Joseph Clark looked up as the door opened and his wife entered the room. Although she was much younger than he was, she loved him and for that he would do anything in his power to please her. He knew of her activities with Angela Tate, but was too lost in his own lust to do anything about them. He rose from his seat and walked over to greet her with open arms.
"Rosemary, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Joseph, just tired is all."
"I made dinner for us," the older man said and took her hands to lead her into the kitchen.
"I'm not really hungry, Joseph, but I'll try. I'm so sorry I'm late."
"It's okay, honey. You're home now. Did you see Angela today? Is that why you're so tired?"
"I saw Angela this morning and spent last night there because of the storm. I hope you weren't too worried."
"I was, but I figured that's where you went after you left the hotel. Is everything all right over there?"
"Yes, she's fine and I met her fiancé. He seems very nice and well suited to Angela."
"I'm glad."
"Joseph, I need you to do something for me," Rosemary said as he held the chair out for her and took the seat across the table.
"Anything, Rosemary, my life is yours," the love struck man said and reached for her hand.
"I know you don't like it when I ask you to help me with something that might go against the law, but it's important to me."
"Are you in trouble?"
"No, but I might be if you don't help me. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"What do you need?"
"The man Angela is marrying loves her very much and would do anything for her, but his friend is a miserable lowlife who does not want to see his friend happy. He'll try anything to stop the wedding and I...I did something to see that he would not be able to hurt Angela and her fiancé."
"What have you done, Rosemary?" Joseph asked and wearily leaned back in his chair, the meal momentarily forgotten. The woman across from him was like an addiction and there was no way he could refuse her as tears came to her eyes.
"I had to, Joseph. Do you remember that man who came in and wanted to send a telegram?"
"The one you took care of...dressed all in black."
"Yes, that's him. He wanted me to send a telegram to St. Louis and you know what would've happened then. They'd come for me, Joseph, and we'd never be together again. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I need you to help me stop that from happening. I love you so much and cannot bear the thought of not being with you!"
"I could not live without you, Rosemary. What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to make sure no one is suspicious of Chris Larabee's disappearance. All it takes is for you to deliver a telegram to Buck Wilmington at Angela's home..."
"What telegram?"
"One that I'll write. It will just say that he had to go back to Four Corners and that he'd return as soon as he took care of business there. It won't be very detailed, but it should stop Wilmington's suspicions for a while."
"Then what?"
"Tell Sheriff Rawlings that you saw Larabee leave shortly after they spoke in the saloon and that he said he was going back to Four Corners. Tomorrow you will send a telegram to Four Corners and tell them that their friends arrived safely. That should keep them off our trail for some time to come."
"All right, but there is something you have to promise me."
"Anything, Joseph," Rosemary said and came to kneel in front of her husband.
"Is Larabee alive?"
"Yes, but he's been hurt."
"Did you take care of him?"
"Yes, we need him in case Wilmington decides against a marriage to Angela."
"I want your promise that you will not kill Larabee!"
"I may not be able to stop it, Joseph, because if he lives then he's always going to be a threat to me...to us. Do you want to take that chance with our happiness?"
"I don't want you to kill him!"
"I promise I won't kill him," Rosemary stated as he hugged her to him. It was an easy promise, one she knew she could keep for she would not be the implement for Chris Larabee's death, but she would be there when he breathed his last.
"Thank you, Rosemary. I love you so much," the older man said as he drank in the scent of her and reveled once more in the love she had for him.
"I love you, Joseph, more than you'll ever know," the woman said as he held her close. She knew Joseph Clark would soon be disposable and at his age it would simply be explained as a weak heart or something similar. She snuggled against him and sighed contentedly as she waited for him to release her once more.
Buck remained close to his fiancé as she cried out in pain and knew he could not leave her side. He'd slept off and on during the day, only leaving her side to eat and check on the ranch. Carmon had fed Angela and also insisted on her taking the powder Dr. Morton had left for her. Now the darkness beyond the window was sending a shard of fear through his body. Chris Larabee had failed to return to the ranch and now it seemed likely that something had happened to prevent his return.
"Where the hell are you, Chris?" he whispered and felt the warm body shift up against him once more.
"Buck?"
"I'm right here, Angela. You okay?"
"I think so. Did I hear you say something about Chris? Is he back yet?"
"No...no he's not and I'm worried, Angela. Chris's got a lot of enemies and some of 'em wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in his back. I need to find him."
"I know, Buck, and I'm sorry."
"You got nothing to be sorry for, Darlin'."
"Yes," she softly sobbed as she turned towards him. "If I hadn't gotten hurt you would already have gone to check on Chris and you wouldn't be so worried right now."
"Angela, look at me!" Wilmington ordered and waited for her to open her eyes. "You're not to blame for any of this. You were hurt and Chris'd understand why I stayed with you. Hell, he'd never forgive me if I left you because of him. If you're feeling better in the morning I'll leave for town and probably find Chris having a few drinks and talking about old times with Ethan."
"I hope so, Buck, because I can't stand the idea that Chris is hurt and I'm keeping you from helping your best friend," Tate said, laughing inwardly as she felt his arms tighten around her. She felt safe and cocooned in his hold and knew she would do anything to keep him in her bed.
Chris struggled against the darkness surrounding him, but there was so much pain he wasn't sure he could avoid it by staying where he was. He could hear someone moving around in his vicinity, but did not want to acknowledge the person as muffled curses reached his ears. He licked at dry lips and didn't realize he'd moaned until a hand clamped onto his chin. Forcing his eyes open he realized that his nightmare had followed him into the real world as he looked into the baby face of his tormentor.
"It's 'bout fuckin' time you woke up! I'm getting' mighty sick of cleanin' up after ya! Ain't getting' paid 'nough ta do this kinda woman's work!"
"G...go...ta...hell!"
"Don't ya know you're already there, Larabee, and I'm your very own devil!"
"Bastard!" Larabee cursed as Turner grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head backwards. The sickly odor of stale beer and tobacco assaulted his senses and he spit in the man's face.
"Sonofabitch! You'll pay for that!"
Chris gasped as his nemesis placed his hand on the bullet wound in his left side and waited for the pressure to be released. He could hardly breathe, as the pain became a constant heaviness that would not let go. He sucked in a shallow breath and fought down the urge to be sick as Turner's mocking laughter reached his ears.
"Let that be a lesson to ya. Miss Rosemary doesn't want me to mark ya anymore, but she didn't say nothin' about making ya uncomfortable! I figure I ain't adding injuries, just playing with the ones ya already got! Now she also wants me ta make sure you're eating, but if ya don't want anything just say so 'cause I'd just love ta see her put that tube down your fucking throat! Got it?"
"Y...yeah!" Larabee spat and groaned as the man released his grip on the raw wound.
"Good, now I ain't much on what someone hurt liken you should eat, but I got some liquefied beans and sopped 'em up with bread. Yer gonna eat it or Miss Rosemary's gonna force it on ya!"
Chris watched through hooded eyes as his tormentor turned away from him. He knew he had to choose the lesser of two evils and eat whatever Turner gave him, because he did not relish the idea of something being shoved down his throat. It was bad enough to have to lie here, helplessly, but to have to let this man feed him was a lesson in his own humility and one he was hard pressed to win. The smell of the beans was nauseating and he wondered if he could manage to eat it without being sick. He closed his eyes and fought to concentrate as Turner came back to the bed.
"Ain't bad 'nough I gotta let ya have my bed and my beans and bread, but I gotta feed ya too! Open your fuckin' mouth and eat this shit before I change my mind and let Miss Rosemary do what she's talkin' about!"
Chris knew there was no choice and opened his mouth. The liquefied beans and clumps of stale bread threatened to make him sick, but he fought to keep his churning stomach from making a return trip. He had no idea how many times the noxious stuff was placed at his mouth or how often he was forced to swallow, but was finally rewarded when Turner stood and walked over to the table. Chris closed his eyes and tried to 'curl' into a ball as his stomach cramped and pain traveled from one end of his body to the other, but it was impossible to move with the restraints holding him to the bed.
"Need ta make sure ya drink this too!" Turner didn't wait for an answer as he lifted his captive's head and placed the cup of warm liquid against his mouth. "Now ya drink it all or I'll just have to make you another one!"
Chris glared at his captor as he opened his lips and tasted the bitter brew. There was nothing he could do to stop the onslaught of liquid and he was forced to swallow again and again until the cup was empty and Turner once more left him alone. He searched his memory for the events that had led him to this point in his life and knew his only way out for now was Buck Wilmington. He wondered if his long time friend even knew he was missing and whether he was looking for him.
'Buck, don't marry that bitch!' he thought as he struggled with the pain. His mind began to wander and he quickly realized there'd been something added to the drink he'd been given.
"Fuckin' bastard," he cursed as the laudanum and his own exhaustion worked to pull him under once more.
Joseph Clark watched as the sheriff and another man came towards the hotel. He felt his stomach flip as he realized the man had to be Angela Tate's fiancé. Forcing a smile to his face and straightening his suit he greeted the newcomers.
"Hello, Sheriff, how are you today?"
"Hello, Joseph, I'm fine thank you. This man is looking for a friend of his and I believe he was in here day before yesterday."
"Rosie was here that day, but she's not here today. Not feeling very well I'm afraid."
"Damn, hope it's nothing serious, Joseph."
"I don't think so, Sheriff, but I insisted she stay home and get some rest."
"Were you here at all, Joseph?" Rawlings asked.
"As a matter of fact I was. The hotel can't run itself now can it," Clark answered.
"Guess not. Look we're looking for a man named Chris Larabee..."
"The gunslinger...so that's where I know him from."
"You know Chris?" Wilmington asked hopefully.
"Not really, just spoke to him the other day when he came in to send a message."
"What did he say? Where is he?"
"Now, just hold on a minute there, Mister..."
"Wilmington...Buck Wilmington. Look Chris is a good friend of mine and I've been trying to find him. Did he say anything when he left?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, he did. He had Rosemary send a message to someplace...can't rightly remember what it was."
"Four Corners?" Wilmington asked.
"That's it. He said he wanted to let them know you both made it here."
"Did she send it?"
"Of course she did. That was just before he went to the saloon and had a drink with you, Sheriff."
"We were there an hour or more and he said he was headed back to the Tate place, but he never made it..."
"No, don't expect he would," Clark advised.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wilmington spat.
"Well Mr. Larabee was on his way out of town when the message came in. Can't rightly remember who it was from...sheriff or something like that, but it asked that Mr. Larabee come back because he was needed to testify or something. Now unless I miss my guess he gave Rosemary a message to send back that said he was coming straight back because he wasn't letting the 'scumbag' as he called him get away with murder. He told me and Rosemary to let you know he'd contact you when he got back home and that he didn't want you to follow him so he left from here instead of going out to the Tate place."
"So why the hell didn't you come out and tell me?" the angry rogue asked.
"Well Mister, it's like this. We have a business to run and sometimes we just don't have time to take care of other people's problems. Rosemary was going to Angela's place to let you know," Clark informed him.
"She was there the day of the storm and didn't say anything!"
"She probably forgot because, well, see we had this little disagreement and she took off. We're okay now though and she'll tell you what Larabee said to her when she's up to it."
"What really happened to her? Did you hit her and that's why she's at home?" Wilmington spat and reached for the older man.
"Wait a minute, Buck, Joseph has never hit Rosemary in his life and I can vouch for that. Hell, they hardly even argue and when they do, it's Rosemary's voice and anger that gets raised!"
"I'm sorry, Ethan, but that's not how I see it. Rosemary came out to the ranch because she'd had some kind of argument with her husband. She was upset and stayed the night!"
"Angela is Rosemary's confidante and they talk about every little upset. If you're Angela's fiancé then you'd best get used to it!" Clark warned.
"At least she won't have to run to anyone when she's upset. I'm the kind of man who listens."
"All right, Buck, back off. I know you're upset about Chris, but that's no reason to take it out on Joseph. Come on and I'll buy you a drink and I'll let you buy me two."
"Yeah right! Guess I do owe you a few, but first let me send a telegram to Four Corners."
"All right, Buck, but hurry up. A man can die of thirst and boredom here, but hell if I suffer both then you're to blame."
"Don't go getting' your knickers in a knot, Evan. I'll be right there!" Wilmington said and wrote a short message that he slid across the desk. "Send that and get the answer to me as quick as you can! I'll pay whoever comes out to the Tate place for their troubles."
"Sure thing, Mr. Wilmington. I'm sorry about the mix up with your friend."
"Thanks, send that right away."
"I will," Clark said and began sending the message. He could feel Wilmington's eyes on him and was glad he'd had the fortitude to make sure the message would not go through. He finished what he was doing and then handed the paper back to Wilmington and watched as the man left the hotel.
"What have you gotten us in to, Rosemary?" he whispered before making sure everything was back in working order.
Evan Rawlings looked up from his drink as Buck Wilmington entered the busy saloon. The man looked worried and Rawlings wondered if he had good reason to be. Chris and Buck had always been close and somehow he didn't believe that Larabee would ride out without making sure Wilmington knew where he was going.
"Over here, Buck!" Rawlings called and waited for the ladies' man to join him.
Buck eyed the glass of beer and nodded his gratitude as he lifted it and drank half the contents in an effort to rid his throat of the dust he'd inhaled during his ride to Midfield. "Thanks, I needed that!"
"I'm sure you did."
"It's dustier here than I remembered."
"Sure is. So you're really going through with this."
"With what?"
"You're really going to get married and disappoint all those ladies who have their eyes on you."
"A man needs to settle down sometime."
"Yeah, he does, but I never thought I'd see the day you'd be tied down to one lady. Must be love," Rawlings said and saw the frown on Wilmington's face. "You do love her?"
"I...yes. No, hell I don't know," Wilmington said and realized the words were the truth. He didn't know if he loved Angela Tate anymore. He liked her...liked being with her and enjoyed their sexual prowess together, but was he in love with her?
"Well, shit, Buck, you're supposed to be marrying her and you don't even know if you love her anymore. Could be a cold marriage made in hell."
"No, don't think I'd say marriage made in hell, but I'm thinking maybe I need to talk to Angela. Maybe we're rushing things a bit. Hell we haven't seen each other in ten, twelve years. Jesus, I don't even know exactly how long it's been, but people change and I'm just starting to think maybe it was the excitement of seeing her again that got me thinking marriage."
"I'd say you'd best tell Miss Tate how you feel and give yourself time to look at things, before you say I do," Rawlings suggested.
"Hell of a thing coming in here and facing the truth, because you still ask questions that make a man think too hard. I don't know whether to thank you or shoot you!"
"I'd rather you said thank you. Been on the receiving end of a bullet more often than I'd like to think about," the sheriff said with a grin.
Wilmington ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and reached for the glass of beer once more. He downed the contents and ordered two more before shaking his head and looking at the other man once more.
"Damn, thought this was right, but now I ain't so sure. Thanks, Evan," the gentle rogue said as he took the second glass of beer.
"Hey, wasn't me. You must've been thinking about it yourself."
"Not until you asked me if I loved her."
"Well, maybe it's a good thing. I can tell you one thing though."
"What's that?"
"I'd be ready to take off as soon as you talk to Miss Tate. That woman has a temper that's as fiery as her hair!"
"Yeah, I remember," Wilmington said smiling as he sipped from the glass. "Guess nothing's ever easy."
"Not when there's a woman involved. Are you gonna stick around after you tell her?"
"I don't know, Evan. Guess it all depends on her and if I hear from Chris. Like I said I just don't know if I still love her or if I'm just trying to get back something I lost long ago."
"I think we're always trying to get back our youth, Buck, but I can safely say there's no way of doing that without being hurt. Maybe you'll find that you really do love her, but you owe it to yourself to think things through first."
"Guess so," Wilmington said and took a deep breath. He'd have a few more drinks and then head for the ranch, but he was not in a hurry to get there anymore. The thrill and excitement were not as enticing as they once were and he knew Evan Rawlings had opened his eyes to a truth about himself. He wasn't in love with Angela Tate anymore; he was in love with the idea of being in love.
Buck rode towards the Tate ranch and thought about the events of the day. He needed to speak with Angela's friend and find out exactly what Chris had told her. The drinks he'd had with Evan had done nothing to quell his worry and something told him Chris was in more trouble than he imagined. His thoughts quickly turned to Angela Tate and he felt a sudden chill at the thought of her.
He held tight to the reins as he shook off the chill and smiled as he thought of the morning spent in her arms. Their lovemaking had been a mixture of pleasure and pain that had left them both panting and breathless, but there had been something missing and he wasn't sure what it was. Suspicions were mounting and they were not easily squashed as he rode closer to his destination.
Frowning Buck pulled his horse to a stop just before topping the rise that would bring him in full view of the Tate ranch. Questions formed and he was hard pressed for any answers.
'You do love her don't you?' he silently asked and was again shocked when the answer came back too quickly. 'Used to anyway.'
"Damn!" he cursed and started the animal on a slow walk back to the ranch. The feelings he had for Angela Tate were not the ones he'd had when first hearing from her. The love they'd once shared was not the same depth it had once been and somehow he knew he would have to tell her it was over and that he wasn't ready for marriage yet. The trail quickly gave way to the entrance to the ranch and his attention was drawn to the figure standing on the porch.
Angela Tate was indeed a formidable woman and one that any man would be glad to marry, but Buck was beginning to understand that a marriage between them was not what he wanted after all. He knew bedding her was something he would have to live with, but he hadn't forced her into it, and they were both adults, yet he still felt a pang of guilt about how things were playing out. He sighed heavily as the woman smiled and walked out to meet him. The strain of her injury seemed to have dissipated, but the ugly bruise was still there.
"Buck, welcome home," Angela said as she drew up alongside the horse.
"Thanks, Angela," Wilmington said as he dismounted and turned the animal over to Manual.
"Is something wrong, Buck? Did you find out what happened to Chris?"
"Not really. I talked to Evan Rawlings and Joseph Clark."
"What did they say?" Tate asked as she wrapped her arm around his arm and walked slowly towards the house.
"Evan didn't know much, but Clark said Chris told his wife that he was going back to Four Corners."
"Well there you go," Angela said, laughing as they reached the door. "Chris always did like to do things on the spur of the moment."
"No, Angela, that's not Chris at all. He wouldn't just up and take off like that without making sure I knew what was happening. I sent a telegram to Four Corners and hopefully there'll be an answer by tomorrow."
"You're that worried about him?"
"Yeah, I am. He's a good friend, Angela, and he wouldn't run off like that."
"I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better, Buck."
"I know you do, Angela, and that's what makes this so hard." Wilmington turned her to face him and saw something flicker in her eyes that sent a chill down his spine.
"What so hard?"
"We need to talk, but I don't want to hurt you."
"Hurt me? Why would you hurt me?"
"I don't want to, Darlin', but I've been doing a lot of thinking today and I'm just not sure about getting married."
"But...you asked me and I said yes." The woman pouted as she tried to wrap her arms around him.
"I know I did, but I just can't see us marrying because of feelings we once had."
"Once had? Jesus, Buck, I have always loved you and always will! I know you feel the same way or you wouldn't have come all this way!"
"I thought I did love you, Angela, and I needed to see you to be sure! I know we have a lot of deep feelings, but is it love and is it enough to make a happy marriage? I need some time to think about it!"
"You bastard! How can you stand there after taking me to bed and fucking me and tell me you need time!"
"Angela..."
"Don't you Angela me! I'm good enough to be your fucking whore, but not good enough to take as your wife!"
Buck fought the urge to slap her as she continued her tirade and knew now that his feelings were not as deep as he first thought. "You're not a whore, Angela, and I'm sorry about all of this. I guess it's a good thing we're having this talk before we took our vows. I'll get my things and ride into town and leave for home tomorrow."
"No, God, please, Buck, you can't do this to me. I love you!"
"I'm sorry, I just wish we could have talked this through like adults. I hope you find what you really need, Angela, because I don't think I can be that person."
"No, Buck!" Tate cried as he pulled away from her and she sank to her knees as he walked into the house. Her anger mounted as hot bitter tears flowed from her eyes. Her chest heaved as she heard him speaking to Carmon and she knew her plans were falling apart and that it was time to play her trump card. Buck Wilmington would marry her tomorrow or he would never see Chris Larabee alive again. She stood and straightened her skirt and blouse before walking into the house and reaching for the bottle of brandy she kept at her desk. She poured a hefty amount into the glass and downed it as Wilmington returned from the kitchen. She stared at him, chest heaving and mouth set in a straight line.
"I'm sorry, Angela, I really am."
"No, you're not, Lover, but you will be if you walk out that fucking door!"
"What are you talking about?" Wilmington asked wary of the look of pure hatred in the woman's eyes.
"Just what I said, Buck. You walk out that door and it'll be the sorriest thing you ever did and I guarantee that he'll pay for it!"
"Who'll pay for what?" the rogue asked and somehow knew he didn't really want to hear the answer.
"Chris Larabee!" She didn't have time to continue as strong arms latched onto her shoulders and violently shook her.
"You bitch! Where is he?" His hands wrapped around her throat as anger and fear fought for supremacy.
"No!" Manual cried having heard the screaming and hurried to help his employer. He grabbed Wilmington's wrists and tried to pry them from the woman's neck as her eyes seemed to bulge. His own strength was nothing compared to the irate man who seemed set on killing Angela Tate. He reached for the half full bottle of brandy and brought it down on Buck Wilmington's head and watched as he dropped to the floor and lay still. He reached for the woman as she sagged and lifted her into his arms. Her breathing was harsh and he carried her towards her bedroom and called for Carmon as he placed her on the bed.
Angela was finally able to breath and reached to touch her throat as the dizziness left her fatigued and nauseous. Finally able to speak she looked at Manual and issued orders in a croaking rasp.
"Send someone for Rosemary Clark and have her come to me. Tell her it's important, Manual, and remember you owe me more than you can repay. If you do as I say it will wipe the slate clean and you and Carmon are free to leave and I'll add a bonus. Understood?"
"Si, I will take care of it, but what about Mr. Wilmington?"
"Bring him in here and I will take care of him until Rosemary gets here!" Tate ordered as she sat on the edge of the bed. She heard her employee dragging Wilmington into the bedroom and cursed the fates that allowed things to go so badly so fast.
"Where should I put him?"
"On the bed then get out of here and have Carmon bring me some hot water and bandages!"
"Yes, Miss Tate," the Mexican said as he helped her put the unconscious man on the bed before hurrying from the room.
"Oh, Buck, how could you do this to us?" She stated as she started removing his clothing. It took some doing, but she finally had his clothing off and quickly tore strips from the top sheet and tied his wrists and ankles to the bedposts. She knew she would not be able to keep him this way for long, but she would make sure she had a captive audience when she explained how things were going to play out. She thanked Carmon for bringing her the water and bandages and told her that she was not to be interrupted until Rosemary Clark arrived. Once the door closed, Angela removed her clothing and spooned up against the restrained man's side and placed her throbbing head on his arm and drifted towards sleep.
Vin Tanner reached for the beer and slugged it down before turning to face the trio standing at the bar. So far they'd been quiet and not bothering anyone, but that was changing quickly as they began harassing Inez Recillos. The woman could handle herself, but the three cattlemen were growing braver and lewder by the minute. He nodded as Ezra and JD entered the saloon and took up positions near the door as he walked towards the bar.
"Can I get another beer, Inez?"
"Si, Senor," the pretty woman said and reached for a clean glass.
"Hey, Mister, can't ya see the lady was busy serving real men? Go find yerself another whore!"
Vin's rage was evident as he struck out and sent the man flying into his two friends. The two men caught their friend and moved to take down the buckskin-clad man, but stopped when they heard two guns cocking behind them.
"I wouldn't if I were you!" Dunne said, smiling as fear replaced lust on the men's faces.
"We's jush havin' a liddle fun wish the whore," the same man slurred and found himself once more flying across the floor, landing on a table which quickly broke under his weight and he landed in a heap behind his friends.
"Ya best 'pologize to the lady or I'll show ya what it means ta be a...what's that word, Ezra?"
"What word, Mr. Tanner?"
"The one when a man ain't got no dick between his legs."
"Ah, I believe you're looking for Castration as in Eunuch," Standish smiled as he saw real fear on the two men standing near the bar.
"Yep, knew ya wouldn't let me down! Now ya got one minute ta 'pologize to the lady or I put this ta work," Tanner warned and showed the three men the blade he had tucked into a sheath at his side.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, didn't mean to offend," one man said while the other mumbled his apology as he stared at the shining knife.
"Mister, as much as I'd like to see Vin's expertise with a hunting knife I'd rather not be the one having to explain the mess to Judge Travis," Dunne said, smiling as Vin slowly advanced on the third man.
"No! Please, I's just fooling with her. I'm sorry, Ma'am, I truly am. We'll leave if'n that's all right wit ya," the third man said as he looked at the woman behind the bar.
"That was pretty good, but there's somethin' yer forgettin'," Tanner warned.
"Wh...what?" the man stammered as the blade was placed at his groin.
"Ya owe the lady for those beers and fer breakin' the table!"
"But it was your fault I broke the ta...Okay, I get it. I'll pay for the damages..."
"And the beer!" Standish ordered.
"And the beer."
"Very good, you've just saved your self a night in our jail!" Dunne said as Jackson and Sanchez joined them.
"Looks like we missed the excitement, Nathan," the ex-preacher said as he watched two men haul a third to his feet.
"Sure looks that way. What happened?"
"Those three decided they're better off leaving the vicinity of our town. For their own health I might add," Standish explained as the three men emptied their pockets and placed the money on the counter.
"Trail hands," Jackson spat as the memory of his own brush with death at the hands of angry trail hands sent a shiver down his spine.
"It's all right, Brother, they're just leaving," Sanchez said and smiled as Jackson moved to the table at the back of the room as JD began picking up the pieces of the broken table. It didn't take long for the trio to ride out of town and life return to normal for the peacekeepers.
"Are you all right, Vin?" Jackson asked as he noticed the Texan favoring his right hand.
"Yeah, just split my knuckle on his teeth."
"Come over to the clinic later and I'll clean it for you," the healer said and knew the younger man would do as he asked. As often as they protested the need for his attention, the six peacekeepers respected his abilities and more often than not did as he asked them too.
"I will," Tanner said and turned to JD. "Any word from Chris and Buck?"
"Nothing. I figured I'd send a message myself when Mrs. Potter opens up tomorrow."
"You worried, Vin?" Sanchez asked as Inez brought over five drinks and placed them on the table.
"Thank you for defending me, Senor," Recillos said before turning away and smiling at the slight blush she'd seen on the Texan's face.
"Chris said he'd wire us when they got ta Midfield. Figure we should've heard from 'em by now."
"Knowing Buck they probably went to see his friend..."
"Friend, Mr. Dunne, I would say it is more like paramour," Standish corrected.
"Whatever you say, but I'm betting he's already ensconced in her bed..."
"Jesus, Kid, stop emulatin' Ezra!" Tanner said, grinning at the look that washed over the conman's face as he used the new word he's read in one of Mary Travis' articles. He was quickly picking up new things and reading was something he enjoyed.
"I believe you are picking up some of my finer qualities, my friend...or should I say friends," he said as he looked from one man to the other.
"Better not let Chris hear you talking like Ezra. He might just decide to shoot the three of you," Sanchez explained as several towns' men entered the saloon. The Five men grew quiet as they watched the newcomers and readied themselves for another night as Four Corners' peacekeepers.
"Open your eyes, Chris!"
Larabee did not want to, but the voice was annoying and he wanted to tell it to shut up before his head exploded. He shifted and felt something pressed against the wound in his leg and tried to come off the bed. His eyes shot open and he shot the woman a glaring stare as he struggled to breathe.
"Sonofabitch!" the blond groaned as the burning subsided.
"Sorry about that, but I tried to warn you. I need to clean this out and I'm sure you'd rather be awake during the operation."
"O...operation?" Larabee stammered and heard the fear in his own voice.
"Oh, not that kind of operation." Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked at her patient. "At least not yet, but I'm afraid I need to lance this one and the wound in your side in order to get rid of the infection. I'm afraid it's the only way to make sure you don't lose your leg. Now I do have some morphine here, but I'm sure you'd rather not take any drugs."
"D...don't do me any fucking f...favors!" Larabee spat and received a slap across the face that threatened fireworks once more.
"I warned you about that mouth and I promise you there won't be another. Vulgarity is not something I enjoy listening to and I assure you it would be in your best interest to speak in a civilized manner when I'm in the room. Do I make myself clear?"
Chris groaned as she pulled the bandage from his side and felt blood flow freely from the wound as she roughly pressed her fingers into the ravaged flesh. He twisted and tried to pull away, but was held completely immobile as she worked her fingers around the wound.
"Ethan, bring me some clean water and bandages...and my scalpel. I believe it's best to leave the wounds open and let the infection drain on its own so I need to cut the stitches out."
"God...stop!" The blond groaned as she pressed deeper and deeper into the wound.
"I'm doing my best to keep you alive, Chris. You do see that don't you?"
"Not f...from where I am," Larabee said as he watched her reach into the basin of water and remove a strip of cloth. He tensed as she placed it against his side and would've cried out if his teeth hadn't been so tightly clenched.
"Hand me the scalpel!"
"No!" Larabee spat, but knew it was no good as the knife cut through the stitches and sent a shockwave of pain through his body. He stretched out on the bed and tried anything to twist away from the shooting agony that seemed to invade every pore of his body until he lost sight of the pain in the murky black fog of unconsciousness. He didn't hear Turner's mocking laughter or feel Clark clean the wound and place fresh bandages over it and was oblivious to her touch as she repeated the process with his leg.
"Ethan, make sure you give him the laudanum and herbal teas because it'll help you control him."
"He ain't so much, Ma'am. I mean there's nothing he can do while he's trussed up like that!"
"Are you so sure of that, Ethan? Larabee is far from helpless even with those bullet wounds. No, keep him semi-dazed and we'll both be able to sleep easier. Remember what I said and I'll make sure there's a bonus for you when all is said and done."
"Anything you say," Turner said and smiled as he thought of the extra money and the women at the brothel who could and would do anything for money.
"He's getting a fever and it's going to be up to you to keep it in check. That means you keep wiping him down with cool water and make sure those wounds stay clean. I may not be able to get out here as often as I want too, so I'm trusting you to keep him eating and drinking."
"Ya know ya can trust me, Miss Rosemary. I'm beholding to ya for the jobs ya send my way."
"Good, I will try to come out tomorrow, but it depends on Joseph and Angela's plans. I believe she's going to marry Wilmington as soon as possible." She turned her gaze on Larabee as he mumbled something and she leaned closer to hear him.
"No...no, Buck. Don't marry...lying bitch! She's no good...no good..."
"Ethan, hand me my bag," Clark said as anger seared through her. She took a small vial and a metal syringe and metered out a dose of the narcotic. "Hold his arm while I find a vein!"
"What is that?" Turner asked as he gripped Larabee's arm and watched the veins become more prominent.
"N...no!" the blond winced as he felt something pressed into his arm. His eyes shot open, but refused to focus as he tried to see what was being done to his arm. It didn't take long for the drug to work and he smiled in spite of the fever as it dragged him towards the edge of an awaiting abyss. He laughed as the newest torment caused his body to tremble and knew hell had finally reached out and snatched him into a dark journey of which there seemed no escape.
"He'll probably sleep for hours now, but when he wakes up you know what to do."
"Yes, Ma'am, I sure do," Turner said, enjoying the pain he'd seen this woman inflict. It showed how strong she was and he prayed he never failed to do her bidding for he suspected she would dispatch him as easily as she had the others. He walked her to the door and watched as she mounted up and rode away, feeling sorry for her husband for he was under her spell and would do anything she asked of him. Turning back he walked into the shack and towered over the captive.
Larabee seemed to be dreaming and as his head moved from side to side he mumbled unintelligibly and tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow as his fever began to rise. He reached for the basin of soiled water and hurried to throw it out the window before getting fresh water and moving to the bed. Somehow it seemed silly to bathe the ravaged body, but he would do as ordered until such time that Chris Larabee was no longer needed.
"Jesus, Larabee, you're a fucking mess!" Turner laughed and ran the cloth across the lean chest as he tried to cool the captive down.
Rosemary Clark watched as the rider raced towards her and waited for Manual to pull to a stop beside the front porch. She knew instinctively that something was wrong and was glad her husband was already sleeping.
"What's happened?"
"Senora Tate sent me to get you. Something has happened and she needs your help!"
"What's happened?"
"I do not know, but I found Senor Wilmington choking her and hit him with a bottle. She has him in her bed even now."
"Saddle my horse, Manual! I need to check on Joseph!"
"Si, Senora!"
Clark turned back to the house and hurried towards her husband's side. The sleeping draught she had given him with dinner would ensure that he slept through the night. She often slipped it to him when she did not want to feel his hands on her as he fumbled with making love. She quickly covered him with a blanket and hurried outside where Manual was waiting. She quickly mounted the big white mare and rode towards the Tate ranch.
Angela looked up as the sound of hoof beats reached her ears. She looked at the still unconscious man and was struck by the innocence she found in his relaxed state. This man was hers and she would not allow anyone to interfere in the life she was meant to have. Reaching for her robe she stood away from the bed and moved to the window. She smiled as she recognized the white horse bathed in moonlight and knew her friend had arrived. She looked at Wilmington once more and hurried out to the porch to greet her friend.
"Oh, Rosie, thank you for coming so quickly."
"You know I'll always be here, Angela. What's going on?"
"Buck came back from town and said he didn't think we should get married and I was so angry I screamed at him!"
"Why did he try to choke you?"
"I was so angry at being used by him that I threatened Larabee and he knows I know where Chris is! What am I going to do?"
"You're going to do exactly what you planned and marry Wilmington!"
"He won't marry me now!"
"Of course he will," Rosemary declared, smiling as she took her friend's arm and walked back to the bedroom. "After all you have that ace in the hole!"
"Yes, I do, don't I?" The malicious grin spread over her face as she sat on the edge of her bed and gently tapped Wilmington's cheeks. She heard a soft groan and knew he was on the verge of waking and smiled as the blue eyes finally opened.
Buck felt the touch of a soft hand on his cheek and forced heavy eyelids to open. He smiled as he looked into the familiar face, but that smile died before it completely formed and anger exploded as he tried to get free of the ropes that held him fast to the bed.
"Lie still, Buck, you're not going anywhere just yet, but if you promise to behave I just might release you, although right now you look damn sexy and helpless!"
"I'll show you who's helpless, Bitch!" Wilmington spat as he continued to struggle against the bonds.
"Buck, I am going to say this once and after that Chris..."
"Where the hell is he?"
"Temper, temper, Buck," Clark said as she sat opposite her friend.
"Get these fucking things off me!"
"Not just yet!" Tate said as she ran her fingers down his chest and stopped at his navel. "Now, I have let you get away with that vulgarity twice, but from now on any transgression on your part will result in punishment for Chris Larabee. Now I know you don't want him hurt so I'm sure you'll be willing to cooperate in my plans for our happiness."
"You see, Buck, Angela and I are a team and right now we have something that you care about. Chris Larabee is a captive audience and you are the performer who can assure his survival, but you have to put on the performance of your life tomorrow when we bring the preacher out here! You and Angela will be married and live happily ever after and at the same time your friend will be treated according to your actions. As of right now you will not use that vulgar language and you will treat Angela with the respect she deserves."
"I'll kill you both for this!"
"Now, Buck, it's time you realized who is in control and set your mind to pleasing me instead of making me angry." Angela smiled as she leaned over the helpless man and pressed her lips to his.
"Don't fuckin' touch me!"
"Rosie!" Tate said sitting up as anger dominated her face.
"Yes, Angela?"
"When you go see Chris, break his arm!"
"No!"
"Certainly..."
"God no!"
"Any preference as to which one?"
"The left I think!"
"No! Sweet Jesus, Angela, don't do this!"
"I'm sorry, Buck, but I warned you and now Chris will pay the price."
"Angela, please, I'll do anything you say."
"I hope so, Buck, because Chris's life really does depend on you. Rosie, make sure Chris knows why his arm is being broken!"
"I will!"
"God damn it! Please, Angela, I promise I'll do whatever you say, just don't do this!"
"You should have thought of that before you used those words. Now be still and listen to everything I have to say because I'm sure you don't want to make the same mistake twice. Understood?"
"Y...yeah," Wilmington stammered as he looked from one woman to the other. Their matching smiles did little to soften the horror he felt and his heart skipped a beat as he realized there was nothing he could do except cooperate for now.
"Good, because I can promise you that Chris Larabee will not like the consequences if you so much as breathe the wrong way!" Angela warned.
"Angela, let him go," Wilmington tried, but knew by the malicious gleam in her eyes that he was speaking to someone he had never really known.
"Now, why would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking you to."
"Oh, Buck, I love it when you beg like that, but I'm afraid you'll have to prove how much you really love me before I give you any rewards."
Buck's stomach churned as he forced himself to remain calm in the face of the two women who seemed to hold all the cards. Taking a deep breath he felt some of the tension leave his body as he looked at the woman he had once thought he loved.
"I want to see him!"
"I don't think so!" Angela said with a grin.
"Then how do I know you're telling the truth and that Chris is even alive?"
"You take my word for it!"
"Your word does not mean much right now. I'll cooperate if and when I see that Chris is alive!"
"I could have Rosie bring you a finger..."
"No!" Wilmington shouted and fought against the tight ropes that bound him to her bed.
"Such anger, Angela, are you sure you want to take him to your bed."
"Oh my, yes, Rosie, I certainly do. Buck was always wonderful in bed and I crave the feel of his hands on my body." She touched his cheek and smiled at the look of disgust on his face.
"Angela, I'm telling you right now that I won't cooperate until I see Chris. I'll fight you every step of the way and when the preacher gets here I'll tell him and anyone who'll listen what you're doing!"
"I said no..."
"Angela, perhaps it would be best if we take him to see his friend."
"We can't let him see where we're holding him!" Tate spat.
"We won't have to. I've given you several sleeping draughts and we could give him one before we leave and another on the return journey. That way he can see that is friend is still alive, but he will not know where he is!"
"Will you take the sleeping draught, Buck?"
"Anything, Angela, but I need to talk to him."
"I don't know if he'll be up to talking," Clark said.
"What the hell does that mean?" Wilmington spat in anger.
"It seems that your friend had an argument with a bullet or two, but I assure you I've taken care of the wounds and even given him something to help with the pain, although I'm sure today will be even worse on him than the extraction of two bullets," Clark said as she turned to her friend. "It was the right arm?"
"No, the left," Angela said and watched Wilmington's face for the reaction she wanted and knew she had his undivided attention. "I will have Carmon mix the sleeping draught and tell Manual to get the buckboard ready. You rest easy, Buck, and I'll be back in a few minutes."
Wilmington watched the two women leave and tugged on the ropes, but they were too tight and he was finding it hard to concentrate. He now understood the meaning of the fine line between love and hate, and wanted to use that line to strangle Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark. Closing his eyes he thought about Chris Larabee and his own part in his long time friend's misery.
'God, Chris, I'm sorry,' he thought and waited for the two women to return.
"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Rosie," Angela said as they walked into the kitchen and she told Carmon what she wanted.
"You'll never keep him in line unless he sees that Chris is his own hostage to fortune, Angela. You need to make him realize that you truly do have the upper hand and that Larabee's life depends on his behavior. It will also work in your favor to have him witness the breaking of his friend's arm and I think that's what will ensure his cooperation."
"Buck does care about Chris."
"Exactly, and he'll be willing to do anything to keep us from hurting Larabee further, but we won't be able to keep this up very long."
"What do you mean?"
"I think Joseph is starting to come apart. I'm not sure how much longer I can control him."
"What will you do?"
"Get rid of him, but it will also mean I'll have to leave Midfield."
"You can't leave me!"
"I won't have a choice, and neither will you. I think it would be best if we left before Rawlings becomes suspicious."
"Damn it! How can everything have gone so wrong so fast?"
"It happens, Angela, remember St. Louis?"
"But I love him, Rosie."
"I know you, do and I wish there was some other way, but you have to face the fact that sooner or later Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington will have to die."
"When?"
"I think we'll be safe for a couple of weeks. You do have money tucked away?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good, because when we get ready to leave we'll have to move fast."
Angela knew her friend was right, but she wanted Buck Wilmington and she would have him, even if it were only for a few weeks. He would be hers to do with as she wished and Chris Larabee would be damned because he would suffer for anything that displeased her.
"JD, did you send that telegram?"
"Just sent it, Vin. Mrs. Potter said she'd let us know as soon as she got an answer back."
"Good. I'm gonna go check on Chris's place and maybe patrol the area, but I'll be back by nightfall. Any problems just...ah hell, Kid, ya know what ta do as well's the rest of us. I'll see ya later."
"Sure, Vin, watch your back!" Dunne warned and walked towards the livery with the soft-spoken Texan.
'That's Chris's job,' Tanner thought as he mounted Peso and headed out of town. Since Buck and Chris had ridden out of Four Corners, Vin's hackles had been on edge and right now something was eating at him. He couldn't place why he felt something was wrong, but had never been one to ignore his instincts. If there was no word from the two men when he returned he would head for Midfield at first light.
Chris licked at dry lips and bit back a groan as pain flared through his body. He'd heard Turner moving around in the line shack, but kept his eyes closed in an effort to keep the other man from knowing he was awake. He heard the door open and the distinct sounds of horses and opened his eyes. The shack was deserted and lit only by a small kerosene lamp that sat on the small table. He didn't have time to search further as Turner entered and walked towards him.
"Glad ta see yer awake 'cause we got company."
"Who?" The blond asked as he looked beyond the man at the trio who entered the shack. "Buck!"
"C...Chris?" Wilmington's head shot up when he heard the rasping voice and his eyes sought out the source of the sound. He tried to pull away from the two women, but his hands were tied and the manacles secured to his feet allowed for very little movement.
"Not yet, Buck, there is still the matter of his punishment," Tate said as they steered Wilmington to a chair at the table.
Chris fought against his own bonds, but succeeded only in awakening the dormant pain in his side. He heard the two women telling Turner to make sure Wilmington could not get off the chair and cursed his own weakness as the trio successfully bound the gentle rogue in place.
"Angela, for God's sake he's already hurt too much. Don't do this to him!"
"I warned you, Buck! Now he is going to take the punishment and if you keep on with this behavior he will suffer the consequences." Tate said as she cupped his chin and kissed him long and hard.
"Leave him alone, Bitch!" Larabee spat, unaware of Turner moving to the opposite side of the bed.
"Watch that mouth of yours, Chris!" Rosemary warned as she looked at the two helpless men and smiled at the power she held in her hands.
"Now, Buck, sit still and enjoy the show," Tate said and sat on the rogue's legs. She knew he was still not quite focusing as the lingering effects of the sleeping draught made him weak.
"I'm begging you, Angela! I'll do anything you say, but don't let her do this!"
"She won't," Angela said and smiled at the relief that shone on Wilmington's face. "But he will. Ethan, break his left arm!"
Chris swallowed hard as the impact of her words struck home and the length of rope around his left arm was shortened until his arm was stretched above his head. He saw Turner smiling maliciously as he lifted a rifle and held it above his arm.
"What the fuck?" He cursed as the full impact of her words shot home and the barrel of the rifle was driven into his arm near his elbow. He felt and heard the bone snap and Chris thought he heard a scream echo his own as sickening nausea raced through his stomach. He fought the restraints, which only added to the screaming agony of bone grating against bone.
"You bitch! God, Chris, I'm so sorry!"
"I will let you get away with that one, Buck, because you're distraught, but be warned that I will not tolerate that language from you. Now I am going to give you five minutes alone with your friend, but you try anything and he will pay for it. Understood."
"Yes, but his arm..."
"Rosie will see to it as soon as you're done talking. Ethan, Rosie, come with me," Tate ordered and left the two men alone.
Chris's breath came in hitching gasps as he tried to breath past the bile rising like an ocean in his throat. There was no longer any sensation of one pain as it grew to an extreme where there was no way to distinguish what hurt worse. He heard someone calling his name and tried to speak, but again the pain was too much and he turned his head as his stomach gave up its meager contents.
"Chris, Chris...look at me! God I'm sorry," Wilmington tried and was rewarded when Larabee's head turned towards him, angered by the pain that was evident on his face.
"B...Buck...why?"
"She's crazy, Chris."
"G...get away, d...don't stay h...here!" Larabee ground out between gasping breaths.
"I won't leave you!" The ladies' man vowed as he watched his friend struggle with the newest torment heaped on his shaking body.
"G...get help..."
"If I get away they'll kill you, Chris, and I won't let that happen."
"St...staying w...with her will k...kill you. G...get help! V...Vin...others...come..."
"Something tells me the boys will come anyway because I don't think she sent a message at all and Rosie runs the telegram."
"T...that's h...how she knew w...what I w...was doing. T...tried to telegram S...St. Louis...find out 'bout h...her. God, Buck!"
"Easy, Chris, just try to be still!"
"So, Buck, have we come to an understanding?"
"What do you mean, Angela?"
"Are you willing to marry me or should I just have Ethan take care of Chris now? I assure you that his death will not be an easy thing to watch!"
"No, Angela, don't let him touch Chris. You make sure he's taken care of and I'll do anything you ask of me."
"No, Buck, s...sell soul to devil first."
"Think I already have, Chris, and I wish it hadn't been at the cost of yours," Wilmington said as Rosemary held a cup of liquid to his lips. He knew what it contained and knew he would be asleep as soon as they put him in the buckboard and he let his gaze wander back to his friend. No words were spoken, but beneath the pain he read the promise of retribution and gave a simple nod that the message was received and understood. No matter what happened there would be hell to pay before all was said and done.
"Angela, I'm going to set his arm and give him a shot of morphine," Rosemary said having read the message in the men's body language.
"Don't touch me!" Larabee ground out through tightly clenched teeth.
"Do you really think you can dictate what I can or can't do, Chris?" Rosemary said with a smile as she stood staring into the pale face.
"Bitch!"
"No!" Wilmington cried out as the woman viciously slapped Larabee across the face.
"Get him to finish the drink, Angela and then get Ethan to help you out to the buckboard while I finish things with my reluctant patient!" Clark ordered and released Larabee's now useless left arm. She smiled maliciously as he yelped in surprised pain.
"Jesus, Angela, please stop this!"
"I'm afraid I can't. Besides she's doing what needs to be done if he's to have use of his arm again. Ethan find something she can use for splints while Buck finishes his 'tea'."
"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out the door.
Chris watched in horrified surprise as the woman moved his arm and tried to put the broken bone in place. He knew from experience it wasn't easy, but the woman before him seemed to take pleasure in prolonging his discomfort. He fought the waves of nausea and tried to see past her to where the ladies' man sat, but Rosemary Clark successfully blocked his view.
"Almost done, Chris, and then I'm going to have to immobilize this arm. I'll strap it to your chest. There, all done. That wasn't so bad was it?"
"B...bitch!" the blond cursed softly as he fought to breathe. He watched as she loaded a syringe and tried to move away from her, but there was no slack in the ropes and he was forced to watch as she injected the narcotic into his vein.
"That should keep you comfortable for a while." She said and took the splints from Ethan Turner. She quickly set about fixing them in place and then used other materials to strap his arm to his chest. By the time she was finished he was glassy eyed and seemed to be laughing at her. "I see you're feeling better, Chris."
"Fuck...ing Bitch!" Larabee laughed, but the strength was not there as he tried to find Wilmington once more. Their eyes met for less than a second, but the promise was there once more.
"Are you ready to go, Buck?" Tate asked.
"Please, Angela, I'll go anywhere...do anything...be anybody you want me to be if you just let him go. He can't hurt you!"
"He knows about me and Rosie, Buck, so for now he stays put and you share my bed. Come on, Lover, the night is late and I want to enjoy the fruits of my endeavors."
Buck felt himself pulled to his feet and realized he hadn't even felt the ropes removed from the chair. He turned and looked over his shoulder as the two women led him out the door. His last glimpse of Chris Larabee sent a tremor of grizzly fear through his body and he wondered if he'd ever see the man alive again.
It was late when Vin Tanner returned to the town he now called home, but he knew the others would still be in the saloon. Turning Peso over to Yosemite he turned and walked briskly towards the establishment. He'd done a lot of thinking while patrolling the area and his gut instincts were kicking in more than ever. Something was wrong and he knew whatever it was didn't bode well for Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington.
The tracker pushed open the batwing doors and immediately spotted the four men seated at the usual table towards the back wall. There were three others present and they seemed to be playing a hand of cards, but without much enthusiasm. Vin smiled inwardly because he knew from experience that Ezra Standish had probably already won their wages and left them with little or no means of winning it back. He hurried to join the four peacekeepers as Inez delivered a fresh drink for each of them.
"How are things out at Chris's place?" Dunne asked.
"Quiet," Tanner answered before washing down the days dust with the glass of beer.
"Always is," Jackson said.
"Any word from Chris or Buck?"
"Nothing," Standish answered simply.
"I'm ridin' fer Midfield first light," the Texan told them.
"I think we're all in agreement that something is wrong in that fair town," Standish said.
"Vin, Ezra and I will be riding with you," Sanchez explained as he looked at the others. They'd talked it through before Tanner's arrival and knew it was time to find out what was keeping Larabee and Wilmington from answering their summons.
"I'd go, but Mrs. Jenkins is due any day and well it bein' her first she's as skittish as a newborn calf," Jackson explained.
"And I got two men waiting for the marshals to pick them up," Dunne said unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"All right, I'm gonna catch a couple hours sleep. Meet ya at the livery at first light," Tanner told them as he stood up and headed for the door. As he stepped through the door he caught a glimpse of the moon and for a few seconds it seemed to be bathed in a pale red glow and Vin shuddered as he thought of the two missing men.
Buck opened his eyes and tried to focus on the world around him. His memories were fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate and he briefly wondered why Nathan had drugged him. A sudden scent struck him and with its onslaught came the memories that were just out of his reach moments before. The memory of a scream of pain and the glassy green eyes that promised redemption for both of them made his heart beat a little faster. He heard movement on his left and he turned to see the most beautiful she-devil he'd ever known.
"Hello, Lover, I'm so pleased you've decided to rejoin me. Last night was so good, but I know it can be even better when you're wide awake and a willing partner."
"Angela, why are you doing this?"
"Because I love you, Buck, and want us to be happy. Maybe we could have a baby and you could be a real father and love us."
"I could never love you. Not after what you've done!"
"Maybe not, but at least I'll have a satisfying partner in my bed. And if by chance you can't perform there are ways to ensure your cooperation. A few things I've been able to acquire from the little man who does the laundry at Rosie's hotel."
"You've changed," Wilmington stated as she sat down beside him. His arms were tied to the bedpost, but his legs were free and he fought the urge to kick out at her.
"No, Lover, you have. There was a time when you would have craved the excitement I offered."
"Not if it meant someone had to suffer."
"Chris doesn't have to suffer, Buck, not if you keep up your end of our bargain even if you do consider it a bargain with the devil," Angela laughed as she stroked her hand down his taut biceps.
"I won't answer that because I don't want to see Chris hurt anymore than you already have hurt him. What you did was cruel."
"No, Buck, it was justice because you wronged me." Tate warned as she struggled to control her own anger. "I do hope you won't be the reason for him being hurt anymore!"
"I won't, Angela, but be warned that someday I'll find a way to get Chris out of this and when I do I'll see you and that other she-devil hung for murder!"
"You can't prove we murdered anyone!"
"Not yet, but I'll find a way!"
"Don't be so sure. By the way Reverend Collins will be out tomorrow and you and I can exchange our vows and you can tell him how much you love me."
"It'll be a lie," Wilmington stated.
"I'm sure it will, but you'd better make him and my other guests believe you or I'll have Rosie visit Larabee again!"
"Don't!"
"That depends on you, Lover," Angela said and disrobed before sliding into the bed with her captive mate. She trembled at the touch of his body against hers and vowed she'd have him as often as she could during their time together.
They'd been on the trail for over ten hours and Josiah knew he had to call a halt to it before the horses collapsed and they were left to walk the trail to Midfield. He spurred his mount past Standish and reached for Peso's reins only to receive a sidelong glare from the Texan.
"Vin, we need to rest the horses."
"Still got an hour of daylight," Tanner told him.
"Yes, but we're all tired and wearing out the horses won't get us there any faster. In fact it'll probably slow us down!"
"Mr. Sanchez is correct in his appraisal of the horses. They are indeed beginning to show signs of exhaustion," Standish said as he drew up alongside his companions.
"Vin, we're all worried about Chris and Buck, but we'll be no good to them if we don't get there in time."
"All right, Josiah. There's a place 'bout a mile ahead that's got water and grass," Tanner said and rode ahead.
"Mr. Tanner's concern is showing," Standish said.
"I know, and that's not like Vin. He's usually as tight lipped as Chris," Sanchez said as they watched the Texan ride towards a cluster of boulders and sagebrush.
"Do you believe that our missing members are truly in need of our assistance?"
"I don't, but if Vin's this hell bent on getting to Midfield then I'm willing to ride along and watch his back."
"He does seem to have a certain ability to know what is happening with Mr. Larabee."
"Yes, he does. Something tells me they are kindred spirits and were meant to cross paths in Four Corners."
"Very astute of you."
"Thank you," Sanchez said and turned a toothy grin on his riding companion. "Now what do you say to catching up with Vin?"
"Certainly, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said as the two men picked up their pace.
Ethan Turner paced back and forth in the small confines of the shack. It had been raining most of the day and he was irritated that he couldn't get outside. His anger escalated each time he looked at the man lying on the bed. He should be on the floor, but the women had insisted that he be kept in the bed. Right now the money he was being paid did not make the situation better and he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table. He sprawled on the chair and lifted the bottle to his mouth.
Chris watched the man as he dropped onto the chair and returned his attention to the rapidly emptying whiskey bottle. Turner looked as if he'd be a mean drunk and somehow Chris knew that meanness would soon show through. The man seemed to be on edge since the rain had started and Chris had no idea how long ago that was. Between the utter pain and the laudanum-laced drinks he had lost track of time and didn't even know what day it was. He'd thought long and hard about what Buck was being forced to do because of him and wished there was some way out of the mess they were both trapped in. His attention returned to the man at the table as he heard the bottle slammed hard on the surface. Turner was out of liquor and Chris had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot worse for him as the man picked up a knife and started twirling it between his fingers.
"I know you're awake, Larabee. Heard ya movin' around and tryin' not ta groan, but it ain't workin'.
Chris swallowed and shifted slightly in an effort to get a better view of his tormentor. The lethal looking blade sent shivers down his spine, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He watched as the man twirled it and the light reflected off the shiny steel. The light also caught the glassy, drunken eyes of the baby-faced killer seated at the table.
"Ya listenin' ta me, ya miserable sonofabitch?"
"I hear you," Larabee answered in hopes of keeping the man from doing anything more than twirling the knife.
"I should drag ya outta that bed and show ya who's really in charge!"
"You bow to those women, Turner. No way have you got the guts to free me!"
"Ain't gonna free ya! Just gonna drag ya off the bed and tie ya in a corner like the dawg ya are!"
"You don't have the guts! Scared of them two ladies!"
"Shut that fuckin' mouth or I'll shut it for ya!"
"I don't think so, Turner. From where I am you're so scared of them two you're getting a yellow streak down your back!"
"Shut up!"
"What's the matter? Truth hurts!" Larabee knew he'd gone too far as Turner stood and crossed the short distance in a two strides. The man stood over him and lashed out with the blade, slicing into the bandages that covered his side. Chris could not move as Turner placed the tip of the blade at his throat.
"Not so fuckin' cocky now are ya?"
"S...sick fuck..."
"Shut up, Larabee! God damn it ya'd best do as I say or I'll slit yer throat and let the vermin have yer body before it's even cold!" Turner spat as he watched Larabee's face convulse in pain. He removed the blade and looked at the blood seeping through the bandages and knew he'd gone too far. Rosemary Clark had warned him not to do anything to the captive, but the liquor had made him forget his place. He had to do something to stop the bleeding before Larabee died or else he'd have signed his own death warrant. He grabbed the towel draped over the chair and lifted the bandages from the injured man's side as he swiped at the sweat from his eyes.
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! See whatcha made me do?"
Chris was beyond hearing the man's angry voice and the words did not make sense anymore as the burning pain in his side intensified. He felt someone pressing against the wound, but could not find the energy to open his eyes and see who it was. As darkness descended Chris Larabee gave himself over to the welcoming oblivion.
Turner worked hard to stop the bleeding and was relieved when it seemed to have slowed. He quickly reached for the basin of clean water and carbolic and bathed the reddened area in an effort to bring down the swelling and rid the area of any sign of bleeding. The cobwebs had left him shaken and angry, but he could not take his anger out on this man, not here, not now! He placed clean bandages over the wound and went for more water to wipe down the fevered body that lay quietly in the bed.
"Buck, I'm going to release you, but I'm warning you not to try anything or Chris will pay dearly for it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Wilmington snapped as he stared at the hated figure standing beside the bed. He knew she was expecting Reverend Collins and several other guests later in the day. She'd come to him that morning and told him of her plans and what the outcome would be if he didn't convince everyone of his undying love for her.
"Very well. Oh, I have a suit ready for you and I expect you to wear it today. I'm having several new outfits tailored to fit you as they should and they will be my wedding present to you. What are you getting for me?" Tate asked as she placed her hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him once more.
"Ain't got nothin' to give you, Angela. You took everything I offered and twisted it into something dirty and twisted and there's nothing that can change that. Oh, I'll perform for you...just like those people who make out they're Shakespeare's characters, but you and I will both know the truth. There's no way around that!"
"That's okay, Lover, because I have enough love for both of us. Now don't you go telling Reverend Collins about our sleeping arrangements because I'll just deny it. As of now you've been sleeping in the spare room."
"I'd rather sleep there anyway...alone!"
"That's not going to happen, Lover. Once our guests have left you and I are going to celebrate our upcoming wedding."
"Sounds more like a death sentence to me," Wilmington stated flatly.
"Now, Buck, I think it's time you realized that we're going to be husband and wife and like it or not you're going to be a willing participant. After all Chris Larabee is depending on you or have you forgotten that little detail?"
"I haven't forgotten, Angela, but you mark my words and hear me real good. There will come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes I'll make you pay for everything you and your friends have done to Chris. Understood?"
"Understood, but you'd better understand me, Buck Wilmington. You've just cost your friend the use of his leg, because those scalding comments don't sit within the boundaries of our arrangement."
"No, Angela, please..."
"You should have thought of that before, Lover. I warned you I would not appreciate any kind of threats."
"I didn't mean it," Wilmington lied as she reached over his head to untie the knots in the ropes.
"Why should I believe you, Buck?"
"Give me a chance to prove it and I promise you won't be sorry, Angela."
"You put on a good show, Lover, and maybe I'll reconsider. Rosie and Joseph will be here and she will be riding out to visit Chris. What she does when she sees him depends very much on how well you please me today."
Buck felt his arms released and tried to rub the circulation back into his hands as he stared into the glacial green eyes. His hatred grew with every breath he took, with every sensation of her body against his, and with the very scent he associated with her. Fighting back the nausea he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He'd learned at an early age that men and women could fake their bodies' reactions and he forced himself to concentrate on the feelings he once had for this woman. He heard her soft moans of pleasure and knew he was giving her what she craved. Forcing down the bitter bile that rose in his throat, Buck Wilmington knew he had indeed sold his soul to the she-devil in his arms.
Evan Rawlings smiled at Reverend Collins and his sister Martha as they arrived at the front gate of the Tate ranch. Martha wasn't a particularly beautiful woman, but to Rawlings there was a hidden beauty seldom seen and he'd been seriously considering asking the woman to several barn dances in the area. His thoughts returned to the reason for his presence at the Tate ranch as they rode closer to the house. He'd been surprised to hear that Buck Wilmington was going ahead with his marriage to Angela Tate. Even more surprising was the invitation he received to attend the dinner the woman was holding in honor of the upcoming wedding. Rosemary Clark had come to the jail early in the afternoon and handed him a formal invitation and one he was intrigued by to say the least. He'd searched through his clothing to find something halfway suitable for the dinner and was pleased with his appearance. He tipped his hat as he came abreast of the buggy driven by Reverend Phillip Collins.
"Evenin' Reverend, Miss Collins."
"Good evening, Sheriff, I must say it is wonderful to see you dressed in such finery," Miss Collins said with a smile. It was rare to see Rawlings without his customary white shirt and black vest, and she knew there would be several ladies who would do anything to spend the evening in his company, but tonight she would see if there was anything between them besides the flirting.
"Thank you, Ma'am, you look lovely tonight."
Phillip Collins smiled as he helped his sister down from the buggy. He knew she had feelings for the sheriff and hoped the two would stop the mating dance and tell each other how they felt. He deposited his sister on the ground and reached for her parasol and handed it to her.
"Thank you, Phillip. Shall we?"
"Of course," Rawlings said as he linked arms with the pretty woman and walked toward the front door and knocked. He smiled as the door was opened by Angela Tate's housemaid, Carmon. She motioned them into the house and closed the door before leading them to the main parlor. Without a word of explanation she left the trio alone and closed the door behind her.
"Miss Tate certainly has a beautiful home," Martha Collins said as she explored the room. A large bookcase took up most of one wall and a small settee and matching armchair took up the other. A large window in the wall opposite the door allowed sunlight to brighten the floral paper that covered the walls.
"Never seen so many flowers in one place before," Rawlings commented as the sweet scent of roses and honeysuckle threatened to take his breath away and he sneezed. "Excuse me. Sorry."
"No need to apologize, Sheriff."
"Please call me Evan, Ma'am."
"Only if you call me Martha," the woman said sweetly.
"Done, Martha."
"It's about time you two quit dancing around and settled on a first name basis," Phillip said as he sat in the armchair leaving the two younger people no choice, but to sit on the small settee.
"Phillip, never berate a man for being a gentleman," Martha scolded.
"I wasn't berating him, I was applauding him," the reverend said with a smile.
"Oh," she said and ducked her head slightly before looking around the room once more. "I wonder where Mr. And Mrs. Clark are?"
"They may be a little late. Joseph was still working when I left town," Rawlings explained as Carmon returned with a tray that contained a pitcher of lemonade and glasses and placed them on the table. She left hurriedly and once more closed the door.
"I wonder if we're going to see our host and hostess after all," Martha said.
"Now, My Dear, don't talk like that it doesn't become you," Phillip said.
"Well, it is bad form to leave the guests wondering," the woman said as she accepted a glass of lemonade and waited for the others to make an appearance.
"Buck, our guests have arrived," Angela said as she entered the room to find Wilmington standing at the window dressed in the clothing she'd set out for him.
The rogue didn't acknowledge her presence right away. He'd been staring out the window, wondering where they were holding Chris Larabee and how the hell he was supposed to search for him when Angela seemed dead set on spending every minute with him and when she was unavailable, one of her men would be there to make sure he didn't ride off on his own.
"Did you hear me, Buck?"
"Yeah, I heard you," Wilmington answered, sighing in disgust as he turned towards the object of his hatred. They'd made love before she left to make sure things were ready and he'd felt dirty at the thought of what he'd done, yet what choice did he have.
"I must say that suit does fit you perfectly. Women will be very envious of me when they see us together," Tate said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a lustful kiss. She deepened it and smiled as he tried to draw away, but seemed to remember their arrangement and the kiss deepened for several drawn out seconds. She pulled away, breathing heavily as she straightened her floor length green dress and fanned herself. "My, my, but it's warm in here. I wish we could stay and continue this, but it would not do to keep Reverend Collins waiting. After all we have much to discuss before tomorrows celebrations."
Buck felt her arm link through his and walked out the door with her and along the hallway towards the parlor. He knew he had to make things look good and forced a smile to his face as he opened the door and held it for her. They entered the parlor and Wilmington was surprised to see Evan Rawlings sitting beside a woman around his own age.
"Hello, Miss Tate, Buck?"
"Evan," Wilmington greeted, smiling slightly as he shook the other man's hand.
"Hello, Reverend, Miss Collins, I'm so glad you could come out here tonight," Tate said with a smile as she reached for the other woman's hand. "I do love your dress."
"Thank you, Miss Tate," Martha said, as the three men seemed to leave them alone. "You look beautiful and please call me Martha."
"Martha, and you must call me Angela. Miss Tate is so formal."
"Angela, you have such a lovely home."
"Thank you, but I can't take the credit for it all. Rosemary is wonderful with making sure everything has a place," Tate explained as the door opened once more and the Clarks were issued inside.
"Good evening everyone," Rosemary greeted as she moved to her friend and hugged her close. "You look lovely, Angela. How are things?"
"Perfect so far. See the smile on Buck's face?" She asked as they released each other and moved to speak with the others.
"Rosie, Joseph, I believe you know everyone here."
"Yes we do," Rosemary said as Wilmington moved to serve drinks.
"Would anyone like something stronger than Lemonade?" Buck asked.
"Lemonade is strong enough for me," Martha answered.
"I'd like a brandy," Rosemary said and nodded in pleasure at the handsome rogue. So far he was being the perfect host and she wondered if he'd be able to keep it up.
"Angela?"
"Brandy would be wonderful, Buck," Tate said and walked over to join the two women at the settee.
"Joseph, would you like a drink?" Wilmington asked.
"Whiskey," the older man answered and joined the three men near the window.
"Reverend?"
"Lemonade will suffice," Collins answered.
"How about you, Evan?"
"Whiskey," the sheriff answered, studying his friend's face and noting the forced smile. He'd been a lawman and studied enough faces to know when things were not as they seemed and right now he was reading Wilmington's face like an open book. He wouldn't say anything until he was sure they were alone, but something about his friend's demeanor did not set right with him.
Buck sensed the sheriff watching him and didn't meet his eyes as he poured the brandy into the glasses and served it to Tate and Clark. He then served the whiskey and took a deep breath before reaching for Angela and pulling her close.
"Oh, Buck, we have company," the woman said coyly.
"Yes, but I am a man in love and when you're close I can think of nothing else, but holding you in my arms."
"Easy, Darling, we still have to wait until it's official. It's only one more day!"
"Too long when all I want..."
"Ahem," Collins cut in.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot myself. Angela and I have agreed to wait until we're married and I've been trying to grant that wish. She is a woman of true virtue," the rogue easily lied.
"One of us has to be," Tate said with a laugh as she pulled away from her intended. She returned her attention to the two women and began talking about what they'd be wearing to the small gathering.
"So, Buck, you're really gonna marry Angela," Rawlings stated.
"Yeah, she's everything I ever wanted in life. I've always known we were meant to be together and I can't tell you how glad I was when I got the message from her."
"Sounds like love to me. One of God's greatest gifts is the love between a man and a woman and the family they raise together," Phillips said.
"Now, Reverend, they haven't even said I do and you have them starting a family," Rawlings said with a laugh.
"Yes, well the Lord works in mysterious ways and I believe this union is one he blessed long ago. Angela told me she's known you for a long time," Collins said.
"We go back a few years," Wilmington answered.
"That they do. I knew Buck, Chris, and Angela..."
"Chris?" the reverend asked curiously.
"Chris Larabee. He rode into town with Buck, but I haven't seen him around since he sent a telegram a few days ago."
"That's because he went home, Evan. I told you in the saloon that Chris left a message for me saying he had to go back to Four Corners," Wilmington explained as Angela joined them.
"Is everything okay, Buck?" Tate asked.
"Everything's fine, Darlin'. Evan just forgot about me tellin' him about Chris's message." Wilmington explained as the other women joined them. He looked at Rawlings and shook his head imperceptibly and hoped the man got the message. Rawlings knew of his true feelings about Angela Tate and of his determination not to rush into marriage, yet here he was acting like a love struck kid on his wedding night, yet what he felt was disgust whenever she was near him.
"I'm so glad you're not worried about Chris anymore, Buck. You seemed as if you were tied up in knots about his whereabouts." Angela said and saw a spark of anger in his eyes. "I believe Carmon has dinner ready and she does make the most delicious roast beef and gravy and I do believe today's events have left me rather famished."
Rosemary Clark found herself lagging behind as she fought the urge to laugh at her friend's comment. She felt her husband's hand on her arm and followed him out of the room as he bent low to speak in her ear.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Rosemary."
"You know I love dangerous games, Joseph," she whispered as the others entered the dining room.
"Yes, but this is one game that could have deadly consequences and I don't like it."
"I promised I would not kill Chris Larabee, Joseph, and I will keep my word no matter what happens. Now let's go in to dinner before we're missed."
The stars created a blanket of light in the dark sky over their heads, but only one man actually saw them. Vin Tanner sat on a fallen log near the edge of the ring of light cast by the flickering fire. He'd taken first watch and would probably let Ezra sleep a little longer before waking him. There was no pressing need for a sentry, but there was always the possibility that someone was on their trail. His thoughts turned once more to the missing men and he wondered why they hadn't contacted Four Corners.
Since Chris Larabee's disappearance in Jericho nearly six months ago, they'd come up with the plan that while away from home they would contact their fellow peacekeepers at first opportunity. Chris and Buck should have contacted them nearly a week ago, but there'd been nothing and his instincts were telling him they needed to get to Midfield before it was too late. His eyelids were growing heavy and he knew he had to get some sleep or tomorrow would find a riled bear in buckskin riding Peso and the others didn't deserve his anger and impatience.
Vin walked over to the sleeping men and gently nudged the gambler who grumbled about having a dead man's hand before startled green eyes opened and looked around.
"Easy, Ez, it's just me."
"Mr. Tanner, you are extremely lucky I have the instincts needed not to pull the trigger," Standish told him.
"Always knew you had gentle hands, Ez."
"I would not consider them gentle, just very sure," Standish said as he threw back his blanket and stood up.
"Guess ya slept well."
"Very well, just not as lengthy as I normally require. Sleep well, Mr. Tanner, for dawn seems ready to spread her blanket."
"Jesus, Ezra, thought Vin was the poet."
"He is, Mr. Sanchez, I am but a student of his expertise," Standish said with a flourishing bow. "Good night, gentlemen."
"Night, Ez," Tanner said, grabbing his saddle and lying down. He reached for the blanket Standish had used and covered himself with it. "Night, Josiah."
"Night, Vin," Sanchez said and closed his eyes once more.
Chris woke to the loud sound of snoring next to his left ear and quickly opened his eyes. Dazed and confused he shifted away from the sour smell of whiskey and tobacco and groaned as pain slammed through his body and mind. He trembled as he tried to put some order to the twisted memories that flowed through his mind. He looked at the dirty head that seemed to be resting near him and his memory quickly cleared as the man's name slipped past dry lips.
"Tu...Turner!" The man mumbled something about being stupid and Chris waited to see if the bastard would go back to sleep. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Turner's twisted attention and tried to remain still as he waited for the pain to subside. His feet were numb and he wondered about the circulation as he tried to lift his head, but there was just no strength left. The stench coming from the man snoring next to him was overpowering and he wished the man would wake up and get away from him. He was tempted to try waking him, but decided against calling attention to himself and finally turned his head and let his eyes slide closed.
Chris knew his own position was dangerous, but was more worried about Buck Wilmington and what he was being forced to do. Being forced into a loveless marriage was one thing, but being forced into a marriage with a woman you'd grown to despise was even worse. Buck was a man who loved women and had never done anything to harm one, although there were a few exceptions. Chris knew that Buck could easily kill Ella Gaines on sight for what she'd done to Sarah and Adam. Now there were at least two other names that could be added to that short list. Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark had made a bitter enemy out of the ladies' man and someday he knew they would both regret the day they'd crossed him. Chris just hoped that he lived to see that day, but as he shifted and cried out, he wondered if he would even live past their wedding day.
Chris felt Turner move beside him and the dirty head lifted and looked around before settling once more on the bed. Too tired to do anything about the disgust he felt, Chris closed his eyes and prayed he would be alive to see the next day.
It was very late when the last of their guests left and Buck stood next to Angela as she said goodbye to Joseph and Rosemary Clark. He'd seen her talking to the woman earlier in the evening and needed to know what had been said. The smile on their faces was enough to let him know they were talking about Chris Larabee and he needed to know what they'd decided about his performance. As far as he could tell no one had noticed anything amiss.
"Angela, what did you tell Rosemary?" Wilmington asked as the woman turned to face him.
"Whatever do you mean, Lover?" Tate asked and pulled him into a kiss. "I've been waiting to do that all night."
"What did you tell her, Angela?" the rogue asked again as he gripped her wrists.
"I told her that you redeemed yourself for now and that she's to take special care of Chris when she visits him tomorrow. You'll be able to ask her how he's doing when her and Joseph come over before our wedding."
Buck wasn't sure if the woman realized she'd just disclosed that Chris had to be close by if Clark would be able to visit him, and still be at the house before three o'clock, which was the time of the ceremony that would bind him to the she-devil before him.
"Buck! Did you hear me?" Tate asked, angered by his seeming lack of interest.
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere."
"Well, Lover, it's not your mind I need right now, but I'm warning you that the reprieve you won for your friend is in serious danger if you don't perform tonight." She ran her fingers along the firm jaw line and once more pressed her lips to his. This time she got the reaction she was looking for and she deepened the kiss until she stood breathless before him once more. "Carry me to our room, Buck."
With little choice in the matter, Buck picked her up and easily carried her to the bedroom they'd been sharing. He placed her on the bed and sat on the edge as she reached for him.
"Love me, Buck."
"I'll never love you, Angela, not like I once did."
"Careful, Lover," her eyes were glacial in the light cast by the lamp. "You're dangerously close to crossing that line again."
Buck swallowed the bitter bile that threatened to choke him as he turned to face her and watched as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. The beauty he'd seen there before had been replaced by an ugliness that went beyond the surface and shone like the coldest depths of hell. Angela Tate was a woman without a soul and she was eating away at his.
"Shall we start again? Love me, Buck."
Without a word Buck began removing his clothing and knew there was no choice. Not here, not now, maybe not ever, but he hoped and prayed that Evan Rawlings was as good at reading people signs as Vin Tanner was at reading signs no one else seemed able to recognize. He closed his eyes and lay down with the woman he'd come to despise and began worshipping her body.
Evan Rawlings nodded to Reverend Collins and his sister as he escorted them to their house at the edge of town. It was nearing midnight, but the night sky had been covered with brightly twinkling stars surrounding a full-bodied moon. The trail was well lit, but Rawlings knew it by heart and could find his way home during a fierce storm. He waited until the duo were inside and then rode his horse towards the livery. It was quiet and he knew most of the town had been in bed for hours, giving him plenty of time to think. His mind quickly wandered back over the evening's events and he kept seeing Wilmington with his arm around Angela Tate and the small motion the man made with his head. That alone had caused him to pause and take notice, but coupled with the fact that Wilmington had told him he wasn't going to rush into a marriage with the woman, Rawlings knew something more was going on than met the eye.
"What the hell is going on, Buck, and where is Chris?" He whispered as he dismounted in front of the livery. Jacobs would already have gone to bed and he knew he would have to take care of his horse on his own. He knew there was nothing he could do about it tonight, but tomorrow he would go see Joseph Clark and make sure a message was sent to Four Corners requiring an answer as quickly as possible. Buck Wilmington was to be married in less than twenty-four hours, and somehow he thought instead of it being the happiest day of a man's life it was more of a death sentence. He had to help his long time friend, he owed him that much.
Rosemary Clark arose with the first light of dawn and stretched her arm high over her body as she looked at the man who shared her bed. She'd drugged him the night before in an effort to keep from feeling his hands fumbling with her body and knew that he would remember nothing after they returned home the night before.
She eased out of the bed and reached for her robe before heading towards the kitchen and the promise of fresh coffee. The young woman she'd hired over a year ago was deaf and mute, but she could easily get her to understand what was expected of her. Maria was also very afraid of retaliation if she did not please her employer. She smiled as shaking hands passed her a white china cup filled to the brim with the aromatic brew she was used to.
Rosemary shook her head when Maria motioned to the plate of biscuits and bacon she'd placed at the center of the hard wood table. She was not hungry; in fact her stomach was doing flip-flops as if she was the one getting married today. She turned away from the young woman and headed back to her bedroom to change into her riding clothes. She looked at her husband in distaste as she pulled on her clothes and left the house. She hurried to the stable and told Matthew Jennings to get her horse ready and make sure her saddlebags were also added to the animal's saddle. By the time she mounted up, the sun was just beginning her daily ritual and the promise of a bright day for the wedding that would take place later in the day.
Ethan Turner was worried and it showed in the way he paced in front of the line shack. Since waking up he'd been trying to get the blond's fever down, but no amount of wiping him down was helping. Chris Larabee was in the throes of fever-induced nightmares that had him screaming, crying, and thrashing about on the bed.
"What the hell am I supposed ta do now?" He shouted as the cries seemed to weaken and the body dropped back on the bed where soft keening moans escaped the parched throat. He turned back towards the clean basin of water he'd just fetched from the deep well and picked it up before entering through the open door.
"God damn it!" he cursed his own inadequacies as he wondered how he was going to explain Larabee's condition. He took the cloth and soaked it in the water and again washed down the fevered man.
"B...Buck, t...that you? Hot, Buck...too hot! W...where's Sarah? Sarah!"
"Look I don't know who the fuck Sarah is, but your friend is fine, okay! Now I ain't one ta give a damn what happens ta ya, but right now I gotta keep ya alive or she'll rip the skin off my back..."
"You're damn right she will! What did you do?" Clark asked as she rushed forward and replaced Turner in the chair.
"Ain't done nothin'! I've been doin' everything ya told me too and this mornin' I woke up ta him screamin' for someone named Sarah!"
"Sarah?"
"Yeah, think maybe she's dead 'cause he's wailin' like a banshee and tellin' Wilmington not ta stop him from savin' her!"
"Chris, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to help you!"
Larabee heard a voice calling him and the promise of relief from the pain and heat that scorched his body and mind. He tried to speak, but his mouth and throat were drier than the desert he'd ridden through with Buck on the way to Mexico. He forced his tongue past cracked lips and looked up into the face that seemed to be bathed in a bright light. He sighed contentedly as he tried to reach for the woman, but frowned as his arms refused to move.
"S...Sarah?"
"I'm right here, Chris. I'm going to make you feel better and then I want you to eat and get some sleep," Clark spoke in soft soothing tones as she placed her hands on both his cheeks.
Chris frowned as a scent suddenly overpowered everything else and he knew beyond a doubt that whoever this woman was she was not his beloved wife. He forced the words through his ravaged throat and inwardly winced at the weakness behind them.
"N...no Sarah...Buck!" he cried and sought out the motive blue eyes he'd trusted for so long. The familiar voice did not answer and Chris caught sight of the man standing just to the right of the woman. Memories returned, but Chris had no strength with which to fight anymore as he remembered the woman's name.
"Ethan, we need to get his fever under control! There are several packets of powder and herbs in my saddlebags. Put half of each packet in a cup and mix it with hot water. Then we're going to get some water into him and clean him up. I'll need the strips of bandages I brought with me too!"
"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out of the shack to retrieve the items from her horse.
"I know you can hear me, Chris, and I need you to listen to me. I really am here to help you today. Your friend Buck is putting on a marvelous performance and you are not to be harmed today, but that can easily change. So right now it is in your best interest to take advantage of my training and let me help. Do you understand me?"
"B...bitch," Larabee rasped.
"Oh, you'll pay for that I promise, but I have plans this afternoon so I will mark that one down as one against you," Clark said as she eased the bandages off the wound in his side. She frowned as she looked at the wound and pressed on the area surrounding it. "Ethan?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Turner answered.
"What did I tell you when I was here last?"
"Told me to take care of him!"
"I also warned you not to do anything unless I told you to. Do you remember that?"
"Y...yes, M...Ma'am."
"Then explain to me where this new wound came from and do not attempt to lie to me!"
"I...he...I mean..."
"Stop stumbling over your words and answer my question!"
"He made me angry and I had my knife in my hand and I couldn't stop myself! It ain't that bad!"
"It's bad enough, you fool! I'm trying to keep this sonofabitch alive long enough to satisfy Wilmington and you fuck up like this. That knife was probably full of dirt and now it's caused an infection in that wound and I have to clean it! You damn well better make sure you do everything I say from now on! Do I make myself clear?"
"Ye...yes, Ma'am!"
"Good, now get that tea ready and get me some more water! Where's the whiskey I left here?"
"I...I used it to clean his wounds," Turner lied smoothly.
"I don't believe you! You drank it didn't you?" Clark said, standing and advancing on the baby faced man. She slapped him resoundingly and forced herself to be calm before walking back to the bed.
Chris watched the woman as she advanced on Turner and saw fear in the man's face as she delivered an open handed slap to his right cheek. He breathed past the pain and nausea and looked into the deadly eyes staring down at him. He'd never seen such cold hatred and knew it was directed at him.
"Bring me the carbolic and my scalpel!"
Chris's insides twisted with fear, but he refused to show this woman any sign of weakness. Instead he stared at the woman even as she sat down and turned her attention to his wounds once more. He felt her pressing roughly against the tender flesh around the open wound. The woman was relentless as she opened the wound and drained the bloodied pus from within. He twisted away from the torment, but was unable to move very far and could not hold back the cry of pain as she used a cloth laced with carbolic and water to clean the wound. By the time a new bandage was in place, he was breathing rapidly and his heart was beating a staccato rhythm in his chest.
"Just need to check your leg and then I'll be on my way, but first you need to drink this!"
"F...Fuck you!"
"That's two, Chris, and I'm afraid you won't enjoy the punishment when the time comes. Ethan, bring me the tube you'll find in with the bandages!"
"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and quickly returned with the length of tubing.
"Now, Chris, last chance. Are you going to drink this or do I put this down your throat and pour everything I can find into it?"
Chris's anger grew, but there was no chance of winning this particular fight. He opened his mouth as she pressed the cup against his mouth and drank the bitter tasting liquid. Time after time he swallowed until the cup was empty and he lay back against the pillows gasping for air.
"Chris, if I come out here and Ethan tells me you aren't drinking the way you should be then I will put it down your throat and leave it there. It will become your only source of fluid. Understood?"
"Yeah," Larabee answered and watched as she readied an injection. He knew it was morphine and right now his mind and body craved the release it represented. He felt her clasp his arm and press the needle into the vein before delivering the narcotic once more.
"Ethan, so help me if I come out here and he's worse I'll put a bullet in each leg and make sure you're awake when I remove the damn things. Now do what you're being paid to do!"
"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and walked her to the door, relieved when she mounted up and rode away from the line shack. Turning back towards the inside of the one room dwelling he noted that Larabee seemed to be sleeping and ran his fingers through his grimy hair. No matter what happened, this would be his last job for Rosemary Clark. The woman was getting worse and he was beginning to fear for his own life.
Buck sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the string tie around his neck. The white shirt was buttoned to the top and it felt as if he was being choked as he moved his head from side to side. It was nearing two o'clock and most of the guests had arrived. Angela Tate had been greeting her guests and making sure things were perfect for the ceremony. A variety of wildflowers were spread throughout the house, the rugs had been cleaned and the curtains washed and hung once more over the windows that were opened to allow the soft breeze to tease the curtains and keep the house from being too stuffy.
Buck had no interest in the goings on, but he forced a smile to his face each time someone new showed up. More than twenty guests had already arrived, mostly people who knew Angela and wanted to see the man she'd chosen to marry. Buck felt as if he was on display at times and had retired to the bedroom to wait for Rosemary Clark's arrival. His mind wandered back to the last time he'd seen Chris Larabee and the sheer pain that was evident on his washed out face. He stood up and made his way to the window as the sound of a buggy reached his ears. He watched as Angela walked out and greeted the Clark's and knew she would be bringing Rosemary to him. He turned and watched the door until it opened and the woman stepped inside.
"I must say you do look rather handsome this afternoon, Buck."
"You'll forgive me if I don't say the same about you," Wilmington said and winced at the high-pitched laugh from the woman.
"Doesn't matter. Angela told me you've been worried about your friend and I told her I'd come talk with you."
"How's Chris doing?"
"Right now he's fighting a raging fever, but Ethan will keep feeding him the tea and bathing him. I'll go out there after the ceremony and dancing and make sure he's doing what I've told him."
"Chris needs a doctor."
"He has me!"
"If that was meant to ease my mind you're crazy!"
"No, not to ease your mind, just to let you know that Chris is still breathing and I'll make damn sure he stays that way as long as you behave yourself."
"You make it sound like you're scolding a school boy, Rosemary, but I'll tell you the same as I told Angela. There'll come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes you'd best watch your back!"
"Is that a threat?"
"No, no it's not a threat! It's a promise and my friends know I always keep my promises! Make no mistake about that!"
"I'll try to remember that, Buck, but tonight while you're enjoying yourself with Angela, I'll be visiting your friend and let's just say things could get even more uncomfortable for Chris."
Wilmington reached out and grabbed her by the wrists and stared into her eyes as he spoke. "You hurt him and all bets are off! I'll tell everyone what you're doing and I'll make damn sure Evan contacts St. Louis and finds out the truth about you and Angela. You keep that in mind when you go out there tonight because I may be down, but I'm far from out!"
"You're hurting me!"
"Damn right I am! Now get out of here and go tell your partner in this shit that I want this over and done and then I want to see Chris!"
"Oh I'll go see Angela, Buck, and I'll show her just what you've done to me. Perhaps she'll allow another visit in order to drive home the fact that we do hold all the cards...especially the Aces!" She turned and stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
"Not for long, Rosemary, not if I can get a message to Evan," he vowed and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror over the small dresser. He looked as bad as he felt; yet his friend was the one who was paying for his actions. Somehow he would get Larabee out of this and make damn sure Angela Tate, and Rosemary Clark paid dearly for what they'd done.
Angela spotted her friend as she swept down the hallway and excused herself from the two women she'd been talking with. She hurried towards the room her friend entered and walked inside to find a livid Rosemary Clark standing at the window.
"Rosie, what's wrong?"
"That sonofabitch thinks he can dictate terms to me!"
"What did he say?"
"He told me you and I would pay for what we've done!"
"Oh, Rosie, that's just because he's angry right now and knows you and I have control over Chris and whether he lives or dies!"
"I know that, Angela, but I'm not so sure we do have control. Buck Wilmington is like a keg of dynamite and right now his fuse is getting shorter and when he blows he's going to take us down hard!"
"You can't be serious?"
"I'm deadly serious, Angela. This man is not like the others and I think we may be underestimating him!"
"I can handle, Buck."
"Can you? It seems to me you said the same thing about Robert and Brian, but they very nearly were our downfall! We need to finish this and get the hell away from here!"
"All right, Rosie, but let me have at least a week of happiness with Buck before we get rid of them."
"A week may be too long, but you know I'll stay with you no matter what you decide."
"I know, and I would do the same for you," Angela vowed and the two women hugged.
"I think we'd better get this done before the groom decides he's gonna hightail it for the hills!"
"Not while we have Chris, Rosie. That's something you can be sure of," Tate said and smiled as she stood and the two walked out to greet their friends and neighbors.
"Angela, Phillip says he's ready whenever you are," Martha Collins said as the two entered the parlor. The furnishings had been moved back and chairs were lined up for the guests.
"Thank you, Martha," Tate said and turned towards her friend. "Could you let Buck know we're ready to begin?"
"Certainly," Rosemary said and walked towards the closed door. She pushed it open and spotted the handsome groom standing at the window once more. "It's time, Buck."
"I'll be right out!"
"No, you need to come now!"
Wilmington took a deep breath and strode purposefully towards the door. There was no way around it, today he was marrying a woman he'd once loved and adored, but now was disgusted to be in the same room with her. He walked past the woman and hurried towards the parlor and was surprised to see every seat was taken. Angela stood at the front of the room where Reverend Collins and Evan Rawlings stood. He'd asked Rawlings to be his best man and suddenly realized how very wrong this was. Chris Larabee should have been standing there and he should have been celebrating the happiest day of his life, but it was not.
Collins signaled for him to come and stand with his bride while Rosemary Clark stood next to Angela. Buck took a deep breath and took his place beside his bride. He heard Collins speaking, felt his stomach churn, and forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing. When it came time for the exchange of vows he spoke quickly and sharply before placing the ring on her finger. Everything moved as if in slow motion until the preacher looked at him and motioned to Angela Tate. He had no idea what the man wanted and frowned as he tried to figure out what was expected of him.
"You may kiss the bride!" Collins repeated and smiled as the groom finally reacted.
Rawlings had watched the proceedings and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that Buck Wilmington was being forced into something he didn't want. The question now was why he could be so easily coerced into this marriage. It didn't take long to figure out that it had something to do with Chris Larabee's disappearance. The telegraph office had remained closed through the day and he'd been unable to send a message to Four Corners, but he would do so first thing in the morning when Joseph Clark opened the doors.
"Congratulations, Angela, I hope you and Buck are as happy as Joseph and I have been."
"Thank you, Rosie," the bride said as she kept her arms around her husband's waist.
"Buck, think it's time I kissed your bride," Rawlings said and forced a smile to his face. "Congratulations, Mrs. Wilmington."
"Why thank you, Evan," Angela said, glowing with happiness at the musical sound of her name.
"Buck, wish you all the best."
"Thanks, Evan," the ladies' man said as people clapped him on the back and proceeded to kiss the new bride. He found a glass pressed into his hand as Joseph Clark raised his glass into the air and shouted above the crowd.
"To Buck and Angela Wilmington. May your life together be happy and long and that you're blessed with children."
"Thank you, Joseph," Wilmington said forcing a smile to his face as he kissed his new wife once more. He continued to put on a show, giving everyone the idea that the marriage was indeed something he'd wanted, and hating every minute he was forced to be at her side. He lost track of how many drinks were forced on him, but he drank them as if he was a man dying of thirst and the glasses held the elixir of life.
Buck lay awake long after his wife had succumbed to sleep. Her fiery red hair spread across his chest and tickled his chin and neck, but he didn't move to push it away. They'd made love, although there was no love in it for him, until she'd finally placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes with a softly sated moan.
Wilmington turned to look out the window and heard the far off cry of a coyote. It brought home how alone he was and he trembled inwardly as he returned his gaze to the woman lying on his arm. Never before had he held a woman like this and been loathed to take her and love her the way a man loved a woman. The very thought of touching her in any way sent waves of nausea rolling through his stomach and rising on a tide in his throat. It was something he had to do, and he would do it until he found a way to free Chris from the chains that bound him. He felt her moving and closed his eyes quickly before she realized he was awake. He heard her speaking softly and calling his name, but did nothing to make her believe he'd heard her.
"Are you awake, Lover?" Angela asked as she lifted her head and looked into the handsome face of her husband. She rubbed her hand across his chest and winced at the whiskey-drenched breath that reached her nostrils. "Damn it! Why did you drink so much?"
Buck felt her settle back down on his arm and fought the urge to laugh at her comment. Whiskey had nothing to do with why he didn't want to make love to her. He kept his eyes closed and finally drifted towards sleep with thoughts of murder running rampant through his mind.
Rosemary Clark rose before her husband and hurried towards the barn. She waited impatiently for her horse to be saddled and mounted up as her employee placed the saddlebags in her hands.
"Tell Joseph I'll see him in town!"
"Yes, Ma'am," the man said as he rubbed his heavily stubbled chin. He found his employer's wife strange, but had never said anything about it because the job paid well and included a roof over his head. He'd seen some strange things between her and the Tate woman, but had never spoken of it. He wondered where she rode so early in the morning and why she always seemed to be in a hurry, but again he didn't question her even when her husband inquired as to her whereabouts. He watched her ride out of sight and returned to the job of repairing the ladder leading up to the loft.
Ethan Turner watched the woman riding towards him and reached for the reins as she dismounted. He looped them over the hitching post and grabbed the saddlebags before following her into the shack.
"How is he?"
"Still got that fever, but he seems ta be sleepin' easier."
"Have you been able to get him to drink anything since I left yesterday?"
"Yeah, all I gotta do is show him that tube and he drinks just fine," Turner said with a grin.
"Good, make sure you keep at him. Bring me some clean hot water and cloths. I've brought bandages and more herbs and I want you to mix one now."
"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and watched the woman for several seconds as she tried to wake the fevered man.
"Chris, I need you to look at me! Open your eyes."
"T...tired...hurts!"
"I know, but I'm going to help you feel better. I've brought some herbs to make a drink for you and I'm going to clean your wounds."
"N...no. W...wait f...for," Larabee said weakly.
"Wait for what, Chris?" Clark asked knowing the man wasn't really with her.
"N...Nathan...he, he'll know what to d...do," the blond mumbled, eyes glassy and unfocused.
"Nathan told me what to do to help you, Chris. Do you trust him?"
"T...trust Nathan w...with my l...life," Larabee said as he tried to make sense of the pain knifing through his body.
"That's good, because Nathan trusts me, Chris."
"Trusts y...you?"
"That's right. He couldn't be here and asked me to take care of you. I'm going to do that now and make you a little more comfortable."
"T...too hot!"
"I'm sure it is, Chris, and I promise we'll do something about that too, but right now I need you to drink something for me," she explained as Turner handed her the cup of herbal tea. She held it to his mouth and spoke in soothing tones as she tried to get him to drink the offering. She knew she had to keep him in a semi-dazed condition if she was going to get him to cooperate and so far things were going better than she expected.
"T...tastes b...bad," Larabee mumbled and licked his lips before closing his eyes.
"I know and when you're done I'll give you some water," Clark said.
"O...okay," Larabee muttered and frowned as an image flashed before his eyes. Someone was calling his name, but he couldn't quite see who it was. A familiar face swam before his eyes and he tried to make sense of the anger on Buck Wilmington's face. For several long moments he thought it was directed at him, but his vision suddenly cleared and he gasped as the cold eyes looked back at him.
"Welcome back, although I think you'd have enjoyed it more if you'd stayed where you were."
"Buck...where?"
"He's probably at home sleeping or making love to his wife," Clark explained maliciously.
"Wife...no, not ma...married."
"He is now, and believe me he's probably in as much pain as you are!" She heard Turner chuckle as she forced more of the liquid on her reluctant patient.
"Why?"
"Why? Why what?" Clark asked.
"Why y...you help...helping bitch?" He yelped as she roughly pulled the bandage from his thigh.
"Angela is not a bitch, Chris, and you'll do well to remember that! Now I need to clean this and get back to town. I hope you realize that things could be much worse for you. I'm going out of my way to see that you're cared for!"
"Don't d...do me an...any fuckin' favors!" Larabee spat as she pressed against the wound and then replaced the dirty bandage with a clean one.
"You're such an ungrateful bastard! I'm doing as much as your Nathan could do..."
"Not e...even close," Larabee spat and held his breath as she removed the bandage from his side.
"This looks better, but I'm still not putting any stitches in until there's no pus present. Ethan, I won't be able to make it out here tonight so it'll be up to you to change the bandages."
"My pleasure," the man said as he watched the woman working on the blond's injuries.
"How does the arm feel? Is it numb or any tingling in your arm?"
"N...none of y...your f...fuckin' business," the bound man answered sharply. He knew he was goading the woman, but could not answer her questions as if she cared. He felt her working on his side and then another cup was placed at his lips. He thought about refusing the liquid, but the threat of the tube being shoved down his throat made him reconsider and he drank the laudanum laced water and felt his eyelids grow heavy.
Rosemary stood up and washed her hands in the clean basin of water Turner had brought in. She knew the blond was nearly asleep and that he was little or no threat to them and she turned her attention on Turner. "I want you to make sure you do everything I just did this evening and give him the laudanum again tonight. It's imperative we keep him dazed at all times. I'll be back sometime tomorrow morning, but it won't be this early!"
"Yes, Ma'am." Turner said and again walked the woman to her horse. It was still early in the day, but the heat was already uncomfortable as he stood watching her ride away. He looked back at the sleeping man and smiled as an idea began to form. He could force the laudanum on Larabee late in the afternoon and leave for town for a couple of hours. There was a saloon girl he wanted to see and share a bed with for a few hours and then he could ride back here before sun up. Whistling a tune he smiled and walked inside, closing the door behind him as he looked for something to prepare for lunch.
Turner moved drunkenly towards his horse as the saloon girl he'd spent most of the night with waved to him. He knew he had to hurry back to the line shack or risk being found out by Rosemary Clark.
"Bitch'll tar and feather me," he slurred as he finally got his foot in the stirrup. He again looked towards the pretty saloon girl before turning and riding out of town, unaware of the man standing in the shadows watching his departure.
Rawlings recognized the man he'd just seen riding out of town and knew he was often in the employ of anyone who needed a shady job done. He hadn't seen him in nearly a week and frowned as he looked at Suzie as she walked into the saloon. It was too late to ride after the man now, but if Turner had money he would be back in town the next night. Evan would follow him when he left and see just what the man was up to and whom he was working for.
The day seemed to drag on for Buck, as he couldn't shake the shadow that seemed to have attached itself to his body and soul. Angela was insatiable and they'd spent most of their waking hours in bed. She'd even had their meals delivered to the room and intercepted Carmon at the door each time. He sat coldly while she insisted on feeding him and wanted so much to choke the life out of her, but there was nothing he could do until he was sure Chris Larabee was safe. He felt her hands reach for him again and groaned as his body reacted to the touch.
"See, Lover, you do want me," Angela teased playfully.
"I'm tired, Angela."
"That's what you say, but your body tells me differently."
"It's late and we have to get up early tomorrow to make it into church. It wouldn't look good if the newlyweds were late for church."
"We could stay home."
"No, we need to show respect for Reverend Collins."
"I don't remember you being so all fired big on sermons."
"I wasn't, but that was before I met Josiah Sanchez and I promised him I'd always make it to church if I was near one," the ladies' man lied.
"Oh, Buck, I want you so much right now, but I will leave you alone if you do one thing for me."
"What?" the rogue asked suspiciously.
"Say my name for me. My full name."
"Angela Marion Ta..." he grunted as an elbow was driven into his ribs.
"Don't play me for a fool, Buck. You know what I want."
"Angela Marion Wilmington," the mustached man said in utter defeat. He heard her laughter and felt her cuddle up to him. He shivered as if cold air had blown over his naked body and knew he was lost.
PHOENIX
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