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“I don’t care if you put lead into me. I ain’t bein’ tied and that’s all there is to it.”

“Then how about if I put lead into your man?” Wesley aimed at Samuel’s leg.

“All right. All right.” Emala held out her wrists. “Why are all slave hunters so vile?”

“I’m just doing my job, woman. How easy or hard it is depends on you. Keep that in mind and we’ll get along fine.”

Emala fought down a wave of fear. She turned to Winona King and said softly, “I’m sorry to get you mixed up in this. I truly am.”

Winona tried to spit out the gag but couldn’t.

Chuckling, Olan walked over and yanked it out for her. “Usually I don’t give a lick about squaws. But you’re so pretty I’ll make an exception.”

“Pig.” Winona shifted toward Wesley. “My husband will come after us. And he will not be alone. If you are smart, you will let us go and ride away while you still can.”

“I’m smarter than you think,” Wesley told her.

At that, all of their captors laughed.

Pain. A lot of pain. It told Nate King he had returned to the land of the living, although given the throbbing in his head, it might have been better if he stayed unconscious. He felt a swaying motion and something gouging his gut. He must be belly-down over a saddle. He tried to move his arms and legs, and couldn’t.

“I tie good knots,” Peleg Harrod said. “You can open your eyes. I know you’ve come around.”

Nate blinked in the bright sun and turned his head. The old frontiersman was leading his bay by the reins. “Why?”

“That’s the first question I would ask, too. The answer is simple. Money.”

“Someone paid you to bash me over the head?”

“They paid me to lead you into a trap so they can shoot you. The head bash was my idea. You’ll find this hard to believe, but I’ve done you a favor.”

“You’re right. It is hard to believe.” The pain was making a jumble of Nate’s thoughts.

“You’ll savvy when I tell you who I work for.” Harrod paused. “Does the handle Wesley mean anything to you?”

In a rush of memory Nate relived his clash weeks ago with the slave hunters after the Worths. “I figured we were safe once we crossed the Mississippi River.”

“You figured wrong. Those blacks are worth a lot of money. I’m not talking hundreds. I’m talking thousands.”

“You weren’t with them when we tangled back in Missouri.”

“Wesley hired me later. Me and some others who are a lot worse than me. We don’t get along much on account of I have scruples and they don’t.”

Nate tested the rope around his wrists. It didn’t have any slack. The same with the rope around his ankles. To keep the older man talking, he said in mock surprise, “You have scruples?”

“That was uncalled for. But I won’t harm females. Ever. And I won’t kill unless I have to. I failed to mention that to Wesley. He took it for granted I’d have no qualms about leading you into an ambush.”

“So you’re a cutthroat, but a nice cutthroat?”

“Hell, I’m no cutthroat at all. I used to be a trapper, like you. Now I mostly guide and scout and track and such. This Wesley hired me to tag along with him because he’s never been west of the Mississippi.”

Nate’s head was beginning to clear, although it still throbbed. “Do you suppose I could impose on these scruples of yours and you could cut me loose?”

“I would like to. I honest to God would. I’ve grown fond of you and that wife of yours. You’re fine folks. As fine as I’ve ever met.”

“But…?” Nate prompted when Harrod didn’t go on.

“But if I let you go you’ll go charging off to help the blacks and get yourself killed. I’m doing you another favor by keeping you tied.”

“You’re full of favors I can do without.”

Peleg Harrod chortled. “Now see, most men would be foaming at the mouth about now. They’d be cussing and kicking and saying as how they’d like nothing better than to slit my throat. But not you. You lie there as calm as can be. You even joke about what I did to you.”

“So far all you did was conk me on the noggin. Set me free and there won’t be any hard feelings.”

“I didn’t fall off the turnip wagon yesterday. You’re only saying that because you want to go after your wife and the blacks.”

“Those blacks have a name.”

Harrod shifted to stare quizzically at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like Wesley and his bunch. I don’t hate blacks just because they’re not white. Hell, I’ve had me a few Injun wives.”

“But…?” Nate said again.

“But I don’t give a good damn what happens to them. They never did trust me.”

“After what they’ve been through, can you blame them?”

Harrod grinned and wagged a finger. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for them. Sure, they’re decent folks. And yes, they must have had it rough as slaves. But Samuel killed a man. He up and murdered his master. He deserves what ever they dish out.”

“Have you ever killed?”

Harrod nodded. “I’ve had to blow out a few wicks. A couple of times so I could keep my hair on my head. And once or twice because someone thought they could help themselves to my horse or my poke.”

“Did you know that Samuel Worth killed his owner to keep his daughter from being raped.”

“Damn you to hell.”

“What?”

“It won’t work.”

“What won’t?”

Abruptly drawing rein, Harrod reined his horse around and brought it next to the bay. “You are one devious son of a bitch, do you know that? Trying to convince me to side with the Worths.”

“I only told you what happened.” But the truth was, Nate did hope to change the frontiersman’s mind.

“And money grows on trees and the moon is made of cheese.” Harrod made a clucking sound. “I don’t want another word out of you—not so much as a peep. Do you hear me?”

“What if I promise not to talk about the Worths?”

“Not about the Worths, or about slaves, or about slave hunters, or about slavery, or about how life ain’t fair, or about my scruples.”

“Is that all?”

“No. You’re not to talk about your wife or your kids if you have any or bring up Jesus or God or your parson if you have one or talk about how the human heart is tender or fickle or both.”

“Is there anything left?

Harrod blinked, then laughed and slapped his leg. “Don’t you beat all. But I mean it. No tricky talk.” He gigged his mount and resumed heading east.

Nate flexed his arms. The rope dug into his wrists, but he didn’t care. He had to work loose no matter how much it hurt or how long it took. “You mentioned having wives—”

“You can’ talk about them, either.”

“Did you have any children?”

“Nor them.”

“How about pets? You must have had a dog or cat you were fond of. Or maybe you’re partial to that horse you’re riding.”

Harrod swung around. “When I said you were devious, I didn’t know the half of it. All right. From here on out you’re not to speak unless I speak to you first.”

“That’s awful harsh.”

“It will be harsher if I have to gag you.”

“Can I say one last thing?”

Harrod groaned.

“My wife thought highly of you.” Nate seldom lied. In fact, he could count the number of times he had lied on one hand and have fingers left over. But he was lying now. “How can you let them hurt her?”

Peleg Harrod swore. “I should have led you into that ambush like they wanted.”

Chapter Eleven

In her panic Randa didn’t realize which direction she had fled until she burst from the vegetation that bordered the Platte River and beheld an unending vista of prairie. She didn’t stop. For all she knew they were after her. She had to get away so she could come back later and do what she could to help her family and Winona. That was her overriding thought as she slapped her legs against her mount, goading it to a gallop.