Nan Ryan (42 page)

Lew’s heart hammered. He moved his booted feet apart and filled his hands with her soft, rounded bottom. He gripped her firmly and drew her up on her toes and into him, pressing her groin to the strong, uncontrollable pulsing of his own.

They finally broke apart, panted for breath, and began tearing off their clothes. Naked, they sank to the ground and Lew rolled over onto Mollie. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her quivering belly and she wanted him more than ever.

“Take me,” she urged breathlessly, on fire, hurting.

Lew’s hand slipped between her legs. She was already hot and wet and ready. His own blood up, he took her quickly with a deep, hard thrust that made them both gasp and tremble.

Mollie arched her back to receive him fully, greedy for all of him. Her restless hands trailed down his back to the smooth, tanned flesh of his buttocks.

Her fingers splayed and, gripping him, she drew him to her, eagerly accepting each deep thrust, longing to keep him inside her forever. Fiercely, she loved him, enveloping him in the torrid heat of her unleashed sexuality.

She was a living, searing flame of passion that engulfed him until Lew, too, was raging out of control. He made love to her with an urgency that bordered on violence. Faster and faster he moved, accelerating his deep, driving thrusts, increasing his strokes until he was pounding uncontrollably into her.

It was exactly what Mollie wanted.

Her pelvis rose up to accept each brutal, probing plunge, her body zealously accepting the powerful pain-pleasure, needing it, demanding it. Savagely she bucked against him, primitive in her passion, barbaric in her senseless desire to possess him completely.

Mollie felt her orgasm beginning and cried out in anguished protest. “No! No!”

She didn’t want it to come yet. She didn’t want this wild loving to end. Ever. She would hold back! She’d not let it happen. She would keep Lew loving her like this for all eternity.

Mollie gritted her teeth and started to moan helplessly as she felt herself slipping over the edge. Powerless against the tremendous shocks of joy jolting through her, she looked up into Lew’s hot, pleading eyes and surrendered to the inevitable. She let herself go and Lew let himself go. Together they attained a frightening level of satisfaction, reaching a pinnacle of pleasure that far surpassed any they’d climbed to before.

It shook them both to their very souls and after it ended, Mollie realized that she was crying when Lew, murmuring endearments, kissed the tears from her eyes. He held her until she calmed, assuring her that he was hers and would always be hers.

After dozens of soothing kisses and professions of undying love, Lew said gently, “Sweetheart, the rain has stopped.”

Mollie smiled, kissed his shoulder, and rose from their bed of damp pine needles. She stretched lazily, then walked naked out into the clearing. The sky overhead was clear blue, the sun bright and hot.

Lew came to her. He stepped up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist, and drew her back against him.

Mollie leaned her head on his shoulder, covered his hands with hers, and said, almost shyly, “My primal burst of passion must have shocked you.”

“It delighted me.”

“I know, but you must wonder … I … have you ever experienced an irrational fear that something bad was going to happen?”

“Everybody has, I suppose. Doesn’t mean a thing.” His protective arms tightened around her. “The worst thing that’s going to happen to you has already happened.”

“It has? What?”

“Me.”

Mollie laughed and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she saw it.

A wide, colorful rainbow arcing across the azure sky.

Later that same afternoon they stood, fully dressed now, on a jutting ledge of rock high above Diablo Canyon, holding hands and watching the spectacular sunset. From their vantage point they could see, in all directions, astounding vistas and desert ranges.

“Sunset Crater,” Lew said, pointing north. “And Humphreys Peak just west of the crater.”

Mollie was still gazing at the twelve thousand foot mountain peak when Lew turned her around to face east. “The Little Colorado River,” he indicated a curving ribbon of water. “Bet there’s snow on the banks.”

“So early?” Mollie looked up at him.

Lew nodded. “Look there, honey, to the south. The Mongollon Rim. Further down the Santa Cantalinas, the Pinalenos, and the Chiricahuas.”

Mollie shook her head. “I wonder if …?”

“Yes. If we strain real hard, we can see the deserts around Maya.” He glanced at her. “No, look a little more to the west.” Again he pointed.

Mollie followed his pointing finger, squinted, and finally saw the flat, arid desert in the distance. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I do see it. Is that really it, Lew? Is Maya out there in the—”

“You mean you can’t see the town?”

She lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “Well, no, I—”

“No? Why, there’s the Maya Emporium and the—”

“Where? I still can’t—”

“The Nueva Sol and the new Methodist church and … and … Well, I’ll be damned!”

“What? What is it? Tell me!” Mollie’s voice had risen an octave and she was squinting hard.

“There comes the professor down the steps of the Manzanita Avenue mansion and I believe … yes, he’s waving at us and—”

“Ooooh! Lew Hatton, you devil!” she shrieked, “you’re teasing me!” She whirled around and began beating furiously on his chest and calling him names.

At that moment a small band of riders topped a gentle ridge not fifty yards from them. Mollie’s back was to the intruders and Lew, making faces, pretending that she was hurting him, was looking only at Mollie, playfully fending off her blows and yelping loudly. Neither saw or heard the riders.

The Kid’s gray eyes narrowed as he calmly pulled an ivory-handled .44 from its holster and urged his gelding down the slope.

“A lover’s spat?” he asked coldly and pulled the trigger.

The bullet caught Lew in the left shoulder and for a stunned second, both he and Mollie stared, dumbfounded, at the bright blossom of blood that appeared on his soft chamois shirt.

Then Mollie screamed and whirled about as Lew looked over her head to the semicircle of mounted men. All had guns drawn and pointed at him. He knew it was suicide to draw his own.

“Get behind me,” Lew calmly ordered, but Mollie refused to budge.

“Kid,” she murmured, disbelieving.

“Get your hands above your head, Taylor,” the Kid ordered, his steely gaze on Lew. Then his attention swung to Mollie. He grinned evilly and said, “Hello, darlin’. You planning to give this broke broncbuster my gold and marry—”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Kid,” Mollie interrupted. “He’s no broncbuster, and his name’s not Taylor. He’s Lew Hatton.”

“Hatton?” The Kid’s eyes went back to Lew.

“Yes, Hatton. William Hatton’s only son,” she said. “And besides that, he’s the bounty hunter that brought in all our men. He took me against my will. I swear it, Kid.”

Lew couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. He was face-to-face with the Texas Kid after believing for years that the man was dead. And he was listening to the woman he loved betray him to the Kid while he stood here as impotent and helpless as a newborn infant.

The Kid said to Mollie, “Get his gun, darlin’.”

Mollie immediately obeyed. She stuck the gun in Lew’s ribs while she said, “Kid, thank God you’ve finally come for me.”

The Texas Kid grinned like a shy schoolboy. “I’m not too late, am I, Mollie? He hasn’t … hurt you or anything?” He swung down off his horse and started toward her.

Lew forcefully shoved Mollie away from him. “Kid, let’s you and I settle this—”

“No!” Mollie screamed and flung herself at Lew. “Shut up, bounty hunter! You have no say in this!” She again poked the revolver in his ribs, managing as she did so, to stand between him and the Kid.

The big, bearded Kid beamed with pride. “Step away from him now, honey. I’ll kill the son of a bitch right where he stands.”

“No,” Mollie said, thinking fast, stalling for time. “Let’s have some fun with him first. Cover him for me, Kid.”

The Kid’s eyes glittered with anticipation of just what kind of torture she had in mind for Hatton. Pointing both ivory-handled pistols at Lew, he ordered Lew to keep his hands held high or else have his head blown off.

Mollie shoved Lew’s revolver into the waistband of her breeches, slipped the bandanna from her throat and raised it to Lew’s lips.

“Mollie,” Lew said, “what the hell are—”

“Shut your mouth, bounty hunter,” said the Kid and cocked his pistols.

Mollie said nothing. She glanced briefly into Lew’s eyes, shoved the silk bandanna between his lips and dashed around in back of him to tie it, expertly gagging him so that he could no longer speak. Dusting her hands together, she sauntered back around in front of him.

The Kid roared with laughter, then announced proudly to his men, “There, by God, is a woman! And she’s
my
woman.” Wiping his thin, drooling lips on the back of his hand, he said to Mollie, “Now tell the bastard, honey. Tell him what you’re going to do to him.”

“I will, but first … You’re not still angry, are you, Kid? I have the gold stashed in a safe place. I hid it from Hatton.”

“Mollie, darlin’, you know I can’t stay mad at you. You ready to stop fighting and marry me?”

“Yes,” Mollie replied. “I’ve always wanted to get married in that little Catholic church in San Carlos and—”

“No, honey, we can’t. We’re still wanted in Arizona. We’ll go back to Mexico and—”

“San Carlos is a sleepy little place, Kid. Besides, the man who’s caused us all the trouble is right here.” She inclined her head.

The Kid shoved one pistol back into the holster, scratched his lobeless ear, and said affectionately, “You’re still a mighty bossy little thing.” His bearded face broke into a wide grin and he added, “Hell, if it’ll make you happy, we’ll get married in San Carlos.”

“At the Catholic church on the town square? With a priest and flowers and me in a long white lace dress?”

The Kid’s heavy eyebrows shot up. “My Mollie in a dress?”

“A long lace dress. I want everything to be proper and nice, Kid. A wedding day we’ll never forget.”

Throughout the exchange, Lew’s eyes were wild, his heart about to explode in his chest. In a matter of seconds everything had changed. All he had believed to be real was not. Mollie had lied to him all this time. She had known all along that the Kid was alive, but she had let him believe that the Kid was dead. Had all the rest been lies as well? God in heaven, how could he have allowed this to happen? He should have been more alert, should have been looking over his shoulder all along. Should never have trusted Mollie Rogers.

Mollie continued to stand directly in front of Lew and all at once he realized that she was purposely shielding him from the seven raised guns. His wild thoughts of doubt departed and he knew exactly what she was doing. She was saving him! She was sacrificing herself for him. Jesus God, she was going to give herself to the Kid in exchange for his life. She would be at the Kid’s mercy, and the Kid had no mercy!

“… and kill him so we can get on our way,” the Kid was saying.

“I’ve a much better idea,” Mollie said. “Let’s leave him here to die.”

“You mean not shoot him again?” The Kid was skeptical. “I don’t much like the idea of—”

“Don’t you see,” Mollie cut in, “it would be far greater punishment. If you shoot him, it’s over in seconds. But leave him alone out here and it could take days for him to die.”

The Kid started grinning. “We’ll shoot the horses and take all the food.”

Mollie swallowed hard. “Sure. Leave the wounded bastard afoot. See how far he gets.”

“Mollie, my own, no wonder I’ve missed you. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m anxious to get to San Carlos and the padre.”

“Soon as I say good-bye to the bounty hunter.” She winked at the Kid, turned, stepped up close to Lew’s face, and said loudly,
“Adios
, vermin. You’re on your own.” Then quickly she mouthed the words, “I love you, my darling.”

While Lew gagged, unable to speak past the bandanna, his eyes spoke volumes. Mollie pivoted and walked straight to the Kid. Laughing, the Kid gestured with his ivory-handled pistol and at once the air was filled with gunfire as the men turned their guns on Lew’s horses.

Holstering his own gun, the Kid lifted Mollie up onto his prancing gelding, swung up behind her, put his arms around her, and dug his big-roweled spurs into the horse’s flanks. Away they thundered, his men right on their heels and Mollie, playing her role to the end, never even looked back.

Lew was a wild man. Tearing the bandanna from his mouth, he ran after the departing gang, shouting for them to come back. To let Mollie go. To take him instead.

He ran and ran and was still running long after they had left him behind. He was winded and his side ached and blood streamed down his left arm, and still he ran, blinking furiously, trying to keep Mollie in sight.

Lew continued to run in a foolish, futile attempt to save her. Panting heavily, tears of frustration stinging his eyes, he stumbled and staggered and finally crashed to the ground. A groan of despair and pain erupted from his lips.

He was back up at once, running again. Blindly, wearily he dashed through the undergrowth and tripped on a fallen log. He rose, staggered, faltered, and sank to his knees. Howling like a wounded animal, he crawled on his hands and knees until he was unable even to do that.

He collapsed on his belly, tried to get up. His heated lungs labored feebly, painfully, and sweat poured into his burning eyes. Weak from exertion and loss of blood, Lew felt the dreaded darkness dragging him under. Manfully he fought against it, willing himself to stay conscious, telling himself he couldn’t let Mollie down. He had to save her, he had to.

With superhuman effort he got to his feet one more time. But the rise was too rapid. The whole world spun dizzily out of control and the earth came up to meet him.