy didn’t confide in me.”

She was lying. Cole knew it. Yet he couldn’t
fault her for wanting the money for herself. Lord knows she deserved it. But he had a job and was honor bound to perform it to the best of his ability. Compassion had no place in the life he lived. At one time it might have, but losing Morning Mist had changed him forever.

Cole pulled out a rickety chair, one of two that rested on uneven legs beside the scarred kitchen table. “Sit down, Mrs.—er—Dawn. I think you know more than you’re willing to reveal. Keeping that money is a crime even if you didn’t participate in the robbery.”

Dawn sidled around him warily and perched on the edge of the chair Cole indicated. “I told you, Billy didn’t confide in me.”

“Did you know about the train robbery?”

She looked up at him, studying him just as he had studied her a few minutes before. She had never before seen a man with hair the color of his. He was tall and strongly built. Though he was a White man, his skin was almost the same creamy tan as hers. Obviously, he was no stranger to the sun. Nor to vigorous exercise, judging from the well-developed muscles of his legs and torso.

The taut width of his shoulders stretched the material of his plaid shirt, and his snug-fitting tan pants emphasized the solid muscular thickness of his long legs. A silk neckerchief, leather vest and scuffed boots completed the blatant display of masculinity that would have impressed any other woman but Dawn.

“I asked you a question, Dawn,” Cole said harshly. “Did you know about the train robbery?”

Dawn nodded jerkily. She moistened her
bruised lips with the tip of her tongue, reminding Cole that she was hurt, possibly more than he realized. Only a heartless bastard would interrogate an injured woman, and he hadn’t fallen that low yet.

“Do you have some salve in the cabin?” he asked. “Your face needs tending.”

Dawn gave him a look that spoke eloquently of her distrust of him. “Why do you care? Billy never did.”

Cole swore with enough venom to make Dawn recoil in fear. “I’m not Cobb. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant it. Where’s that salve?”

Beyond speech, Dawn pointed to the cupboard. Cole reached it in two strides, found a round jar of salve inside and little else. He opened cupboard after cupboard and found nothing in the way of food, nothing edible at all. With difficulty he contained his anger. It wasn’t his custom to frighten helpless women. The girl had been brutalized and abused, making her distrustful of all males. If the lack of food in the house was any indication, Dawn had been starved as well as beaten. Dimly he wondered if Cobb’s gang had used her sexually. He thought they had.

Cole returned with the salve and set it down on the table. “Is there water in the cabin?” Dawn nodded toward a bucket on the dry sink. “What about clean cloths?”

“In the drawer. You don’t need to bother, I can do for myself. I always have.”

“Just shut up and sit still.” Dipping the cloth in the water, Cole gently bathed Dawn’s face, surprised at the dirt accumulated there. When the
grime came away, he discovered a smooth golden complexion that promised to be without blemish once the bruises healed. He carefully dabbed at the drops of blood gathered at the corners of her split lips, and when she flinched he had the unaccountable urge to kiss the hurt away.

Dawn squirmed uncomfortably beneath Cole’s gentle ministrations. Never had a man touched her with such tenderness or caring. Of course, she knew why he was doing it. He wanted the stolen money and would go to any lengths to recover it, even to treating a no-account half-breed with kindness and consideration, something she’d never had from any man.

Cole dipped his fingers into the jar of salve and spread it over her bruises. The hardness of his expression and the cold calm with which he performed the chore did nothing to ease Dawn’s nervousness. She thought Cole was much too controlled, too tautly coiled, and waited for the explosion.

Cole worked quietly beneath the skewering intensity of Dawn’s blue eyes. Conflicting emotions warred within him. He felt pity, compassion and, surprisingly, admiration. He strongly suspected that Dawn was lying about her knowledge of the train robbery and where the money was hidden. If she refused to tell him where it was, he’d be obliged to conduct a thorough search of the premises despite her objections.

Cole stood back and regarded Dawn solemnly. “There. If the salve works, your face will be as good as new in a few days. Why did Cobb beat you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She shook her head, spreading a curtain of tangled black silk around her back and shoulders. Cole appeared mesmerized, reminded once again of his beloved Morning Mist. Dimly he wondered if Dawn would turn out to be the beauty he suspected her to be. The facial bones beneath the bruises and swelling were good. Her cheekbones were high and cleanly defined, her blue eyes exceptionally clear and bright, and her lashes were so long and thick he was amazed that she could hold them up. He wrinkled his nose, thinking a little soap and water would do wonders for her appearance.

“Very well. I’ll let that go for the time being, since you’re so reluctant to talk about it. It’s getting late. If you’re up to it, perhaps you can fix us something to eat. Tomorrow I’ll start searching for the money in earnest. Unless,” he said, regarding her solemnly, “you save us both a lot of trouble and tell me where it’s hidden.”

“I told you, Billy …”

“… Didn’t confide in you. I know. Very well, have it your way. What about that grub?”

“I … there’s not …” She gave an eloquent shrug and refused to meet his eyes.

“I think I already know what you’re trying to say. There’s no food in the cabin, is there? Cobb rode away without a thought for your welfare. Look at you. You’re skinny as a rail. How did you feed yourself during his absences?”

Dawn wondered herself. It hadn’t been easy. Between Billy’s irregular visits she’d had to fend for
herself. He never left any money, so it would have been pointless to go into town. After a time she’d realized that Billy left her penniless for a purpose. He didn’t want her wandering around the countryside raising suspicion and alerting the law. He usually brought food with him when he returned, and that had helped.

“I fish, and I trap small game when I can. Usually Billy brings food with him, but this time he arrived empty-handed. He couldn’t afford to go into town after pulling off robberies for fear of being recognized.”

“There’s food in my saddlebags. I’ll bring in what I have, and you can put something together for us. It’s not much, but it will keep us until I can bring supplies back from town.”

“Don’t bother. You won’t be here that long. There’s no money hidden here. Billy must have given it to one of his gang for safekeeping.”

Cole snorted in derision. “You know Billy better than that. The loot is here, Dawn, I’d stake my life on it.” He left the cabin, still chuckling to himself.

Dawn rose stiffly from the chair. Her back hurt dreadfully from the strapping Billy had given her. He had tried again to be a man with her without success. It was always the same. Nothing had changed during the five years of their marriage. Instead of placing the blame on the injury he had received during a bank robbery before they were married, he accused Dawn of not being woman enough to arouse him. The results were unmentionably vile. He assuaged his lust by pummeling her with his fists, and when he tired of that, he removed his belt and used it on her back and buttocks
until he grew bored with the sport.