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“Damn white robe of yours stands out like a signal flag. Can you crawl backwards? An’ don’t make a sound, if you can help it.”
There was hardly a way I could crawl, with his body half covering mine. He dragged me backwards, and even through the thin material of my robe I felt the flesh skinned from my knees and elbows.
I felt his hand come over my mouth, stifling me.
“Lie still, hear?”
The robe was bunched up over my thighs by now. Hearing the hammering of my heartbeats in my ears, I had no choice but to lie still, feeling the clump of brush he had dragged me under pricking into my bare flesh.
“Shit! Ain’t nothin’ out here. You probably heard a coyote back in the hills.”
Thankfully, I heard Marta’s voice, scolding softly.
“What are you boys trying to do? Wake the patrona? You all hush now, or you won’t get any breakfast. Shoo!”
I heard them straggle, grumbling, back to the bunkhouse.
Lucas Cord’s breath was warm against the back of my neck. “Why’d you come after me?”
I moved my head angrily and heard him make a half-stifled sound that might have been a laugh as he moved his hand from over my mouth.
“Never mind. You got ’em all awake now. Better go on back to the house.”
I whispered furiously, “You didn’t tell me anything! Why Elmer Bragg sent you, or…”
“You didn’t want to listen. Will you hold still? You’re gonna be all scratched up come morning, if you don’t.”
“It already is morning! And you’re despicable!”
“Sounds like you’re swearin’ at me. There—got you loose now.” His fingers, brushing against my shrinking skin, had disengaged my trailing robe from the twigs that held it.
It was ridiculous that I should be lying out here in the dark, half-naked, with a man I knew to be a murderer and a violator of women. It was idiotic of me to have followed him. Still, here I was, and my curiosity wasn’t yet satisfied.
“I want to know.”
“Got no time to tell you anything now. And especially not out here.”
“You’ll answer my questions, Luke Cord, or I’ll make such a noise that they’ll all come out here, with their guns drawn!”
“Damned if you ain’t threatenin’ me!”
He put his hand on my shoulder, fingers pressing into my flesh, and involuntarily I shrank, remembering the way he had thrown me to the ground a few moments ago. With a movement just as sudden and as violent, he turned me from my bruised side onto my back.
I realized that my robe had fallen open down the front and I was conscious of the fact that somehow, his body still lay half-covering mine. My throat was unexpectedly dry, and I afraid.
I remember that all kinds of thoughts wove in and out of my mind at that moment. He must be a good wrestler, the ease with which he throws my body around—and, oh God, now he’s going to rape me, it’ll be much worse than the last time, and I don’t dare scream.
He put his hand on me, and I made a smothered sound, but all he did, impatiently, was pull the edges of my robe together.
“Now, look,” he whispered, bringing his face close to mine, “why don’t you just go back in the house an’ try to forget you seen me? Ain’t no point in us tryin’ to talk out here anyhow.”
“I want to know—”
I thought I caught the flash of white teeth in the blur that was his face as he grinned.
“Stubborn, ain’t you?” His voice changed, subtly, from amusement to impatience. “But so am I. See you in Silver City, if you still got questions then.”
I felt him ease his weight from me, and then he was gone, leaving me with my bruises and frustrated anger.
