Rexanne Becnel (28 page)

Not that he
wanted
her to succumb, she reminded herself in painful honesty. He wanted the reward. So why was she still so pulled toward him?

“Well?” he prodded, leaning forward ever so slightly, just enough so that his breath tickled her right ear. “Will you promise to be peaceful—not to pelt me with mud and rocks—if I untie your hands? Not to steal my gun? Not to try to escape?”

Abby nodded, though it was as much to avoid the disturbing warmth of his breath as to agree to his demands. His unreasonable demands.

He reached around to the bandanna that bound her hands, and after a few moments the bindings came free. Blood rushed to her fingers, stinging and welcome. But she was even more aware of his chest pressed against her back and the sudden, quickened pace of her pounding heart.

Only when he straightened in the saddle again did she remember to let loose the breath she’d unconsciously held. Yet the removal of his broad chest from against her back served only to emphasize the close proximity of their hips. Once again Abby’s fingers tightened on the saddle horn, only this time she fought the distressing rise of heat inside her, rather than physical bindings. The former bound far tighter than the latter, she recognized obliquely as the last remnants of good sense fled her mind.

She shifted uncomfortably, then froze when he let out a low but extremely pointed oath.

“Sorry,” she whispered, hunching forward in mortification, even though she knew she owed him no apology at all.

Tanner, too, must have recognized the irony in her word, for he laughed, albeit without much mirth. “Not as sorry as I am,” he replied.

“I rather doubt that,” Abby snapped back, restored to anger by his arrogance. “If you were truly sorry, you’d let me go. Right now,” she added.

“I’m sorry you won’t go with me to Chicago willingly,” he retorted. “I’m sorry your father died and your life is not turning out as you expected.”

“But not sorry enough to leave me alone.”

They rode in silence a moment, through grasses that brushed at the stirrups, following no trail through the undulating plains but the one Tanner had set in his mind.

“You should thank me for saving you from marrying Harrison.”

She rose furiously to that smug comment. “For your information I had already informed Dexter that I could not wed him.”

She felt him tense in the saddle behind her and she knew she’d surprised him. But her triumph was ruined by the unwarranted shiver of awareness that coursed through her when his denim-clad thighs rubbed against her derriere. The several layers of muslin and calico she wore were no buffer at all against the heated feelings his slight movement roused in her.

“Why did you do that—break off with him?”

Abby swallowed. The low rumble of his voice so very near her ear caused the most unseemly fireworks to set off inside her. Why had she broken off with Dexter? Because she longed for someone else. It was that simple.

But she could never tell him that.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but despite outward indications to the contrary, Dexter and I were not truly suited to be man and wife.”

He snorted derisively at her pompous explanation. “I could have told you that.”

She refused to respond to his comment, even though his perceptiveness irritated her. Perhaps if she’d not succumbed to her father’s pressuring—if she’d never accepted Dexter’s suit in the first place—she would not now be in this awkward position.

“Since I have no intentions of marrying Dexter Harrison any longer, I don’t see why you shouldn’t return me to the wagon company.”

“Harrison has nothing to do with it.”

“But you just said—”

“I said I saved you from marrying him. But even if I’d known you had already called the wedding off, I still would have had to take you back with me.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. For the reward,” she sneered, hating the truth of her words. “How much is he paying you, anyway? What do grandchildren go for these days?”

He didn’t answer, but then Abby hadn’t truly expected him to. For a while they rode in silence toward the thin white glow on the horizon that was the sun’s best efforts this morning. No glorious display of heavenly color. No breathtaking view of rolling hills, green and verdant. As they topped one low rise and ambled downhill and toward the next roll of land, Abby saw just more of the same. A dull, green world, wet and dreary, that stretched away until forever.

And not another soul in sight.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” she finally asked, unable to hide the peevish note in her voice.

“Burlington.”

“Burlington, Illinois? But … But that’s halfway across the Nebraska Territory.”

“The railroad has opened up that far. We’ll take the train from there to Chicago.”

Abby tightened her jaw, restraining another fruitless outburst. He’d obviously had the whole thing planned out from the beginning. “What if you’d never found me? What would you have done then?”

He shrugged out of his slicker before answering and laid it behind him over his saddlebags. “Why, I guess I would just have found some poor motherless little girl and passed her off as you.”

Abby twisted around and stared at him in horror. “You would actually have done that? Kidnapped someone’s child?”

His eyes lost their mocking glow. “There’s lots of orphans who’d jump at the chance to be a rich man’s only grandchild. Those two little kids whose parents died yesterday, for instance. I bet they’d be grateful as hell to have someone want them. Want to do things for them and look out for them.”

Abby turned away from his pointed stare. Put that way, she almost felt guilty for her blanket rejection of her mother’s father. Almost.

“If he’s so rich, he ought to spend his money helping orphans, then. They need his help. I don’t.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“The hell I do!” she snapped right back at him. But what was the use of arguing with him? It was hopeless.
He
was hopeless. Suddenly she wanted to be as far away from him as she could get. Being so near him—nestled in his embrace—was too frustrating to bear when they were so vastly apart in thoughts and beliefs and attitudes.

“Let me down. I want to walk awhile. Stretch my legs,” she added sarcastically.

She hadn’t actually expected him to agree, so Abby was mightily surprised when he pulled Mac to an abrupt stop. “Don’t try to run,” he warned. Then before she could reply with some appropriately scathing retort, he lifted her by the waist and without ceremony lowered her to the ground.

Arrogant clod,
she fumed as she started forward, paralleling Mac’s ambling direction.

Smart-mouthed brat,
he seethed as he stared straight ahead, yet kept her within his peripheral vision. But as much as her wish to be rid of him stung his pride, he also knew that he’d never make it to Burlington if she had to ride before him the entire time.

Or rather,
she’d
never make it to Burlington, at least not as an unspoiled virgin.

Damn it to hell, but he’d really screwed himself this time. If only she was a kid. Or some whey-faced little mouse he didn’t feel the least attraction toward. Or a bitch.

That almost made him smile. He glanced sidelong at her, noting her ramrod-stiff posture, her determined stride and jutting jaw. She was stubborn, sarcastic, argumentative, and willing to shoot him, given half a chance. If that didn’t qualify her for being a bitch, he wasn’t sure what did.

But she’d had plenty of provocation, and that knowledge forced him to consider her more brave than bitchy. She was brave even when she was scared to death. She was beautiful even when she was dirty and bedraggled.

The fact was, she was a hell of a woman, and he wanted her so bad, it hurt.

They stopped in a willow grove beside a rain-swollen creek somewhere around midmorning. The lower portion of Abby’s skirt was wet and dirty from her walk, her feet were wet and aching, and she was drooping from exhaustion. But she absolutely refused to reveal that to Tanner. As he dismounted and saw to the two animals, she just stood to the side, making a point of not looking at him but nevertheless conscious of every move he made.

The sun had broken through the remnants of the storm clouds that had dogged their trail for days, and now it heated the wet earth until it seemed almost to steam. Abby was hot, hungry, and sticky. She eyed the narrow rushing creek with longing but did not make a move toward it.

“Go on and rest a while,” Tanner ordered. “We can’t have a fire, but I’ve got biscuits, jerky, and some cold beans.”

Abby lifted her chin a fraction higher. “I’d like some coffee. Why can’t we have a fire?”

She thought he meant to ignore her, he took so long to respond. “Someone might try to follow us. I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for them.”

She turned to face him. “Follow us? You mean … Dexter?” she asked, her voice rising hopefully.

He hunched over one of his packs, pulling out two tin cups and several bundles of food. It was quite clear he had no intentions of hiding the amusement her words roused. “Dexter Harrison?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not too worried about your suitor, especially now that I know he’s a
spurned
suitor. As big as he is, he still couldn’t find Independence Rock unless he walked straight into it. The man has got other good qualities,” he conceded in faint deference to her stormy stare. “He’s just not a plainsman. No, if anybody follows us, it’ll be Captain Peters or someone he sends. Maybe Lewis.”

“Victor Lewis?” Abby had stiffened at Tanner’s belittlement of Dexter. But now she knew a sudden fear for Sarah’s husband. “You wouldn’t hurt him, would you? I mean, he’s done nothing to you—”

“If he tries to take you away from me, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him.”

He stared at her, the flat, deadly stare of a predator, and Abby swallowed in sick comprehension. Her father’s warning came swiftly to mind. Tanner was a man of violence who lived by his gun. All the rest—the charming side of him, the brief glimpses of gallantry, the sensual aura that drew her so powerfully—they were all peripheral to the central truth of him. He was a man who hired himself out at the best price he could get to hunt people down. And he would let nothing and no one stand in the way of his reward.

“Don’t hurt him,” she whispered, unaware she’d done more than think the words. “Don’t hurt Victor or anyone else on account of me.”

A bird called down from the tree behind him. The water rushed willy-nilly on its long way south, and another bird answered with a shrill whistle that could have been either reassurance or warning. Tanner straightened to his full height and faced her across the dappled shade of the willows. “As long as you cooperate with me, we won’t have any problems with someone trailing us.”

He waited for her response, though she sensed he already knew how she would answer. How she
must
answer.

“I’ll cooperate,” she said after a long, awful hesitation. “But if you hurt anyone—anyone at all,” she added in a voice gone low and venomous, “I’ll fight you every way I can. And one way or another I’ll make you pay.”

After that they didn’t talk. She helped herself to one stale biscuit and a few mouthfuls of beans, although her appetite was suddenly gone. She stuck several strips of jerky into her pocket and filled her cup several times from the stream. The water was cold and refreshing, though gritty with silt and other run-off debris. But Abby really didn’t care.

She washed her face and neck, her hands and her arms as far up as she could push her sleeves. She waded into the cold water almost up to her knees to refresh her aching feet. But she didn’t speak to Tanner again. Nor did she even look over at him.

All she could think was that she was truly the daughter of Eve. A woman beguiled by the serpent, intrigued by his dazzling appearance and glib tongue. She’d been warned by her father, but she’d been so certain that she knew better.

Yet in the end he was still the devil, though in a pretty disguise. He would do or say whatever was necessary in order to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was the money her grandfather offered. If anyone tried to get in his way …

As they prepared to leave, Abby knew that despite any other feelings she had for Tanner, she must let her fear of his potential violence toward others dominate everything she did. She must aid him, even in their escape. But revenge flickered to life deep in her heart. The bitter need for revenge took the place of the softer emotions she’d harbored for him. Eventually they’d get to Chicago. Eventually she’d be a wealthy, respected woman, if what he’d said of her grandfather was to be believed. And when that happened …

When that happened she’d find a way to avenge herself on this man who had no heart in his chest. No soul in him at all.

She crossed to Tulip, suddenly eager to reach their destination. “I can ride on my own now.”

“No.”

Abby frowned and glared at him. “I have no intention of trying to escape,” she stated in her most scathing tone.

But he only grinned, a slanted mocking expression that drew her hands up into fists. “Tulip’s not strong enough to hold a person’s weight.”

“But her pack—”

“Is half your weight.” He arched one brow. “You’ll have to ride on Mac. With me.”

Abby swallowed hard, burying her resentment and a burning sort of panic beneath a show of icy calm. “I’d rather walk.”

He tossed out the remnants in his cup and tucked it in his pack. “Too bad. I’ve given you all the time I can to work off your temper. We’ve got to put more distance between us and the overland trails. In case someone’s following us. I’d hate for us to have to confront anyone,” he added. “Wouldn’t you?”

She hated him. She absolutely hated him, Abby fumed as she perched before him once more, as stiff as an iron gate post. He was cruel, unfeeling, and quite the vilest person she’d ever had the displeasure to meet.

But as they rode steadily east, her hatred was small comfort. She would spend untold hours in his company during the coming weeks. She would ride with him during the days and make camp with him at night. Undoubtedly she would prepare their meals and then, when night came, lie down at the same fire to sleep.