Wyoming Wildfire (55 page)

But Burch was the one person she fervently wished would give up his open spaces, at least long enough to come home and take her in his arms. Her body ached with longing to feel him close to her, his arms crushing her with his great strength, her lips burning with the heat of his kisses.

When would he come? If he meant to punish her, he had chosen the most effective way. She hadn’t slept well since her return, and even Balaam noticed she had lost her bloom. Her nerves were so bad she jumped at the slightest sound, and she had no appetite for more than a few mouthfuls of food. Rachel made it her task to see that Sibyl ate enough, but she was steadily losing weight.

She climbed the stairs listlessly. She would just have to keep on waiting.

She undressed and got into bed. The sheets were cold and rough to her skin, and she curled up in a tight ball. As her body heat began to warm the bed she relaxed, and her thoughts became more indistinct before merging smoothly into her dreams. But she didn’t dream for long.

Chapter 37

A sixth sense warning of danger woke her, but not soon enough. The instant she sat up in bed, a large dark shape materialized from the shadows and clamped its hand over her mouth. Sibyl struggled vigorously, but the assailant was too powerful and she couldn’t break his hold. She bit into the fleshy part of his hand and had the pleasure of hearing him groan in pain as he released her. She flung back the covers, hoping to reach the gun she kept in the desk across the room. Who was in her room? What did he want? Why hadn’t she kept the gun under her pillow like Balaam told her?

With a guttural curse the intruder sprang for her, catching the edge of her gown. The ripping sound was as welcome to her ears as it was unwelcome to his. She stumbled over the chair, threw it aside, and jerked open the drawer, but before she could get her hands on the gun, a powerful hand grasped her by the shoulder and flung her to the floor halfway across the room.

Under the cover of darkness Sibyl rolled away from the lurching shape, scrambled over the bed, and crouched on the far side. As her eyes became more used to the dark, the shape grew more distinct; still she had no idea who he might be or what he wanted. She watched him move about the room looking for her, and ever so quietly her hand closed on the lamp that stood on the table next to her bed. When he came close enough, she rose to her feet and brought it down over his head with a shattering crash. She raced frantically for the pistol, but he was after her almost in the same instant. She wrenched the drawer off its runners, accidentally spilling its contents all over the floor. Frantically she searched for the pistol, but just as her fingers closed around the cold steel of the handle, her arm was struck such an agonizing blow that the muscles were paralyzed and the gun skittered uselessly across the floor.

Forcing herself to ignore the pain, Sibyl plunged after the spinning pistol, but the unknown assailant reached it before she did. “Not this time,” said a well-known voice as the butt of the pistol struck her a heavy blow at the base of the skull.

Jesse! thought Sibyl as she fell into an unconscious heap.

Wrapped in a huge oilskin slicker, Sibyl lay motionless in the straw while Jesse hurried to saddle her horse. “I would have been good to you,” he said in an accusing voice to her lifeless form. “You are so pretty I would have done anything to please you. But you had to choose Burch instead of me, the cunning bastard. He thought he was going to steal what should be mine, but he was wrong.” He led Sibyl’s saddled horse over to where her body lay and lifted the lifeless figure in his arms. Her nearness, the warmth of her touch, the smell of her skin, tore at his senses. For a long moment he just stood there, hypnotized by her closeness. “I would have been so good to you,” he muttered with pathetic despondency, throwing her across the saddle. It was rather difficult for him to mount with Sibyl draped over the saddle, but at last he had her seated before him. Leading his horse behind, they left the shed at a walk, hoping to make no sound that would betray his presence. He passed through the corral gate and habit made him lean down to close it even though he nearly lost his hold on Sibyl. Muttering curses, he righted Sibyl in the saddle and looked up to find Rachel standing directly in his path.

“I knew you would come back,” she said unemotionally. “You never were one to know when to give up.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Not until you let her down.” Rachel looked more closely and realized that Sibyl was not conscious. “What have you done to her?” she asked, anxiety plain in her voice.

“Just a rap on the head when she tried to pull a gun on me.

“May God forgive you,” she cried. “Put her down.”

“I don’t want anybody’s forgiveness, especially not yours. You know what I have to do, so get out of my way and let me get on with it.” His eyes were wide and gleaming white in the night. “I don’t plan to hurt her. I’m going to marry her.”

“She’ll never marry you. Anyone can see she loves Burch.”

The eyes gleamed even whiter. “She’ll never marry him. I won’t let her. He can’t take everything from me.”

“It never was yours,” she said as though explaining patiently to a child.

“It ought to be. It
will
be,” he shouted. Sibyl began to stir in his arms. “Now move! I’ve got to be going.”

“Jesse, no,” she pleaded.

“Move!”

“Not until you put her down.”

“If you don’t move, I’ll ride over you.”

“Your own mother?”

“My own mother, goddammit! I should have killed you years ago, you rotten
whore!”
Jesse raked his spurs cruelly across Hospitality’s sides, and the animal plunged forward. Rachel tried to leap aside but was sent spinning through the air into the snow. Jesse didn’t even look back to see if she got up.

The scene that confronted Burch when he walked into the house was not what he expected to find. Rachel lay on the sofa, her head in Ned’s lap, having her brow wiped with a damp cloth. Balaam knelt at her side, putting the finishing touches on an enormous bandage that covered her shoulder and held her arm tightly against her side. Three heads turned, three pairs of eyes gaped at him, their owners apparently struck dumb. Burch tossed his gun belt aside and lay the rifle on the table before coming over for a closer look. “What happened here?”

The three looked at each other and men back at him, but no one spoke.

“I thought you could take care of yourselves for a few days, but it looks like I was wrong.” He knelt beside Rachel to inspect Balaam’s work. “You don’t look like you’re in very good shape.”

“If you had a broken shoulder and collarbone, you wouldn’t feel very good either,” Balaam said, recovering the use of his ready tongue.

“How come you boys let her get so banged about?”

“Better you should ask what buffalo dung was low enough to ride down a defenseless woman.”

“Shut up, you old fool,” rasped Ned. From the grim expressions on Ned’s and Rachel’s faces, Burch gathered there was more wrong than broken bones.

“Did you see Sibyl?” Rachel asked urgently, and instantly Burch’s attention was rapt.

“She came back?” Three heads nodded, and unconsciously Burch looked around; at the same instant, he knew he wouldn’t see her. “Where is she? What happened?” he demanded, the color fading from his face and the muscles along his jaw becoming rigid. “Tell me!” he thundered when no one answered him.

“Jesse took her,” Ned told him.

“What for?”

“We don’t know, but some time after midnight, Rachel heard a noise and got up. Jesse had Sibyl on her horse and when Rachel tried to stop him, he ran her down.”

“Damn near broke her neck,” stuck in Balaam.

“But what did he want with Sibyl?”

Ned and Balaam shook their heads as baffled as Burch.

“Do you know why he took her?” Burch asked Rachel, but she turned away, seeking to avoid his eyes. He was shocked at the anguish and guilt he saw in her face. “You do know, don’t you?”

“To make her marry him.”

“What?” the three men exclaimed in unison. Rachel closed her eyes, took Ned’s hand tightly in hers, and began to speak in halting phrases.

“I met your uncle the day he arrived in Denver. He was too full of rage to be interested in any woman for more than one night, but I fell in love with him and followed him everywhere. He tried to make me stay away, but I wouldn’t. He never pretended he loved me, but I would have slept at his door just to be near him. Then he met your aunt and fell in love with her. They married and settled in Wyoming, and I went back to Denver.

“But there was nothing to keep me in Denver, so I came out here. I had a little money and I could earn enough on the land to support myself.”

“Did Aunt Ada know?”

“No, but Wesley was never unfaithful to her. Just every once in a while he would come by to make sure I was doing okay.” She paused. “I had a son who was raised by my sister, and two years ago he followed me out here. Jesse is my son.”

Balaam’s head jerked around in Burch’s direction, his jaw sagging to expose large gaps in his discolored teeth.

“I didn’t want him to stay and I didn’t want Wesley to give him a job, but Jesse asked him behind my back, using the fact I was his mother to play on Wesley’s sympathies.

“He disliked you from the beginning,” she said to Burch. “He saw you as an outsider, but when Wesley left you the ranch, his dislike turned to bitter hatred. It was all my fault for not going back to Denver and taking him with me. I should have seen that he would grow to hate you.”

“How could you know how a crazy man’s mind works?” asked Balaam.

That’s not it, is it?” asked Burch.

“No, he’s not crazy, he’s just jealous. Jesse is Wesley Cameron’s son, and only child.”

“Well, I’ll be a horny toad!” exclaimed Balaam.

“Did Uncle know?” Burch asked.

“No. Having Jesse was my idea. He would have felt obligated to take us in, and that would have broken Ada’s heart.”

“Why did Jesse come here?”

“It was my sister’s fault. She’s a selfish, spiteful woman, and she never forgave me for what I did. She told Jesse who his father was, that he was a rich man with no children; she built up the notion in Jesse’s mind that all he had to do was come out here and Wesley would make him heir to everything he had. It was a terrible jolt to Jesse to find that you were already here, and the apple of your uncle’s eye. He never talked to me about it, but I know he thought in time he would supplant you in his father’s esteem and then tell him the truth; that’s why he worked so hard. He resented you far more than Sibyl.”

“She was blood, and I wasn’t?”

“Yes. He hoped to divide the two of you, marry her, and somehow wrest control of the ranch from you.”

“Why? Sibyl never treated him differently from the other hands.”

“He never thought of what Sibyl might want, only that with her he could take from you what was rightfully his. He loves this ranch so much I was afraid at one time he would try to hurt you.”

“He tried to
kill
me.”

They stared incredulously.

“With a stampede, two rattlesnakes, and last week he tried for the second time with a rifle.” Their faces reflected their stupefied horror.

“He shot my dog instead.”

“He killed Brutus?” gulped Balaam.

“No, but he came damned close.”

“If I’d thought he really would try to harm you, I would have warned you.”

“Forget about that now. What about Sibyl?”

“I knew when he showed up last night he meant trouble. All winter I’ve tried to talk him into going back to my sister’s, but he wouldn’t listen; he made up his mind he was going to get this ranch. I didn’t think he meant Sibyl any harm, so when she insisted I leave her with Jesse, I did. But I couldn’t rest, and when I got up to come check on Sibyl, I saw him coming out of the shed with her in the saddle in front of him.”

“She went with him?” Burch felt suffocated, unable to breathe.

“She was unconscious. He must have knocked her out,” she said, answering his unspoken question.

“The dirty bastard. Do you know where he went?” asked Balaam.

“I know where he is going,” Burch said, rising to his feet, “and I’m sure he knows I’ll follow him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Balaam offered.

“No, this I have to do alone.”

“Be careful,” Ned cautioned. “If he’s tried to kill you before, he won’t stop now.”

“I’ll be careful.” Burch looked at Rachel’s agonized countenance, and the anguish in her face melted some of the fury in his heart. “I’ll do what I can for him, but I can’t let him harm Sibyl.”

“I know,” she whispered and turned her head away.

Ned held Rachel close and Burch motioned Balaam to follow him out of the room. It would be inhumanly cruel to force Rachel to listen to him make preparations to hunt down her own son.

Sibyl was aware of a terrific pain at the base of her skull, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she was being bounced up and down so violently; it was making her head ache worse, and she didn’t like it. She tried to reach out, to grab on to something to steady her, but she felt confined, her arms pinned to her side and her body firmly anchored to whatever it was that was thrashing about underneath her. She struggled to break the grip of blackness that held her, but she failed and slowly everything slipped away.