on real fast to the denyin’ part. I ain’t got it in me to rape you, darlin’. Not you or anybody.” The diffused light coming through the canvas shimmered on his mobile lips. “I know you don’t believe that, but I’m gonna do my damnedest to convince you, so bear with me. All right?”
It was Rebecca’s turn to avert her gaze. When she allowed him to look into her eyes, she got the unsettling feeling that he saw far more than she wished to reveal.
“The other thing I think you’re scared of is that I’m gonna kill you,” he went on. “I ain’t gonna lie and say I haven’t never taken a life. I have, and if it comes down to defendin’ myself, I most likely will again. But I never took joy in it, and I never killed a woman. I’ve never even laid a hand on one, and I sure as hell don’t plan to start with you.
“I know you don’t believe that either. But there you have it. I know I look like a mean hombre, and I reckon if I’m honest, I gotta admit to doin’ my share of wrong things. But I ain’t a murderin’, rapin’ polecat. No how, no way. And neither is my hired hands. They’d be more apt to die for you than lift a hand against you, and that’s an honest-to-God fact.”
He shifted his shoulders and drew up his extended leg. Releasing a weary breath, he said, “Now we come to theconvincin’ part. I’m gonna tell you right up front, this ain’t gonna come easy for me. It’s somethin’ I ain’t never talked about, not to anybody. But I feel like I oughta tell you. Maybe I’m dead wrong and it won’t matter a whit to you, and maybe it won’t do a thing to ease your mind. But it won’t be for lack of me tryin’.”
He cleared his throat, sighed, and then straightened out his leg again. “You ain’t the only one to see your ma get raped. Or to watch her die. It’s been a lot of years, but I lost my mother the same way. Sort of, anyhow. The bastards didn’t slit her throat. They was just so brutal in the takin’ of her that she was tore up inside after they finished, and she bled to death.”
Taken off-guard, Rebecca stiffened. Her gaze flew to his like bits of metal to a magnet. That was the very last thing she had expected him to say. What she read in his dark eyes caught at her heart. Pain . An awful, aching pain that seemed to reflect the hurting within herself. For several long moments, they simply stared at each other, a weighty silence hovering between them that seemed to magnify the sound of their breathing. Rebecca imagined she could even hear herself sweating—a sticky, clammy sweat that was suddenly popping out all over her body. She dug her nails into the muslin of her skirt, her muscles knotted so tightly they ached.
“I was seven,” he told her huskily. “My pa—he was an Easterner who come out this way to prospect for gold. My mother…she was a half-breed Apache. To her way of thinkin’, he married her, but to him, he traded for her with a few blankets and some trinkets, so she was just a bought thing, like a horse. Except most men treat their horses better. He drug her to his minin’ claim, gave her a tent to call home, used her for his pleasure, and worked her like a slave. When I come along, he thought no more of me than her ’cause I was a breed, and in his eyes, that meant we wasn’t quite human.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, feeling sick. He couldn’t be lying about this. Just the tone of his voice told her that, every word he spoke coming hard and laced with heartache. That he would do this—for her, just so she wouldn’tfeel afraid. Oh, God. It made her feel ashamed for not trusting him in the first place.
“Anyhow, he wearied of prospectin’ and took us south to Santa Fe for a spell. Then he all of a sudden hightailed it back east, leavin’ us to fend for ourselves when I was six. My ma—she wasn’t much more’n a kid herself. Bein’ female and Injun, there wasn’t no decent way for her to earn us a livin’. She took to beggin’ on
It was Rebecca’s turn to avert her gaze. When she allowed him to look into her eyes, she got the unsettling feeling that he saw far more than she wished to reveal.
“The other thing I think you’re scared of is that I’m gonna kill you,” he went on. “I ain’t gonna lie and say I haven’t never taken a life. I have, and if it comes down to defendin’ myself, I most likely will again. But I never took joy in it, and I never killed a woman. I’ve never even laid a hand on one, and I sure as hell don’t plan to start with you.
“I know you don’t believe that either. But there you have it. I know I look like a mean hombre, and I reckon if I’m honest, I gotta admit to doin’ my share of wrong things. But I ain’t a murderin’, rapin’ polecat. No how, no way. And neither is my hired hands. They’d be more apt to die for you than lift a hand against you, and that’s an honest-to-God fact.”
He shifted his shoulders and drew up his extended leg. Releasing a weary breath, he said, “Now we come to theconvincin’ part. I’m gonna tell you right up front, this ain’t gonna come easy for me. It’s somethin’ I ain’t never talked about, not to anybody. But I feel like I oughta tell you. Maybe I’m dead wrong and it won’t matter a whit to you, and maybe it won’t do a thing to ease your mind. But it won’t be for lack of me tryin’.”
He cleared his throat, sighed, and then straightened out his leg again. “You ain’t the only one to see your ma get raped. Or to watch her die. It’s been a lot of years, but I lost my mother the same way. Sort of, anyhow. The bastards didn’t slit her throat. They was just so brutal in the takin’ of her that she was tore up inside after they finished, and she bled to death.”
Taken off-guard, Rebecca stiffened. Her gaze flew to his like bits of metal to a magnet. That was the very last thing she had expected him to say. What she read in his dark eyes caught at her heart. Pain . An awful, aching pain that seemed to reflect the hurting within herself. For several long moments, they simply stared at each other, a weighty silence hovering between them that seemed to magnify the sound of their breathing. Rebecca imagined she could even hear herself sweating—a sticky, clammy sweat that was suddenly popping out all over her body. She dug her nails into the muslin of her skirt, her muscles knotted so tightly they ached.
“I was seven,” he told her huskily. “My pa—he was an Easterner who come out this way to prospect for gold. My mother…she was a half-breed Apache. To her way of thinkin’, he married her, but to him, he traded for her with a few blankets and some trinkets, so she was just a bought thing, like a horse. Except most men treat their horses better. He drug her to his minin’ claim, gave her a tent to call home, used her for his pleasure, and worked her like a slave. When I come along, he thought no more of me than her ’cause I was a breed, and in his eyes, that meant we wasn’t quite human.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, feeling sick. He couldn’t be lying about this. Just the tone of his voice told her that, every word he spoke coming hard and laced with heartache. That he would do this—for her, just so she wouldn’tfeel afraid. Oh, God. It made her feel ashamed for not trusting him in the first place.
“Anyhow, he wearied of prospectin’ and took us south to Santa Fe for a spell. Then he all of a sudden hightailed it back east, leavin’ us to fend for ourselves when I was six. My ma—she wasn’t much more’n a kid herself. Bein’ female and Injun, there wasn’t no decent way for her to earn us a livin’. She took to beggin’ on
Similar Books
