Devils on Horseback: Nate (7 page)

With a grimace, she ripped his shirt to get to the wound. Not only had she shot him, but she’d ruined one of the few good shirts he had left. She couldn’t sew worth a damn, Mama had always done it. They didn’t have the money to pay for anyone to sew so they’d made do the last year.

Now Da only had two shirts, and one of them had a missing sleeve with a bloody hole in it thanks to Elisa. The wound was superficial, but it had burrowed a gash about two inches long on his arm. Enough to sting and bleed a little. The bullet had been hot enough to nearly cauterize the skin so thankfully no stitches were needed.

With a lot of cursing and complaining, he made it through her nursing. When she tied the sleeve off as a bandage, he swayed against her.

“Why don’t you go inside and lay down? Daniel needs to get back to the herd and I need to go get water.”

“Yes, yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll just go lay down for a wee bit.” He disappeared into the house without the old man shuffle she’d come to dread, a fact that Elisa did not miss.

“He acted almost normal.” Daniel’s comment echoed Elisa’s thoughts.

“He’s still in there, Daniel. We just need to bring him out.” She glanced at her brother. “Hopefully before we’re either killed or lose our land.”

After Daniel left to go check on the herd, Elisa loaded up to go to the stream. Although they didn’t normally keep a guard on the cattle at all times, she’d been worried Nate and his friends would hit when she was taking care of her father. He’d known Da had been wounded and any good soldier attacks when the enemy is weakest.

Suddenly everything overwhelmed her, and Elisa fell to her knees next to her horse. A great, gusting sob burst from her throat as grief, anger and frustration waged within her. Damn Samuel O’Shea and his black heart.

Damn Nate Marchand for making her fight a battle she didn’t want to. In another time, she and Nate might have sparked. But now, all she could do was load her weapons and hunker down for a fight.

It took several minutes for the shakes to pass, then Elisa got to her feet, wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. She had to be strong for her da, her brother and for herself.

Time to throw herself back into the fray and go on the hunt for water.

Nate signaled for the others with his whippoorwill call and headed back to camp with Gideon. Nate helped him down from the horse, under protest, and sat him down by the dead coals of the fire. Within minutes, he had a fire going and water bubbling to clean the wound.

Lee and Zeke arrived and curses, along with appreciation for the fine shooting on Elisa’s part, rained in the air. Zeke sat and assessed Gideon’s wound.

“It’s gonna need a stitch or two.” He glanced up at Lee. “Bring me the pouch with the medical kit in it.”

Lee did as he was bade without argument. If Gideon was in trouble, the Devils were as serious as a group of gravediggers. None of them could bear to think about Gideon
not
being part of them. Even though the wound wasn’t life-threatening, the very sight of his blood brought home the reality that this job wasn’t going to be easy.

“Why don’t you go relieve Jake at the stream? He’s always had a hand at stitching,” Gideon said to Nate.

“Good idea. Besides he’s been waiting out there for at least four hours. He probably needs a rest.” Nate put his hand on Gideon’s good shoulder. “I’m sorry you got shot.”

“It’s not a big deal. It was either me or you going to take that bullet. At least she’s got good aim and didn’t hit me any higher or lower.”

“That’s the gospel truth. I’ll see if I can find us a rabbit or something for dinner too. You’ll need some red meat.” He nodded to Zeke and Lee, then mounted Bonne Chance.

The ride out to the stream was uneventful for the most part. The birds sang, the squirrels chattered and the bees buzzed. Life appeared to be normal for most of God’s creatures. Too bad mankind couldn’t get on that wagon too.

Nate still hadn’t quite accepted that Elisa had shot Gideon. He held the realization back, keeping it at bay until he was ready for it. The ability to control his emotions wasn’t easy, but he’d had plenty of practice. Being poor had taught him how to grin and bear hardship, his parents had taught him how to bury his feelings deep inside.

One night when Nate was eight, his mother simply walked out of their house and never returned. Nanette Marchand had apparently had enough of being a wife and mother, and chose not to stay any longer. Within a few months, he received a letter from her in Atlanta, telling him that she loved him but she just couldn’t stay.

His father took the abandonment hard, as hard as Nate, but he drowned his sorrows in liquor. Too many times his father had come home barely able to stand, yet strong enough to whip Nate for his transgressions, real or imagined. Afterwards, Nate would clean up the blood and vomit and make sure his father slept comfortably. And so it went. By day, his father was a teacher, by night, a demon of enormous proportions to a young boy. He’d spent his childhood both hating and loving his father.

Until Nate met Gideon Blackwood and his life changed irrevocably. Accepted as a friend, Nate felt like he’d found the family he’d never had. The brothers and cousins didn’t seem to care that Nate was the poor son of the town drunk. They spent their teenage years doing all the crazy, silly things young men do.

Then came the war and again, Nate’s life changed. It seemed he was doomed to having the rug yanked from under him, so to speak. As soon as he was comfortable and felt even the tiniest bit secure in a situation, all hell broke loose.

Now he’d met Elisa Taggert and damned if it didn’t feel like the rug had slipped again.

Elisa heard men’s voices as she approached the stream on foot. She’d tied Midnight to a tree and crept up to the water. It was a good thing too because someone else was already there waiting. She’d bet a nickel it was one of Nate’s friends. They were exceedingly smart men who knew that once she discovered the well had been salted, she’d head for the nearest fresh water.

Two of them stood by the bank of the stream talking. One was a redheaded man with bright blue eyes, the other a brooding Nate. Her heart did a somersault and she silently cursed the wicked thing.

“Gideon’s going to pull though, right?” the redhead asked.

“He’ll be fine. Zeke’s taking care of cleaning him up, but he thought you should be the one to do the stitching.” Nate tied his horse off at the bank.

Elisa knew they were talking about the one who’d been shot, whose name she now knew was Gideon. She listened but her eyes kept straying to Nate’s hands. The memory of them still haunted her dreams, awake or asleep.

Focus on what they’re saying, you ninny
.

“Never thought my mama being a seamstress would come back to bite me in the ass.” The redhead chuckled as he swung up onto his horse, a nice-looking bay. “I’ll send someone to relieve you in four hours.”

After the other man left, Nate sighed long and hard, then leaned his head on the horse’s neck. He spoke softly enough that Elisa couldn’t hear what he said, but she recognized the posture—one of emotional overload. She understood it too well. The last three years had been a constant barrage of pain and suffering.

She had to convince Nate and his friends to leave them be. Shooting Gideon probably wouldn’t help her in the long run since they were still standing guard over the fresh water supply. Elisa had to hold back a humph from escaping. Men could be the most perverse creatures on the planet. No doubt they considered it an insult to their honor and would want to avenge their friend.

Elisa had to stop that from happening, at any cost. A sudden thought struck her and it took her several minutes to work through it.

If she had time, she knew she could change Nate’s mind…so she’d steal the time.

By kidnapping him.

Chapter Seven

Elisa slithered through the bushes, careful not to disturb even one branch. She knew the woods like the back of her hand and it served her well on more than one occasion. Like now. She picked up a tree branch just the right size for her hand from the ground nearby. Elisa hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but it was important to be prepared.

Nate appeared to be caught up in talking to his horse, giving Elisa even more opportunity to surprise him. She tried not to notice the way his trousers hugged his behind, or the way his shoulders filled out his jacket. She shook off the creeping heat that threatened to take over her body.

He cleared his throat and stepped away from the horse just as she reached him. The gun slid from the holster and she pressed it into his back, cocked and ready.

“Don’t move.”

His entire body stiffened. “What are you doing?” he snarled.

“I’m taking care of my family. You’d do best to remember that I’d do anything to protect them. Now, walk.”

Nate didn’t move, which didn’t surprise her. Elisa nudged him in the back with the nose of the pistol.

“I said, move.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ll just have to shoot me because you’re really good at that. You shot Gideon and you shot your father.” His harsh words cut through her. Even if it was the truth, they hurt. Badly.

She didn’t want to be reminded of the injury to her father, particularly since this man and his friends were the reason she’d been shooting in the first place.

“We’re going to walk to the stream now and you’re going to fill my waterskins.” Elisa could get used to this ordering thing.

“Do it yourself. See if you can get past me.”

He threw down the gauntlet and Elisa was never one to ignore a challenge.

“If that’s what you want, Frenchie.”

Dealing with rough cowboys came natural to her. She’d done it all her life. When her father was away in the war, she was the one who ran the ranch, not her mother. Her mother didn’t want or know how to deal with everyday details a ranch required.

At the age of fifteen, Elisa had already been ordering men around. Ordering this one around wouldn’t be a chore. It would be a pleasure.

“Walk.”

“Make me.”

Elisa backed up a step. “You sure you want this, because when I give it, it’s going to be everything. I’m not gonna hold back for you.”

He snorted. “You may not be an itty-bitty thing, Miss Taggert, but I outweigh you and I’m stronger than you. I’ll bet you I’m also angrier than you. You shot my best friend. What makes you think that I will simply do what you tell me to do?”

Nate started to turn and Elisa knew she only had seconds to grab control of the situation before he overpowered her. In less than a second, she put the gun back in its holster and had the tree branch firmly gripped in both hands. With a mighty swing, she hit the back of his knees.

He shouted and fell to the ground, bracing himself with his hands. Elisa paused, holding the tree branch above his head, blocking out the memory of just how soft those brown locks were.

Her heart thundered and her blood whistled through her veins. She hadn’t felt this alive in years. “I’ve got plenty. Do you want more?”

“Give me all you’ve got,” he taunted.

“You’ve got it.” She didn’t want to kill him, but she sure as hell wanted to disable him.

He grabbed her ankle and flipped her on her back. Before he could do any more, she scrambled away, keeping the branch in her hand. Nate was quick though, he had her other ankle in hand and yanked. Within seconds, Elisa was again beneath his hard body staring up into his furious dark eyes.

“You make me lose control.” He said each word deliberately. “I can’t believe you would shoot at us.”

“You’re trying to take everything from me. What would you do?”

For a moment, just a brief moment, his anger faltered and confusion moved through his eyes. With her left hand, she took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him down, slamming his lips onto hers. She kissed with all the pent-up anger, frustration and lust brewing inside her. His lips were as hard as granite, but his body couldn’t lie. She felt his cock lengthening against her and a pulse echoed through her body—of need, of desire, of all that she couldn’t have, shouldn’t have.

Elisa swam in a sea of arousal, floating on the tingles that raced through her. She knew she should stop kissing him, but he began to kiss her back after several beats. Languorous heat shimmied down her skin from the contact. Nate damn sure knew how to kiss. Reluctantly, Elisa pulled her mouth away and bit him on the lip.

Before he could recover from the kiss or the bite, using all the force she could muster, Elisa swung the branch with her right hand and conked him on the head. His breath gusted past her lips and he was still. His heart beat against her chest so she knew he lived. She hoped like hell he wasn’t playing possum.

“Nate?” She wiggled beneath him. “Nate?”

He didn’t answer. Now all she needed to do was figure out how to get a two hundred pound man off her. Without Nate holding up his weight, she found it hard to breathe.

It didn’t matter how she did it, Elisa would get him to her house and convince him to leave Grayton. This was her opportunity to make him see what she needed him to so he would know what O’Shea had done to her and her family.

After the third time Elisa failed to hoist him up over the horse, she stopped to take a break. She knew she took a chance, but danged if she didn’t need some water. After quickly filling her two waterskins, she rushed back to Nate. He still lay unconscious, his hands and feet secured by the rope she’d found on his saddle.

His saddle! That was it. She could use it as leverage to pull him up onto the horse. Elisa set the waterskins on the ground and ran over to him. She picked up the rope and dragged him fifteen feet until he lay next to the horse. The leaves in his hair would be the least of his worries when he woke up.

After making sure the beast was calm and secured to the tree, she looped the rope around the saddle. The horse shied a bit when she tugged the rope taut, but she turned and started pulling with all her strength. Slowly but surely Nate’s arms came up, then his shoulders, soon, she could see the top of his head above the saddle.

The man must have weighed eight hundred pounds, not two hundred. Her boots dug into the soft ground as she tugged and yanked, and the rope nearly cut a rift in her shoulder. By the time he was belly down over the saddle, she shook from the effort and sweated buckets beneath her shirt and hat. Nate groaned and Elisa jumped a foot off the ground, her heart lodged in her throat.

Time to go.

* * * * *

Nate came awake slowly, the rhythm he felt beneath him was Bonne Chance, but he wasn’t riding the horse. He was laying belly-down on the horse. Not exactly dignified.

That’s when he realized his hands were tied, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were also ropes around his waist and feet. He was tied to the saddle.

Elisa.

The last thing he remembered was Elisa. She’d caught him unawares in the forest near the stream. He’d been angry, furious really at the little girl who shot Gideon. When she’d appeared, it was almost as if he conjured her from the depths of his anger. She’d tried to force him to do something…get water, maybe?

It was all a little blurry, but he distinctly remembered her hitting him in the back of the knees with something. More than likely, a piece of wood, and then…she’d been under him. Again. The sweet softness of her body was like heaven and hell. He remembered a kiss, a bite and then nothing after that.

Elisa must have hit him over the head, probably with the same damn stick she’d used to smack him to his knees. He begrudgingly gave her credit for taking him down. How the hell she got him on the saddle, he had no idea, however his arms felt like they’d been ripped out of their sockets so he could guess.

It appeared that he’d underestimated Elisa Taggert again, something he was getting very good at. He heard a second horse and figured it was her. If he played his cards right, he might be able to take her by surprise. He didn’t know what he could do with his hands and feet tied, but Nate would not go down without a fight.

They stopped ten minutes after Nate woke. He blocked out the pain and discomfort, a trick that had come in handy many times in the past several years. It was the only way to maintain control. He heard the creak of leather, then her boots hit the ground when she dismounted. Staying still was difficult, but he kept his eyes closed and strained to hear every sound.

She walked away from the horses, and all was silent. Nate counted to sixty, slowly. Then counted again. When she didn’t come back, he opened one eye and looked straight into Elisa’s amused blue eyes. She leaned against the side of her house, arms crossed, with an annoying smirk on her face. Nate’s anger surged anew.

“I had a feeling you were playing possum.”

“Untie me and let me go.”

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?” She pushed off the wall. “Embarrassed, Frenchie, that I got the better of you?”

“No.” A lie, of course. “So far everything you’ve done can be excused under the law as protecting your property. When you kidnapped me, that crossed the line into unlawful. Any judge in this state would put you in jail for what you just did. We weren’t even on your land.”

She shrugged. “You’re probably right. It doesn’t matter because it was worth it.”

“At least let me get off the horse.” He didn’t want to admit it to her, but riding like that had made him sick to his stomach. Nate certainly didn’t want to vomit in front of her. She more than likely thought he was an incompetent man already. No need to add fuel to the fire.

“Okay, I’ll get you down. It might not be pretty, but I’ll get you down.”

“Just do it.” He gritted his teeth, figuring the only way she could get him off was to either push him or pull him. That meant he was either going to land on his head or his ass.

“Don’t try anything funny.” She plucked a rather nice knife from her boot. Coming up behind him, she untied the rope around his waist. “Now I’m going to push your shoulders. I’m afraid you’re going to land on your ah, behind.”

“That’s fine, just get me off of here.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Elisa took one of the ropes off his ankles, then came around to the other side.

When she stepped in front of him to undo the loop from his wrists, his knuckles brushed against the front of her trousers. It was as if he’d been struck by lightning. It appeared that anger and passion were intertwined between them. Wherever Elisa Taggert was concerned, Nate was helpless to control his body’s reactions.

She sucked in a breath and moved back several inches. That let him know she was just as affected as he was. Information he could use to get himself free. Nate was on his own to escape. No doubt the rest of the Devils wouldn’t even know he was missing for hours.

“Are you ready?”

Images of Elisa beneath him and on top of him assaulted him. Lord, help him, he was obsessed. For a moment, Nate couldn’t remember what she was asking him, or why. His mind had been caught up in the possibilities of being intimate with Elisa again.

“Ah, yeah, I’m ready.”

“You can push yourself backwards when I push at your shoulders. One, two, three!”

The combined forces of both of them moved Nate only six inches. His chest compressed on the top of the saddle.

“Go, go, more,” he gasped out.

She ran around to the other side of the saddle, took hold of his waist and pulled. This time he found himself back to belly on top of her. Not exactly the position he wanted to be in, but at least he was off the damn horse. He took in a deep breath.

“If you’re through, roll to the left or the right,” she snapped.

Nate waited another couple beats before he moved, just to remind her that although she had him tied, he was still bigger, stronger and dangerous. The battle raged on.

* * * * *

Elisa didn’t know what to do with him so she brought him in the house and stuck him in her bedroom. Then, in a twist of perverse satisfaction, tied him to her bed. He almost didn’t comply, but when she stuck a gun in his face, he must’ve remembered what she was capable of.

After she finally got Nate settled, she was able to check on Da. She took one of the waterskins from the table where she’d left them. Da sat in his usual rocking chair on the porch, staring off into something only he could see.

“Da?”

He continued to stare. When Elisa handed him the water, the makeshift bandage on his arm was a painful reminder of what she’d done earlier.

“Drink something, please.”

“Already had me some whiskey. I don’t need anything else.” He sighed. “Your ma would’ve been proud of you.”

Elisa’s heart clenched so fast and hard, it hurt all the way down to her toes. He didn’t talk much about her mother, and when he did it was usually to tell Elisa to hush up. She’d always wondered how her mother had felt about her, if she’d considered Elisa a worthy daughter. Elisa had spent so much of her time on the back of a horse, in trousers, getting dirty, shouting and working so hard she nearly passed out each day. Not very feminine at all.

Her mother had never told her she was proud of her. To hear her father say it so matter-of-factly took Elisa by surprise.

“Do you think so?” She was glad her voice didn’t shake or betray the power his words had.

“I do. She wasn’t as strong as you, Elisa girl. You have the strength of Irish queens running through ya. Pride, temper and red hair. You’re Irish through and through. Your ma, bless her soul, was half-English. She just didn’t have it in her to be so strong.” A lone tear skidded down his wrinkled cheek. “I never said it before, but you did good while I was gone. Taking care of things. I’m only half a man now, but you and Daniel…you make your da proud, too.”

The lump in Elisa’s throat grew to enormous proportions until she finally swallowed it. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What are you going to do with that fella in your room?”

“You saw that?”

“It was hard not to. I was sitting at the table when ya stumbled in pointing a gun at him. Did ya not see me?” A wisp of humor colored his words.