Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings (12 page)

Because they had, strangely enough, made it a home.

Harding shoved her into the chair before the cold hearth, then gripped the edges of the hearth and stared into her eyes. “Where are they, Mrs. Dylan?”

She lifted her chin. “Where are who, Colonel Harding?”

“Don't get wise with me, Mrs. Dylan. They. The letters. My property. Stolen by your husband.”

“I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about.”

“No? Yet in Jackson Prairie, you called out to everyone that I was a murderer!”

“Charles wrote home, of course, Colonel. He told me that you were a vile traitor and murderer, and that some of the Confederates had the money to buy that break they made. That is why I know that you are a traitor and a murderer.”

“Colonel!” Dooley called impatiently.

Harding forgot Jessica for a moment. He turned to Dooley—who had apparently been sticking his nose around the house.

Dooley threw a shirt across the room. One of Blade's. Harding caught it, and stared at Dooley.

“My husband's—” she began in exasperation.

“I don't think so. I think she's living here with someone,” Dooley said. “There's a shaving mirror and a razor in that bedroom. Looks all nice and cozy and domestic. Seems the widow here is into a little bit of entertainment.”

Harding looked down at her with a sardonic smile. “That's good. Why, I won't have to feel half so guilty now. Raping old Dylan's widow might be kind of a cruel thing. But since she's just some cattle herder's whore, well, then it won't be quite so bad. We can have lots of fun until she decides to talk, or before we get to the real violence. Dooley, you go ahead and start a fire. I'm going to question my prisoner a little further in the comfort of her bedroom. I do want her to feel at home. But I need some good hot pokers. If I can't gently persuade her to turn over the letters, she'll have to lose one eye, and then the other. Dear me, Mrs. Dylan! You are going to be a mess before I leave you. And such a beautiful woman! What a pity.”

He reached for her. Jessica struck out, slapping him hard, her nails raking across his face. Harding swore, wrenched her up, and threw her. She stumbled for balance and turned to flee. He caught her around the waist, lifting her. She clawed at his hands, but he didn't seem to care. “Get the damned fire going!” he ordered Dooley.

She fought. She fought even as Harding dragged her toward her bedroom. She gripped the frame to the door and flung her weight wildly around.

Harding shouted for Dooley again. “Get over here! Leave the damned fire for a minute and help me get this witch in here!”

Dooley obliged, prying her fingers away from the doorframe. She was a fighter. Blade had told her that. But she couldn't fight them forever. Her heart seemed to constrict within her breast. No, this was her home, her place. It was where she lived and loved with Blade. Where she had discovered hope and desire and happiness once again. Where she had even dared to dream of a future, here, in this wilderness. She'd fight for it even if it killed her.

“No!” she shrieked. She heard her skirt rip and saw Dooley reaching for her bodice. “No!” she shrieked again. And then, amazingly and suddenly, Dooley was gone. Plucked from her, thrown across the room. She followed the motion of his body, saw him crash against the far wall, eyes go wide, then close, all consciousness stolen from him in one swift second.

She looked above her. Blade. He had come for her. In time.

She stared at him, into his dark, passionate eyes. She touched his cheek, bronzed, handsome, so rugged, so very appealing and arresting. She ran her thumb over the tight pad of his lower lip, and thought his was the most noble face she had ever seen. “You made it,” she whispered softly.

“The army made it, too. A troop is right behind me.”

“And—”

She broke off as she suddenly heard gunfire from outside, and then a bullet whizzed by them both, making a very strange sound as it sank into the bedding.

“Roll!” Blade shouted to her. He was on top of her, rolling with her. They both crashed down to the floor on the side of the bed. “Stay!” he commanded.

Well, she would stay, all right, but she had to see what was going on. She inched up, gazing across the bed, watching as Blade leapt up, jumping, spinning, avoiding the next bullet Harding sent flying his way, then pitting himself against the man. The gun went flying. Blade lit into Harding, his knuckles crunching into his cheek. He raised his fist to slam it down again. Then he paused. “He's out,” he said, and rubbed his fist. “Out cold.”

Blade lifted him up, hiking him over his shoulder. He turned to Jessy. “I wanted to kill him,” he said huskily. “I wanted to kill him for touching you. I should turn him over to Lieutenant Gray. Gray is a good man, and Sherman wants Harding to stand trial. It is best—it will clear Charles Dylan.”

“Yes, yes! Turn him over to Lieutenant Gray!” Jessica cried.

Blade nodded, and left her. There had been a skirmish outside, too, Blade realized. Yet, by the look of it, it had ended as quickly as it had begun. The Union troops who had followed Harding had been quick to surrender to Lieutenant Gray.

Jessica rose stiffly and walked to the window. She could see Blade handing the man over to a good-looking man. Gray. He was in control. It was over, she thought. At last. All over.

And Blade was alive and safe, and she was alive and safe, and there was nothing left except—

“Don't make a move, Mrs. Dylan.”

She had forgotten Dooley. Forgotten that Blade had thrown him across the room, that he had seemed to be as out cold as Harding.

“Listen to me. All that I want to do is get away, and fast. I didn't have anything to do with your husband's frame-up, lady, honest. I never wanted to hurt you, but I've got to get out of here. I can't let that crazy half-breed get a good look at me. Wave! Wave quickly. Let them see that you're all right. Then you've got to find some way to get me out back. I've got a knife against your spine. Feel it? I can slice right into you in a matter of seconds. You'll be dead before you fall. Do you hear me?”

She nodded. She heard him. She heard the death of hope, of life, of love.

Outside, Blade finished saying something to Lieutenant Gray. He turned to her. She tried to smile. She lifted a hand.

“I'll kill him,” Dooley whispered suddenly. “I'll hurtle this knife at him the second he steps through the door. Then I'll throttle you. I won't go down alone, I won't let him get me, I won't let him get me!”

It was Blade! The man was terrified of Blade. She swallowed hard. Blade had come here, Mr. Delaney had told her, because he had heard that some of the men out of Kansas were at the fort.

And Blade was staring at her. She was trying so hard to smile, to look normal! But he knew her, knew her so very well. He looked at Gray again. “I've a few things in the barn, Lieutenant, that I need for the general. If you'll wait here for just a moment …”

His voice seemed to fade away. Lieutenant Gray was obviously confused, but he was also quick, and he acknowledged Blade's request with a nod. Dooley, behind her, exhaled a sigh of relief. “Get me out of here now!” he commanded Jessica.

She nodded. She turned away from the window. “There's no back door. There's a window—”

“Get me there!”

She turned from the window and started to walk. She had barely taken two steps before she screamed, spinning at the sound of shattering glass.

Blade. Crashing through the window, his hands around Dooley's throat, was Blade. He wrenched Dooley from her, throwing him to the ground. He straddled the man, his knife drawn, a savage look upon his face.

“God!” he raged suddenly. “You!” He grasped hard at Dooley's hair, wrenching it up. He raised his knife. He was preparing to scalp the man. And then … kill him, in cold blood.

Jessica watched, frozen. The bastard probably deserved it. But somehow, that didn't matter. What mattered was Blade. “Blade, no! No!” Jessica cried.

Blade paused, his knife held high, hatred burning darkly in his eyes. “You don't understand, Jessy,” he cried out “He was with them. Three of them. They came on my property. They shot down my father. And they came after Mara. They killed her—and our baby. She was running and running and they just shot her down. And they thought they'd killed me.”

“Blade! I
do
understand what happened, Mr. Delaney told me. But Lieutenant Gray will take care of him, the army will take care of him. The war is over, I swear, we can see to it that he's prosecuted, I know they'll see justice done. He's down, it's all right, we're safe. Blade, I know how you were hurt, but Lieutenant Gray is outside, right? Let's give this man to the army, let him face the law. Please, God, Blade!”

“This is him,” Blade said softly. “Frank Dooley, worked for Lane back in Kansas, so long ago now, eh, Dooley? This is him. I saw his face. Saw him shoot down Mara, then he came for me. Lord, I've waited forever for this moment. I swore that I'd kill him slow. That I'd take his scalp before he was even dead.”

“Blade!” Jessy cried, rushing to him, falling down by his side where he straddled Dooley so tightly. She gripped his arm. The arm with the knife. It was like holding steel.

“Blade, you can't! You can't. You've got to turn him over to Lieutenant Gray. You have to! Please! If you don't, you'll have to run again. They can't let you take your vengeance, even if they think you're right. Gray will be obliged to come after you. And more men will die. Let him go to trial. Let Lieutenant Gray take him. Blade, I love you more than I've ever hated anyone in my life, you've got to feel the same way! It's the only chance that we've got!”

“Listen to her!” Dooley cried out. “Listen to her! I didn't want to kill anyone. Lane sent us out. He said we had to clear your place, that too many men were listening to old man McKenna. And sometimes, we were threatened, too. If we didn't follow orders, we'd be killed ourselves. McKenna, please! The others are dead!” he said in a sudden rush. “Jake Morgan died out here in that Confederate break that killed Dylan. Quantrill killed Yancy Thomas not a year after your—after your place was raided. It's over, McKenna, it's over! Please, lady, don't let him scalp me alive, do something, please—”

“You shot down a pregnant woman!” Blade raged.

Jessica realized that she hadn't gotten through to him. He was standing so rigidly, so tensely. He didn't even seem to feel her touch upon him. Tears stung her eyes. She didn't mean anything to him, not at this moment. He had waited all these years to find and kill the men who had slain his family. Jessica was certain that Dooley was telling the truth. The others were dead.

Dooley was broken. And it was almost damned certain that the Union army would deal with him. He'd hang. They had to leave it the way it was! Dooley, grateful to die by the rope rather than inch by inch at Blade's hands. And Blade, for his own sake, had to let him go.

And Jessy … had to have Blade. She had to gamble. It was her only chance. “Blade!”

He couldn't feel her touch, so she dropped her hand from his arm, standing, stepping back. “Blade, I love you, I want you to marry me, I want to stay out here and build a life with you, I want us both to let go of our pasts. Can you hear me, Blade? Please, give him over to Lieutenant Gray. I beg you. There's so much out here that's lawless, let us be part of the law. Worse will come, there will be more injustices. There will be battles ahead, but Blade, let us have peace together. I beg you, give him over to Gray. I—I can't stop you from anything, I understand your hatred and your heartbreak, I just pray that the love we can have in the future can be stronger than all the hatreds of the past. I'll—I'll be outside.”

“Lady!” Dooley screamed. “Don't leave me!”

She had to leave him. She was almost blinded by her tears. She was so afraid. If Blade killed Dooley now, Gray would have to bring Blade in.

She opened the door and stumbled outside. It was cool, clean and crisp.

They were standing before her. Gray and all his men, with their prisoners—and the dead—thrown like cargo over their horses.

She could see Harding. He'd killed Charles. And she had thought that she'd wanted him dead, but now it didn't matter. He was going to face trial. The name of Charles Dylan had been cleared.

Yet that didn't matter so much to her now. What really mattered was Blade. She had fallen in love with him. She had lived blindly for a long time, getting the deed to her property, managing to ride out to claim it. Wanting only to prove Charles innocent. Then Blade had somehow forced her to see that there was so much more to life.

“Mrs. Dylan?” Lieutenant Gray was coming to her, his eyes anxious. “What—?”

She shook her head. “I—I don't—”

“Here's another one for you, Lieutenant!”

Jessica heard Blade's voice and spun around. He was standing there, holding Dooley before him like a rag doll. He lifted the man and threw him down at Gray's feet. “Lieutenant, take him, please! Get him away from me. Far, far away.”

Gray nodded and two of his men rushed forward. Dooley was taken quickly away and mounted on a horse. He stared at Jessy and she shivered. She felt Blade's hands on her shoulders.

Lieutenant Gray saluted them both. He lifted his hat to Jessica. “It's fine land, Mrs. Dylan. Mighty fine land.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dylan. And McKenna, thank you. You've our most sincere appreciation. And—” He hesitated. “And I think you might find this a peaceful place in the future. A place where you might raise a herd of cattle, do a little farming … settle down for a spell.”

Jessy felt Blade's smile. “Maybe,” he told Lieutenant Gray.

Gray's troops moved then, their horses riding out of the yard, slowly disappearing into the setting sun. A cool breeze brushed Jessy's hair about her face. She felt Blade's chin on her head. “When's the wedding?” he asked softly.