Tess's Trials Page 7

  He reached a boulder between him and the fire. Easing around it, he stood in the shadow of the rock and examined the camp site.

  The fire was small, but adequate for one person. He saw a bed roll lying close to the fire, but not too close. Several good size boulders stood on the other side of the bed roll. He appreciated that whoever was there could use the boulders as reflectors for the fire. The ground around the fire had been cleared for a good space to keep the fire from spreading.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he got a glimpse of movement. Slowly turning his head, Rafe saw someone emerge from the boulders.

  Merita! She did follow him.

  As he watched, she took her hair down and shook it out. In the firelight, it looked black. Black and long, hanging well below her shoulder blades. She rolled a couple of large rocks in front of the fire to direct the heat toward her bed. When she began unbuttoning her shirt, he stepped back behind the boulder and made his way back to his own camp.

  At least I know she can make a good camp. And it didn’t look like she was hesitant about sleeping out under the stars. She may not be the helpless female I thought she might be .

  Back at his camp, he chuckled as he took off the moccasins and his gun belt and pulled his blankets over him. It would be fun to go back there and do something to scare her. Just enough to make her go away. No – I won’t do that to a woman. Think about it, but won’t do it .

  The next day, Rafe made several more miles following the wagon tracks. It looked like he might be gaining on them. This made him more wary as he traveled.

  That night, shortly after stopping to camp, he heard a voice from the dusk. “Hello, the fire! Can I come in?”

  Rafe eased over to stand beside a tree where he’d found a seep of water. The shadow

  there would conceal him a little, and he could duck behind the tree if whoever was out there

  turned out to be unpleasant.

  “Ride on in. Slow, if you will.”

  “Slow’s a good way, Mister.” The man walked his horse on into the fire light. He kept his hands on the pommel of his saddle.

  For a few seconds, Rafe studied him. A young-ish man, the rider wore rough range clothes that showed wear. But the Colt belted around his waist was clean, at least as much as Rafe could see.

  “Light an’ set, Mister,” he said after his gut told him it was all right. “Coffee’s hot.”

  “ ‘Preciate it. I been ridin’ a long ways.” The man dismounted, loosened the cinch on his saddle, and took a cup from the saddle bag.

  Rafe joined him, hunkering down across the fire from him. “You had supper yet? I’ve got enough for both of us.”

  The man shook his head. “I’ve got some jerky in the saddle bags. That’ll do me. I got a ways to go yet tonight.” He sipped the coffee, his eyes never leaving Rafe. “Nice place to camp. You stayin’ a while?”

  “No. I’ll prob’ly go on a bit further, too. Not sleepy yet.” Rafe sipped his own coffee. “Just wanted some hot coffee to get me started on.”

  The man finished what was in his cup, tossed out the grounds that settled to the bottom, then stood. “Thanks for the coffee, Mister. Maybe I’ll see ya on down the trail somewhere.”

  Rafe stood with the man, his cup in his left hand. “May be,” he said. “You never know.”

  After replacing the cup in his saddle bag, the man tightened the cinch on his saddle, mounted, nodded to Rafe, then rode away. Rafe listened to his horse as long as he could. He kicked sand over the fire and stood against the tree once more. He waited to see if the man might sneak back to the camp.

  Merita had just finished with her small supper and relaxed with a cup of coffee. She noticed her horse lift its head and stare off into the darkness, its ears turned to gather sound from the way it faced. She slipped back behind one of the boulders that formed her heat reflector.

  In another minute, a voice from the darkness called, “Hello, the fire. Can I come in?”

  “As long as you come in slow and keep your hands in sight,” Merita responded.

  “Sure thing. Slow an’ easy,” the voice said. A man rode in who obviously had been riding for several days. His range clothes were dusty and he needed a shave. His eyes roved all around her camp site before she stepped out. When she did, the man sat up straighter in the saddle.

  “Never figgered on findin’ a woman alone out here,” he remarked with a grin.

  “Never can tell who you might find out on the Texas prairie in the spring time,” Merita responded with no grin. “Coffee’s on. Step down and bring your cup.”

  He wasted no time doing just that. “You don’t mind me askin’, what’s a woman doin’ out here alone?”

  “Who said I’m alone?” Merita didn’t like having this stranger in her camp, but Western etiquette demanded she at least offer him coffee.

  The man made a show of glancing around the camp. “Well, I don’t see but one saddle, one horse, an’ one bedroll.”

  She decided to ignore his question, instead she asked her own. “Where you headed?”

  He shrugged. “Lookin’ fer work. Driftin’ from ranch to ranch, seein’ if they need a hand.”

  “Had any luck?”

  “Not yet. But my luck’s bound to change.” This last came with another grin.

  Merita felt his eyes on her the whole time and not in a friendly way. “There’s a ranch north of here that might need somebody. Two days’ ride or thereabouts.”

  “Thanks. I’ll travel up that way.” He tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire and stood. “Sure appreciate the coffee. Think I’ll head on north toward that ranch before I make camp.”

  The man sauntered back to his horse and replaced his cup in the saddle bag. Then he looked over at her horse. “Ma’am? I think there’s somethin’ wrong with yore horse.”

  “What?” Merita lost her caution for a moment and hurried over to her horse.

  Just as she passed by the man, he grabbed her from behind, one hand going around her waist, the other across her breasts. “Now, you ’an me are gonna have some fun.”

  Merita took in a deep breath to scream. The man quickly put his hand over her mouth.

  “No, no. We don’t wanta draw no attention now.”

  She leaned forward over the arm around her waist and bit down hard on his hand over her mouth. That got the man’s attention.

  “Yeow! You little … “

  He didn’t finish what he started to say because Merita threw her head back into his face. The satisfying crunch of the bone in his nose signaled that her action had the desired result. The man let go of her and held both hand to his face, trying to stop the blood now flowing fast from his nose.

  Merita whirled, drew her .45, and shot him in the chest.

  When Rafe judged that a half hour had passed, he relaxed a little. The man probably had just been a drifter and kept going. Just as that thought passed through his mind, he heard two shots from the direction he thought the man went.

  Merita! flashed through his mind. Even though he didn’t know the young woman, he knew what could happen to her if the wrong people came across her. A young woman, alone, out on the prairie. No one would know if the man who was just at his fire decided to attack her.

  Rafe jumped into the saddle and heeled his buckskin to a lope. He trusted the horse to see any obstacles and avoid them. The only thing he wouldn’t be able to see was a prairie dog hole. Stepping into that would mean a broken leg for the horse and a real problem for Rafe.

  But he had to see if Merita was all right.

  It took only minutes to cross the quarter mile to where the shots seemed to come from. He saw the reflection of another fire in the distance and slowed down.

  “Merita?” he called out. “This is Rafe Brannon. I’m comin’ in. Don’t shoot.”

  In case the other man had been the one shooting, Rafe held his .45 in his hand, ready to shoot as he rode in. As he drew closer to the fire, he saw someone lying on the ground, Merita with her
hair down, holding a pistol pointed toward the body.

  Rafe holstered his .45 and dismounted. “You all right?”

  “Yes. This man rode up to the fire. I offered him coffee, he got down and got a cup.

  When I went over to see about my horse, he grabbed me.” She swiped at a tear on her cheek. “You can see I got away.”

  “Yeah. I’d say you got away just fine.” Rafe turned the man over. It was the same one who stopped at his fire. “Two holes in the middle of his chest. Good shootin’.”

  Rafe went through the man’s pockets, found little. “I reckon he was just a drifter, saw you were a woman, an’ decided to have some fun. Didn’t turn out that way for him.”

  “No, it didn’t.” Merita holstered her pistol.

  “Reckon you might should come over to my camp. Might be safer if we’re together.”

  “I thought you worked better alone.” Her tone was a little mocking.

  What passed for a smile curled up Rafe’s lips. “Usually do. But I’ll make an exception this once.”

  Merita’s smile would have lit up the countryside.

  As she turned to start packing up, Rafe told himself, Don’t get fooled by that smile, Boy. She’s a handful. You got to walk careful.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tess sat up in surprise as the wagon slowed, then stopped. In a sort of half-daze, half-nap, she hadn’t noticed the thunderheads building in the west. Now they had gotten so high they covered the sun. Thunder grumbled in the far distance.

  She heard the driver of their wagon call out to one of the riders going by. “What’s goin’ on? It’s early yet. Why’re we stoppin’?”

  “Snake Eyes wants to wait an’ see if that storm cloud comes over this way,” the rider shouted back. “He thinks this here’s a good place to stop.”

  Tess looked around at the place where they’d stopped. It was a small copse of trees squeezed into a little canyon. If the storm did hit, the trees and the hills surrounding them would stop at least some of the wind.

  The wagon started up again. For a minute, Tess thought Snake Eyes had changed his mind, and they would continue on. But soon she saw they were just pulling in further behind one of the hills.

  The other women began stirring out of their half-sleep and looking around. Sarah, the woman who seemed most friendly to Tess, said, “Why’re we stopping? It’s still early.”

  “Storm may be coming,” Tess said. “I think they want to wait here and see if it does.”

  When the wagon stopped this time, two of the men came and unlocked the door. One of them, the one who seemed to be second in charge, pointed at Tess and Sarah. “You two, come with me. We’re gonna stay here for the night. Y’all are goin’ to help th’ cook.”

  As they climbed out of the wagon, Tess stood up straight, something she couldn’t do in the wagon, and stretched the knots out of her back. She noticed several of the men glancing her way as she did so. She also noticed Snake Eyes talking to one of the youngest looking of his men. That was all she could see before the two men hurried them off to the chuck wagon.

  Some time later, Tess gathered up the dishes left by the men after they ate. The storm passed close enough to them for some of the wind to moan through the trees, but no rain came. She carried the dishes back to the fire behind the chuck wagon where a large pot held hot water. Stacking the dishes on the ground beside the pot, she straightened up and brushed hair away from her face.

  As she did so, a glance toward the wagon holding the other women showed her Snake Eyes and the young man he’d been talking to approaching the wagon. One of the men standing guard behind the wagon opened the door. He and the young man climbed inside and went to stand over Bessie.

  The youngest of the women, Bessie had stayed curled up on the floor of the wagon almost the entire time Tess had been there. The two men picked her up and began carrying her out of the wagon. Bessie didn’t move, didn’t scream, didn’t try to fight.

  What are they doing? Are they going to leave Bessie here? She’s not said or done anything the whole time we’ve been moving. Maybe they think she’s lost her mind or something and won’t be of any use to them, so they’re going to let her go.

  These thoughts coursed through Tess’s mind as she watched. Soon she knew she was wrong. The two men took the young girl to a distant tent, the other men along the way calling out crude remarks to the young man carrying Bessie. Tess realized the young man was going to have the girl that night. With a deep sigh, she also understood there was nothing she could do to help Bessie.

  Once he had the girl in the tent, the young man closed the entrance flaps to a flood of suggestive and crude remarks from the other men. Tess and Sarah finished up their cleaning duties and were returned to the wagon. Two of the other women were also gone from the wagon.

  “I hope Bessie’s all right,” Sarah muttered as they settled down on the floor of the wagon.

  “Me, too,” Tess agreed, glancing over at the tent where the young girl had been taken.

  With the passing of the storm, the air grew cooler. The women pulled blankets over themselves for warmth. The one Tess chose had blood on it from being used to cover the woman’s body who had been shot a day earlier. Her body had been taken out of the wagon only that morning and left beside the trail. No effort had been made to bury her.

  Tess drew her knees up and shivered in the chill evening. Not quite dark yet , she thought. It’ll probably get cold toward morning. A fire sure would feel good . Knowing they wouldn’t get one, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  Just after full dark, the breed walked toward the tent where Bessie had been taken. Tess saw this, having heard some of the men calling out to him to check on the young man. Their laughter rolled across the camp. Whitehorse called back to them with crude remarks of his own.

  In front of the tent, he stopped and yelled, “Raphael! What’s goin’ on in there? You still tryin’ to tame that little filly?”

  He paused, listening. No sound came out of the tent.

  Tess sat up, listening herself. Something’s wrong . She inched closer to the bars that

  formed the side of the wagon.

  “Raphael!” Whitehorse, the breed, called out again. “Come out here so we can see you’re all right. Has that little filly wore you completely down?”

  His laughter stopped when there was no response from the tent. He jerked open the entrance flaps, looked inside. Immediately, he withdrew his head and shouted, “Billy! Manuel! Come here!”

  The two men ran over to Whitehorse and joined him inside the tent. In a moment, they drug the young man out. He was out cold, blood covering his scalp above his eyes.

  Snake Eyes strode up, a scowl on his face. “What happened?”

  Whitehorse answered, “It looks like the girl knocked Raphael out somehow and got out the back of the tent.”

  Snake Eyes ripped aside the entrance flap to the tent and looked for himself. “Find her!” he ordered Whitehorse.

  The breed got four men up and on horseback within five minutes. They took off behind the tent.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked from behind Tess.

  “I think Bessie hit that boy and got away,” Tess explained. “She obviously wasn’t as out of her head as she wanted us to think.”

  “Do you think she’ll get away?”

  “I don’t know. If she’s smart enough to fool everybody, maybe she has a chance.” Tess settled back against the front wall of the wagon. “Snake Eyes sent riders out to try to find her.”

  The whole time the riders were out, Snake Eyes stomped around the camp cursing

  anything and anyone who he encountered. One of the men didn’t move out of his way fast enough and got kicked in the butt for his trouble.

  A bit over an hour later, a commotion at the far end of the camp caught everyone’s attention. Tess crawled over to the side of the wagon and peered out between the bars. She saw Snake Eyes turn in the direction of the noise and stand with arms crossed ove
r his chest.

  Then she saw a rider come walking his horse into the camp. His rope was snubbed around his saddle horn and tied to the hands of the young girl, Bessie. She stumbled and went down on her face in the dirt. The man just dragged her the rest of the way until he stood in front of Snake Eyes.

  “Here is the girl, Jefe,” he announced to Snake Eyes.

  Snake Eyes slowly walked to her, used one boot to turn her over onto her back. For a long minute, he stared at the girl. Then, he directed his gaze to everyone in the camp. All of the men and then the women. He stopped when his eyes fell on Tess.

  “Untie her,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Tess’s. He stood like that, eyes locked on Tess while his men did as he said.

  “Done, Jefe,” Whitehorse reported.

  “Strip her,” Snake Eyes said in that quiet voice.

  Again, his eyes never left Tess’s as his men did the task. It seemed to Tess he was telling her that he expected her to control the other women. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Why would he want her to control the women? She wasn’t their leader. She was a captive, also.

  Once again, Whitehorse let Snake Eyes know the girl was naked. Only then did Snake Eyes let his gaze go to the girl. Tess felt the release like something physical.

  “All right,” he said, again in that quiet voice. “Every one of you, take her. Every one!” Then he turned back to the wagon with the women and raised his voice. “And you women watch. Every one of you! If I see any of you not watching, I will beat you!”

  Over the next hour, every one of the men raped Bessie. During the first several, she screamed and tried to fight. But about halfway through the torture, she became quiet and docile, as if she gave up.

  When they were finished, she just lay there on the ground. The only way Tess could tell the girl still lived was by her chest going up and down as she breathed.

  Snake Eyes stepped over to the girl. He took out a large knife, bent down over the girl, pulled her head up, and cut her throat. Bessie’s eyes flared open as the knife sliced across her throat, but she made no sound. Blood gushed with every heart beat until there clearly was no more in her body.