The Moon and the Stars (9 page)

“You will. Just give it time.”

She laid her hand on his. “I enjoyed today.”

“So did I.” He raised her hand to his lips. “I will hope for many more days like this one.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Only perhaps next time we can be alone.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Renault mounting his horse to ride back to town. She could not go another day until she faced that man and demanded that he tell her the truth.

“I have to go now,” she said, tightening the ribbons on her bonnet. “Please tell Nelly that there was something I needed to do.”

The captain had seen Renault ride away, and he knew that whatever trouble Caroline had somehow involved that man. It did not seem that Caroline had any warm feelings for the bounty hunter; it even appeared that she was afraid of him. And as for Renault, he had acted overly attentive to Caroline as if he were trying to annoy her, or was there something much more sinister going on between the two of them?

As Caroline made her way across the narrow road toward town, she noticed the gathering storm clouds on the western horizon. What happened today when she finally faced Mr. Renault would determine the rest of her life.

Caroline climbed the steps of the boardinghouse with a purposeful gait. After today she was no longer willing to hide from life, and she wasn't going to run anymore.

She was going to face her worse fear.

And that fear was Wade Renault.

It was strangely silent in town since almost everyone had gone to the picnic, but that did not deter her—she would face this man alone. She moved through the dining room, her steps just a whisper on the polished wood floor. When she came to the stairs, she made no effort to disguise her steps. She knew in her heart that the bounty hunter would be waiting for her.

And she was right.

The door to his room was open, and he stood with his back to the window, watching as she stopped in the doorway.

“I have been waiting for you,” he said, his gaze cold
and hard, his Creole accent giving the words more emphasis. “You arrived even sooner than I had expected.”

“My brother-in-law sent you, didn't he?”

“Mr. Duncan,
oui
.” He came slowly toward her, watching her hands as if he expected her to have a gun. He knew that even the most innocent-looking person could become dangerous when trapped. That was especially true of this woman.

She stood her ground when he reached out and took her purse from her stiff fingers. With indignation she watched him open it and examine the contents before throwing it onto his bed.

“Madame, you will oblige me by raising your gown. From what I know of you, I expect you to have a concealed weapon.”

“You know nothing of me if you got your information from Brace. And I will not raise my gown for you or any other man.”

“I know you better than you think I do.” He nodded at the hem of her gown. “Now raise it.”

Caroline was seething with anger, but she raised her gown past her knees. “Maybe you would also like to search my person?” she asked haughtily, not really expecting him to perform such an outrageous deed.

“That, madame, is exactly what I intend to do.”

Before she could react, his hands clamped on her shoulders, and then they slid along her bodice and down to her waist. She closed her eyes, her face flushed with embarrassment at the methodical and detached manner with which he examined her. Even Brace at his worst had not made her feel this kind of shame.

“Let me know when you have finished,” she said, not bothering to hide her anger.

When he was satisfied that she had no weapon hidden on her person, he stepped away from her, his gaze hard. “Caroline Duncan, we can do this the easy way, and you can come with me willingly, or you can resist, and I will be forced to make you accompany me. One way or the other, you will be with me when I leave this town.”

She had been startled when he called her by her married name. “I have not thought of myself as a Duncan in a very long time,” she said, her lips trembling. She raised her gaze to him, feeling defeated—she couldn't run, and there was nowhere she could hide from him. She was simply no match for a man such as him.

“Just how do you plan to get me out of town?” Caroline asked scornfully. “I have friends who will search for me—you must know that.”

She was right—he couldn't just take her away without any explanation—but he had already planned for that event. He would have to move fast, because he did not want to have to answer any questions that the people of this town would demand to know.

“I took the liberty of choosing a horse and traveling attire for you. You will go with me now to your house and change clothing,”

“And if I refuse?”

He picked up the folded clothes, a pair of boots, and a hat from the foot of his bed, nodding at her purse, which still lay there. “You may now take that with you.”

She folded her arms over her chest and planted her feet. “You can't make me go with you.”

He scooped up her purse, tossed it to her, and she
caught it. “I have my ways of persuasion. Make no mistake about it, you are leaving here with me today. And I don't much care how.”

She vacillated between wanting to fly at him to claw his face and going down on her knees to beg for mercy, but she did neither. She merely stepped out the door, knowing he was following close behind her.

When they reached the dining room, he took her arm. “Don't think you can stall until your friends come to your rescue,” he warned, forcing her to take two steps to each of his long strides.

If he could have read her mind, he would have known that she didn't want anyone to intervene on her behalf. Renault would not take kindly to anyone's interference, and she didn't want any of her friends getting hurt on her account.

Thunder rolled in the distance, and dark clouds boiled across the sky. She hurried toward her house, knowing the rain would drive the picnickers home. When she stepped inside her home, he handed her the clothing.

“Put these on and be quick about it.”

She looked confused. “But these are men's trousers! Surely you can't expect me to wear these? I would look ridiculous. No,” she said, backing away from him. “I will not do it!”

“Why do you pester me like this? You are only making it harder on yourself. Do exactly as I tell you to do. You cannot travel in that gown; therefore, you will wear what I have provided for you,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

She knew it would do no good to argue with him,
so she walked into her bedroom, her steps heavy with anger. She would have closed the door, but a booted foot blocked it.

“Leave it open. I will give you the privacy you need,” he told her, turning his back but bracing his shoulder against the door jamb. “Don't try anything. You will be unable to outrun me.”

She was angry as she undid her ribbons and hooks. She kicked her gown away and started to remove her shift but thought better of it. Looking at the trousers with disgust, she stepped into them and pulled them up. She stuffed her shift tightly inside them, attempting to distribute the material so it wouldn't be lumpy. She discovered that Wade Renault had left nothing to chance; the trousers and shirt fit perfectly. She sat down on the foot of the bed and wiggled her feet into a pair of socks, knowing the boots he had chosen for her would probably be the right size as well. They were.

“I'm ready,” she said, looking about the room that had been her sanctuary for so long. Her heart was breaking because of the friends she would be leaving behind.

He turned to look at her, nodded approvingly, and handed her the hat. “You will need this tonight for the rain, and the rest of the time to keep from burning in the sun.”

She looked at the Western hat with leather straps to hold it in place. “I can't wear a hat like that.”

“It may seem unstylish to you, but it will serve you well before we get to where we are going, madame.”

She took it from him and crammed it on her head. “There. Does that satisfy you?”

“Of course. Now,” he said with authority, “I want you to write a note. And don't try anything, because I will read it after you have finished.”

She had no choice but to do exactly what he told her to do, and anyway, Nelly deserved some explanation from her. She scribbled the letter quickly and held it out to him. “Does that suit your purpose?”

He took a deep breath and read aloud. “ ‘Nelly, you will remember when I said I might one day have to leave without telling you. Today is that day. Do not worry about me. I am in no danger.' ”

He nodded in satisfaction, then took her arm and led her toward the kitchen. “We will leave now. The horses are tied out back.”

“You've forgotten nothing, have you?” She opened her purse and took what money she had, held it up for his inspection, and then stuffed it in her shirt pocket.

“Why would I?” he remarked, leading her in the direction of the kitchen.

“Wait!” she cried, jerking her arm away from him. She ran to her sewing basket and dug around until she came to the newspaper clipping with the false account of Michael's death and shoved it into her trouser pocket.

“Are you quite ready now?”

“Not yet.” She went into the kitchen, bent down to the basket beneath the stove, and scooped Archimedes into her arms. She rubbed her face against his soft fur, which soon became damp with her tears.

After a moment she looked up at Mr. Renault and saw the strained expression on his face. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that he was sorry for what he was doing. “I'll need to feed him before
we leave. I'm sure Nelly will take care of him after I have gone. He cannot”—she wet her trembling lips with a flick of her tongue—“he cannot survive on his own.”

Wade leaned casually against the door, the hardness in his eyes warning her that he couldn't care less what happened to the cat. “Go ahead. I can wait long enough for you to feed it.”

An idea came to her, and she blurted out, “I don't know what my brother-in-law is paying you, but if you will give me time, I can pay you more.”

His eyes became hooded. “I don't think so.”

“But I can—”

“Madame, my patience is wearing thin—you are pushing me too far. And believe me, you would not like me that way.”

She stood for a moment undecided, and then turned her attention to Archimedes. She could feel the bounty hunter's agitation as she poured milk into a saucer and then crumpled several slices of crisp bacon into a bowl.

She rubbed her hand over Archimedes, determined not to cry again. “You must be a good cat.” She placed a kiss on his face and stood. “I guess I am ready.” It took all her courage to stand before him without trembling. “Well, are we going or not?”

He muttered something under his breath and held the door for her, then followed down the steps.

She saw that his black horse was tied to her washtub, along with a white-faced roan. “I have never ridden astride,” she said, looking wide-eyed at the heavy Western saddle. “I'm not sure I can.”

He untied a yellow slicker from the back of his saddle
and tossed it at her. “You will need this before the night is over.”

She put it on, deciding he might be right. It was definitely going to rain before too long. But that was the least of her problems.

“Are you a good horsewoman?”

“Of course—side-saddle.”

His hands spanned her waist, and he lifted her onto the saddle. “Then you will have no trouble hanging on.”

She bit her lip and gathered the reins, wondering if she could outrun him if she urged her horse forward.

Before she realized what was happening, he had clamped a handcuff on one wrist, locking the other end around the knobbed saddle horn. “I chose your mount with care,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Believe me when I tell you, this filly will never outdistance my horse.”

She pulled and jerked on the handcuffs until he reached over and laid his hand on hers. “Do not do that. You will only hurt yourself.”

By the time they rode out of town, the first drops of rain were beginning to fall, and she was glad for the hat, though she would never admit it to him. She turned her face into the rain and allowed herself to cry, knowing he would be unable to see the tears.

She turned once to glance behind her. This would be her last view of San Sebastian. She watched the sign above the boardinghouse sway in the wind. She had never had a sweeter friend than Nelly, and it hurt to think she would not be seeing her again.

“We need to hurry,” he told her. “I want to make it to Uvalde before nightfall.”

She was wet to the skin. Rain always seemed to follow
her when she was in trouble, and this time she was in real trouble.

At first it felt awkward to be wearing trousers and riding astride, but she soon felt comfortable on the horse except for the handcuffs that restricted her one hand.

After they had been riding for over an hour, he halted and motioned for her to do the same. “I will take the cuffs off now if you give me your word you will not try to escape.”

She felt as if she were dying from the inside out. She had no hope, no way to escape the fate that awaited her. But she would hang on and fight to the bitter end, because this man could not be cajoled or persuaded to set her free. “I can assure you that if I get the chance, I'll run so far away from you, you'll never find me again.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, almost troubled. “Why didn't you try to convince me to trust you? You might have succeeded, and then you could have waited for a chance to escape.”

“Because,” she said with all the dignity she could muster in such a humiliating situation, “I don't give my word unless I intend to keep it. I will give you my word on this: If I get a chance to escape, I'll take it. So you had better watch me closely.”