Spurring his horse forward without conscious volition, Morgan rode slowly toward it. At the first flash of the blazing color of Chastity's hair, his heartbeat turned to thunder in his chest and his decision was made.
Reed stiffened as a rider appeared on the trail ahead. He felt Chastity stiffen as well as he dropped his arm from around her shoulder.
''It's him, isn't it?" Chastity turned toward him.
"It looks like it is. Get back into the wagon."
"No, he'll think something's wrong if I'm not sitting beside you."
"Get in back, Chastity!"
"No."
Reed reached down under the seat to check the location of his revolver, whispering as he did, "I want you out of range if anything happens."
"No."
"Stubborn…"
The horseman drew closer. It was Morgan, all right. Reed straightened up slowly. He didn't like this. He hadn't expected to see Morgan again so soon. The bastard was planning something. If things were different, he would have snatched at the opportunity to take Morgan now, when he was alone.
Reed glanced at Chastity. Her attention was focused on Morgan as he approached. No, he couldn't risk it before he could get her to a point of safety.
Forced to rein up when Morgan continued his direct approach, Reed managed a neutral expression. He waited for Morgan to make the first move.
Farrell was watching him intently as he approached the wagon head-on. He wasn't wearing his parson's collar. It occurred to Morgan as he drew closer that Bartell was right. He had never seen a parson with eyes that cold.
Assuming a properly concerned expression as he drew his mount to a halt beside the wagon, Morgan began, "I'm real glad I ran into you out here on the trail. I was plannin' to find you anyways, but this makes it easier."
Chastity turned toward him fully for the first time. Her face was bruised black and blue, and Morgan was possessed of a sudden rage at the distortion of her beauty. He glanced back at Farrell, whose expression was unrevealing
but he knew what had happened
. Barely suppressing his fury, he inquired softly, "What happened to you, Chastity?"
He noticed that the warmth was missing from Chastity's manner, and that she glanced hesitantly at Farrell before responding, "I fell. It was dark and I didn't realize there was a slope. It really is embarrassing to be so clumsy."
He didn't believe a word of it! He was well acquainted with the type who enjoyed causing pain in the name of religion. Her bastard husband had done that to her because he was jealous. He'd make sure Farrell paid for that.
His raging thoughts carefully hidden, Morgan continued, "Well, I'm glad to hear that it didn't have anythin' to do with the Indian trouble nearby."
Chastity stiffened.
"Indian trouble?"
She looked again at Farrell. "That Indian I saw near our camp the other night… you don't suppose…"
"I told you not to worry about him, Chastity. If he was going to cause us trouble, it would've happened already." Farrell looked back at Morgan. "There wasn't any talk of Indian trouble out here when we left Baxter Springs."
"That's because nobody knew about it yet."
"What kind of trouble are you talking about, Mr. Jefferson?"
"The usual kind, Indians gettin' liquored up and goin' out shootin' up things.
We lost some cattle last night."
"This
is
Indian land."
"Right."
Morgan refused to be ruffled. "But like I said, we have an understandin'." He continued with no sign of the agitation that had his trigger finger twitching. "What I was really thinkin' was that maybe it might be a good idea if you came to spend the night at the cabinto give things a chance to cool off before you go on to the mission. You'd be safe there. You could start out in the mornin', and I could send a few of my men along with you if you liked."
"That won't be necessary."
"If those braves are still swillin' the red-eye, they aren't goin' to wait to see if you're a parson or not." He looked directly at Chastity. "I'm worried for your safety, ma'am."
"I don't think we're in danger."
Morgan scrutinized Farrell's expression. The bastard didn't want him anywhere near his wife. He replied, "Well, I suppose you trust in the Lord to get you through, but I'm thinkin' it just might be wiser to take some additional precautions."
"We'll be fine."
Morgan glanced up at the position of the sun in the cloudless sky. "I need to be gettin' back to my men. If you change your mind, you just drive that wagon up to my front door and you'll be welcome."
Farrell's smile was hardly worth the effort as he replied, "We'll remember that."
Tipping his hat, Morgan smiled at Chastity. "You still are the prettiest woman my eyes have ever seen."
"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Jefferson." Farrell's voice dripped ice. "We'll be saying good-bye, then."
After another look at Chastity's bruised face, Morgan turned his horse. He rode off without looking back.
Reining up out of sight a short distance away, Morgan sat his mount silently. An Indian had been skulking around their camp the previous night. That couldn't be better. It lent credence to the ground work he had laid.
Morgan looked up again at the sky. It would be dark in a couple of hours. He had just enough time.
«» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «»
"Here he comes."
The shuffle of footsteps sounded against the board floor of the cabin as Bartell and Simmons joined Walker at the window, with Turner following behind. A victorious smile stretched underneath Walker's wiry mustache as Turner reached the window and looked out.
"He's
alone
. I told he would be." Walker laughed out loud. "You were so sure you knew Morgan better than the rest of us, but you were wrong. Maybe now you'll keep your mouth shut so's we can all have a little peace around here!"
But Turner was hardly listening. Instead, he was watching Morgan's advance. "He's ridin' like a crazy man."
"I'm sick and tired of you tryin' to say Morgan's crazy!" Walker took an aggressive step. "I've got half a mind to let him know what you were tryin' to pull off while he was gone. He'd set you straight!"
"Keep your mouth shut, Walker," Simmons grated. "I ain't lookin' forward to seein' Morgan get on one of his shootin' sprees."
"Don't
worry,
I ain't goin' to say nothin'." Walker sneered at Turner as he walked back to the table. "You're safe."
"Yeah, I'm safe… just as safe as any of us are."
All eyes turned back to the yard as Morgan drew his mount to a sliding stop. There was no sound within as Morgan covered the remaining distance to the cabin in a few long steps. He pushed the door open and halted abruptly when he saw them waiting.
"What's goin' on in here?"
"Nothin'."
Walker responded with a shrug. "We
was
wonderin' what brought you back in such a hurry, is all."
"You're goin' to find out soon enough. Get mounted up. We got things to do."
"Like what?" Turner faced Morgan boldly. "You said we didn't have to do nothin' else today."
"I changed my mind. We're goin' out to play a little game."
"What're you talkin' about?" Turner's daring expanded. "I ain't
no
kid and I ain't playin' no games."
"What kind of game, Morgan?" Walker interrupted the exchange, his small eyes narrowing into a nervous squint. "The boys were expectin' to play
a little cards
tonight."
Morgan's face flushed with anticipation as he responded, "We're goin' out to do some fancy ridin' in the dark. We're goin' to do some hootin' and hollerin' and noisy shootin', actin' like some wild Indians."
"You
was
out by that parson and his wife again, wasn't you?" Turner shot a knowing glance at the men around him. "What's the plan? You goin' to fool that woman into thinkin' they're bein' attacked by Indians so you can shoot her husband dead without her knowin'?"
Morgan faced Turner, the flush fading from his face. "And there I always thought you were stupid."
"No, I ain't stupid! I especially ain't stupid enough to do your dirty work for you!"
"You'll do what I tell you to do, Turner." Morgan eyed each man individually. "You'll all do what I tell you to."
"I… I don't want
no
part in no killin' a preacher, Morgan."
Simmons took a backward step when Morgan faced him. "You don't have to do any killin'. All you have to do is make a little noise. I'll do the rest."
"She ain't worth the trouble, Morgan." Bartell ran a hand over his balding pate. "
There's
too many women in the world to make a fuss over any one of them."
"She'll be worth the trouble."
"Not to me, she won't. And I ain't goin'." Turner looked at the men around him. "What do you say, boys? Are you goin' to follow this crazy man so you can go chasin' around in the dark after a red-haired whore?"
"I'm warnin' you, Turner."
"I've had enough of your warnin's too!" Turner's sweaty face glowed with triumph. "You ain't makin' me do nothin' I don't want to do."
Walker's small eyes twitched. "Shut up, Turner."
"No, let him talk." Morgan smiled. "I want to hear what he has to say."
"I'm sayin' that
me
and the rest of the fellas have had enough, and we're not goin' to follow you into the grave just because you got the hots for some woman."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah.
I'm takin' over. From now on, I'm givin' the orders. We're going to be doin' what I say to do, and we're goin' to sell them steers when I say they're readyand you ain't got a thing to say about it."
"Draw, Turner."
Silence.
The men fell back.
"I said, draw!"
"I ain't goin' to draw!" Sweat beaded on Turner's jowled face. "And you ain't goin' to make me!" He turned toward the men around him. "
You goin'
to let him get away with this? He's crazy, just like I told you!"
"I'm tellin' you one last time…"
Silence his only response, Turner jerked back toward Morgan. His hand snaked toward his gun.
Gunshots shattered the silence.
A heavy thud resounded as Turner hit the floor. When the smoke cleared, the sight of his blood-soaked shirt and his lifeless eyes staring upward left no doubt that the bullets had done the job intended.
"Damn ityou killed him!" Walker stared at Morgan. "You killed him!"
"He had it comin'. I warned him, but he wouldn't listen." Morgan frowned. "Get him out of here. Put him in the barn. We can bury him tomorrow."
"We can bury him now!"
"We haven't got time. We got things to do."
Walker shook his head. "You ain't never goin' to let it go until you get that woman, are you? You're goin' to do whatever it takes."
"That's right. You got any complaints?"
Walker did not reply.
Morgan addressed the others. "You got any complaints?"
Their silence speaking wordless assent, Morgan ordered, "Then get him out of here."
Morgan sneered as Turner's heavy bulk was carried out the door. Turner never could keep his mouth shut. It had only been a matter of time.
The bloody puddle that remained on the floor turned Morgan's sneer to a frown. He looked around him, his gaze settling on Conchita, who stood silently in the corner of the room. Motionless, she looked back at him, her gaze inscrutable as he growled, "Get this mess cleaned up, and do it right."
Conchita's dark eyes held his boldly for long seconds before she nodded.
The arrogant whore
… "Did you get your things out of the other room?" Morgan snapped.
Conchita did not flinch. "Yes, Morgan."
"That room had better be clean, or you're in trouble."
"It is clean."
Morgan turned back toward the door at the sound of footsteps returning. He met the men in the yard with a sharp command.
"Mount up. We're runnin' out of time."
He did not bother to look back as their horses thundered into the distance.
The shadows of the trail were closing in. Pressing the team steadily forward, Reed scrutinized the surrounding foliage. Seated beside him, Chastity leaned against him, the tension within her growing. She looked up as his arm tightened around her.
"You're worried, aren't you?"
Reed hesitated in response. She suspected he was regretting his promise to tell her the truth as he replied, "Yes."
"Mr. Jefferson Morgan" She shook her head uncertainly. "Whatever his name is, he seemed concerned about the Indian trouble, but he didn't seem suspicious about the real reason you're here. He seemed satisfied to let you handle things your way."
Reed's gaze bore into hers. "There is no Indian trouble, Chastity."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know him.
Because I've been chasing him for years him, and men like him. Listen to me, Chastity." Reed's voice deepened. "He's a killer. He's set on a course that allows for no thought but what he wants. He doesn't care about anybody or anything that doesn't relate to his own personal needs."
''What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that he wouldn't have gone out of his way to warn us about Indian trouble unless he had a purpose in mind."
"Maybe you made a mistake, Reed." Hope filled Chastity's voice. "Maybe you're chasing the wrong man. He seems so sincere."
"He's so sincere that he killed a man in Texas six months ago just to prove that he was faster with his gun. He's so sincere that he drove the last herd he rustled right over the top of one of the cowpokes
who
was guarding it. He's so sincere that there isn't a lawman in Texas who doesn't have him at the top of his wanted list."
The horror of Reed's statements was momentarily overwhelming. Studying Reed's adamant expression for a long moment, Chastity finally managed, "You're sure he's the right man?"
"I'm sure, all right."
"Morgan's wanted by the law for those terrible crimes…" She paused again to muster her courage before pressing, "But that doesn't tell me why
you're
chasing him. Why, Reed?" Her heart in the question she could no longer suppress, she whispered, "You said you're a bounty hunter. That means you hunt men for the moneylike animals. I don't believe that's true. I can't make myself believe you could do that."
Reed's expression hardened. "Don't try to make me out to be something I'm not, Chastity. I've been that man for more years than I choose to remember."
"Why?" Chastity hesitated, braving the question she had not dared ask before. "Isis it because of Jenny?"
Pain flickered briefly in Reed's eyes as Chastity held her breath. She saw the uncertainty in his gaze as he searched her face, then responded slowly, "I'd like to tell you what you want to hear. I'd like to make you believe that my motives are noble, that I wanted to right a wrong that really couldn't be righted. Maybe that was my reasoning at first. I loved her, Chastity." Reed's voice grew hoarse. "I knew Jenny all my life.
So big a part of my life was gone when she was killed so senselessly by rustlers that I couldn't accept it.
I couldn't give her up, and I suppose that while I tried to find the men responsible for her death, I felt I could keep her with me."
Reed paused. "But so many years passed… and I gradually began to realize that no matter how many outlaws I brought in, or how much money I was paid for doing it, nothing changed. Jenny was still gone. I started tracking those men for
myself
then, Chastity. I wanted to get even. There was nothing noble about my feelings when I looked at those men over the barrel of my gun, hoping they'd give me the excuse to fire. Some of them did and I never hesitated or looked back."
Reed's gaze implored her understanding as he whispered, "It was only in the past few weeks that things started to change for me. I couldn't understand the change at first. I resented it. I was determined not to acknowledge it… just as determined as I was not to admit the real reason I couldn't let you take that train out of Sedalia and out of my life. I don't suppose I'll ever forgive myself for coming to the realization so late, but the truth is
,
I couldn't let you go."
Her throat so tight that she could barely speak, Chastity felt the intensity of Reed's light-eyed gaze bite into hers as he rasped, "Whatever you think, however many doubts still remain, there's one thing I never want you to doubt. I love you, Chastity. I curse the day I brought you into this danger. If I could undo it, I would, but"
"No, don't say that." Chastity shook her head, Reed's words cutting deep. "If we had parted in Sedalia, if you hadn't been driven to keep me with you, for whatever reason prevailed at the time…" Her words trailing away, Chastity whispered, "What I'm trying to say is, if I were given a choice between being perfectly safe on my way west to Caldwell right now, or being here with you, no matter how much danger we're facing, I'd choose being with you."
"Chastity, I" Reed halted abruptly, his gaze snapping back to the foliage alongside the trail.
"What's wrong, Reed?"
"Quiet…"
Apprehension crawled up Chastity's spine as Reed's eyes went cold, as he scrutinized the rapidly encroaching darkness surrounding them.
"Tell me what's wrong, Reed."
"Get in the back of the wagon, Chastity."
Reed urged the team to a more rapid pace as Chastity looked around them, her heart pounding. "I don't see anything. What's wrong?"
"Get in the back!" The shadows making Reed's expression unreadable, Chastity was unprepared as he swept her from the seat and dropped her in the wagon behind him. Thrown off balance as Reed whipped the horses into a pounding surge forward, Chastity tumbled helplessly, terror striking as a wild yell signaled a barrage of gunfire from the surrounding darkness.
Savage war whoops rent the darkness as the wagon thundered along the darkened trail. The gunfire drew closer, the feral yells louder. Finally regaining her feet, Chastity fought her way forward, emerging at last behind Reed as he whipped the team to a frenzied pace.
"Get in the back, Chastity!" Reed turned briefly toward her. He pushed a gun into her hand. "Take this and get into the back of the wagon, damn it!"
The handle of the gun was cold against her palm as she shouted, "No, I won't! The Indians"
"They're not Indian"
Reed lurched sideward as the bullet struck him. Blood streamed from his temple, and Chastity screamed aloud, grasping his arm as he teetered over the edge of the seat. The gunfire continued as she strained to draw him toward her, sobbing as he began slipping from her grasp. She was clutching him with terrified desperation when a hot, piercing pain pounded into her, thrusting her backward.
Fighting to hold herself upright as the wagon raced onward, Chastity stared at the empty driver's seat in front of her. Consciousness wavered at the realization that Reed was gone.
Gone…
A loud buzzing sounded in her ears as Chastity touched her chest to find it wet with blood.
She struggled for breath.
She gasped Reed's name.
Chapter Ten
"Which one of you shot her, damn it?"
The savage war whoops and gunfire had ceased. The runaway wagon had been drawn to a halt. Morgan had noted the blood on the driver's seat with satisfaction as he climbed into the back of the wagon to console the frightened widow.
And then he had found her.
Morgan leaned over Chastity's still form, his chest heaving with agitation.
A desperation
unlike any he had ever known beset him. She was unconscious, and the bodice of her dress was covered with blood.
Ripping open the bloody garment, he saw the bullet hole just below her shoulder. He grabbed a nearby cloth and pressed it tightly against the wound, grating to the silent men around him, "I told you to keep your shots high, damn it! I told you
I'd
take care of the preacher! I told you I didn't want anybody shootin' anywhere near the wagon!"
"She's bleedin' pretty
bad
, Morgan," Walker interrupted Morgan's tirade. "I'd say there's no time for talkin'."
Morgan was shuddering with fury. He hadn't expected this. Nor had he expected to feel such a frenzy of loss as Chastity lay motionless in front of him, her blood flowing against his hand. But Walker was right. He had no time for accusations.
He barked in brief command, "Simmons, get this wagon goin' toward the cabin. Bartell, you get my horse. Walker, you go back over the trail and find Farrell's body. Take Simmons's horse with you so you can bring him back."
"It's too dark! I'll never find him tonight."
"You heard me! This woman is goin' to be askin' about her husband when she wakes up, and I want to be able to show her his body if she wants to see it."
"She won't be askin' about nothin' tonight." Walker was adamant. "It's a waste of time. I can come back in the mornin' and bring him back."
"Listen to me, Walker…" Morgan stared levelly into his eyes. He shuddered with the emphasis of his words, "I want to make sure he's
dead
."
"He's dead.
There ain't no
doubt about that! You saw the way he went off the side of that wagon. Either he died from a bullet or a broken neck, but he's dead, all right."
"Go back along the trail. See if you can find him."
"But"
"You heard me!"
Walker left the wagon without another word and Morgan snapped, "Let's get goin'! We don't have any time to waste."
He leaned over Chastity, staring at her still face as the wagon jerked into motion.
She heard it coming long before she could see it in the darkness. It was a wagon, large and lumbering.
Conchita ran to the window of the cabin, a gun in her hand. She drew back the hammer as the wagon drew to a halt a short distance away. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized the man at the reins.
Rushing to the corner of the room, Conchita hid the gun in the woodpile there. She returned to the window in time to see Morgan jump down from the rear of the wagon. She frowned as a woman was lowered into his arms and he started toward the door. She stepped back as Morgan kicked the door open, calling over his shoulder as he proceeded toward the rear room, "It's a good thing you're up. I'm goin' to need you."
Conchita looked at the woman lying limply in Morgan's arms. Her hair was a bright red color… and her dress was soaked with blood.
Conchita raised her chin and smiled.
Morgan disappeared into the rear room, Simmons behind him. She waited.
"Conchita, get in here!"
She walked slowly into the room. She stepped back spontaneously at the sight of Morgan's savage wrath. "You come
quick
when I call you, you hear?"
Waiting only for her nod of acknowledgement, Morgan turned back toward the unconscious woman. Jealousy tightened into a hard knot within Conchita when Morgan touched the woman with trembling hands. The knot tightened to pain at the expression on his face the moment before he uncovered her wound. A single bullet hole just below her shoulder was still bleeding. Conchita watched as he turned the woman gently to her side to peer at her back,
then
looked up at her.