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The man closest to him held Cash’s reins. “Thanks for the horse and the pistol.” He noticed his gun belt hanging from the man’s saddle. They were stealing his horse and his gun?
The man grinned at him and said, “Have a nice death,” before jerking on Cash’s reins and digging his spurs into his horse's flanks.
Everything happened so fast then, he barely had time to gasp before Cash ran, the rope around his neck tightening as his body was jerked backwards. He gasped as the rope tightened and Morning Dove screaming his name was the last thing he heard before the world went dark.
Chapter Eight
She could not stop screaming. Ben was dangling from the end of the rope, his legs kicking as he hung, and she had to look away. Walter’s grip on her tightened as he spurred his horse into a gallop up the hill.
The dread she had felt earlier died as an emptiness she had never experienced before filled her entire being. The desire to turn back was overwhelming, but she could not make herself do it. She could not let her last memory of Ben be that of him hanging from that tree.
A tree he kissed her under not twenty minutes earlier.
A tree he confessed things to her she never thought to hear him say.
For the past week, she dreamed of a life she knew she should not have even entertained. Dreams of her future. A future she had foolishly hoped would include Ben.
She knew he was interested in her now. That kiss in his bedroom had confirmed it. He had wanted her. How much he did was evident in his kiss and the way his body reacted to her nearness. She had cursed herself for a fool a hundred times over for leaving last night. For not taking what he so obviously wanted. Now she would never know what it was like to be loved by him.
Another broken sob escaped before she could stop it, Walter’s grip on her tightening as it did.
“You should thank me I didn’t make you sit there and watch him die, girl.”
Vision’s of Ben hanging filled her mind’s eye and nausea hit her so strongly she leaned over and threw up her breakfast. Walter yelled, but she could not hear what he was saying over her retching.
His hand clamped down over the back of her head and she all but fell from the horse as he pushed her further over the side. When her stomach was empty, she saw through watery eyes what he had been yelling about. She soiled his boots. Good. Maybe it would soak through.
She wiped her mouth and sat up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the others riding close by. The one who had held Cash’s reins and made him run and hang Ben in the process was the closest to her. She turned to look at him, memorizing his face. He killed Ben. She hoped to repay the favor.
Anger replaced the despair she had felt a moment before, the hatred warming her clean to her bones. Walter thought he did her a favor by not staying to watch Ben die but she would cut her own tongue out before she ever thanked him for a single thing. And the first chance she got, she was going to gut him like the pig he was.
It was so dark, he could see nothing. Ben coughed, then gasped for breath, the sound of water over rocks the only thing he heard and it took long minutes to realize he wasn’t dead.
He opened his eyes and blinked, his vision slowly coming into focus. A large branch lay in front of him, a rope wrapped around it several times. Glancing up, he saw where it had snapped off the old tree. The branch had broken.
His breath gushed out as his head hit the ground again. He swallowed, his throat sore and raw as he did. His hands were still bound, but luckily, they’d tied them together in front of him. It took long minutes of biting the rope to pull the knots free. He pulled the noose from around his neck a moment later and sat up.
Every bone in his body felt brittle, as if an entire herd of horses had trampled him, and his throat was so raw it hurt to swallow.
The clearing was empty, Cash and Morning Dove both gone. The sky was dark, not a single star shining. He’d laid there for hours. How far had Walter taken her in that time?
Staggering to his feet he crossed the creek, his boots soaking clean through as he waded across. Climbing the hill took longer than it should have. His legs didn’t want to work, and he hit his knees too many times to count.
He didn't know what time it was when he reached Aaron and Betsey’s house, but not a single light lit the windows. He headed straight for the barn to saddle Aaron’s horse, but paused when movement behind it drew his attention. Reaching for the gun at his hips, he cursed under his breath when he found it gone, and grabbed the first thing he saw and stepped into the shadows.
The axe handle felt good in his hand as he crept along the side of the barn and he hoped like hell it was one of the men who’d hung him.
Wind Chaser neighed at him when he rounded the back of the barn. She started his way, her head shaking as if she were trying to tell him something was wrong.
“I know, girl,” he said, rubbing her neck. “We’ll get her back.”
Ben led her into the barn to saddle her, visions of Morning Dove standing on her bareback filling his head as he did. His head pounded by the time he was finished and headed inside the house. Aaron met him in the hallway, the shotgun aimed at his head ignored as he stepped into Morning Dove’s bedroom.
“Damn it, Ben, I almost shot you!”
Ben laughed. “Almost killed twice in one day. That’s a new record, even for me.” He jerked a pillowcase off one pillow, inhaling Morning Dove’s scent that lingered there, before heading back to the kitchen. Aaron followed him.
“What are you doing?”
