Kain ignored her. "You can handle the mules, can't you, Henry?"

"Yes, sir."

"I tell you he isn't going!"

"No, Mr. DeBolt," Ellie said worriedly. "Henry . . . has never shot a gun."

Kain looked from one woman to the other and then to Henry. Henry hung his head and looked away. Kain muttered something under his breath that sounded like a string of curses.

John spoke, breaking the awkward silence. "Young feller, I'd be obliged to go with ya."

"I was counting on you staying in camp and looking after the women, Mr. Wisner. I was also counting on Henry to bring the mules back if I got pinned down."

"Mary Ben can shoot a rifle good as any man I ever did see. With Mary Ben they be as well off as if it was me here."

"I want to go, Vanessa. I want to help." Henry was shaking her arm to get her attention.

"Henry! It will be dangerous."

"Saddle the horse, Henry," Kain said quietly and waited until he walked out into the darkness. Then he spoke to Ellie. "John will go with me, and Henry can bring back the mules. He'll be all right. I left my horse back in the trees. I'll get him."

"Who does he think he is?" Vanessa sputtered after Kain left. "He just comes waltzing in here and takes over."

"Ma'am," John had turned away, but came back. "I been all up 'n down the cattle trails from the gulf to Kansas, 'n I seen men aplenty. This one knows what he's about. Them's three bad fellers we come up against. We be mighty lucky DeBolt came along."

"He's right." Ellie rolled and unrolled her hands in her ap.r.o.n. "Oh, I wish we'd never come to this G.o.dforsaken land."

"If Henry goes, I go," Vanessa announced stubbornly before stalking off in the darkness.

She was mounted behind Henry with the shotgun in her hand when Kain rode into camp. He eyed them for a long moment, as if that was what he expected. John spoke to Mary Ben, picked up a big buffalo gun, checked the load, and climbed up on one of his horses. He rode Indian fashion with only a blanket between him and the horse as if he'd been doing it all his life.

"Does she know how to use a gun?" Kain nodded toward Mary Ben. "And would she use it if she needed to?"

"You can bet yore life on it." John rode to the far side of the camp and let loose a stream of tobacco juice before he spoke again. "Ma'am, ya'll be all right with Mary Ben. She'll do what's got to be did. She been down the trail 'n cross the creek."

Kain's eyes sent a silent message to Vanessa that she interpreted to mean, "He'd much rather have Mary Ben along than Vanessa." She tilted her chin defiantly and glared at him.

"Come on. Let's get at them before they know this is all they're up against." Kain led off and John followed with Henry and Vanessa bringing up the rear.

Vanessa, snug against Henry's back, could feel his excitement. She wondered why in the world Aunt Ellie had permitted him to go. Henry was her whole world. If anything should happen to him it would kill her aunt. It would kill her, too, she thought and hugged him close.

"You be careful, hear?" she whispered.

He didn't answer because Kain had stopped his horse and they had moved up beside him.

"The camp is just ahead, Henry. John and I will ride in. You stay back until I tell you to get the mules. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you stay out of sight," he said to Vanessa.

Fifty yards from the camp he held up his hand and Henry halted the horse. He pointed his finger. Henry slid off the horse and went silently through the brush to the spot where the mules were tied to a line strung between two trees. Kain and John walked their horses to the edge of the camp. Light streaked the eastern sky. Birds chirped noisily and fluttered in the willows that grew beside the river. The horses and mules, not used to being together, added to the noise by stamping and blowing gusts of breath through quivering lips.

The men by the fire didn't hear anyone approach until a horse whinnied a greeting. They looked up, and the heavyset man jumped so quickly to his feet that he dropped his coffee cup in the fire. There was a short hissing sound when the liquid hit the flames, and then quiet. They stood waiting, their eyes going from the man on the sorrel to the old man riding bareback.

"Our mules got loose in the night. I reckon you caught them and are holding them for us," Kain said. "We're much obliged. We'll take them off your hands."

"Ya will, huh?" The fat man wiped his greasy hands on his shirt and looked nervously at the thin, dark man in the black vest. "Wal, now, I'm athinkin' we ort a study on that a bit. Finders is keepers is what I hear. Ain't that right, Ta.s.s?" The thin, dark man stood stone still, his coal black, unblinking eyes on Kain's face. The light-haired kid grinned, showing missing teeth. Kain knew exactly what the kid was thinking: they'd be easy pickings because there were only two of them against three.

Although the fat man was doing the talking, Kain knew instinctively the breed was the one to watch. He wore his gun tied down and his right hand was ready. He had that still look about him that spelled trouble.

"The mules belong to the folks back there. We're taking them back."

"Are you?" The dark man spoke for the first time. His face was tight and his lips barely moved. "We've got the number on you. That means we keep the mules till the woman comes to get 'em."

"She's here." Vanessa spoke from somewhere behind Kain. "Now it's three on three."

An oath sprang to Kain's mind that he dared not voice. The d.a.m.n fool girl would mess around and get them killed. He shoved his anger to the back of his mind. He couldn't allow it to tighten him up.

"No," Kain said, choosing his words carefully and looking squarely into the dark eyes of the man who stood tensely, as if coiled to spring. "It's just you and me."

Ta.s.s' thin lips tightened, honing his already sharp features. He had not expected that. There was quick calculation in his eyes. The stranger was mounted, he was on the ground. But there was the old man with the buffalo gun.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we take the mules and ride out. It means if you make a move to stop us, I'll kill you."

The breed was bothered by Kain's confidence but was still sure enough of himself to stand his ground. Kain waited to see how long it took for the man's sand to run out. The more bothered he was the better Kain's chances. The breed was a killer. Kain had seen his kind before; quiet like a snake, but when he struck he meant to kill. How many men had he shot in the back, and how many men had he killed face-to-face?

"Vanessa, you and Henry get the mules."

Kain heard her turn her horse. The breed's ink-black eyes darted from him to the girl and back. His nostrils flared, but otherwise he didn't move a muscle.

"Like h.e.l.l," the fat man yelled suddenly.

Vanessa's horse jumped nervously and squealed when she drew up on the reins. The fat man thought this was his chance; his hand swept down. It was the last thought he would ever have. The buffalo gun boomed. The force of the shot flung him back like a rag doll, and when he landed there was scarcely anything left of his head.

Kain's gun was out and covering the other two, who stood in flat-footed astonishment, caught that way, unmoving, not wanting to move. The gruesome sight of their companion's headless torso had taken the fight out of the young one. The skin on his face had turned a pasty yellow.

"Get out of here," Kain snarled at Vanessa and she went.

John calmly rammed another charge in the buffalo gun, then c.o.c.ked it and pointed it at the men.

"I'm aready," he said calmly. "Ya want that I blow 'em to h.e.l.l, too?"

"It's up to them," Kain said matter-of-factly. "If they don't shuck the guns by the time I count to three, go ahead."

"I ain't sure I know past one," John said innocently.

The men unbuckled their gun belts and let them fall to the ground. The kid seemed to notice for the first time the splatters of the fat man's blood on his pants. He gagged repeatedly, then bent over and vomited. The dark man seemed unmoved by the grisly sight and kept his eyes on Kain's face.

"Keep them covered, John, while I collect the guns." Kain got down out of the saddle, picked up the gun belts and the gun the fat man had dropped. He collected three rifles and bashed them against a tree until the barrels were bent. "You birds will be busy for a while burying your friend, so you won't need your horses. We'll borrow them for a spell." He walked over and cut the horses loose from the line. "Unless you want to join your fat friend, keep a distance between yourselves and those wagons."

Kain mounted and drove the horses out of the camp ahead of him. John followed slowly, watching the men over his shoulder.

Primer Ta.s.s watched the old wolf with the buffalo gun ride out and congratulated himself on his self-restraint. Unlike the stupid, fat Dutchman, he would live to even the score with the gringos. They would wish they were dead a hundred times before he was through with them. The kid and the Dutchman had both wanted the girl who rode with the old man. He'd have the s.p.u.n.ky woman! She was just what he'd always looked for and had known he would find some day. She was fresh and spirited and would fill his days and his nights with excitement.

All his life Ta.s.s had taken leavings; leftover clothes, leftover food, leftover, used-up women. His own mother, part Comanche and part Mexican, had been used up by his father, an old white son of a b.i.t.c.h, by the time Ta.s.s was old enough to know who he was. But he had fixed the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d with a knife in his throat when he'd tried to use him after his mother died. This time it would be different. Someone would get his leavings.

Ta.s.s had thought of nothing but the woman since he had seen her. He thought of the way she had warmed him the day before when she sat on her horse and looked just at him, and the way she'd sa.s.sed him back. She reminded him of a little wildcat, and he was sure she'd fight like one. He would watch and wait, and when the time was right, he would take her and head for the wild, desolate country in Mexico. On the way he would break her like he would a wild mountain pony. Just thinking about it excited him. He'd tame her with his quirt and fists until she lay naked and willing beneath him, legs and mouth open to welcome him. He would teach her what he wanted her to do, then he'd devour her day and night until he got his fill.

His mind told him to stop thinking about her. Soon, and for as long as he wanted her, the woman would be his. He was in no hurry. It was a long way to Denver or Santa Fe or wherever the woman was going. He would follow slowly, take his revenge on the gringos, then take her.

Chapter Four.

Ellie and Mary Ben were waiting at the edge of the camp when Vanessa and Henry rode in with the mules. Mary Ben, shading her eyes with her hand, looked behind them toward the river.

"Mr. Wisner's all right, Mary Ben."

"And Mr. DeBolt?" Ellie asked.

"He's all right, too, Aunt Ellie. Mr. Wisner killed one of them," Vanessa blurted, still shocked by the sudden violence.

"Killed one? Oh my goodness!"

"Let's get hitched up, Henry." Vanessa feigned composure, for she did not want her aunt and cousin to see how unnerved she was. She had seen death many times in her life and had come to accept it for the old, the sick and the injured. But never had she seen such sudden violent death as she had just witnessed.

They were ready to leave camp when John Wisner rode in. He went to his wagon and handed the gun up to Mary Ben, then slid from the horse and hitched him alongside the other horse Mary Ben had backed into the traces. He didn't offer an explanation for Kain's absence and Vanessa didn't ask. When he climbed up on the seat, Vanessa set the team in motion and moved out onto the trail.

The horizon ahead seemed to melt into the sky. Nothing moved except the long gra.s.s bending in silver ripples before the wind. Vanessa's eye swept the country. It was vast, empty and still. They were deep in the prairie, which was broken only by the river to the south of them. It was quiet there. Quiet beyond anything she had imagined.

They were at least three miles from the camp before Ellie brought up the subject of Kain DeBolt. "I wonder where he is?"

"Who?" But Vanessa knew who she meant.

"Mr. DeBolt."

"He drove off their horses, Ma." Henry rode beside the wagon on the saddle horse. "He just went in there and told them we were taking the mules. He told me what to do, Ma, and I did it." There was pride in his voice. "I like him. I hope he comes back. You don't care if I like him, do you, Van? He got our mules back."

"Of course not. You've got the right to like whoever you want to."

"I hope he comes back, too. I'm afraid now. I just never imagined it would be like this." Ellie's eyes swept the wide horizon ahead and on each side of them. "Just look at all that s.p.a.ce, and we're right in the middle! Anything could happen to us out here and there's n.o.body to help."

"We've got Mr. Wisner and Mary Ben. And you've got me." It bewildered Henry to see his mother so worried.

"Yes. I've got you and Vanessa. The two of you are my life, and I'm so afraid for you."

They had been on the trail about an hour when they met a group of hors.e.m.e.n headed for Dodge City. Ellie drew in a frightened breath as they approached and gripped the side of the wagon seat. Vanessa placed the shotgun across her lap and watched them carefully. The men eyed the women curiously, tipped their hats and rode on. Ellie kept looking back as if she expected them to turn and follow. Just before they reached the Cimarron cutoff, they met a wagon filled with hides. The driver s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat from his head when he saw Ellie and pulled his team to the side of the trail so they could pa.s.s.

There was no sign of Kain DeBolt.

At noon they stopped to eat, watered the teams and let them graze for an hour, then hitched up and went on. Four hors.e.m.e.n overtook them in the middle of the afternoon. They swung wide of the wagons. Vanessa thought one of them could have been the young bully she had hit with the shovel back in Dodge City. They were dirty, tough looking men. She was relieved when they went on ahead and soon became a dancing speck on the horizon.

By evening Vanessa was sure it had been the most miserable day they'd spent since leaving Springfield. Most of the time Henry had ridden beside the Wisner wagon. He was enjoying the novelty of having someone new to visit with. Ellie, awash in guilt for being instrumental in bringing Vanessa and Henry into this lawless country, was wrapped in her own thoughts. Vanessa realized how close to death they had all been this morning and wondered if they should turn back or keep going.

Kain DeBolt had been in and out of her thoughts all day. They had exchanged only a few words, yet his face stayed in her thoughts with the memory of his voice. No man had ever disturbed her like that before, and she was irritated by it, fighting the feeling. She understood herself very well, and she was perfectly aware that something had happened that day in Dodge City when she had looked at him. Just what it was she didn't know, but a connection had been forged between them. Even now, just thinking about it, she was conscious of a strange sensation tingling along her nerves. He had made no effort that day to mask the look of interest in his eyes. It was the look a man gave to a woman he wanted. She had seen that look in the eyes of men before but it had never affected her like the look Kain had given her.

He was different, the kind of man who in the proper clothing would fit in anywhere. There was something that went beyond the handsome darkness of his face, his tawny eyes, his lean strength or the hard, strong maleness of him. The scar across his cheekbone only added to the mystique that surrounded him. He was a doing man, as they said back in Missouri. He had taken an enormous personal risk to get their mules back for them. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to thank him.

Kain drove the horses a good five miles back down the trail, then stung each one of them on the rump with the whip and sent them galloping off in different directions. He was sure of one thing: it would be many days before the breed and the kid rode those horses.

He was sick. He sagged in the saddle and closed his eyes against the agonizing, gut wrenching pains turning his stomach inside out. The pain hadn't bothered him much, except for a little gnawing now and then, since he'd left Dodge City, and he had come to believe that whatever had ailed him had pa.s.sed. Early that morning he had eaten a can of peaches, not wanting to take the time to cook breakfast. The d.a.m.n peaches could have been tainted, he thought. They sure were not sitting right in his stomach.

He turned his horse to the river and at the end of an animal path he found a maze of boulders and a dense outgrowth of brush. He got off his horse and sat down on a boulder and waited until the pain let up a bit. The warm sun felt good on his back. He sat there, hunched over, and wondered if Vanessa realized she had come to within an inch of getting him killed. His anger at her disregard for his orders had been eating at him all morning. If he had batted an eyelash, the breed would have drawn on him, with the advantage of being on his feet. John Wisner was a trail-wise old wolf, Kain thought. He had known instinctively that John would watch the other two when it seemed the fight would come down to Kain and the breed. Vanessa had set the play in motion and the fat man's luck ran out.

Thoughts of Vanessa were suddenly driven from his mind as his stomach convulsed again. Kain had never had a serious illness in his life and had always been able to rely on his strength. He was not accustomed to a feeling of weakness and he could do without it now. He had a long way to travel. The pain twisting his vitals caused the sweat to roll from his face and saliva to flood his mouth. He sat very still, breathing hoa.r.s.ely, fighting the sickness in his stomach.

A jolting pain seized him and doubled him up. He fell to his knees and retched violently. Frightened by the terrible pain, he stayed there, his head hanging, not caring that moans were coming from his lips. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he saw blood mingled with his vomit.

Fear of a different kind seeped into his mind. He remembered the Arizona town where he had been a deputy, and the sheriff who had a cancer in his stomach. He had suffered terribly and vomited blood. Kain broke out in a cold sweat. Christ almighty! Would it be his fate to die a little bit each day, screaming his life away in agony as that man had done? He was frightened nowa"more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. The last thing he wanted was a long, painful death out here where no one knew him or cared.

Kain sat quietly for a long while, and the gnawing in his stomach lessened to just an uncomfortable feeling. He thought of the doctor in Kansas City who had examined him, left him waiting for fifteen minutes, then invited him into his brand-new office to tell him he had worms and sell him a bottle of worm medicine. Maybe he knew that he had a cancer and just didn't have the nerve to tell him. No, he thought, it was more than likely the young doctor hadn't known what ailed him, but thought he had to tell him something in order to collect his fee.

He considered going back East to see another doctor but then thought of the sheriff who had wasted his strength traveling to see every doctor within five hundred miles. Some of the doctors had told him his stomach trouble was caused by drinking alkaline water and a few said that someone was poisoning him. One even said that his kidneys were leaking into his intestines and sold him ten bottles of kidney medicine. Finally, an army doctor told him he had cancer which was eating a hole through his stomach and that there was nothing he or any other doctor could do for him. He was going to die.

Hours pa.s.sed and Kain became partly reconciled to what was happening to him. He knew with certainty that he would not put himself through the torture the sheriff had endured by going from doctor to doctor. He remembered, with clarity, everything the sheriff had told him about his illness. The symptoms the sheriff described were exactly the same as his own. He wondered how much time he had. Weeks? Months?

He was reasonably sure there would be time to get to Junction City. He would see Cooper and Griffin and do what had to be done about The House, and the land. One thing was sure: he'd see to it that Della or Clayhill wouldn't get their hands on it.

Della would be glad to know he was no longer rich. The last time he had seen her she had cursed him for not giving her money for a trip to Europe. She said she was going to inherit from Clayhill and would pay him back. He had turned her down because he wanted to sever all ties with his sister. She cared nothing for him. He remembered the pain she had caused their mother from the day she had realized women were different from men. Long ago he had come to the conclusion that Della loved men and what they did to her. She had no scruples, and went about taking what she wanted regardless of whom she hurt in the process.

Kain's thoughts turned to Vanessa. She awakened something in him that no other woman had ever even stirreda"something that left him restless and excited. He remembered the clear, honest way she had looked at him, the graceful movements of her soft body. He liked the proud lift of her chin, liked her blue eyes. There was quality to Vanessa, like a slim and handsome thoroughbred. She was the most feminine woman he'd ever met, yet s.p.u.n.ky beyond all reason. Why had he not met such a woman years ago? Now it was too late.

He wondered about Henry and what there was about him that seemed familiar. It was as if he had seen him before, but he knew that was impossible. He had never been in the Springfield area. The boy could be no more than twenty and was what people would consider simpleminded. He was not a half-wit, Kain was sure. He had at least obeyed orders this morning, which was more than his cousin had done. Mrs. Hill and Vanessa had overprotected him until he hadn't developed to the limits of his abilities. Someone should have taught him how to use the rifle and fight his own battles. No man should suffer the indignity of being beaten to the ground without fighting back.

h.e.l.l, he thought, it had been in the back of his mind since he talked to Mrs. Hill that morning to see them to Denver. His plans had been to turn north at the Big Sandy, bypa.s.sing Denver and going north to Greeley, then over to Junction City. It was a shorter route, dangerous for a white man because he would pa.s.s through the vicinity of Sand Creek where the infamous Colonel Chivington and his troops had slaughtered hundreds of Indians: old men, women and children. But now he would go on to Denver, see a doctor there and get a supply of laudanum to use later on when the pain became unbearable.