Kendrick: Outlaw's Bride Part 30

Finally, the pain stopped. She felt something dripping down her thigh. She was afraid to touch herself to find out what it was.

"You say a word about this to anyone, and I'll kill you," Boyd whispered in her ear. "h.e.l.l, you say a word about this, and I'll kill Frank! Before I do, I'll tell him that you liked it, that you asked me to do it to you!"

Suddenly her hands were free. She lashed out and felt her nails strike flesh. She curved her fingers into claws and dug deep. When she looked, it wasn't Boyd's face before her, it was Chester's.

She was confused. She wanted to apologize to Chester. But when she tried to speak, no words would come out.

She could see everything that was happening around her, but she couldn't seem to form the words she wanted to say. She watched Horace Felber's arrival, paralyzed by fear. What if Boyd did what he had threatened? Frank would hate her if he thought she had wanted Boyd to put himself inside her. But if she accused Boyd of rape, he would kill her! He would kill Frank!

She tried to tell Horace Felber that she didn't know who had hurt her. Her mouth moved, but the sound was stuck in her throat.

She didn't understand why they left her all alone. She tried to stand, but her knees kept buckling. Dusk fell. And Frank came. She was terrified again. She tried to tell him she hadn't wanted Boyd to do it.

He pleaded with her to speak to him. Her eyes were open, but she saw everything through a mist of what she realized must be tears. She answered him, but he acted like she hadn't. Finally, she realized that the words were only sounding in her head. Frank couldn't hear them. She closed her eyes to shut out the pleading, terrified look in his.

She heard Ethan come and try to send Frank away. In her head she heard the words form, begging Frank to stay. Then Dorne was there. She could hear him shouting at Frank. She didn't want her brother to see her like this and squeezed her eyes closed as though to hide her shame in darkness.

She began trembling violently when Dorne attacked Frank, and jerked when she heard shots fired. She chanced a look from beneath lowered lashes and saw Dorne lying on the ground beside her with blood spurting from his leg. She closed her eyes again, shutting out the horror. Shutting out everything.

Much later, she heard her father's voice, but she couldn't face him. It was too horrible. It was too awful. She could never tell him what had happened.

That was the last thing she remembered. How long ago had that been? Traces of the past few weeks flashed before her eyes.

"You're a beautiful young woman."

"Ethan Hawk is an old friend of yours."

"Do you remember kissing me, Merielle?"

"I won't let Father keep us apart, Frank!"

Merielle opened her eyes and looked around her. She was in the parlor of her home. Her father-G.o.d, he was so old! She put her hands to her face and felt the changes in her features. She looked down at her body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s had grown! And she had hips! I'm all grown up!

"Chester did it," Boyd repeated like a litany. "Don't you remember? Chester did it!"

"No!" Merielle put her hands to her ears to stop Boyd's voice. "Stop! Stop!"

"Leave her alone," Trahern barked again. "Get out, Boyd. I think you've said enough."

"It wasn't Chester!" Merielle cried. She turned to face Boyd, then backed away toward her father. She pointed her finger at Boyd. "It was you, Boyd! You raped me!"

Both men were stunned at her outburst.

"She's talking crazy," Boyd bluffed.

"Don't believe him, Father." Merielle turned to face her father. She looked up into his searching eyes. "I remember everything. Boyd raped me. Chester came along and tried to stop him."

"Boyd wasn't there when we found you, Ethan was."

Merielle grabbed a fistful of her father's shirt. "Ethan came later! He didn't do it, Father. It was Boyd!"

Trahern was still having trouble accepting the idea that Merielle had her memory back. It was horrifying to think he had sent the wrong man to prison and welcomed a viper into his home. Trahern lunged for the rifle that was mounted over the mantel, but he didn't get two steps before Boyd shot him in the back.

"Father!" Merielle raced to where her father had fallen on the carpeted floor. He was bleeding from a terrible wound between his shoulder blades. "You've killed him!" she cried.

"Good riddance!" Boyd said. "Now I'm going to take care of you!"

When Boyd aimed the gun at her, Merielle did the only thing she could think of to save herself.

"Have you seen my friend, Patch? We went on a picnic and it was lots of fun. I want her to come play with me again."

Boyd grinned. "Crazy as a coot again, huh?" He walked over and knelt beside her, looking into her eyes.

Merielle didn't move. Look hard, Boyd. See what I want you to see. "What happened to Father?" she whimpered.

"Ethan shot your father. Remember that. Ethan shot your father."

"Ethan shot my father," Merielle repeated obediently. I know exactly who killed my father. And you're going to hang for it!

"Good girl. I'll be leaving you now, Merielle. I've got to get to the sheriff with the tragic news. Ethan Hawk just made good on his threat to kill Jefferson Trahern. He's finally gone too far. A lynch party ought to go after him. Yeah. That sounds good. A lynch party."

You fiend! "Can I come to the party?" Merielle said.

Boyd laughed. "Not this one." He stopped at the door and turned back to her. His eyes narrowed until his face looked cruel. "By the way, Merielle, next time you start remembering the wrong thing, I will kill you. Remember that."

Merielle remained frozen where she was until she heard Boyd's horse gallop away. She looked down at the blood pooling around her father and knew there was nothing she could do to help him. If she hurried, there might still be time to save Ethan Hawk.

She wanted to fly to Frank. She needed to feel his arms around her. She needed to know whether he still wanted her after everything that had happened. But she had no idea where he was. He could be anywhere on Tumbling Trange. If she stopped to search for Frank, Ethan might end up getting hanged.

Merielle raced upstairs and put on a split riding skirt and boots. As she saddled a horse for herself in the barn, Merielle tried to think what would be best to do. It probably wasn't a good idea to go to the sheriff by herself. Boyd would convince everyone she was deranged. But there was someone who would believe her. Someone who would listen to what she had to say and warn Ethan.

Merielle left the Tumbling Tand rode straight for Patch Kendrick at the Double Diamond.

Boyd knew he had to move fast. He was lucky the hands were all gone on the roundup. Apparently, no one had heard the shot that killed Trahern. He wasn't sure he had done the right thing leaving Merielle alive, but it was easier to accuse Ethan of murder if Trahern was the only victim. He felt certain that he could intervene in time if Merielle did begin to regain her memory, and that he could get her committed to some asylum where she would never be heard from again.

He was running on adrenaline. How the h.e.l.l had it come to this? Killing Trahern had never been part of his plan. But if he didn't want to lose everything he had gained over the past seventeen years, he had to cover his tracks, and fast. That meant accusing Ethan of the crime and making sure he died before anyone had time to investigate Trahern's death. Luckily, no one was likely to believe Ethan's protestations of innocence.

A lynch party would solve Boyd's problem nicely.

Before he incited a riot, he had a little business that needed taking care of. He rode down the back alleys into town and dismounted behind the Oakville Mercantile. He looked around to make sure he wasn't being observed before he stepped inside. The change in light blinded him momentarily, but he could feel the room was empty. He stood where he was and inhaled deeply.

He had always liked the way the storeroom smelled. Vinegar. That was pickles. Leather. That was a new saddle. Wool. That was bolts of fabric. Wood. That was new-made barrels and casks and crates filled with everything and anything. This room smelled of all the things he had craved as a child and never had. He had liked coming here to get his money from Horace Felber. He had insisted on it.

"What are you doing here?"

He realized Mrs. Felber must have heard him come in. "I need to speak with you. And with Horace."

"Horace isn't here. You can talk to me."

"I know you've already told some people what Chester did. I just came to make sure you don't flap your jaws about other things."

"Like what a poor excuse for a human being you are?" Mrs. Felber taunted.

Boyd would have hit her if he had been closer. Fortunately, several barrels blocked his way, and by the time he could get past them, he had regained his temper.

"It might interest you to know Jefferson Trahern is dead."

"Why should that make any difference to me?"

"Because I'm the big man in Oak County now. Everything Jefferson Trahern controlled will fall to me. For instance, I'll own the sheriff."

Mrs. Felber gasped.

"I see you're beginning to get the picture. In case it isn't crystal clear yet, if you or Horace say one word to Careless Lachlan about blackmail, I'll have Horace arrested as an accomplice to the rape of Merielle Trahern. And I'll make sure he goes to prison for a long, long time."

Mrs. Felber remained mute. It was already too late to comply with Boyd's demand for silence. Horace was with Sheriff Lachlan right now, spilling the beans. Whatever happened now would happen. She would never let herself be blackmailed by this man again. "You've said your piece, now get out. And don't ever come back."

Boyd smirked. "I'll be back next month for my money. Just like always. Nothing's changed."

Mrs. Felber's mouth tightened grimly. "Get out."

Boyd backed his way out of the room. He didn't like the look in Mrs. Felber's eyes. But she would keep her mouth shut and pay. Frightened people always did.

Boyd used the alleys to take himself back to the edge of town. Then he spurred his horse and raced down Main Street at a gallop, shouting and waving his hat to draw attention to himself. He slid his horse to a stop on its haunches in front of the Silver Buckle and came out of the saddle on the run. He shoved the batwing doors so hard they swung back and forth behind him.

"Where's the sheriff?" he shouted. "Ethan Hawk just killed Jefferson Trahern!"

If anyone had been thinking, they would have realized that the best place to look for Careless, especially at noontime, was the jail. Boyd wasn't really interested in getting Careless involved until he had done a little rabble-rousing. Men with a few drinks in them didn't always think clearly.

"You all heard Ethan Hawk say he was going to kill Trahern," Boyd said. "It looks like that's exactly what he did!"

"Murder's a hanging offense," someone shouted.

"Probably just send him to jail again," Boyd said.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," another man said. "Man kills someone deserves to pay at the end of a rope."

Another man agreed. And another.

"He'll probably get away before the sheriff can arrest him," Boyd said.

"The h.e.l.l you say! Let's go get him, boys!" someone yelled.

"He oughtta hang!" yelled another.

Boyd followed the drunken mob out through the batwing doors. He couldn't have formed a lynch party faster or better if they had been following a script. The drunken men hadn't even thought to ask him how he knew Ethan had done it.

The first glitch came when Careless caught up to the crowd. The men from the saloon were already mounting their horses.

"Where're all you fellas goin'?" Careless asked.

"Gonna find Ethan Hawk and hang 'im!" someone shouted.

"He deserves a trial first," Careless said, alarmed when he saw someone working a rope into a hangman's noose.

"We'll give him a trial," one man said. "Then we'll hang 'im!"

The crowd laughed.

"You can't just lynch a man," Careless protested.

"Watch us!"

"You comin' or stayin'?" someone called to the sheriff.

Careless realized the only way he could control the crowd was to join it. "I'm comin'," he grumbled. "Give me a minute to saddle my horse."

"Take mine," one of the men standing in front of the saloon said. "My wife'd have ten fits if I went along, but she don't have to know I sent my horse to a lynchin'." He laughed and slapped his knee.

Careless took the reins and mounted.

One man kicked his horse into a gallop, and eight more followed quickly after him. Careless was left in the rear with Boyd.

He stared at the young man riding beside him with new eyes. He had just had a very informative session with Horace Felber. Amazing how Boyd Stuckey had fooled them all. Everybody thought he was a fine, upstanding citizen, even if he was Ethan Hawk's best friend. When word got out what he had done, how he had double-crossed a friend for money, there wasn't a man, cowboy or drunk, who would give him the time of day.

Unfortunately, there was no proof of Horace's accusations. It was just Horace's word against Boyd's. With Trahern dead, Boyd was the richest man in the county. And he had made a lot of friends over the years. If Careless tried to arrest Boyd, Boyd just might get him fired. It would be a d.a.m.n shame to keep his job all these years and lose it now that Trahern was no longer around to be a burr under his saddle.

Careless spurred his horse closer so he could talk to Boyd without shouting. "I just had a talk with Horace Felber," he said to Boyd.

Boyd immediately slowed his horse to put more distance between the two of them and the rest of the lynch party. "Whatever he told you is a lie, Careless. And if you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever heard it."

"But Horace-"

"Horace will keep his mouth shut. Or I'll shut it for him."

"Those are pretty big words ..." Careless shuddered under the look in Boyd's yellow eyes.

"I'm the big man in Oak County now, Careless. If you want to keep your job, you'll do as I say."

Boyd didn't wait to see whether Careless was willing. He just spurred his horse and headed for the front of the mob.

"Grits and galoshes!" Careless swore. "There goes my job again!"

Maybe not. If he could just manage to arrest Boyd when Boyd wasn't expecting it, he could put him in jail. Let Boyd try to talk his way out once the word was on the street about exactly how Boyd had gotten the stake that made him into a rich man. Boyd would be lucky if the town didn't lynch him! With Trahern dead and Boyd taken care of, there would be no one to tell Careless what he could and couldn't do. For the first time in twenty years, he wouldn't have to answer to anybody. Except the people of Oakville.

"I'm the law," he muttered. "I am the law." He would take care of Boyd when the time came. First he had to get control of this situation. "When we find Ethan, I'll bring him in for trial," he said aloud.

Careless took another look at the men riding pell-mell toward the Double Diamond and shook his head. "Grits and galoshes."