Chapter Six -- FANGS OF THE BEAR

Buck Cross didn’t know what town he was in.  Not that it mattered, they were all alike.  After Ike’s death, Buck had wandered the plains looking for answers.  He’d gone to visit his brother but the Kiowa had been as unwelcoming as they’d always been, so he hadn’t stayed long.  Now he found himself drifting from one town to the next, staying wherever he’d be taken and on occasion bedding who would ever sleep with him.  Buck came to realize that this life didn’t appeal to him and it was time to go home.  Back to the only people who had ever accepted him for who he was.  He was going back to Rock Creek.  It was too late to start travelling now.  He’d find a place to sleep tonight and head back in the morning.

As Buck approached the sheriff’s office, he was surprised to see another half-breed exiting the building.  Most of the time they were being taken inside, struggling.  The two locked eyes, briefly.  They regarded each other curiously, then the other breed (a Caddo if Buck guessed correctly) continued on his way.

“That there’s Joe Indian,” the sheriff said, answering Buck’s unasked inquiry.  “Bounty hunter.  Just dropped off the McClure brothers.  Alive.”

Buck continued to stare after Joe.  He didn’t see many other breeds and was curious to know more.

“So how can I help you?”  It was clear by the sheriff’s tone he didn’t want to help Buck, but as sheriff, he was obligated whether he wanted to or not.  Besides the sooner he got this Indian on his way the sooner he’d be out of his town.

“I’m just passing through,” Buck said reassuringly, trying to keep his bitterness out of his voice.  “Is there a hotel that’ll take me?”

The sheriff relaxed slightly, relieved that Buck wasn’t staying long.  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “Try Latimer’s.  He’ll take anybody, provided they can pay up.”

Buck thanked the sheriff coolly and continued about his business. 

Unable to sleep, Buck decided to look around town.  Utilizing his lifetime of tracking skills, Buck stayed out of sight.  He didn’t want to run into a few drunken cowboys spoiling for a fight.  He just wanted to spend the night, and leave as soon as it got light.  So far this town was no different than any other frontier.  All the buildings were darkened except the saloons and brothels, which were very much alive with activity.

Then as he passed by an alley, he saw four men beating on the Caddo bounty hunter.  Joe Indian fought back gamely, but two of the men grabbed his arms and the other two continued to punch and kick him. 

Flashbacks of the abuse he had suffered in the orphanage filled his mind.  The seemingly endless abuse Buck had endured for what he was.  No matter how hard he fought back, it was never enough to make it stop.  Not until someone as different as he was decided to help him.

Buck jumped from the sidewalk onto the two nearest assailants.  The two surprised men stumbled to their feet; Buck delivered a solid right to the first man’s jaw.  The man spun around and struck his head on the wall, then slumped to the ground.  Buck socked the other one in the face.  The man tumbled backwards, then scrambled away clutching his bleeding nose.

Meanwhile, Joe now only had two opponents to deal with.  While one held his arms, Joe kicked the man in front of him in the gut.  As he doubled over, Joe kicked out with both legs catching him in the face.  That one dealt with Joe flipped the one holding him over his shoulder.  Winded, Joe never gave him a chance to catch his breath.  He hit him hard once, and he stopped moving.

Breathing heavily, both Joe and Buck leaned against opposing buildings facing the other.  They regarded each other curiously.  Buck decided to be the first to break the silence.  “Running Buck, Kiowa.”

“Bear Fang,” he replied.  “Caddo.”

The two shook hands.

“Need a drink?”

“I know just the place.”  Bear Fang lead Buck past the crowded, noisy saloons to one that looked practically deserted.  Inside they found a bunch of guys playing poker, two men passed out on the floor and a couple of saloon girls lounging at the end of the bar.  So immersed in their game, none of the players bothered to look up and see who the newcomers were.  The bartender glared at Buck and Bear Fang as they approached the bar, but became accommodating as soon as Bear Fang tossed a few coins onto the counter.  In the lightened bar Buck noticed three claw marks on Bear Fang’s neck and a necklace of teeth. 

When Buck asked about it, Bear Fang said, “I took these from a bear I killed.”  Buck was impressed.  “Don’t be.  The bear was old.  If it had been at least three summers younger, I would not be telling this story.”  He went on to say he had come across the bear while tracking.  It had managed to pin him to the ground, but Bear Fang jabbed his knife into the creature’s neck, all the way to the hilt and sliced it a new smile.  But not before it clawed half his body.

They talked companionably for awhile about their respective trades and backgrounds.  “My mother was a white captive,” Bear Fang said.  “I’m willing to bet she had as much say in conceiving me as much as yours did in conceiving you.”

Buck thought about the circumstances of his birth.  His mother never talked about it, but he was constantly told about it every day of his life.  “How his your mother?”

Bear Fang became wistful.  “She was killed by my father’s wife out of jealousy when I was two.  She couldn’t stand the fact that a white woman had given him something she couldn’t: a son.”

“Do you have any family?”

“I have four sisters who want nothing to do with me.  You?”

Buck told him about Red Bear and his life with the Kiowa; Ike and his life in the orphanage; and finally his life in the Pony Express.  Talking about this showed Buck how much he missed Rock Creek and the companionship of the other riders.  He was glad he decided to go back. 

Later, Bear Fang took one of the girls upstairs and it was clear they wouldn’t be back soon.  Buck finished his drink and prepared to leave.  He was stopped by one of the girls, who asked coyly,  “Wanna teach me this Indian style I’ve heard so much about?”

Buck laughed and was going to politely turn her down but then thought, Why not?  Tomorrow it was back to the Pony Express and its (and Teaspoon’s) rules.  He might as well enjoy himself while he could.
 

Chapter Seven -- MOMENTS

The broth she had left for him remained untouched on the table.  Louise sat down on the bunk and gently traced the rope burns around Kid’s neck with the tips of her fingers.  He’d been asleep all day and she was beginning to wonder if he would ever wake up, despite Nettie’s reassurances.

The station itself was practical deserted.  Noah and Cody had gone into town.  Noah was going to see Cassie Ellis and Cody wouldn’t say where he was going.  Either way there was a good chance they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.  Teaspoon had made it clear he would be sleeping at the office.  Jesse was spending the night at a friend’s house.  And Nettie was with Rachel in her house.  In fact Kid and Lou had the entire bunkhouse to themselves.  It was the type of privacy they dreamed about, to spend just a few quiet moments alone without anyone barging in, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Hey,” said a hoarse voice.  Lou jumped, and looked down to see Kid gazing up at her through half-open eyes.  “Nice,” Kid smiled sleepily and he slipped his first two fingers between her shirt folds, gently massaging the valley between her breasts.

“Kid,” she exclaimed, shocked and instinctively looked toward the door to make sure no one was coming.

She wanted to tell Kid to stop, that he was injured and needed to rest to regain his strength.  But the words died in her throat when he popped open a couple of buttons and slipped his hand in her shirt, cupping her breast.  Lou gasped as he gently pinched her nipple.  Her hand slid down Kid’s torso to find his stiffening rod.  She placed her hand inside his pants and stroked him.  Kid pulled her down and took her nipple into his mouth. 

At first, Lou felt guilty about what she was doing.  Kid was hurt; he’d just been hanged for Christ’s sake.  He should be recuperating.  But the instant she felt his stiffening manhood, only one thing was on her mind.  Careful not to break physical contact, she unbuttoned her pants and freed one leg, then straddled Kid, slowly impaling herself on his cock.  Then she laid down flat on top of Kid and slowly rocked her hips back and forth.

Kid groaned, wrapping his arms around her, lying still, and letting Lou have complete control.  He was after all, an injured man.

Nettie walked up to the bunkhouse with the intention of seeing if there was any change in Kid’s condition.  Looking inside she could see he was doing just fine.  Admittedly she couldn’t see much, all she could really make out was a naked thigh with a pair of pants hanging off a booted ankle, but she remembered what it looked like even if she couldn’t remember what it felt like.  So she closed the door softly, sat down in a chair and kept watch to make sure nobody interrupted the love birds private time.

Meanwhile in Paradise, Montana Territory…

Evan Cord sat down heavily on a bale of hay to get some much-needed rest.  Cord was a ruggedly handsome man with a patch over his left eye that gave him a distinctively dangerous look.  Writers would say that he lost it in a gunfight, barroom brawl or a knife fight.  In reality he’d lost it in a riding accident.  While looking for some runaway cows, his horse stepped in a gopher hole.  He’d managed to find the only sharp rock in the field and embed it in his eye. 

The day’s chores were finally done and he could smell Clara’s cooking drifting from the house.  She looked so much like her mother it wasn’t funny.  At least she looked like her mother the way he remembered her.  Evan hadn’t seen his sister in twenty years.  He didn’t even know she’d had any children until the day they came to live with him.

Being a family changed you in ways you never thought you could be changed.  He’d had to give up his life as a wandering hired gun and become a rancher, while getting to know his niece and nephews.  Clara had been forced to take on the mothering role being the only woman in the house.  It was a role she handled ably if not confidently.  Tom, the oldest boy, was at the age where he was trying to prove he was a man and most likely resented being packed off into the care of a transient uncle he didn’t even know.  Ben was a good kid that suffered from a stutter he was desperately trying to overcome.  George, the youngest in every way, could usually be found under someone’s feet.

“Uncle Evan,” Clara called.  “Supper’s ready.”

“Be right there,” he called back and pulled himself to his feet.

Suddenly old instincts kicked in.  Somebody was in the barn.  More accurately, somebody was behind him.  Cord whirled around in time to see a glint of metal in the dark.  It was the last thing he ever saw.  The dagger pierced Cord’s remaining good eye and entered his brain.  Cord stood as if momentarily stunned, then toppled backwards like a tree.

A slinky, graceful figure glided out of the darkness.  The dagger and eye-patch were taken and the figure vanished.
 

Chapter Eight  -- DEVIL FOR A SHADOW

Jimmy could see Rock Creek on the horizon.  He still didn’t know how he was going to explain why he was riding with Coulter.  The man had tried to collect a bounty on him for a crime he didn’t commit and tried to steal his prisoner.  In fact he probably had good cause to shoot Coulter if he wanted too.

When they reached the station, it looked deserted.  Jimmy told Coulter to wait outside while he went into the bunkhouse to get more ammunition.  He entered the bunkhouse passing what he thought was a sleeping Teaspoon, to find all the bunks empty.  Well, almost all of them.

When Jimmy had opened the door, sunlight poured in smacking Lou in the face.  “Get out and shut the damn door!”

“Mornin’ Lou,” Jimmy said nonchalantly, as if finding Lou in Kid’s bunk was an everyday occurrence.  “Looks like you had a busy night.”

Covering herself up as much as possible, Lou snarled, “Fuck you, Hickok.”

“I’d say you’re pretty much fucked out,” Jimmy said in a low voice.

But not low enough.  Lou picked up a nearby boot and hurled it at Jimmy.  The makeshift projectile caught Jimmy in the forehead.  Jimmy howled in pain and let loose a string of curses.

Awakened by the ruckus, Nettie burst inside.  “What the heck do you think you’re doing?  Give the lady some privacy so she can make herself decent, wouldya?”  She grabbed Jimmy by the ear like he was six years old and threw him outside.  Jake laughed big and loud, enjoying Hickok’s misfortune immensely.

At that moment Teaspoon and Judge Blood rode into the station, the judge griping about how much he hated riding horses.  Teaspoon was about to demand what in the name of Colonel William B. Travis was going on, then saw Kid and Lou’s appearance.  Lou’s shirt was done up wrong and Kid’s shirt was not buttoned at all.  Given the blushing, guilty looks on their faces, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d been up to.

“What ’ve I told you two about starting fires in the bunkhouse?”

Nettie snorted.  “I seem to recall somebody sneaking a coupla a whores into the ranger barracks, when he was suppose to be on duty, watching for Commanches.”

Judge Blood guffawed, then added, “Or how about that squaw - ”

“Alright, alright, ALRIGHT!” Teaspoon thundered.  His face had gone beet red and some would swear they could see steam shooting out of his ears.  “You two get yourselves straightened up and then I want to see all of you in the house.”  Without another word, Teaspoon stormed into Rachel’s house, passing the bemused station mistress.

Judge Blood got off his horse and walked up to Nettie.  “Nettie Spanner.  How ’ve you been?”

“Fine,” she replied, gripping his outstretched hand as firmly as any man.  “And its Whitefield now.”

“Whitefield,” Blood said, trying to place the name.  Then he broke into a grin.  “So old Ned Whitefield finally convinced you to marry him, did he?”

Nettie shrugged.  “He’d been after me for close to twenty years, figured this would be the only way to quit his nagging.  Besides, he wasn’t doing so well near the end.  Might as well do my good deed for the decade and grant his last request.”

Micah laughed.  “And here I thought you’d up and married Hunter.”

“Nope.  Made that mistake ten years ago.  There’s three months of my life I’ll never get back.”

Rachel had come out to see what all the noise was about and came face-to-face with somebody she’d hoped she’d never see again.  Jake saw Rachel and thought that maybe his stay wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The killer’s base was an abandoned mining camp.  The original owners had apparently been murdered by the crooked henchman of some greedy banker a year ago, or something like that.

Jinx and Blink were waiting patiently to see their employer.  He was in a windowless hut because the tinkling sound of a music box could be heard from within.  Although they could simply walk up and knock on the door, they dare not.  Their employer had made it adamantly clear that no one was to come near his dwelling.  One of their colleagues had made the mistake of knocking without an invitation and had been killed for his breach of protocol.  But not before his hand was cut off.

Jinx and Blink talked companionably about the weather, politics and their next assignment.  Although this facing your intended victim was vastly more interesting than shooting him in the back of the head from the top of an opposing building or in a dark alley, they were ready to try something new.  But they were hardly in a position to refuse another job.  They were under contract after all.

Jinx was the first to notice a familiar horse and buggy approaching from the horizon.  Johnny jumped to his feet and quickly tried to make himself presentable.  Seeing Blink had not removed his hat, he slapped it off his head.  As Blink fumbled to catch his hat, Jinx stepped forward to greet the newcomer: Miss Dinah Mighty.

“Miss Mighty,” Johnny Jinx said courteously.  “As always a pleasure and a privilege to see you again.  Your mere presence fills me with joy.”

Dinah’s cheeks turned pink with pleasure.  “Thank you Mr. Blink.  And it is good to see you again, as well.”

“I say,” Blink spluttered.  “Is that Cat Morgan’s horse?  I’d love to hear how you managed that.”  But then he caught a look from Jinx and realized now would be a good time to bow out.  “Well, um, I’ll just, uh, go over there then, shall I?”

“Quite, Mr. Blink.”

“Indeed, Mr. Jinx.”  Blink found something interesting to look at while Dinah and Jinx continued catching up.

Bobcat Bane and Bliss arrived a short while later, but Blink had nothing to do with either of them.  Bane was an animal.  He never bathed or brushed his hair.  There was food, drool and God knows what else in his beard.  It was difficult to tell if Bane had ever heard of soap.  As for Bliss, well, they had names for women like her, but he couldn’t possibly bring himself to say them.  Instead, Bertie Blink passed the time quietly reading True Tales of the West.  It was trash, but at least it wasn’t boring.

Everybody all of a sudden went quiet.  The music had stopped.  They all looked at the hut and could hear heavy, shuffling footsteps getting louder and louder.  The footfalls stopped for a moment then the door slowly swung open and out stepped a terrifying figure, their employer: the menacing Macabre.

Towering at 6’ 6” and clad all in black.  The only dash of colour was an expressionless white porcelain mask.  He gazed at them under his wide-brimmed hat.  One eye was simply painted on the mask, but the other was very real.  It was alert and darted to each and every one of them.  He walked with a faint limp, favouring his left side.  What injuries he must be nursing underneath all that garb nobody knew, or cared to find out.

Macabre walked up to each of the assassins and studied them closely with his one good eye, as if trying to confirm their identities.  While he studied them, they could hear his slow, laborious breathing.  It was like every breath he took needed considerable effort, further enforcing their desire not to know what lay behind that mask.

When Macabre had finished his inspection, he demanded, “Where are Dart and War Dog?”

That voice made everybody cringe.  It sounded like wind blowing through brittle, rusted metal. It was a long moment before anyone answered.

“I believe,” Jinx offered, tentatively.  “Miss Dart is finishing the Cord contract.”

“And I’m certain,” Blink put in.  “That War Dog is still stalking Joe Indian.”

Macabre sighed.  War Dog was a good man and even better at what he did.  But he enjoyed the hunt too much for Macabre’s liking.  War Dog tended to take longer than what he felt was necessary on a kill.  And Dart?  It wasn’t her fault she was taking so long.  Because the Hangman botched the Blassingame job, she had to deviate from her present assignment and finish the other one.

Macabre asked for the trophies.  After they handed over the keepsakes, he congratulated all of them and returned to his hut, leaving them to their own devices.  This was nothing new and they were all grateful for it.

Macabre put away the keepsakes in their special places, then cranked up the music box and sank into his comfortable chair.  Listening to the music, he contemplated his next move.  He’d learned the Kid (the one responsible for the death of a good man and a once fine sheriff) had survived his hanging.  Not only that, but Hangman Smith had been caught.  So it was only a matter of time before the fool told the authorities about this place.  Fortunately Smith was lousy with directions so it would be a while before this place was discovered.

There was also Judge Blood to consider.  A dogged investigator, yes, but he was no frontiersman so he would have to find help.  Macabre had not wanted to kill Blood’s son-in-law.  On the whole of it, Nichols had the making of a fine lawman.  But the way he fraternized with scum like Coulter … well he’d had it coming.

Bounty hunters were no better than the criminals were.  Chasing some poor soul across the country and gunning him down when he tried to defend himself.  Then dragging his carcass into the nearest town looking for a reward for murder, without even checking to make sure then got the right man.  Not caring whose lives they ruined in the process.  But he would make each of them pay.  Every … last … one.
 

Chapter Nine -- WINGS OF SORROW

Nobody cared about a dead Indian.  Especially a half-breed.  In fact the sooner they were all dead, the better off everybody would be, most folks thought.  What they did care about was dead bodies littering their town, or in this case, just the outskirts.  The sheriff was reluctant to get involved; claiming it was outside his jurisdiction.  But something had to be done, as anybody entering or leaving town could see it.  In the end Buck volunteered to take care of it.

Bear Fang, alias Joe Indian, or what was left of him had been scalped and systematically mutilated.  He had been castrated and his eyes, tongue and heart had been cut out.  Buck knew instantly no white man had done this.  Although white men were known to mutilate the bodies of dead Indians, they never did it with this level of care and precision.  That and Buck could find no tracks of any kind, so whoever had done this knew what he was doing.  Someone had gone to great lengths to make sure Bear Fang would be suitably crippled in the after life.

Buck had no clue who could have done this or why.  There were no enemies of the Caddo here unless, of course, it was someone who just didn’t like half-breeds.  Either way it didn’t really matter now.  Buck gathered the remains and placed them on a funeral pyre.  Buck sang the song of death, wishing Bear Fang’s spirit safe journey, praying he found some sort of peace.

When the fire died and Bear Fang’s ashes were scattered into the wind, Buck realized now more than ever, he needed to go home.

The woman know as Dart was a second-generation mulatto girl.  That meant that both her father and grandfather had been white.  Hell, for all she knew they could’ve been one in the same.  Not that she really cared.  All she knew for sure was that at one time a plantation owner took a shine to one of his slaves and after he had his fun, he tossed her away leaving her with child.  This was pretty much her family history.  The same had almost happened to her, but she had killed her attacker.

As it was unlikely the killing would be seen as self-defense, she ran away.  After running away from the closest thing to a home she knew she took up stealing to survive.  Caught, her intended victim was amused by the audacity of this brash mixed blood.  Instead of turning her over to the police and an eventual hanging for murder and running away from the plantation, the gentleman taught her a trade.

It turned out he was a member of the Order of the Silver Spider, a league of assassins, trackers, expensive bounty hunters and special bodyguards.  Her teacher had taught her everything she knew and more.  She proved to be particularly adept with knives which his how she got the name Dart.  She did so well she exceeded her teacher, who announced his retirement after watching her in action.  She had been a member in good standing ever since.

Dart was a slim, graceful woman and even the most bigoted white man in Alabama would have to admit she was beautiful.  Her Caucasian features with her light coffee coloured skin only added to her exotic good looks.  The costume she chose to express herself in left little to the imagination.  Leather pants showed off her lean dancer-like legs.  She also wore a leather corset on the outside of her black blouse.  Hidden inside the seams of her corset were several throwing daggers that she used in her work.

What was out of place on her outfit, though, was the old worn hat she was wearing and the fancy gun belt she had slung over her shoulder.  These weren’t hers, however, they were momentos from previous assignments.  Approaching camp, she was accosted by Bobcat Banes.  Without even batting an eyelash, she laid him out with two well-placed knees.

When she was gone Bobcat, heard a soft chuckling coming from overhead.  He looked up to see War Dog lying leisurely on a tree branch, smiling as he cut himself another strip of meat from some poor animal he’d caught.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bobcat demanded, slowly getting to his feet, clutching his injuries.

War Dog wasn’t intimidated at all by Bobcat’s bluster.  “You’d best be wary around that one, He Who Stinks Like Rotting.  One day she will skin you and I hope I’m there to watch.”

As he was speaking in Apache, Banes didn’t understand a word War Dog had just said.

Back at camp, Dart surveyed her colleagues.  Bobcat Banes and War Dog were muscle, nothing special or interesting.  Men like them were a dime a dozen.  Bliss was a thrill killer and couldn’t be relied on in a pitched battle.  She would be so caught up in the rapture of the slaughter she jeopardize any plans in effect.  Dinah Mighty, despite her professionalism, was far too timid for this line of work in Dart’s opinion.  Mr. Jinx and Mr. Blink unnerved her.  They were charter members of the order and had racked up almost as many kills as she did.  The way they could dispassionately kill someone as easily as discussing the weather was something to be admired and wary of.  Dart had to admit she had a soft spot for the bloated Bertie Blink.  Mainly because (with the exception of Johnny Jinx who was hopelessly smitten with Dinah) Blink hadn’t made any lewd propositions towards her.

Entering camp, War Dog walked right up to Macabre’s hut and went in without so much as a knock.  War Dog was the only one who could get away with that.  Rumor had it they had been together since the beginning.  Exactly what the strange connection was between them, nobody knew and frankly, Dart didn’t care.  She was here to fulfill a contract, not learn her employer’s secrets.  Hopefully with these keepsakes, it would be complete.  She had several other contracts to complete.  Scorpio and the Triumvirate were not ones to trifle with.

Macabre lurched out of his hole, entwining a necklace of bear teeth around his fingertips.  He patted War Dog on the shoulder in a “good job m’boy” fashion.  Then Dart caught his attention and he beckoned her to him.  She handed over the keepsakes and Macabre examined each of them closely.  The engraved S on the handle clearly indicated that these were the Sonnet guns.  Blassingame’s hat reflected his personality, rough, tough and tired.  And he didn’t have to guess where the patch had come from.

“You’ve been busy.”

Dart simply shrugged.  It was undignified for a professional to crow about their accomplishments.  She’d been hired to do a job and she’d done it.

Macabre returned to his sanctuary long enough to put away the keepsakes, and came out announcing he would be leaving for a while.

When Mr. Blink asked in his usually over-polite tones, “May I inquire as to when you’ll be back, sir?”

Macabre replied curtly, “No.”
 

Chapter Ten -- ENCOUNTER IN THE BARN

Micah told Teaspoon and the riders everything he knew about the killings from whom the assassins were to who was behind it.  The only question left was why.  Micah had gotten his information from one of the killers, a man called Hangman Smith.  Marshal Max Dillon and one of his deputies, Cactus Hagen, had caught him.  After some “persuasion”, Smith spilled everything, including descriptions of the assassins.

Upon hearing the names and descriptions, Jimmy and Cody thought it sounded more like a circus than a gang.  But Blood assured them they were dangerous, as Kid and Jake could attest.  Hangman and Bobcat had hanged Kid and Coulter had narrowly avoided becoming a victim to the deadly double act of Jinx and Blink.

Meanwhile, Rachel was working around the station under the pretense of finishing up some chores.  In reality she was trying to avoid a confrontation with Jake Coulter.  They had been involved in the past, but that was over.  Coulter represented a part of her life she was not proud of and was trying desperately to put behind her.

Rachel had been working in the barn when the inevitable encounter happened.  After putting away some buckets, she turned around and suddenly found Jake Coulter standing in front of her.

“Hey Rachel,” he said, smiling silkily.  “It’s been a while.”

“Mr. Coulter,” she said stiffly, trying to overcome her surprise.  Jake had always been doing that, sneaking up on her.

Jake looked hurt.  “Aw Rachel, I know it’s been a few years, but that’s no reason to get so formal like.”

Jake grabbed Rachel and pressed his mouth roughly against hers.  Rachel let out a muffled protest and tried to push him away.  But he held fast, and instead they fell back into the stall, Jake lying on top of her.

The heady male sent almost overwhelmed Rachel.  A woman had certain needs that she had been neglecting.  A woman needed a man as much as a man needed a woman.  It had been a long time since she had been with a man, but she didn’t want her first time since her husband to be with Jake.  He represented a whole way of life that was repugnant to her now.  She wasn’t interested in that type of man anymore.

“No,” she mumbled, before he covered her mouth with his again.  She continued to struggle and protest until he pushed her skirt up.  Then she stopped struggling.

Later … 

Rachel frantically straightened out her clothing so no one would guess what had just happened.  By the look of things, there was going to be trouble enough around here without starting more.

“Leaving so soon?  Time was you could go for hours and still want more.”

Rachel rounded on Coulter, her entire body burning with anger and embarrassment.  “Look, Coulter, just … stay away from me.  As far as I’m concerned, this didn’t happen.”

“Fine,” Jake said darkly.  He got to his feet and marched up to her.  “Just tell me one thing.  Why did you leave me high and dry after Snake River?”

Rachel leaving him was nothing new.  They had broken up dozens of times.  Usually it had involved shouting, harsh words, flying objects and sometimes a third party.  But at Snake River, there had been none of that.  She hadn’t even had her boss lie for her or get a couple of bruisers to beat him up and tell him she never wanted to see him again.  And for some reason, that had hurt more than anything she had ever thrown at him.

Rachel turned to leave but Jake blocked the exit.  They stared at one another, each daring the other to make the first move.  Rachel pushed past Coulter and stormed out of the barn. 

Jake watched her go.  He wasn’t worried about her telling Hunter or any of her self-righteous white knight friends.  If she had not wanted it, he would be one big bruise covered with scratches and maybe even missing a lip right know.  He knew from experience.  Instead he straightened himself up and went to join the others.