The Bounty Read online

  Calhoun!

  There it was again. Nicky’s voice was actually in his head. What was that all about? What could she possibly—

  Where the hell are you when I need you?

  She was in trouble.

  A certain dread began to wind its way around Tyler’s body like a snake of smoke. There was a new connection between them, one he had tried to deny. Now that connection pulsed through him. As the feeling of dread became overpowering, he found he couldn’t ignore it—he was a man who lived by his instincts. He stood and ran back to the clearing where he’d left his prisoner. He knew before he even arrived that she was gone.

  As he examined the tracks in the dust, he realized two men had taken her, and that she’d struggled with them. Nate. That stupid son of a bitch had found them after more than a week. Now she was Nate’s prisoner, and there was no doubt what he’d do with Nicky first. His leer had been as apparent as the sun on a cloudless day. Nicky was a strong woman, but being raped might destroy her spirit. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Help me!

  After gathering up the saddlebags, and unhobbling the horses, he vaulted onto Sable, then grabbed the mare’s reins and started following the trail. He wouldn’t let his conscience remind him that the real reason he was following her was not for the reward.

  ———

  Nicky felt like she was going to pass out as she bounced, stomach down, across Nate’s lap on the cow pony. The saddle horn dug into her side painfully and her nose was bleeding from Nate’s blow. The blood was making it hard to breathe. Nate held her down by keeping a firm grip on her jeans. To her horror, his fingers kept dipping lower and lower onto her behind. She was trussed up, gagged, and helpless—fodder for her nightmares. All she could see was the ground and the horse’s belly. She could, however, smell Nate. He exuded a sour, rancid odor that was so different from Tyler’s scent, it made her wonder if Nate was a man or a pig. Tyler’s scent made her want to inhale deeply, and was downright intoxicating. Nate’s foul smell made her think of a swamp, teeming with nasty creatures. It was repulsive. She hated to think what he smelled like when her nose wasn’t clogged with blood.

  “You sure do have a nice ass. Can’t wait to see it close up.”

  She shuddered in revulsion. She was not about to let Nate or Rusty get their hands into her pants. A rock came flying up from the ground when the horse’s hoof dislodged it. It knocked Nicky squarely in the forehead, both startling and painful. Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids, from pain and possibly fear—although she wasn’t about to admit that, even to herself. She tried to muster her self-control, her inner reserve of strength, to fight back against drowning in self-pity.

  She thought of what Tyler would do in this situation, and it wasn’t snuffling and crying. That gave her a pulse of courage. She would fight Nate and Rusty with everything she had, but she couldn’t stop that little tiny voice that still wished for the bounty hunter to come to her rescue. She tried to imagine Tyler in a knight’s suit of armor. He’d probably throw the armor to the ground and wonder why the hell anyone would want to carry that kind of weight around when all you needed was a fast gun.

  To her horror, Nate stuck his fingers between her legs. She grunted and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

  Don’t you touch me! She screamed with her mind, eyes, and soul. Nate didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She could feel him rub his dirty hand against his burgeoning erection in his equally filthy pants.

  “Oh, yeah, baby girl. You and me are gonna have fun.”

  He went back to groping her wherever he could. His touch was painful and sickening. Nicky tried her best to stop him, but her efforts were in vain.

  Calhoun, where are you?

  She’d sooner die than submit to Nate.

  ———

  Tyler was sure he was gaining on them as he squatted to examine the tracks on the ground. These prints were no more than ten minutes old. Just as he thought, one set of prints cut deeper into the scrubby ground. One horse was carrying two people for sure. A small dark spot next to a hoofprint caught his eyes. As he reached out to touch it, he knew what it was. Blood. Her blood.

  He’d tear those dirty bastards apart with his bare hands.

  ———

  “Think we lost him?” Rusty asked.

  “Don’t know fer sure. I looked, but I ain’t seen nobody followin’ us.”

  Nicky rolled her eyes at their stupidity. Did they think a bounty hunter as skilled as Tyler would announce his arrival with trumpets and a loud “Howdy”?

  “I think we can stop fer a rest.” Nate’s pronouncement was like a bell tolling in the night for the doomed.

  Nicky’s head felt like it weighed more than the rest of her body combined, and her stomach was spinning like a top. Much as she wanted to stop, she knew if they did Nate wouldn’t keep his hands off her. She was more afraid than she’d ever felt with Tyler, even that first night. It was as if she could sense that the real Tyler was different deep down inside. He wasn’t the type of man who would rape a woman. Unfortunately, she knew Nate was that type of man, even a woman who was bound and gagged. Nicky’s heart was hammering, her mouth felt like cotton, and she could hardly get a breath in.

  Jesus, please, help me be strong.

  Nate shoved his hands between her legs and groped her mercilessly. A single tear leaked from one eye as she kicked and bucked against the invasion of the filthy hand.

  “Ooh, she’s ready, Rusty. Let’s give this mare a ride she won’t forget.”

  Don’t show him you’re afraid.

  Nate hauled her off the lathered horse with a jerk. Nicky’s momentum was great because of her efforts to throw off Nate’s grip. She slammed onto the unforgiving ground and the back of her head hit a small rock. All the breath was knocked from her body, and blackness roared through her like a mountain lion’s scream.

  ———

  Tyler heard the low murmur of voices as he crept catlike across the damp ground. The dew had already coated the prairie grass, making his approach silent and slick. He was nearly upon them when he heard one clear his throat to speak.

  “Is she dead?”

  A wave of red-hot fury crashed over Tyler when he heard the offhand question. Dead? She couldn’t be dead. He had to restrain himself from rising from the grass with his guns blazing. If they’d killed her, there would be two fresh carcasses for the buzzards to feast on. He needed to keep his wits about him so he forcefully tamped down on his bloodlust. First, he needed to find out where Nicky was, and more importantly, if she was alive.

  Get control. You’re no good to her if you’re dead.

  “I don’t know. She ain’t moving, though. Could be a trick. Damn, and I’m good and ready for her, too.”

  He peered cautiously toward the voices and saw two figures in the light from the moon. One squatted down and fumbled with another dark shape on the ground.

  Nicky.

  “Oh, hell, she bled on my bandanna. That was my good one too.” He backhanded the dark shape viciously.

  Tyler flinched at the sound of flesh on flesh. Only the lowest form of scum would hit an unconscious, not dead, woman.

  “Well, is she dead?” repeated the other figure as he turned and grabbed his saddlebags.

  “I don’t think so. Dead people don’t bleed. Let’s leave her there for a spell. See if she wakes up. I like my women awake when they feel my prick sliding in.”

  Dead people don’t bleed. Her blood still stained Tyler’s finger from when he’d found it earlier. He wondered what part of her had been bleeding, was still bleeding even as he sat in the shadows waiting to strike.

  The two cowboys walked about ten paces away, found a fallen log to sit against, and pulled out jerky and hardtack from their saddlebags, blissfully unaware of the predator watching them with narrowed eyes, gauging their readiness for battle.

  Is she dead? As Tyler circled around behind them, the question kept repeating in his brain. He could see her body
lying on the ground by the horses, bathed in the moonlight. Goddamn idiots left her to be stepped on or kicked by the horses. If she wasn’t dead, she could be in an instant.

  I like my women awake when they feel my prick sliding in.

  Tyler didn’t know if that meant Nate had already had her once, or he hadn’t touched her yet. The fire of his fury was going to scorch those bastards. As he raised his pistols to fire, a moan escaped from the prone form. He froze in place like a part of the landscape. She was alive.

  “Didja hear that, Rusty?”

  “Yeah. Was it her?”

  “I think so. Go see if she’s awake.”

  “Now, how’m I supposed to tell that in the dark?”

  “If’n you’re that stupid, I ain’t gonna tell you how.”

  One of them rose and approached Nicky’s inert body.

  ———

  Nicky had come into consciousness slowly, unsuccessfully stifling her moan of pain. She heard Nate and Rusty talking, but couldn’t make out the words. When she heard boot heels crunching the dry leaves and twigs, she decided to stay unconscious. Since she was still dressed, they obviously hadn’t decided to rape her while she was out. Thank God for that small reprieve. A finger poked her in the shoulder.

  “Jesse?” He paused. “I don’t think she’s awake yet, Nate.”

  “Give her a wallop. That oughta wake her up. I need to dip my wick in that one.”

  “Okay.”

  Nicky braced herself for a fist, but none came. She heard a grunt, then felt a gust of air blow past her. A gentle touch caressed her cheek.

  “Hang on, magpie,” Tyler’s warm voice whispered in her ear.

  Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice as tears once again pricked her lids. Thank God! She never thought she’d be glad to see Tyler Calhoun. She opened one eye and saw Rusty lying in front of her. She wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive.

  “Rusty, what the hell are you doing over there? If’n you’re humpin’ her, I’ll beat you into next week.”

  As Nate’s footsteps came closer, Nicky held her breath.

  “No one takes what’s mine.” Tyler’s voice was cold as ice. He stood beside Nicky, legs spread wide, hands resting lightly on his pistols. His eyes blazed, a veritable avenging angel.

  Nate’s eyes widened at the appearance of the bounty hunter. He went for his gun, but Tyler had already cleared leather and fired in a blur of movement.

  “Ya shot my hand, ya son of a bitch.” He squealed as he stumbled backward and the gun dropped to the ground. “Goddammit, she ain’t that good of a lay, mister.”

  Tyler calmly shot him in the foot. Nate screamed like a stuck pig as he fell to the ground in a moaning, screeching heap. Tyler scooped up the other man’s gun with one swipe of his big hand.

  As he stuffed the pistol beneath his belt, Tyler turned back to Nicky. He helped her to sit up, and unlocked the shackles.

  “You came for me.”

  “No one takes what’s mine.” Before she could react, he grasped her face with his big hands, lowered his head and kissed her breathless. When he pulled away from her lips, she was shaking.

  Nicky was not afraid of Tyler’s arousal, as she had been of Nate’s. She tried to read his eyes in the moonlight, but they looked as dark and mysterious as a deep well. Nicky rose on shaky legs, and approached Nate. She kicked his wounded foot, and then spit on him when he howled in agony.

  “That’s for me, you bastard.”

  As she walked back to Tyler, she saw him raise his pistol at her with deadly speed. Speechless, she could only stare with her mouth unhinged. How could he kiss her senseless one minute, then hold a gun on her the next?

  It seemed like the world had become as small as a moment. The glint of steel heading toward her was the only warning she had before Tyler jumped in front of her at the last possible second.

  She yelped as she hit the ground yet again, this time with Tyler’s big body on top of her. When she caught her breath, she started to yell at him. “Tyler, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Then she saw a knife protruding from his arm. “Nate, you bastard!”

  Tyler pulled his bandanna out of his pocket, then calmly removed the knife from his arm. As the blood flowed freely from the wound, he tied a tight tourniquet with his right hand and his teeth. He wiped the blood off the knife on the wet grass, then tucked it into his boot. He knocked Nate unconscious with one blow of his fist.

  “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit,” he growled, then he slapped Nate and Rusty’s horses’ rumps to get them running into the night.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he returned to her.

  “What about them?”

  “I don’t give a damn about them.”

  Grasping her elbow, he steered her toward their horses, hidden nearby. Although she tried to hide it, she was feeling very weak and disoriented after riding with those two varmints for hours. At least she wasn’t weeping and blubbering, which was a feat in itself.

  Wordlessly, he placed her on her horse without shackling her. As they rode off into the darkness, Nicky’s mind was a tumult of confusion and pain. Tyler had almost looked and acted like he cared for her, and that kiss. Her toes still tingled from it. And although he held Juliet’s reins, he hadn’t shackled her—

  that alone made her want to shout for joy. The man was a complicated puzzle. She couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind.

  ———

  Tyler was trying not to show a reaction to her bruised, bloodied face. He was also fighting the nearly ferocious urge to go back and kill the two cowboys for what they had done. All he could think about was how they had mistreated her. And how much that fact bothered him.

  After riding for what seemed like forever, but was probably no more than an hour, Tyler found an acceptable place to camp for the night. He didn’t want to let her know that his arm was worse than he’d thought. Matter of fact, it was throbbing and hurting like a son of a bitch. He also felt a little lightheaded from the blood loss. He needed doctoring and his little outlaw was the only one available. As he dismounted, he couldn’t hold in a grunt of pain.

  Nicky’s brows knitted together as she looked at him.

  “You look terrible,” she said flatly. “Let me stitch up that wound.”

  Although that was exactly what he wanted, he was still pugnacious enough to glare at her. “You don’t exactly look like you’ve been picking flowers, woman. Your face looks like a punching bag.”

  “It can’t be that bad, but fine, I’ll wash my face so it doesn’t bother you anymore. Do you have anything to stitch your wound with?”

  “Yeah.” He retrieved a small pouch from his saddlebags, and thrust his medical supplies to her.

  “How about some whiskey?”

  He quirked up an eyebrow at her. “Thirsty?”

  “For the wound, Tyler.”

  “No, don’t have any.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to make do with some hot water then.”

  After rinsing the blood from her face with water from her canteen, she gathered twigs and wood for a fire. Tyler was startled to realize that she had the opportunity to escape, but she didn’t. She could have jumped on her mare and left him behind, weak from his wound, but she didn’t. The question was, why not?

  Seemingly unaware that she was throwing away her opportunity to escape from Tyler, she quickly made a fire as she chattered on about anything but Nate and Rusty. He studied her efficient movements with a touch of admiration. She really was a very competent person. And how she handled herself would make any husband proud.

  Husband?

  Tyler was momentarily nonplussed by his wayward thoughts. Where the hell had that come from?

  “Take off your shirt and I’ll mend the tear.”

  “You can do women’s work, too?”

  She pursed her lips in aggravation. “Yes, but I can’t do needlepoint, or make lace doilies, or play the piano. I’ve worked hard all my life trying to
prove myself as good as any man. Are you going to make me feel bad now that I can do some things a woman can do?”

  “Hell, no. Why would I care if you don’t know how to do needlepoint? It’s no business of mine. I was just surprised you knew how to sew.”

  “I’ve been on my own for more than three years. There wasn’t anybody to sew or cook for me, so I had to learn.” Her gaze focused over his shoulder. “My mother tried, but she just couldn’t make me into a lady.”

  “Ladies are overrated. I’ll take my woman over a lady any day.”

  My woman?

  Tyler could have bitten his tongue off for that remark. Where did he get the notion she was his woman? He broke his gaze away from her and frowned as he tried to unbutton his shirt. His left hand seemed to be inordinately clumsy.

  She finally brushed his hands away and finished unbuttoning the shirt, then helped him slip it off. He thought Nicky must have nerves of steel, and the beauty to go with it. She was sitting with a half-dressed, very randy bounty hunter in the middle of nowhere, looking finer and more enticing than any woman Tyler had ever known. If she guessed what he really wanted to do with her, she probably would go screaming into the night.

  Nicky washed his wound with the hot water she’d heated over the fire. Without a hint of discomfort or squeamishness, she held the flesh together as she stitched the wound closed with neat, even stitches. Then she wrapped his arm with a strip of cloth from one of his old shirts, as he had done for her feet, which seemed so long ago.

  “You’ve done this before.” It wasn’t a question.

  “My mama was a nurse in the war.”

  “Which side?”

  “Does it matter?” Her gaze leveled with his.

  “No, I guess not. Too many people lost in the end.”

  “She taught me everything she knows. It was the one thing I actually learned well from her. It’s come in handy more than once.”

  She finished wrapping the makeshift bandage around his arm. “There you go, Calhoun. Good as new. Are you feeling dizzy or woozy?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I didn’t think you’d lost too much blood. I’ll bet it hurts like hell though.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”