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Authors: The Lone Texan

BOOK: Jodi Thomas
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Sage dug her heel into the soft, wet ground, hoping the print wouldn’t be washed away in the drizzling rain.
When Big Hands told everyone to mount, Frog tugged on the rope, pulling her back to her horse. Each time he lifted her up, he remembered to tie her legs down. Sneezy circled by twice and asked if he could hold the rope when they stopped, but Frog told him that it was his job.
Despite Frog’s smell, Sage was glad he didn’t pass her off to Sneezy.
One thing she found strange. To the man, none touched her more than was necessary. They hadn’t even checked her to make sure she wasn’t carrying a weapon. To them she seemed to be no more than something they were transporting.
After several hours of riding in daylight, Frog pulled the bag off her head again and offered her water and an inch of dried meat to chew on. He tugged off her gag but didn’t appear to have even heard her questions. He had a hard face and eyes dulled from seeing too much of life.
When she demanded that she have a moment of privacy, he tied a noose around her neck before freeing her hands. After pulling the noose tight, he moved to the other side of a tree. Her allotment of privacy lasted as long as she could function without breath, for the knot was too tight to budge.
She thought of reaching for her gun tucked in the folds of her petticoats, but the pistol only had one shot. Even if she was lucky and killed Frog, there were still three others, who looked like they’d kill her without blinking.
Sage decided to bide her time so that when she shot, she’d have a good chance of escape.
Quickly, she went back to Frog, and he loosened the noose just enough for her to breathe while he retied her hands.
“Don’t fight it, miss,” he said as he led her to her horse with the noose still snug around her neck. “It’ll go easier for you if you don’t fight so much.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” she whispered back just in case her kicking and screaming earlier hadn’t convinced him.
He tugged the noose off and replaced it with the sack. “It don’t matter what you want. We don’t care. You’re going into hell with the rest of us, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”
He lifted her onto the horse and tied her legs tight to the saddle. “Country gets rougher from here on out. Don’t want you falling off.”
Big Hands’ voice came from in front of her. “If you behave yourself, we’ll take the sack off tonight. No one to see or hear you out here.”
CHAPTER 14
 
 
B
ONNIE AWOKE TO THE SMELL OF STEW. THE AIR around her was warm and dry, but the tapping rain still sounded above her. She took a deep breath. Fresh beef stew boiling in a pot not far away. Smiling a moment before opening her eyes, her thoughts drifted as if trying to remember a home that had almost been real. A place where she used to imagine she lived when she was young. As soon as the adult in her reminded her there never had been such a home, she realized where she was. Not in a dream. Not safe.
Her hand shot up to her breasts, her throat.
Her dress was gone; only her cotton underwear remained.
She knew it. She’d been ravished. Some man she didn’t know had taken her, used her for his pleasure, stolen her virginity . . . and she’d missed the whole thing.
That only left being killed. She’d probably be dead as soon as he finished his meal.
“Hungry?” a male voice said.
Bonnie twisted until she could see him half a room away at a table set for two.
“Do I get a meal before you kill me?”
“Might as well. I’ll have to toss the stew anyway. Cooked more than I can eat.”
Bonnie started to get up, then realized she had no clothes. She tugged a thin blanket around her shoulders. “You took my clothes.”
“One,” he said as he ate, “they were wet. And, two, I figured it’d keep you inside if you don’t have any dress to run away in. You’ll be warm enough in all those underthings.”
“Oh,” she said as if he made sense. She was caged with a madman. Silently she added clothes thief to his list of ravisher, killer, and robber.
There was nothing practical to do but eat, and Bonnie prided herself in always being practical.
She tiptoed over to the table and sat across from him. “Did you . . .” She didn’t even know how to ask what he might have done to her.
“No,” he said, pushing the pot close to her. “I figured I’d eat first.”
Carefully spooning one serving, she lied, “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I guessed that,” he lied back.
She felt like they were having a picnic in the middle of a great battle. She should be screaming and running around and fighting to save herself, but all she did was take a bite.
“This is good,” she said after her bowl was half empty, and he hadn’t attacked her.
“Thanks,” he answered, still staring at her. “I learned to cook as a kid hiring out with a railroad crew.”
She looked everywhere but at him. She didn’t want to talk to the man who was going to use her and murder her.
The cabin was small but clean and orderly. Not the place she’d think of as a stage for killing and torturing. She also noticed that the chairs were a few inches taller than most and the table higher. He was a man who liked things that fit his body. Gulping, she realized he considered her one of them.
He stood and collected two cups and a bottle from the one shelf above the pump. He poured her an inch of something from a bottle. “Drink this. It’ll take the chill off.” He added another inch. “At your size, you’ll probably need more.”
For the thousandth time in her life, she wished she was shorter. Everyone knew the perfect height for a woman was five feet two. If she’d been nine or ten inches shorter, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed her in the hallway.
After downing the drink, she coughed.
The stranger handed her water, then moved to a chipped washtub to wash his hands. She studied him. He was very tall but well proportioned for his frame. His hair, sun-bleached and too long, looked like he’d cut it himself with a dull knife. There were wrinkles around his eyes, making him seem hard. She’d guess him in his late thirties and wondered if he’d spent all his life alone, for there was nothing in the house that hinted of a woman or any family. She also noticed no books or paper. Though the table had two chairs, only one rocker sat by the fireplace. A workbench nearby was covered with harnesses he must have been working on.
The door was closed, but the bolt lay against the wall. If she ran, she might make it outside, but where would she go? Even if she found a horse, she didn’t know how to saddle one or have any idea which way would take her back to Galveston. A bear or some other wild animal would probably have her as his midnight snack.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said as calmly as she could manage.
He didn’t answer.
Bonnie stood and moved closer to him. “And you can’t kill me, so get that out of your head. You’ve got to let me go. Right now.”
His long arm swung out and caught her waist with a sudden movement that threw her off guard. He pulled her hard against him with one tug. “Stop talking, lady. Both our lives depend on you staying right here with me.”
He pulled her back to the bed and tied her arm tight to one side. He covered her with the thin blanket, then he tugged off his boots and shirt. He carefully placed his shirt over the back of one of the chairs, throwing the bed in shadows. Then he lay down on the other side of her, locking his fingers around her free arm in a grip that said he had no plans of letting go.
Somewhere in the night, she heard horses coming fast. In a few minutes she’d be rescued. There was no need to struggle.
“Don’t move.” He shoved her hair away from her face. “And don’t say anything. Not one word.”
He was so close, she could feel his warm breath. The weight of his arm rested just below her breasts like an iron bar holding her down.
“Do you understand, lady? Not one word, or you’re dead.”
The horses were getting closer. She nodded, knowing she only had seconds to endure.
He must have known it too, but his reaction surprised her. Instead of running to bolt the door, he rolled over on top of her and kissed her hard, full on the mouth.
She struggled beneath him, feeling every part of his body move against her as his tongue went deep into her mouth, taking the taste of her with him.
He pulled back and stared down at her as if seeing something that displeased him, then he cupped her jaw in his big hand and held her still as he kissed her again with all the force of a man starving.
The power of him, the weight of him, the savage kiss, all warmed her body and fired her cheeks.
Her heart felt as if it were thundering faster than the hooves coming. She stopped the useless struggling and accepted his kiss. His whole body seemed to read her reaction. In a split second, his assault softened and turned tender.
He pulled away to study her, then smiled down at her as if he now liked what he saw. “I’m going to kiss you whether you’re willing or not, but I’d prefer it this way.” He lowered and brushed her lips.
She opened her mouth to object to his advance just as his lips touched hers again.
She didn’t move, more surprised by the gentleness than by the assault. This was a kiss as she’d always imagined a kiss could be, bold and tender. She couldn’t have fought if her life had been the price. He made no attempt to brace his weight but rested over her as he drank her in. She shifted slightly, matching the feel of him, until they were both comfortable. She accepted his kiss.
The cowboy smiled down at her, then brushed her cheek and touched her lips with his fingertips. “Delicious,” he whispered. “Just as I knew you’d be the first time I saw you. I knew you’d taste like heaven and feel right beneath me.” When his mouth covered hers, he seemed to be searching, trying to please her, not take.
Never in her life had she been kissed like this. In childhood she’d always been too tall for boys her age, but a few times at school, when no one was watching, older boys had pulled her into corners and tried to kiss her or feel her body. Their touches had bruised and hurt. She’d had no one to run to, no one to tell, but by the time they tried again, she’d learned to fight with words, threats directed at their weakness.
Only this time there were no words. This man wasn’t a boy. And, she realized, he wasn’t taking; he was giving.
The door slammed against the wall as it popped open. He pulled his mouth from hers.
“Get out!” he yelled as two men stormed in, dripping from head to toe and swearing at the weather.
Bonnie tried to pull her senses together enough to think. All she had to do was tell these strangers she was a prisoner and she’d be saved.
“I said get out, Sol, and take your no-good friend with you.” The cowboy rose slowly like a bear protecting his kill. He shoved the straps of her camisole off her shoulder as he pulled away, making her appear naked beneath the blanket.
For a second their gazes met, and she saw fear in his sad eyes as if he were sorry for what he’d had to do or maybe what he was about to do.
He sat in front of her, hiding her body from the intruders.
She curled on her side, trying to see around him.
“Look, Duke,” the first stranger said with a laugh. “Now we know why little brother didn’t show up yesterday. Bradford’s got him a woman. It’s about time. Me and the boys were beginning to think you were a monk.”
“I’m busy right now.” The cowboy leaned back against her body and dug his fingers through her hair. “I’m in the middle of something. I didn’t have time to try to keep you from getting yourself killed this time.”
The man he’d called Sol laughed. “I can see you’ve got your hands full. The way her cheeks are fired up, I’d say she’s ready for a good ride, but you were told to go in ahead of us in case there was any trouble, and we didn’t see hide nor hair of you. Hanover won’t like that, if he gets wind of it.”
“I don’t work for Hanover. I was just going along to watch your back. Was there trouble?” the cowboy asked while he slid his other hand over Bonnie’s bottom in a familiar way no man had ever dared touch her.

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