had the same wide-rimmed hat that his partner wore, but his clothes were buckskin, not wool. If possible, he looked even meaner than the first, with a touch of insanity flickering in his whiskey-colored eyes. Both were men who would not be welcome in anyone’s home. Something about them seemed more animal than human.
Clark raised his hands as the men took the Colt at his side and tied his hands.
“That’s the way, boy,” the first outlaw whispered. “Come with us nice and easy and we’ll make the end quick for you.”
The mad twin tied her, spitting out a giggle when his hand kept slipping to brush against her. He was having so much fun, he didn’t notice when she twisted her wrist wide as he pulled the knot.
“Where are you taking us?” Anna demanded.
“Luther and me ain’t got no orders to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re just planning on delivering you.”
Anna decided the smart one was dumb as a cow patty and his partner, Luther, smelled worse than one. When she opened her mouth to ask more, Luther wrapped a dirty bandana across it.
“Make a sound,” the leader added, “and we kill your bodyguard. We weren’t told to bring him along anyway, so if one of our knives happens to slip between his ribs we know it won’t matter one way or the other to the boss.”
Anna had no doubt he meant what he said. Luther pulled a long knife and began poking them with it.
While the leader waited and watched for full dark, Luther pressed the point of the knife against her throat and giggled when he drew a drop of blood.
Anna stood perfectly still, refusing to move or cry out. She knew she couldn’t get away if he wanted to kill her, but she wouldn’t play his game.
Each cut drew one bubble of blood. Two, three, four pricks. Luther watched each drop slide down her throat and melt into the lace of her collar.
“It’s dark enough,” the leader whispered as he shoved Clark and her out of the infirmary and around to the back where they’d left horses tied. A small wagon train of settlers had been picking up supplies before dark and the outlaws had no problem blending in among the other visitors.
Anna forced her mind to notice every detail as she dug her heel hard into the ground before they lifted her onto the horse. The outlaws had brought two extra horses. She knew they hadn’t planned on Clark, so the other mount would have been for McCord.
She smiled. It had been three days since McCord left. If they expected to pick him up here, then they hadn’t caught, or killed him. He was alive and she had no doubt he’d be coming after her.
All she had to do was stay alive until he reached her.
Chapter 8
Ranger McCord delivered the letter to the Quaker in charge of the territory. He stood, forgotten, as the man read suggestions from the governor of Texas. McCord could tell by the way he folded the letter away that the Indian agent didn’t plan to put any new policies into action. The Indian Wars, which had been raging for thirty years in Texas, Kansas, and New Mexico, would continue. He’d ridden all this way and risked his life for nothing.
Thorn and his men wanted the trouble to continue, so they could play off both sides. Now they had won, not by interfering, but by the indifference of one man.
The Quaker looked up as if just remembering Wynn was in the room. “Thank you for delivering this,” he said in a tired voice. “I have no reply.”
Wynn backed out of the office and walked to his horse. He’d planned to find a meal and a bed for the night, but all he wanted to do was get back to Anna. She’d never left his thoughts. The possibility of asking her to marry him crossed his mind more often than he wanted to admit. He had a good-sized spread from a land grant his father bought fifty years ago. They could settle down in south Texas where things were calm and be hundreds of miles away from the fort line where trouble blew in with every new wind. Behind the line of forts a man could raise his family and worry about crops but here life was never easy.
He didn’t want her to just let him in when he came back. He felt a hunger for something that might fill a hole in his heart that he’d been ignoring since the war. For the first time in more years than he could remember, Wynn wanted to stay.
Smiling, he wondered if she wouldn’t mind wearing a ring and a gag. He’d never get used to that accent of hers. If he could just keep the woman quiet, she’d be darn near perfect. He didn’t even care if she could cook. Hell, he’d been eating his own grub for so long, any food that didn’t crawl off the plate looked good to him.
McCord swung into the saddle. He’d trade mounts at the edge of camp and make a few hours of hard riding before he slept. With luck he’d be back to Anna in two days.
As he always did, his mind focused on his goal and he rode hard with little food or sleep. Only this time he didn’t feel like he was running away from something. This time he was riding toward her.
He was three hours out of Camp Supply when he saw soldiers riding fast. Wynn knew who they were by the way they sat their saddles. Seasoned soldiers, Cunningham and the two other Texans.
The men pulled their mounts up when they reached McCord, but only Sergeant Cunningham stepped down.
McCord slowly swung from the saddle, knowing something was wrong when his friend didn’t smile. “What is it, Dirk?”
Cunningham didn’t waste words. “From the markings, two men, probably part of Thorn’s gang, took Anna and Private Clark at gunpoint two nights ago. We’ve been trailing them since dawn yesterday.”
McCord didn’t move, but inside he felt his entire body take the news like a blow.
“Captain’s had every man out on patrol looking. We got lucky and picked up fresh sign this morning. Spotted a woman’s footprint out back behind the infirmary yesterday as we left. About the time we figured we’d lost them for good, we spotted her print again near a creek bank. From there it was easy to follow the trail of four horses. Every time they stop, your Anna must be stomping around leaving footprints everywhere.” He stared at his friend as he told the whole truth. “Along with fresh blood. They’re heading due south.”
“No body?” McCord said as he checked the cinch on his horse. “Clark’s still alive.”
Cunningham nodded. “That’s my guess.”
“Then we’d better get to them fast. Clark’s not the one they want, so they’ll kill him as soon as possible. I’m surprised he’s lasted two days.”
“I figure the men who kidnapped them don’t do much without orders. So we’ve got till they get to camp, where the boss is.” Cunningham reached for his saddle horn. “Looks like they’re heading toward Red Rock Canyon. Once they’re there, we’ll never find them.”
Both men mounted and rode without another word.
It had been a long time since McCord had felt anything, including hate, but he felt it now. He’d kill every one of the outlaws if even one touched Anna. He might have given up on ever being able to love anyone or anything in this lifetime, but he could still hate.
They rode until almost dark before they spotted movement ahead of them. Then, without a word, Cunningham signaled and the four men spread out, leaving no trail of dust big enough to notice if one of the outlaws glanced back.
McCord took the center, riding in the open, daring them to look back. He rode fast, but not full-out; he had to give the others time to move into place. As he climbed, he closed in on four riders, one in what looked like a blue dress. Anna, he thought. His Anna.
One outlaw led the line, pulling the two captives behind him. The other outlaw rode drag, but he wasn’t on guard like he should have been. Not once did he look back, and from what McCord could see he held no weapon at the ready.
The captive next to Anna slumped in