Chastity (24 page)

    Turner did not respond.

    "You did the right thing comin' back here like you did, but I want you to listen real close to what I'm tellin' you now, because it's the last time I'm goin' to say it. I'm the boss here. I give the orders. You take them. If you don't, you either get out, or you get carried out. Do you understand?"

    Turner gave a jerky nod. Morgan turned toward Bartell.

    "You got a choice, too, Bartell. My advice is to think twice the next time you let Turner talk you into tryin' to put somethin' over on me… or you might end up regrettin' it."

    The taut silence that followed was broken when Morgan added as he turned back toward the cabin, "I'm goin' to get cleaned up and then   we'll be ridin' out. Get yourselves ready."

    Conchita appeared in the doorway as Morgan approached the cabin. He frowned, realizing he had forgotten she existed.

    "Something is wrong, Morgan?"

    Morgan reached for the bucket and poured water into the wash basin beside the door. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside.

    "Get me a clean shirt."

    He took off his hat and tossed it on the bench nearby as Conchita turned to his bidding. He lathered his face and upper body liberally, then rinsed away the soap and wiped himself dry. He combed his dark hair carefully,
then
grabbed the shirt Conchita offered him.

    "Where are you going, Morgan?"

    Morgan continued buttoning his shirt, his gaze frigid. "What makes you think you've got the right to ask me questions?"

    Conchita's lips tightened.

    "You haven't got the right… just in case you're wonderin'. As a matter of fact, you haven't got any rights at all here."

    Conchita raised her chin.

    "Make sure you've got somethin' good cookin' when I get back."

    Conchita did not reply.

    "You heard me, didn't you, Conchita?"

    "I heard you, Morgan."

    Patting his hair carefully into place, Morgan took a last look in the mottled mirror before    reaching for his hat and walking away without another word.

    A slowly expanding ache within her, Conchita followed close behind Morgan as he headed back toward the barn and disappeared inside. She waited a distance from the men, listening as they grumbled.

    "I'll tell you one thing…" Walker addressed Turner softly. "… You'd better be right. That had better be the woman he's expectin' it to be, or you're goin' to regret it."

    "Morgan
don't
scare me!" Turner sneered. "Maybe it'll be better if it ain't her. Then everythin' will come to a head once and for all."

    "Yeah, and you'll be lyin' on the ground lookin' up at the sky with eyes that don't see nothin' at all!"

    "I ain't so sure of that!"

    "If it ain't her, it ain't our fault, anyways!" Bartell addressed Walker defensively. "We was only goin' by what you and Simmons saida real good-lookin' woman with red hair. Maybe it wasn't her in that wagon. If it isn't, Morgan just might like this one better!"

    "I wouldn't bet on it. He"

    "Quiet! Here he comes."

    Conchita looked at the barn as Morgan emerged, leading his horse. Not bothering to speak, he mounted quickly and headed out. The men fell in behind him.

    Conchita watched them until they disappeared from sight. She walked back to the cabin, a solemn litany drumming in her mind.

    A dream that was dead.

    
Tears to be shed.

    
Blood soon to be flowing.

Chapter Nine

  Chastity stretched, then took a few stiff steps toward the wagon where Reed was tending to the horses. Reed had pulled the wagon to a halt a few minutes earlier their first stop since meeting the two men on the trail that morning. Grateful to be on her feet for a little while, she glanced up at the sky. She realized with a moment's wry amusement that she had assumed Reed's habit of checking the position of the sun to determine the time of day. She had become completely comfortable with a custom that would have seemed somehow backward to her only a few weeks earlier when doubts still prevailed about the wisdom of leaving the ''civilized" East behind her.

    But she was a different person now, both in   side and out. The pale, drably dressed, severely coiffed, bespectacled young woman who had boarded the train for Caldwell, Kansas, those weeks ago no longer existed. The sharp edges of discipline and propriety had softened, allowing a new side of her to emerge.

    Chastity considered that thought. No, the side of her that had emerged was not new. It had been lying beneath the surface, smothered by years of latent memories from which the fear had finally been dismissed. Only hope remained. Reed had done that for her. The strength of his presence beside her and the emotions he had raised within her had opened her heart and mind.

    Her thoughts sober, Chastity looked up again at the sky. It was nearing noon. Reed had pushed the wagon to a faster pace after their meeting with the two men on the trail earlier that morning. She was uncomfortable with the tension she sensed in him. She knew he didn't trust those men to be what they claimed. Somehow, neither did
she
. There was something about the way they looked at her that had sent chills down her spine. She had the feeling that Reed would be making as few stops as possible until they reached the mission. The thought stirred conflicting emotions.

    Turning instinctively at a sound behind her, Chastity gasped at the sight of an Indian partially concealed in the bushes a short distance away. Startled into speechlessness, she was unable to move under the intense scrutiny of his    dark eyes. Her heart thundering, she swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat,
then
turned toward the wagon.

    
"Reed!"

    Reed looked up. At her side in a moment, he slipped his arm around her.

    "What's wrong, Chastity?"

    "That Indian"

    Chastity looked back at the bushes where the Indian had stood. Her eyes widened. "He's gone!"

    "You saw an Indian here?"

    "Yes." Chastity realized belatedly that she was trembling. "There in the bushes. He didn't say anything. He just stared at me."

    Chastity stood rigidly immobile as Reed searched the bushes. He returned to her side, frowning. "He's gone. There's no use trying to follow him. Don't worry about it. There hasn't been any trouble with the tribes here for a while."

    Chastity nodded, struggling to subdue her trembling.
"Of course."

    "I think we'd better get moving, anyway. The sooner we get to the mission, the better." Pausing, Reed looked wordlessly down at her. She saw regret, concern, and an emotion she could not quite identify in his eyes as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Chastity. I never should have brought you here."

    "Don't say that, please, Reed."

    "Chastity, if I could"

    Reed bit off his words abruptly, his expres 
sion
hardening as he stepped back from her. "We'd better get going."

    Responding to the sense of urgency in his tone, Chastity glanced apprehensively around her,
then
complied without a word.

    
Chastity, if I could

    The unfinished sentence dangled in Reed's mind.

    
If I could go back to the beginning so we could start all over.
If I could erase the image of Jenny's face from my mind.
If I could be sure I wouldn't lose you
…

    They were back on the trail, the horses maintaining a steady pace. Chastity was seated close beside him, the warmth of her leg against his compensating for the dull ache of the wound in his thigh that had not yet completely healed. Even that had been a lie. He had not made the mistake of attempting to stop a gunfight. He had
instigated
that gunfight with three simple words: "I'm taking you in."

    But he had been careless. He had entered McCoy's cabin believing McCoy's partner had gone to town. That mistake had almost cost him his life.

    He survived, but McCoy did not. He managed to get McCoy's partner to jail before collapsing, and when he was able, he collected the reward, ignoring the Marshall’s obvious contempt as he counted out the sum.

    Would he see that same contempt in Chastity's eyes when she learned the truth about   him? He would find out soon enough. The events of the morning had made it clear that he needed to get her to the safety of the mission as soon as possible. The hackles that had crept up his spine when Bartell and Turner approached
was
an instinct he had learned not to ignore. The Indian who had appeared and disappeared so quickly was another complication.

    Reed looked at Chastity. She turned toward him, her brow knit in a frown. He slid his arm around her and touched his lips lightly to hers.

    He loved her. He had avoided acknowledging that truth to himself for countless reasons that now seemed unimportant. He needed to say the words. He needed to let Chastity know that he

    Reed's head jerked up abruptly as riders appeared over the rise in the distance.

    
Indians?

    No. Reed stiffened. His arm dropped from Chastity's shoulders. He almost wished they were.

    Reaching underneath his seat, Reed adjusted the position of the revolver hidden there. He felt the smooth stock of the rifle he had secreted beside it. He hoped he wouldn't need to use them.

    His attention acute, he watched the riders approach. There were five of them. The number was right. He strained to make out the features of the lead rider. He was of slight to medium build. That was right, too. He recognized the two riding beside him as the men he had spoken   to earlier. He drew the wagon to a halt and waited for them to rein up.

    One good look at the leader was all he needed. Morgan, the murdering bastard…

    "Mr. Jefferson!
How nice to see you again!"

    Reed's head jerked toward Chastity at her unexpected greeting. Stunned, he saw true warmth in her eyes as she smiled at Morgan.

    Morgan returned her smile and tipped his hat. "Nice to see you, too, Chastity. You're the last person I expected to see out here, but it sure is a fine surprise. Bartell mentioned that he had run into your wagon this mornin' and I had to ride by to see if there could possibly be
two
beautiful red-haired women in these parts."

    Reed stiffened at Chastity's flush of pleasure. He didn't like the way Morgan looked at Chastity. And he didn't like the shifting glances of his men. He had the feeling that they were as uncertain as he was what Morgan was going to do next.

    "This is Mr. Will Jefferson, Reed." Chastity turned toward Reed. "The incident in the store with Mr. Dobbs while you were ill…" She hesitated, obviously embarrassed as she continued, ''Mr. Jefferson was there when it happened. He was very helpful."

    Reed forced a smile. "I'm glad to be able to thank you for helping Chastity, Mr. Jefferson. My name is Reed Farrell. Chastity and I are on our way to the mission. Your men told me that I missed the turn."

    "You sure did. But it looks like your loss is    my gain. I probably would've missed the pleasure of seein' your beautiful wife again if you hadn't."

    
His wife.
Chastity glanced at him. He knew what she was thinking. Deception went against her grain, and she was about to correct Morgan's mistaken impression. He averted her reply, responding, "I didn't realize that the government had opened this land to grazing."

    "They didn't… officially. The Indians and I have an understanding."

    Reed nodded, maintaining a pleasant facade with pure strength of will. "Your place is near here?"

    "It is. It isn't much, but it works out real fine."

    Yeah, he bet it did.

    Morgan's earnest smile was a true masterpiece as he added, "It would be my pleasure if you'd stop off and spend the night. My cook isn't much, but she puts a satisfyin' meal on the table, and there's always more than enough."

    "That's kind of you." The words stuck in Reed's throat. "But Chastity and I are anxious to get to the mission."

    "That's real disappointin'." Morgan turned to Chastity. The blood boiled in Reed's veins as Morgan appealed to her directly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd use your influence to get your husband to change his mind, Chastity. It isn't often the fellas and I get a chance for enjoyable company out here."

    Chastity turned hesitantly toward Reed.

    "I'm sorry," Reed said, adding firmly, "I can't    in good conscience delay reaching the mission another day. I hope you understand."

    Morgan's smile faltered, and Reed reached down to rub his calf, his hand hovering near the gun. His hatred was so intense that he almost wished Morgan would draw.

    
"All right.
I guess there's no changin' your mind," Morgan continued with another of his ingratiating smiles, "I'm hopin' you won't object to my visitin' the mission after you get yourself settled."