Malachi shot up. Iris and Mrs. Haywood stared at him. "Justin Waller," he said. "He followed us. I underestimated him. I thought I'd lost him."
He turned and strode toward his horse, checking that his Colts were in his gun belt. When he reached the bay, he leaped upon the animal, and then just sat there. He didn't even know which way to ride.
East. Back the way they'd come.
Justin Waller wouldn't dare head farther west into Kansas.
He'd killed a lot of men in Kansas. Maimed and wounded them. Someone might recognize him.
East. He had to return eastward.
He set off at a gallop, and realized a second later that he was being followed. He turned and saw that Iris had mounted Shannon's big black gelding. With her skirts and petticoats flying, her fine green dress bloodstreaked and ruined, she was racing after him.
He reined in. "Iris, go back! What do you think—"
"Malachi, she's dead. Reba just died."
"So go back! This man is an animal. I'm better off alone."
"Your wife may need me," Iris said quietly.
Malachi locked his jaw, he was suddenly shaking so hard. That Shannon might be touched by the madman hurt…hurt so badly that he couldn't help her…
"All right, come on," he told Iris.
He leaned forward over the bay's neck, urging the animal forward, and they galloped eastward again at a breakneck pace. How much time did Justin Waller have on him already? How much time did Justin Waller need?
He didn't dare think. He rode.
It was the sickness in Shannon's stomach that finally woke her. She didn't know what he had used in his scarf to knock her out, but the smell of it had invaded her system, and her mouth tasted horrible, and she was certain that she was going to be sick any minute. She didn't care much about being sick. It might make her feel better. Except that there was a gag in her mouth, tied so tightly over her lips that she was afraid that she would choke to death upon her own fluids.
She tried opening her eyes carefully. The sunshine shot into them like knives. She had thought that she was moving; she was not. Her wrists hurt her because she was tied to a tree. The sun was overhead, streaking through the leaves. She was in a copse, surrounded by rocks and foliage and trees. She couldn't move at all, for rough nooses looped both of her wrists, and her arms were pulled taut around the circumference of the tree.
She closed her eyes again. The dizziness still assailed her. She willed it to go away.
There was a sound in the woods. She opened her eyes quickly. Justin Waller was coming through the bushes. There was nothing she could do. Absolutely nothing but stare at him, and hate him with everything in her.
"Hello, little darlin'," he crooned. He hunkered down by her, smiling as he tossed his rifle down at her side. He ran his hand over her thigh, moving the satin of her gown upward to her hip. She kicked and thrashed at him, and the motion almost made her sick. He laughed, enjoying her inability to really do anything, anything at all.
"I'd like to remove that gag, honey, and hear everything that you have to say to old Justin. You're going to apologize, do you know that? You're going to tell me how sorry you are for everything you ever did to me. And then you're going to tell me that you'll never leave me again. And you're going to tell me how much you want me, you're going to ask me to be nice to you."
He lifted his hand to her cheek, and ran a finger down her throat. He idly stroked a line down to the rise of her breast, and he laughed again at the rage that filled her eyes when he cupped the mound.
"You're thinking that Slater will come and kill me, aren't you? Well, he's going to come. That's why you're here. I'm going to meet him on the road, and then I'm going to kill him. And then I'm going to come back for you. But do you know why you're here in this nice little cove? 'Cause if I die, Miss McCahy, you're going to die, too. He'll never find you. Only the snakes and the buzzards will know where you are. Maybe a rattler will come by. And maybe not. Maybe you'll just bake slowly in the sun…and you'll be glad to die, you'll want water so badly. Then the birds will come down and you know what they like to do first? They like to pluck out eyes…"
He sighed, letting his hand drop. "I'd really like to stay. But—"
He broke off, listening. From somewhere, Shannon could hear the sound of hoofbeats.
Justin's face went dark. "How the hell did he know so damned fast?" he muttered. "Must not have done in that whore properly…" He stared at Shannon. "No matter, darlin'. Don't fret. Don't miss me too much. I will be back."
He rose, clutching his gun, and thrashed his way through the undergrowth. The sound of the hoofbeats was coming closer and closer. Shannon closed her eyes.
Malachi.
He would never abandon her, she thought. No matter how mad she made him, no matter how they fought…
Even if he hated her. He would never abandon her.
But would Malachi be expecting Justin to ambush him? And Justin meant to do just that. Sit in wait to prey upon Malachi, shoot him down in cold blood from the shadows of the bracken on a summer's day.
Malachi was coming closer. Shannon could feel the hoof-beats pounding the earth. There was more than one horse. He wasn't alone. Maybe that was something that Justin hadn't counted on.
She tugged at the ropes that held her, but Justin could tie a secure knot. The more she twisted, the more hopelessly tightly she was bound. Tears stung her eyes. If she could just call out. If she could warn him that it was going to be an ambush.
Willing herself not to panic, not to give up, she twisted her head, biting at the gag. At first, she felt nothing.
Then she felt it loosening.
The sound of hoofbeats had slowed as the riders had en-tered the narrow trail through the forest. Shannon bit desperatley against the material slicing her mouth. There was a give and then a tear. She twisted and spit again. The gag slipped enough for her to draw in a huge gulp of sweet air, and then scream for all she was worth.
"It's a trap, Malachi! Don't come any closer! It's an ambush! Be careful, for the love of God—"
As she screamed, Justin Waller suddenly appeared through the shrubs, and she saw the murderous hatred in his eyes.
"Stupid bitch!" he swore. His palm cracked across cheek so hard that she was dazed.
She felt a little trickle of blood at her lip but that didn't deter him in the least. He stuffed the gag into her mouth and secured it, winding a strip of rawhide tightly around her head. It cut searingly into her mouth, and she could barely breathe, much less issue the softest cry.
He smiled, pleased with his handiwork. "Our time is coming, sweet thing," he promised her.
He jumped to his feet, carelessly holding his repeating rifle. The sound of hoofbeats had ceased. The forest seemed quiet.
"Slater!" Justin screamed.
Shannon took some small pleasure in realizing that she had ruined his original plan. He couldn't possibly ambush anyone. He was the one whose whereabouts were now known.
"Slater, I'm going to shoot her. Right through the head."
She couldn't help the shivering that seized her. Justin Waller would do it. He would shoot a human being just as quickly and easily as he would swat a fly. There would be very little difference to him.
He aimed the rifle at Shannon. She caught her breath, and her heart seemed to cease to beat. She wanted to pray; she wanted to ask God to forgive her all her sins, but she didn't seem to be able to think at all.
Malachi's face filled her thoughts. His slow, cynical smile curling into his lip beneath his mustache. His eyes, bluer than teal, deeper than cobalt, secretive beneath the honey and gold arches of his brows. In those seconds, she imagined his face. And she wished with all her heart that she could see him.