Pioneer Passion (33 page)

She turned and studied him. Instinctively he
put his arms around her and placed a finger under her chin forcing
her to look into his eyes. She could see that Guy wasn’t pleased
with her.

“Kid! I’m flattered that you love me that
much to keep me from harm. But, do you have so little faith in your
husband’s ability to take care of his own hide? Or mistrust me
enough not to tell me the truth?” She licked her dry, trembling
lips but he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You think I am so
addle-brained that I wouldn’t seek the truth before I challenged
any man or men with someone’s hunch? You’ve a lot to learn about
your husband!”

He gave her a dour look and Rusty’s insides
quaked from his harsh tones. She felt so foolish not believing he
could take care of himself. He was right, and again she had put
their relationship in jeopardy because she underestimated him.

“Oh, Guy, I’m so sorry, but you must believe.
I meant no harm.” Why didn’t he hold her closer instead of making
her feel as if she was being held by a stranger? And to make
matters worse, Guy dropped his arms and turned abruptly, saying
over his shoulder, “We’ll discuss this later, my love. I’m going
into town to see the marshal.”

He was gone, leaving her standing in a cold
and empty room.

Guy rode into Sweetwood after checking on his
men and the herd. It was too early for the lawman to be in his
office, so he went to the boarding house where the man lived.
Marshal Levi was eating breakfast and he watched the lawman consume
three eggs, half a pound of bacon and a pile of grits without
batting an eye while listening to him. The big man washed it all
down with two cups of coffee, leaned his large body back in the
chair and wiped his chin with a napkin.

“I know the young man yer talkin’ about.”
Marshal Levi belched and reached for a toothpick. He sucked on the
pick shaking his head. “I don’t recall him comin’ to see me about
rustlers. I’m afraid that fellow was spinnin’ a false yarn, son.”
He spit a piece of wood onto the floor. “Nope, can’t recollect
anyone askin’ me to check up on ’em there rustlers, except yerself
a while back. I sent a man out to search the area when ya reported
yer problem, but he found nothin’.”

Guy sighed, not expecting much help from the
lawman. He finished the hot coffee that was offered and took his
leave. He would ride the range and see if he could pick up Scott’s
trail and had a good idea where to start. He’d bet a plug nickel it
would be near the pass where Scott was thrown from his horse and
bitten by the rattler.

When Scott came upon the hideout all was
quiet. He noticed the lookout was nowhere to be seen and figured
they had become careless or were so sure no one would find them,
they let down their guard. Assuming they were all asleep he crashed
in thinking if he could take them by surprise, round them up in
their stupor and return with Guy and the marshal, he could handle
any punishment that was coming to him.

Though shaking in his boots, Scott ordered
the sleepy men out of their bedrolls. He waved the gun, commanding
them to keep their hands in the air. They were all standing in long
johns and Yates was grinning at him. He didn’t like it; something
was amiss, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

“Well, to what do we owe the pleasure of yer
early visit?” The outlaw named Pinkie drawled, looking over Scott’s
head.

It was too late. Scott felt the hot breath on
his neck before a blow to the side of his head rendered him
unconscious. When he finally came too, he found himself tied up
like a turkey. Self-chiding would be useless now. He should have
known it was too easy busting into the shack and catching them
off-guard. Now he sat, hog-tied in the corner, with mice scurrying
around his feet. What a saphead I am to come here trying to handle
this myself. He was surprised he was still breathing, although each
breath caused pain in his skull. To add to his misery, a boot
kicked him in the ribs.

“So ya finally come ‘round?” Lucky fer us ya
didn’t notice that one bedroll was empty. Ya forgot about the fifth
man, Hank who had been out back relieving himself.”

Scott didn’t have to look up to know who was
talking to him. Yates had a stench all his own. A match was struck
and the smell of sulfur was added to the acrid air. Yates sat on
his haunches and blew smoke into his face. “Now, boy, what did ya
think, comin’ in here disturbin’ our beauty sleep?”

There was laughter from the others and Scott
knew they were toying with him. How long before they would kill
him? He closed his eyes and the image of Susan’s pretty face was
there. What a fool he was. Now, he’ll never see her again; maybe
she was better off without him. But he was lying to himself; he
wanted to live more than ever. He was kicked and his train of
thoughts was broken. His gaze followed Yates’ pacing as the outlaw
puffed on the soggy cigar. “What should we do with our little
friend?” There was a murmur from his men. “It wasn’t smart of ya to
come here, pullin’ this stupid stunt. Did ya think ya could capture
us, yerself? I guess I didn’t make myself very clear with my little
demon-stration awhile back. So yer really serious on stoppin’ the
raid on yer brother-in-law, eh?”

Scott’s eyes widened. He never mentioned the
fact that Guy was his brother-in-law.

Yates chuckled, tapping ashes in a coffee
cup. “Oh, ya think I don’t know that the man ya wanted revenge on
was the cowboy who married yer purty little sister. Well, ya
underestimated me and the boys, my friend.”

The angry leader leaned over and placed the
lit cigar close to Scott’s face, grinning wickedly. Sweat poured
from his brow as the white tip of the cigar threatened to burn his
right eye. There was an ominous silence in the room and Scott’s
fear of a slow tortured death caused a wave of nausea to come to
him. Yates tossed the butt over his head, giving him temporary
relief. Down on his haunches again, Yates grabbed him once more by
the collar, cutting off some of his air supply.

“The boys and I know a lot more than ya
think, eh, boys?” His men laughed. “Ya see there’s not five of us,
but six. Ya look puzzled, my friend. Ya see, we have a man on the
inside, workin’ right along with ya. Ya think we trusted ya to hide
our tracks. Ha! A blind man could follow yer hidden tracks. No, our
man was the reason yer brother-in-law couldn’t find us. We heard he
was a good tracker and we couldn’t take any chances.”

He let Scott go with a shove and he took a
deep, agonizing breath, not liking the way Yates was talking. Fear
tingled down the length of his spine knowing that a man at the
ranch was spying on them. His thoughts went to his sister and
Susan.

Yates straightened and scratched his hairy
chest. “I think boys that maybe Scott is right. I think it’s time
for us to mosey on. We laid low fer awhile, so I’m sure one last
raid would catch them by surprise.”

Hank shook his head. He wasn’t too tall but
he was built like a barrel and Scott believed that the man was not
afraid of anyone or anything. “Ya think that’s wise, boss? I don’t
like pressin’ our luck.”

Yates’ answer was a grumble. Hank insisted
they quit while they had a chance giving Scott some hope. “I’m sure
that purty little cousin of yers will be satisfied with the damage
we’ve done so far.” Scott didn’t miss Yates’ cold eyes sizzling
with anger. He turned on his man and the minuscule tick returned in
the leader’s eye.

“Fool! Cynthia’s involvement in this wasn’t
to be mentioned!” He looked at Scott realizing his own slip. “I
guess it don’t matter much, since he won’t live to tell a
soul.”

Scott jerked up at the mention of a woman’s
name. Who was this Cynthia, and what did she have to do with all of
this? Just then the door flew open, snapping him from his
reflections. Instantly, he recognized Jake, the ranch hand. The
newcomer scrutinized him, looking surprised and confused, and then
went over to Yates. Jake whispered something into his boss’s ear
that made Yates grin, baffling Scott.

“Well, how convenient fer us. Get bozo on his
feet, Hank!”

Scott was lifted as if he were a rag doll,
and thrown cruelly over Hank’s shoulder. The blood rushed to his
head, producing unbearable pain. He was tossed on the horse’s rump
and Hank sat in front of him.

“Okay, men,” Yates said and mounted his
horse. “We’re goin’ to pay a little visit to two lovely ladies
before we take the herd. It seems, according to Jake, that Guy
Strong rode into town and all the cowhands are on the range. There
are two purty ladies all alone.” He chuckled deep in his throat and
icy fear twisted around Scott’s heart.

“Nooo!” he screamed, “You can’t....” The rest
of his protest was cut off by a big hairy hand. He tried to free
himself from the sweaty palm but he only made it worse by
struggling. The hand cut off his breathing and he passed out; when
he regained consciousness, a smelly gag had replaced the hand.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Rusty paced the floor, worried about Guy and
Scott. What was her brother up to, and where had he gone? Would Guy
find more trouble than he could handle by himself? He had promised
to go for help, but she knew about the lazy marshal. She should
have gone with Guy? She should have insisted. What if he got
killed? How could she live without him? Once again she asked
herself if their life together would ever be normal. She decided to
take her frustrations out on the wash and went to the creek to beat
some clothes against a rock. Mattie had a big copper tub behind the
house that they used to do the laundry, but Rusty needed to beat
something and her clothes would be the object to suffer.

Beating a shirt on a rock, not noticing she
was reducing it to a rag, she heard riders nearing the ranch. She
ran blindly through the woods towards the house believing it was
Guy with the marshal and his men. Overjoyed to think he was home
safe, tears blinded her vision and she stopped short in front of
the men, rubbing her happy tears from her eyes. The strangers
dismounted and it was then she noticed Guy wasn’t among them.

“Guy?” Rusty rasped and blinked looking over
the faces of the men so see if she recognized anyone. She saw one
familiar face, Jake, but… something was wrong. Her stomach knotted
seeing a man hold up her dazed brother, who was also gagged. Fear
made her innards grow cold and before she could utter a word, Scott
was thrown from the horse like a sack of potatoes. “Scott!?” she
screamed and ran to him.

Scott lay wincing in pain and she suspected
when her brother had landed hard on his shoulder that he had
dislocated it. His eyes fluttered open as she removed the soggy rag
from his dry mouth. Shadows closed in and she knew the men were
gathering around her.

“Oh, Scott,” Rusty cried and sank to her
knees and held him to her bosom, sobbing, and rocking him like a
child. Who were these horrible men? Why did they hurt her brother
and what do they want? She didn’t have to ask if she was in great
danger; instinctively she believed she was. Sensing the men behind
her, she screamed, “Get away from me! Leave us alone!” she
shrieked, “You’ve hurt him enough! Oh, Scott,” she wailed and held
him sobbing.

“Well, now ain’t that a touchin’ sight,”
someone snickered. “Yer wastin’ yer time cryin’ over him. He’s no
better than the rest of us.” She felt the hand on her shoulder and
recoiled. Terrified, she looked up at the man who addressed her;
the sun was behind him and she had to squint. She couldn’t make out
his features, but she sure could smell him. “What are you
insinuating?” she hissed.

“Yer brother was behind the raids.”

The outlaw’s insolent features leered at her.
“No! I don’t believe you!” She glared at him as his shadow darkened
her face.

“It’s true, Sis,” Scott’s voice was weak, but
she heard the confession.

She didn’t want to believe him, but her
instincts told her differently. It was all starting to fit. He had
been full of hate when he first arrived, and the secret of his true
identity, the stalling to tell Guy the truth. But why? She believed
he had grown to like it here and eventually he seemed to like
Guy.

“Why, Scott?” Rusty looked at him for an
answer, but he was out again; all she could do was hold him and
sob. Without warning, she was roughly torn from her brother. Her
blood grew cold with an instant hate for the cruel man and she
scratched at his face. She then shrieked and kicked, fighting him
tooth and nail. But someone came up behind her, grabbing her and
pinning her arms with his bear hug. It didn’t stop her from
squirming and kicking. The heel of her boot made contact with his
shin and he let out a howl, but he didn’t release her. The vile man
squeezed her tighter, until she thought her ribs would crack.

Unable to breathe, Rusty decided it would be
best to quiet down or she’d soon lose all her strength. She
wouldn’t be any help to her brother if all her ribs were broken.
These men were killers, pure and simple. She had to agree to behave
before being released, and did so with a sneer, but was happy to
see the man scowling and rubbing his shin.

The one she assumed was the leader chuckled.
“I never thought I’d live to see a mere girl nearly scratch out ya
eyes, Hank. But ya clipped the wildcat’s claws.”

Rusty begged them to let her care for her
brother, but they just scoffed and laughed at her.

Tears blurred her vision when she thought
about Scott, bound and in pain, lying in the dirt. Even if he came
to, he wouldn’t be able to help her and Susan. Her only hope was
Guy, but she shuddered to think of him riding in here alone. There
were six against one, he would surely get killed. And why were they
here, hanging around taking a chance? She rubbed her aching sides,
surrendering to a terrible grip of confused fear.