Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (26 page)

“So do bobcats and coyotes, when they’re hungry…” he added ominously.

Briana shivered. “I’m not scared. I can take care of myself.”

“Good,” he said. “You stay out here, and I’ll go inside and start rounding up the cows.”

“I’m going with you,” she cried.

Colt frowned. “Then come on, damn it, but make sure you stay out of my way.”

She followed him doggedly, casting wary glances about as they made their way into the fissure. She stared upward, saw the jutting, hanging rocks, and wondered what horrible creature might lurk there.

But then they reached the innards of the butte, and Briana gasped at the wonders before her. Like a painting of a jungle, it was a world of cool greenery, the dampness within encouraging the growth of silky foliage. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, drinking in the sweet air.

Colt drew his gun and held it out to her. She shrank back. “What’s that for?”

“Take it,” Colt snapped.

She shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

Colt closed his eyes. Women! They could be such a pain in the rump. “Take it, Dani. I’ve got to leave you here alone, and you need something in case a varmint comes along. You never know what you might run into in a place like this.”

Briana had never held a gun, much less fired one, and she wanted no part of it. “You keep it. If I see anything, I’ll scream, and you can come shoot it.”

Colt found her fear almost amusing, but managed to scowl anyway as he said, “All right, I’ll take the pistol, and you can use the Winchester rifle if you need to.”

“I
won’t
need to,” she said firmly.

Colt moved toward the thick growth of scrubs that filled the cavity of the butte. He hadn’t gone far when something caught his eye: a hoof sticking out from beneath a clump of bushes. Kneeling, he pushed leaves and branches aside. His nose wrinkled in revulsion at the overpowering stench of death. It was a cow, one of his, and she had died before giving birth to her calf. Starvation? Snake bite?

“Colt, I smell something bad.”

“Dead cow, Dani,” he said tonelessly and started walking closer to the inside of the cavity.

Twenty yards farther on, he stumbled across another dead cow. Tension began to creep over him like a thousand invisible spiders. He wished he’d waited another day, until he had some of the men along. Something was killing these animals, and the carcasses were being left to rot. They were not being eaten. Out here, it was kill for food, not for sport. So why were the cows being killed?

He looked around carefully, for this would not be the first time he’d stumbled into a snake pit, to find the earth moving with hundreds of wriggling poisonous vipers. But there was no snake pit. There was no sound, either, save for his own breathing, and now and then the gentle whistle of the wind dancing down from the top of the butte.

He moved on. A few seconds later, he froze. To the side, in the stiffened throes of an anguished death, lay a dead coyote. His mouth was turned nearly inside out, as though his final scream had been ripped from his throat in agony.

Something very strange was going on, and the atmosphere within Destry Butte was permeated with an overwhelming feeling of death. Instinct was urging Colt to go back, get Dani, and get the hell out of there. Fast.

He turned, froze stock-still, wondering why he hadn’t sensed its presence as he found himself staring into the glassy eyes of a coyote, probably the mate of the one lying behind him.

Its mouth was open in a silent snarl, and there was saliva stretching from upper fangs to lower. Froth and foam bubbled around its sharp yellowed teeth.

The coyote lurched sideways, momentarily losing its assault stance, and in that instant Colt went for his gun.

The animal lunged. Colt jerked to the right. A large rock smashed against his elbow, preventing him from drawing his gun. His body bounced backward, and the coyote missed him, then whipped around as fast as its weakened body would allow. Colt felt the ground sliding out from beneath him and he fell backward, a drop of six feet, landing squarely on his back. As he was falling, he yelled to Dani, “Get the rifle. Get the rifle and shoot!”

He reached for his own weapon, but it had fallen from the holster. Staring upward helplessly, he saw the coyote poised at the edge of the precipice.

At any moment, Colt knew, the beast would jump on him. He would be able to get away from it, probably beat it to death with a rock because it was so weak. But the animal’s attack wasn’t what he feared. No, an instant death wasn’t what would happen to Colt. He knew now what had killed the cows and the other coyote, what killer was on the loose there in the butte.

Hydrophobia.

No doubt, as animals wandered inside the butte, they were bitten by whatever carrier had not yet died. Then they themselves fell victim to the dreaded disease, attacking any living thing that came in.

How many others were there within the cavity? Coyotes? Bobcats? Bats? And if they lived long enough to make their way out of the butte? What then? The disease would spread…to skunks and raccoons and wolves. Humans, too, would be attacked and would die in agony, as all victims did. There was no cure for hydrophobia.

The coyote fixed his gaze on Colt, as best he could through the mist of pain the sickness caused. A thin, ragged sound came from within him.

“Dani, for God’s sake, bring the rifle and shoot!”

Briana had managed to unfasten the rifle from its straps on the side of the saddle and run through the brush toward the sound of Colt’s voice. She stopped when she saw the coyote, its back to her. She crept away from it, to the side, to a place where she could see Colt.

Colt lay on his back, legs bent, arms straight out as though to fend off the attack of the creature above.

She raised the rifle. The coyote didn’t see the movement and hadn’t yet seen her.

Colt inclined his head ever so slightly, not wanting to make a sudden movement. Speaking as softly as he could, he called out, “Dani, move
very
slow. Don’t frighten him. Aim for his body. You’ll come nearer hitting a large target than if you go for his head. You won’t have time for more than one shot before he goes for you. When he does, run like hell. I’ll be moving—trying to find my pistol.”

Briana’s throat constricted with fear. She had never fired a gun in her life, never even held one in her hands. What if she missed?

Her lips trembled, and she called, a sob in her voice, “I can’t…”

Colt saw the coyote take a menacing step forward, his back arching. “Shoot, God damn it!” he yelled, not bothering to keep his voice low. “Dani! Aim the goddamn gun and pull the trigger.
Now!”

It seemed to take forever to raise the rifle so the shiny wooden butt rested against her right shoulder. Her left hand held the barrel, and she sent up a silent prayer as she found the cold trigger.

She closed her left eye, squinted her right, and fired.

She reeled backward as the gun butt slammed into her shoulder, and the exploding shot echoed around the innards of
the butte.

She didn’t realize both her eyes were squeezed shut until Colt cried out hoarsely, “You got him, Dani! By damn, you got him!”

She tossed the rifle to the ground and ran to Colt, jumping from one rock to another until she reached the floor of the butte.

Colt stepped over the dead coyote and ran to meet her. He folded his arms around her and pressed her close.

“Hydrophobia,” he whispered, unashamed of his trembling. Death had never loomed so close before. “Whoever he bit would have died in agony, just like the cows.”

She didn’t understand, but she decided she’d ask him later to explain. Right then, she wanted him just to hold her.

He held her tightly. “Most women would have fainted,” he said, awed. “Why, you never shot a gun before, yet you saved my life. I’ll never forget it.”

He gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek and flashed a broad smile. “Tonight we’ll celebrate. Right now,” he said grimly, “we’ve got to set fire to this place and burn these carcasses. Any animal that comes along and eats the diseased flesh will become infected and spread the disease. We’ve got to get back to the ranch and alert the men, then tell the other ranchers around here that we’ve got hydrophobia in the area.”

He turned away and began dragging dry brush into a pile to make a fire. Briana stood and watched him, then moved to help. As the first flames of the fire began to crackle, she felt a heat of a different kind within, knew how much she really wanted him. If only she could possess him—and be possessed by him—in a normal way, and not through treachery.

Chapter Seventeen

It was late when Colt and Briana arrived back at the ranch house, and the servants had retired. Colt said that the celebration dinner would have to wait until the next evening.

Briana, wanting the companionable atmosphere between them to continue, said, “Oh, but I’m a very good cook. I can put something together for us while you go to the bunkhouse to talk to Branch.”

“You know how to cook?” Colt said. “But I imagined you leading a life of luxury, Dani, with servants taking care of everything.” He stared at her curiously.

Briana turned away lest he see the guilty look that was surely on her face. Of course she could cook. She was a servant. “I learned to cook when I got bored,” she explained nervously. “There was never a lot for me to do. It was a secret. Aunt Alaina never knew. She would never have allowed it because—” She fell silent. Lord, why was she rattling on so, sounding so jittery?

Because you are not who he thinks you are
, she screamed at herself,
and because you know what you must do to him.

She hurried toward the house as soon as she could, anxious to be away from him. On the back porch there was a lantern hanging by the door, and she found matches inside. She lit the lantern and held it before her as she walked across the yard the short distance to the ice pit where food was kept cool.

The structure around the ice pit was made of split logs and was about ten feet square. Pulling the peg from the fastening of the drop door, she was struck by the odor of the close, damp air, and the smell of rotting wood and earth.

She picked what she wanted, then hurried back to the house. She hastily prepared dinner, then went to the study and set the small table in the corner, knowing it would be much cozier than the spacious formal dining room.

She set out candles, then went to the large area off the kitchen where the wines were kept. Selecting a bottle of white wine, she held it to her bosom for a thoughtful moment, then put it back. Ladida had said the elixir was best mixed with something sweet.

She hurried back to the ice pit, where she’d seen a bottle of
blanc-cassis,
a liqueur, and sweet. Made of white wine and black currant syrup, it was kept chilled for use on special occasions. Well, she mused grimly, this night, if all went according to plan, could hardly be regarded as ordinary.

Walking back to the house from the ice pit, preparing for an intimate supper with the wealthy scion of a Nevada ranching family, Briana asked herself whether she could ever have guessed that this might happen to her one day.

When she was twelve and Charles was three, when their parents were alive, the family had moved from Nice to Monaco, where their father had gotten the job as caretaker for the deBonnett estate. Briana was terribly homesick. She missed her good friend Elise, and her father’s old job as caretaker on the Androuet estate. It wasn’t as large as the deBonnett estate, but
Monsieur
and
Madame
Androuet were a million times nicer, and the quarters the de Paul family had been given were small but cozy. True, it wasn’t a whole dwelling all to themselves, but there were several other children on the estate for Charles and Briana to play with, and her parents were more cheerful there. Briana missed Nice, too, finding Monaco starchy and stiff.

She sighed, remembering Charles’s fifth birthday, when they were well ensconced at the deBonnett estate. The Count had asked Louis de Paul to hire as many gardeners as necessary, three or four, to help with the early spring planting in the large formal gardens to the south of the mansion. Papa had been gone half the day, finding the men, and when he came home and saw the cake Mama had baked and the celebration the family was getting ready to have for Charles, it was apparent from the look on his face that Papa had completely forgotten Charles’s birthday. Poor Papa. From the day they left Nice, he hadn’t had a moment of quiet. He’d been harried since they arrived in Monaco and he died harried.

Briana shivered. No matter how difficult life caring for Charles all by herself might prove to be, she was not going to let herself be buried beneath life’s concerns the way Papa had done…or fade away like a dying lily, as Mama had done.

The table ready, the potion mixed carefully with the
blanc-cassis,
which was wrapped in cold damp towels and waiting in a silver bucket, Briana went to her room and bathed hastily, knowing that Colt would be coming in soon.

She selected a gown that had been one of Dani’s favorites, of rose satin, trimmed in delicate Belgium lace. However, on Dani’s slender body, the fabric had flowed loosely, modestly. Stretched across Briana’s curving buttocks and large, perfectly molded breasts, the result was wickedly provocative. Under normal circumstances, she would never have allowed a man to see her in something so revealing. The cleavage was deep and enticing, and she noted in the large mirror that when she walked, every movement of her hips showed sensuous undulation.