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Runaway. Carolyn Davidson
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“Yeah, she followed along like a tame puppy.”
As if to deny the claim, the mare snorted, tossing her head. Cassie laughed, the pure rebellion of the gesture pleasing her.
“Can I saddle her up, see how she rides?” Will asked.
The big man shrugged. “She’s gonna be sold today, either to you or the army. Makes me no never mind who gets her. She may dump you, now,” he warned with a grin. “She looks kinda feisty to me.”
“I reckon I can handle her.”
It was no idle claim. During the next half hour Cassie watched from beneath the overhanging eaves of the barn as Will saddled the horse, catching her breath as he fought the animal for several seconds before the mare accepted the bit he offered.
And then she watched as he gained the saddle with a fluid movement that made her blink in surprise. The horse moved uneasily beneath the man on her back, snorting and laying her ears back, then sidestepping a bit. Will’s hands were firm on the reins, his words gentle as he coaxed the horse to his bidding. Releasing the tight grip he held, he set her into motion, and she circled the area before the barn doors, her neck bowed, head tossing against the stricture of the bit. Her tail swished, waving high, her feet stepping in double time as she kept to the pace Will dictated.
“She’s beautiful,” Cassie breathed, her eyes wide as she watched the mare perform to Will’s command. “But I don’t think I can make her behave the way you do.”
Turning the mare with the pressure of reins across her neck, Will drew closer. “You ride much, Cassie?”
She nodded. “A little. But not a horse this wild.”
Will’s mouth twitched. “You call this wild, honey? She’s downright tame. ‘Specially for a green-broke animal.”
“Maybe I could ride your stallion?” Her words sounded doubtful, and Will’s frown was a silent deterrent to that idea.
“The mare will follow along, I think, once you get your seat,” he told her. “I’ll lead her from here, till we’re away from the rest of the horses, then you can try her on your own.”
“You’re going to buy her for me?” That Will would fork over his own money for the benefit of a virtual stranger was beyond Cassie’s comprehension.
“No, I’m gonna buy her for me. I’ll just let you ride her,” he corrected her. “You stay right here while I talk to the man.”
Cassie nodded, willing to be removed from the flurry of activity at the corral. She stepped to a bale of hay and sat, conscious of the pants she wore and the occasional looks of speculation drifting her way from one or another of the cowhands. There was an air about some of them, a hint of furtive searching of her person that reminded her of Remus Chandler, and she shivered at the memory.
From within the barn she heard the shuffling of feet, a murmur of voices, and then in the doorway beside her a man appeared, the strong odor of perspiration announcing his presence. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her gaze colliding with narrowed eyes that slid over her slender form.
“Hey, there, missy. Want to step in here a minute?” His voice was low, almost guttural, and Cassie’s eyes widened as another man appeared just behind the first.
She shook her head. “No, I sure don’t, mister.” A quick look toward Will, who stood near the corral, prompted her to speech and she opened her mouth to call his name. A grimy hand whipped through the air to cover her mouth, and she was hauled with harsh hands into the yawning mouth of the barn.
“No need to be shy, honey,” her captor whined, releasing her mouth, turning her to face him. “I’ll warrant I can cut you a better deal than the one you got from that fella you rode in with.”
“Let go of me!” Cassie struggled against the grimy hands holding her.
“I’m not hurtin’ you, honey. Just want to give you the taste of a real man.”
The second assailant chuckled behind her and Cassie turned her head to shoot a vengeful glare in his direction. “I’m not interested,” she said, her stomach rolling as she turned her head aside, avoiding his seeking mouth.
“The lady already has a man.” From the shadows a third figure stepped into view and Cassie’s eyes pinned him with the terror she made no attempt to hide.
“Outta here, half-breed.” Snarled from the mouth she’d been trying so desperately to avoid, the words carried the stench of cigarettes. She gagged, turning from the fetid breath of the man holding her.
The Indian stepped closer, his lithe body tense as he surveyed the two cowhands. “Let her go.” It was the bravest display Cassie had seen in a month of Sundays, this dark-skinned horseman confronting two white cowhands.
Gasping for breath, wiggling against the grimy hands that held her, Cassie flung herself in desperation toward the ground. Her legs collapsed beneath her and the man holding her lost his grip for a moment.
She inhaled and shrieked for Will, attempting to crawl toward the open barn door. The second man lurched toward her, grasping her ankle. She kicked out at him. His yelp of surprise spurred Will into a loping run, catching the attention of several other cowhands.
“Damn stinkin’ Indian! Get movin’.”
The two men had their hands full tussling with the Indian, who had blocked their exit, and Cassie scrambled to sit against the barn wall as Will burst through the doorway.
Cassie’s bronze-skinned defender staggered into the shadow of a stall, reeling from a blow. Will ignored him, his hands fisting as he considered the two cowhands facing him. Barely pausing, he drew back to deliver a telling blow to the nearest of the pair.
The cowhand’s head lolled to one side as he slumped to the floor. Without pause, Will swung to size up the second man. Cassie’s eyes widened in dismay as her assailant’s hand reached for his holster, drawing a gun even as he backed from the brief battle before him.
Dropping to the floor and rolling in automatic reflex, Will ducked as the bullet hit the wall behind him. He came to his feet smoothly, his hand flashing with the knife he had drawn from his boot. In one shimmering, underhand movement, the blade flew to lodge in the cowhand’s shoulder. With a clatter, his gun fell to the barn floor.
“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” The man from the corral stood in the doorway, his keen gaze focused on Will, then sweeping over the two cowhands and finally coming to rest on Cassie.
“You hurt, girl?” he asked bluntly.
“No, sir.” She shook her head, pressing back against the wall, brushing distractedly at her clothing.
“You particularly attached to these men?” Will asked harshly.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m bleedin’ bad,” the wounded man whined, and then, at Will’s vengeful glance, subsided.
“I’ll pull out my knife, but that’s all the help you’ll get from me,” Will told him, fury alive in each word. “If I had my way, you’d be on your way to a hangin’ tree.”
“She was askin’ for it.” He twisted his head to inspect his injury, then yelped as Will’s hand grasped the handle of the knife and pulled it from the wound in a swift movement.
With contempt, Will wiped the blood from the blade against the victim’s pant leg, then slid it into the sheath inside his own boot. “You’d do well to shut up while you’re still able to talk, mister, or the next thing she’ll be askin’ for is your head on a platter,” Will said with deceptive mildness.
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