Her smile faded when he suddenly strode across the room and jerked her around by the arm, pressing her down into the bed, face first. He tore at her chemise and petticoats, ripping them from her with a vengeance. Gasping, smothering, she tried to protest.
"Shut up," he warned her.
"No! No, please—"
Reba tried to twist around. He slapped her hard on the cheek, sending her head flying against the bedpost. Stunned, she still tried to resist. She hadn't the power. He shoved her over and down.
A scream rose in her throat when he sadistically drove into her. But her scream went unheard, muffled by her pillow.
In time, either the pain dulled, or she passed out cold.
When she awoke, it was morning. She felt the sun coming in through the window.
She tried to move, but everything about her hurt. Her cheek and eye were swollen where he had beaten her. She hurt inside, deep inside. She would have to see the doctor, and pray that nothing was busted up too bad. God, she was in agony.
She was afraid to open her eyes; he might still be there. She didn't feel him, though. She lifted her lashes just slightly. Then she dared to twist around.
He was out of the bed. He was dressed, and he was staring out her window, toward the Haywoods' store and hotel across the street.
Suddenly, he stiffened and straightened. She saw him set his hand on his gun at his hip.
"There he goes," he murmured. He swung around, as if sensing that Reba was awake. She closed her eyes, but not fast enough. He came over to her, wrenching her up. "You shut up, bitch!"
"I didn't say—"
He slapped her again. Reba gasped, screaming for all that she was worth. Matey would be up and about; someone would hear.
"Oh, no you don't!" He slammed her pillow down on her face, pressing hard. Reba twisted and gasped, and the pain entered her lungs as she could draw no air. He kept talking. As she grew dizzy, she could hear him. "You ain't ruinin' it for me, honey." He started to laugh. "What's one little whore, when the golden girl is right across the street? If you're right, Slater is in there, getting through to her for me right now. I tried to get to her last night, but I was afraid to bust the door down myself. I might have had the whole town down on me. I slipped out, and I slipped back in, and nobody knew it at all. I came back to the saloon…and to you, too, honey. I'm gonna kill Slater, and I'm gonna make her wish that she was dead. You can imagine how good I am at that, huh, honey?" Dimly, she heard him laugh. "You can imagine. You can just imagine." He pressed harder and harder upon the pillow.
Her struggles ceased.
Finally, he tossed the pillow aside. She was still and silent. "I wouldn't have had to kill you if you'd just known how to keep that whore's mouth of yours closed." He tipped his hat to her. "It's closed now, honey. Sure am sorry. It's just that you don't compare. No, ma'am, no way, you just don't compare. I'm gonna have me that girl, and I'm gonna kill that man."
He looked outside. Malachi Slater was heading across to the livery stable. Looked like time to take a walk himself.
"Shannon!"
She had awoken, hearing him call out her name in annoyance. He banged on the door. She pressed her fingers against her temple and ignored him.
"Shannon, open this door."
"No!"
"Don't give me a hard time now, Shannon McCahy. I've got to get in."
"It isn't McCahy anymore, is it?" she demanded bitterly through the door. "Get away from here!"
She waited. There was silence for a moment. "Shannon, open the door. Now."
"You arrogant Reb bastard!" she hissed at him. "Go away. I'll never open the door."
She heard his sigh even through the door. "Shannon, I am going to try not to fight with you. I am going to do my best to get along with you, Shannon, because—"
"Your best! Malachi, go!"
"Shannon, I really am trying. Now, open the door and—"
"You're an ass, Malachi. A complete ass!"
"Shannon, I am trying—darlin'. But keep it up, and you'll pay. I promise," he said very softly.
"Go away!"
"Shannon, I'm giving you ten seconds. One—"
"You should have knocked when you came last night."
"I didn't come here last night. You're dreaming."
"Nightmare, Mr. Slater. If I was dreaming, it was a nightmare." She paused, then said with disgust, "You liar!"
"I didn't come near you last night, Shannon. But so help me, I'll come near you now!"
It was a threat. A definite threat. After everything that he had done!
She spat out exactly what he should do with himself.
He slammed into the door. The noise brought her flying up in panic, searching for the Colt. The wood splintered and sheared around the lock, and the door soared open.
Malachi stood in the doorway, looking much the worse for wear. His clothing was rumpled, his eyes were red, and his temper hadn't improved a hair.
Not that the night had done much for Shannon's.
She lifted the Colt and aimed it straight at his heart. "What do you think you're doing here?" she demanded huskily. She couldn't quite find her voice.
He eyed the Colt but ignored it. He stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. "Shannon, I am going to try and talk reasonably. I—"
"Malachi, get out of here. Or else I will shoot you. I will not kill you. I will aim—"
'"Don't you dare say it!" he snapped at her.
"Say what?"
"You know what!"
"All right! I'll shoot at—"
"Shannon!"
"Malachi, I don't want you here. I married you to save your damn neck and you can't even stay with me for two seconds."
"I had to beg you to—"
"You forced me to say those words."
"You know, I'm remembering right now just how bad it was. Dropping down on my knees to beg you to—"
"Beg! You get out, now! Or I will put a bullet right where it might count the most!"
"Why, darlin'," he drawled. "You are my beloved wife, and I can come to you whenever I choose."
"The hell you can."
"The law says I can," he told her softly.
"The law plans on stringing you up—darlin'. Maybe we ought not tempt fate."
"Well, then, Mrs. Slater, I say that I can." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the broken door. His lashes fell with a lazy nonchalance over his eyes, but she could see the slit of blue beneath them, wary and hard.
She was trembling. She couldn't let him see it. She kept her hand as steady as she could manage on the Colt.
"You chose your bed, captain. You just go on back to it."
"Darlin', I'm tired of you spying on me, and I'm damned tired of your being a brat. I didn't come to fight—"
"You shouldn't have come at all."
"Put the gun away, Shannon."
"Get out!"
"I can't, not now—"
"Malachi, get away from me, now!"
"Put the gun away, Shannon. Put it away now! I'm warning you as nicely as I can, but I mean it." It sounded as if he was growling at her. She gritted her teeth and smiled sweetly.
"Malachi, since I am the one with the gun, I'm warning you."
"You'll be damned sorry when you don't have the gun."
"Don't threaten me."
"You vowed to obey me."
"You vowed to cherish me. It was all lies. So no, captain, you go on back across the street to your whore. You're not going to touch me."
"You're one Yank I do intend to touch, my love."
She pulled back the trigger on the Colt, letting him hear the deadly click. "Get out. You know that I can aim."
"I haven't come to do anything to you. I've come because this is my room, and you are my wife. Put the gun down. I have every right here, and you won't shoot me."