Always You (5 page)

But little had she ever guessed she’d be wearing the very same riding habit during her kidnapping.
At least it’s more appropriate than this damned nightdress,
Melora thought despondently as she folded the filmy white garment back inside her carpetbag atop two other traveling dresses. Suddenly she saw the barrel of her gun sticking out from beneath a rolled-up pair of clean drawers.

Her gun! She’d forgotten all about the little Colt pistol she’d packed in her carpetbag. And she had another gun in her trunk, Melora suddenly remembered, muffling a whoop of excitement. She’d tucked her tiny hideaway derringer beneath the jewelry pouch days ago.

How thoughtful of Cal and his pards to present her with her very own weapons!

Melora clasped the little Colt in her hand, the cool steel sending a flow of confidence back into her. Pop had always stressed to her two things: Be self-reliant and be prepared. To that end she’d decided that one small gun in each bag while traveling through rough-and-tumble country to San Francisco for her honeymoon would be a prudent precaution. Now it seemed like brilliant foresight.

But as she knelt beside the trunk to fish out the derringer, voices from the clearing made her pause and listen.

Those were Zeke’s and Ray’s voices, raised enough so that she could hear them arguing about when the rain would most likely start and whether they would be setting out for the day’s ride before noon. They sounded edgy and impatient as they waited for her, and she suddenly realized that at any moment one of them—or Cal—would come to get her.

Forget the derringer. You have to get out of here now.
Springing to her feet, she surveyed the vicinity with a darting glance. All her senses felt as if they were on fire.

She’d already determined that there was little cover in the sagebrush-studded plains north of the clearing. But ahead, where the stream trickled past some rocks and curved down an incline, she saw thickening clumps of alders and what looked like the beginning of a wood. The ground was nearly level here, and the denser overhang of trees was only a hundred yards ahead.

She had to try. She had her Colt, her wits, and her knowledge of the land. And with any luck she might also have a precious few moments’ head start.

Like a squirrel, she dashed along the stream toward the thicker line of trees, her boots flying across the short grama grass. When she reached the beginning of the wood, she threw a glance over her shoulder.

Not a soul in sight. They hadn’t started looking for her yet.

Run.

Heart pounding with hope, she plunged ahead.

“I
know
when rain’s comin’, Ray; my bunions tell me every damned time, and I guarantee you, there’ll be a downpour before noon, or my name ain’t Zeke McCloud.”

“You’re wrong, Zeke. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I’ll bet you any damned thing you want, I’ll bet you ten dollars that it don’t rain till after sunset.”

“You know I don’t bet money, Ray,” Zeke shouted, stomping directly up to the other man, glaring into his face. “My ma taught me never to bet money. Now if you want to bet, I’ll bet you somethin’ else, something like your saddle. I fancy that new saddle of yours—”

“Quiet!” Cal thundered.

They stopped arguing and stared at him.

“How long has she been getting dressed?”

“Oh, I’d say a quarter of an hour, mebbe,” Zeke answered, tapping the face of his pocket watch.

“Half an hour or I’m a mule,” Ray countered, bristling.

“You’re wrong, Ray. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s only been—”

“Will you both shut up?” Cal stalked furiously around the clearing. “I just don’t know. How long does it take a woman to... get dressed and all and make herself presentable?”

“Beats me. Long time, I reckon, based on what I remember from that wife I used to have—”

“Ray, you were never home long enough to know how long it took her to get dressed,” Zeke pointed out disgustedly, then broke off upon seeing the wrath etched across Cal’s usually calm face. “Don’t
you
know, Cal?”

“I don’t know a damned thing about women, or I wouldn’t be asking the pair of you,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the spot where Melora had disappeared with her bags. “But I’m getting suspicious of our little Miss Deane.”

“You mean she might have tried to get away?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Cal paced back and forth again, his scowl deepening as several crows circled over the clearing, cawing loudly in the heavy gray sky. The horses whickered, a damp wind sent tumbleweed rolling, and still there was no sign of Melora.

“I’ll wring her damned neck.” Cal started toward the trees.

“She wouldn’t...” Zeke protested doubtfully. “Naw, how could she hope to get away?”

“She’s gone!” Cal shouted through the trees. Zeke and Ray gazed at each other in horror and then dodged after him.

As Cal neared the brass trunk and carpetbag left abandoned near the stream, he caught a fleeting glimpse of green cloth disappearing within the wood up ahead. A muscle in his jaw tensed as he sprang forward.

This is what 1 get for giving her privacy, for trusting her at all,
he thought as he bolted in pursuit of the slender fleeing figure, which he could just barely keep in sight as it darted through the tight maze of trees.
Well, from now on, it’ll be a whole different story,
he vowed. Red-hot anger churned through him as he shouldered past branches and whipping leaves. He’d keep her in sight every minute; he wouldn’t give her another chance to do something so foolhardy and troublesome as to try to escape—on foot—in the middle of the wilderness, without so much as a cabin or an outpost for at least thirty miles.

Behind him he could hear Zeke and Ray scrambling to follow, but he didn’t bother looking back. His legs were long and powerful; he was faster than she was, and he was gaining on her. It was loco for her to think she could get away for long. When he caught up with her, he’d teach her not to try.

Melora plunged frantically through the trees and brush, heedless of the branches slapping at her face and clothes. She could hear Cal crashing after her and risked one precious second to glance wildly back at him. He was catching up!

Fear leaped like a flame within her. She fired a warning gunshot over her shoulder, then kept running, frantic as a hare being ruthlessly hunted down by a hawk.

Her breath came in short, heaving gasps, her lungs ached with the effort of running, but she kept on, plummeting ahead with a wild, delirious need to escape, to be free, to somehow magically rescue herself and return to the way things were yesterday. To the happiness of her wedding day, and the company of her sister, and the comfort and security of home... and Wyatt’s arms.

She gave a half sob. Cal was gaining on her.

Thighs aching, she ran faster, her hands out before her as if in supplication to the land to swallow her up.

But suddenly, just as she half turned to fire again, a huge weight hit her and knocked her to the ground. She toppled with an anguished cry.

Cal broke her fall with his own body, twisting in midair so that she landed half atop him. But they didn’t stay in that position for long. Swiftly he rolled her over, wrenched the gun away, and pinioned her beneath him, catching her arms above her head in a viselike grip.

“Just what in hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “I’m damned if I have time for these stupid tricks!”

“Let me up!”

“No chance, lady. You’re in a lot of trouble.”

Desperately Mel tried to buck, to twist and wrench and somehow squirm free, but her spirits sank as she realized the futility of it. He was far larger and stronger than she, and like it or not, she didn’t have much choice but to lie there beneath him and wait for him to decide what to do with her next.

She went perfectly still.

Cal shifted slightly, pinning her all the more securely. The hardness of his body pressed against hers sent a strange tight heat through her belly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she cried at last, wishing she could wipe the faint sheen of perspiration from her face or somehow toss aside the heavy coils of her hair, which had fallen across her cheeks in her struggle and were now dangling before her eyes and twisted around her nose and jaw. But she couldn’t move.

“Go ahead and get on with it!” she continued, biting her lip. “Aren’t you going to hog-tie me again or shoot me with my own gun or—”

“I’d like to take you over my knee.”

At this, panic set in, and she started struggling again. “Don’t you try it, you greasy, disgusting saddle tramp, you... kidnapper, you thief! I’ll make you sorry you were ever born!”

With his jaw set, Cal watched her lovely face twist and contort with the hopeless effort of trying to free herself. She was a spunky little hellion—he had to admit that, and he could almost admire it—but he was wondering just what it
would
take to intimidate her.

Maybe a herd of stampeding buffalo. Or a charging cavalry regiment. Then again, maybe not.

She went still again, exhausted and breathing hard. Her hair drifted in tangled skeins across her face.

Releasing one of her hands, Cal reached down and shifted the heavy golden tendrils aside, laying bare once more the finely chiseled features, which were so dainty and so feminine, the straight, firm nose, the lush lips the color of baby roses, and the alluring eyes that blazed at him from beneath slim, gracefully arced brows. Whew. He felt his breath choking deep inside his lungs.

She was something all right. An enchantress. Her magnificent hair slid through his hands like the finest silk. The finest, most richly textured, unbelievably soft silk, and despite all of the hardships she’d endured since last night, those lush curls still smelled faintly of lavender.

And so did she.

No doubt Miss Melora Deane of the great Weeping Willow Ranch bathed in perfumed water with flower-scented soap, he thought harshly. No doubt she was accustomed to the finer things in life, to being petted and indulged, and to getting her own way. He’d seen
that
plain enough; she was obviously as spoiled and headstrong as they came.

Well, now she’d just have to get accustomed to a rougher life—at least for a while.

And that was that.

Grimly he stared down at her defiant face as she lay beneath him, her skin damp with sweat, her wide-set eyes fixed on him with a mixture of hatred and apprehension, and suddenly, unexpectedly, pity stirred.

She was putting on a good front, game as could be, but he’d have bet every gold piece he owned—which was not too many, unfortunately—that beneath it all, right at this very moment, she was scared to death. He could feel her softness, all the delicate curves and hollows of her body, and her ultimate feminine vulnerability touched his conscience. She probably was wondering right about now if he meant to rape her, Cal realized abruptly. He adjusted his weight so as not to crush her, and—he admitted to himself—to lessen the risk of growing even further aroused in case she decided to start once again with those enticing, wriggling movements. Yet he kept her securely pinned, his long frame heavy upon her. He had no intention of letting her up until they had a few things straight between them.

“I order you to get off me right now!” She tried again, clearly desperate.

Cal shook his head. “Calm down and listen to me, Melora,” he said, surprising himself and her by the use of her given name. But at that moment Zeke and Ray rushed up, panting and sweating like a pair of flogged pigs.

“Need any help, Cal?” Zeke rasped out, corning to a halt a few feet from where Cal and Melora were lying on the ground.

“Does he look like he needs any help?” Ray snapped in exasperation. He yanked his hat off and began fanning his face. Sweat droplets glistened in his yellow whiskers. “Since when would- Cal need help with a mite of a female like this? Zeke, you’re a damned fool.”

“Miss Deane and I are about to come to an understanding.” Cal spoke roughly, his eyes still riveted upon Melora’s. “You two go back and finish packing up the camp. We’re riding out the moment we get back.”

“D-don’t go,” Melora called out feebly, turning her head to gaze imploringly at the other two men. “He’s going to strike me. Beat me. Please save me...”

They stopped in their tracks, taken aback, and threw uncertain glances at Cal.

“I threatened to spank her,” he said impatiently. “It was just a warning, not an intention—
so far
,” he added meaningfully, fixing her with a scowl.

To her dismay, both Zeke and Ray nodded, grinning at each other, for once in agreement.

“Sure, reckon we know you better than to think you’d strike a woman, Cal,” Zeke said respectfully.

“No, he’d just kidnap one,” Melora retorted.

Ray shook his head, staring down at her sorrowfully. “Cal here is a fine person, miss. Fine as they come. And I can tell you he’s got more patience than half the men in this territory all put together. But he’s hell when he’s crossed. My advice to you is: Don’t cross him.”

“Yep, behave yourself,” Zeke advised her anxiously. “Do what you’re told. And when Cal’s through with this here plan of his, he’ll take you home safe and sound.”

Cal flicked an amused glance between the two of them. ‘`I reckon I couldn’t have said it better myself, boys.” He grinned. “And now, let me straighten out a few things with the lady so we can make tracks before sundown.”

Melora waited apprehensively as Zeke and Ray tramped away. Once again she found herself alone in the woods with Cal, alone but for a squirrel nibbling a nut in the tree branches high above.

“Are you ready to listen to reason?”

I’m ready to spit in your eye,
she thought, her chest swelling with indignation at being treated in this manner, but she remembered in time and with great bitterness that it wasn’t always wise to speak one’s mind, so instead she gave him a stiff nod.

“Then get up and listen to me,” Cal said shortly. He shifted off her and got to his feet, scooping up her Colt and pocketing it in one deft motion. Immediately Melora pushed herself up to a sitting position, rebellion simmering in her eyes.

Cal noticed how her fingers were splayed in the dirt below; he half expected her to grab a handful of it and fling it in his face. Or try to.

But she didn’t. She took deep breaths, obviously trying to keep a lid on her temper.

“Let me explain a few things to you before we ride out. It’ll make things easier on all of us.”

“I’m listening.”

“Believe it or not, Melora, I don’t want to hurt you. None of us do. But you’re not getting away, and you’re not going back home until I say so.”

“And when will that be?”

“When I’ve accomplished what I’ve set out to do. Maybe a few weeks from now.”

“A few weeks from now?” she cried, surging to her feet and confronting him with her hands on her hips. “Today is my wedding day, you ignorant jackass!”

“No, ma’am, it’s not.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be!”

“That’s the point,” he said softly, a gleam entering his eyes.

Melora stared at him as he hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and looked smug. “You’re not doing this to hurt me,” she said slowly, her face paling as the truth hit her. “You’re doing it to hurt Wyatt.
Why?
”

Cal regarded her in silence a moment. Then he shrugged, but not before she’d seen the taut anger register in his face at the mention of Wyatt’s name. “That doesn’t concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me? What in hell are you talking about?” Unconsciously she repeated her father’s often used phrase. “You drag me off from my home, from my little sister, from my wedding—and you say it doesn’t concern me?”

“My reasons are my own business,” he rejoined coolly, and pushed his hat farther back on his head. “The only thing you need to remember is that if you cooperate, don’t make any trouble, and don’t try any more stupid attempts to escape, you’ll be fine. But let me ask you a question.”

“Can I stop you?”

He ignored this and stepped closer, watching her face. “Do you think your father will set up a search party for you, or will he leave it to Wyatt? Or will they join together?”

All the color drained from Melora’s face. Her lips were dry. Suddenly she remembered that odd comment he’d made last night at the ranch, about not disturbing her father while he was smuggling her out of the house.

“My father is dead,” she whispered.

Now it was Cal’s turn to stare, to go still and white as a statue. “Craig Deane? He’s dead?”

She saw the shock register, saw his sharp intake of breath.

“I swear I didn’t know,” he muttered, and paced away from her, then hurried back. “I thought you were... living under his roof, that you—do you mean you’re running that ranch by yourself?”