Tymber Dalton - Hernando Heat

“What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but she was with Senior.”

The man kept the gun pressed to the back of her head and let out a whistle. Two more men quickly came into the kitchen.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

The first man snorted. “Hell, no. Boss would kill me if’n I did that. You got paper and a pencil here?”

“Yes.” She started to stand, hoping she’d get to the shotgun which stood ready in the hallway, but the man pressed the barrel of the revolver against her head. “No, you tell us where it is.”

Blast. “In the desk in the living room.”

One of the other men went to get it and brought it back, placing it on the table in front of her. The first man pointed his free hand at the paper. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” She wanted to say something snarky to him, but decided that might not be a wise idea.

“Then pick up that paper and you write exactly what I tell you to.” He leaned in close, his horrible breath in her ear. “And I know how to read, too, lady. So if’n you don’t write what I tell you to write, I’ll kill you right here. I saw exactly what you did with those two men on the blanket by the river. What a special whore you are, ain’t ya? Letting them both fuck you at the same time.”

She thought her heart would stop from the shock and shame.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Boss sent us to spy on ya, get info he could use. The three of you perverts gave him just what he needed. Now pick up that pencil. This is what you’ll write…”

With a shaking hand, she picked up the pencil as he began to dictate.

Twenty minutes later, Katie found herself on the back of a horse, holding on to the ringleader as another man carried a carpetbag with some of her clothes in it. The man had gone into her room and packed it for her.

She suspected she might want to burn the clothes rather than wear them again.

They bypassed the main lane, heading instead across one of the fields, away from the barn and out of site over the hill from where any of Joe’s ranch hands would see.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

She didn’t want to think about the words she’d written, every stroke of the pencil shredding her heart. Part of her hoped her men wouldn’t believe the message, that they would refuse to give up on her and come looking for her.

Part of her suspected it would be too late for them to save her once they found the note.

Another part of her wondered if they would take the words at face value and let her go without a fight. She didn’t want them hurt, physically or their reputations. She knew Senior wouldn’t stop until he’d ruined—or worse, killed—both men if he didn’t get his way.

The only way to truly protect her men was to give Senior what he wanted.

They rode for twenty minutes until they came to a clearing where Senior waited with a buggy. The rider who carried her gave her a rough arm down while the rider with her bag tossed it into the buggy.

Senior grinned at her. “Glad to see you’ve seen reason, Katherine.” He stepped down to help her up, but she yanked her arm away and climbed into the buggy without a word.

He laughed. “You can be petulant all you want, but if you want to see your men remain safe and sound and unsullied, you’ll do exactly what I say. You’re the one who acted like a cheap whore and took up with two men. I wouldn’t expect anything better of you though, I suppose.” His smile held all the charm of a rattlesnake. “You’re going to recant your story, then we’re going to Tampa and you will marry Junior. Then the property will be his as your husband.” He laughed. “I warned you I’d get that property one way or another. Too bad you insisted on the hard way.”

She fought the urge to spit in his face, knowing it would probably mean her death if she did.

The riders followed them into Brooksville. She refused to look at Dorchester, kept her arms crossed in front of her and sat as far away from him on the seat as she could. She felt sick to her stomach and close to vomiting by the time they reached town. When they arrived at the sheriff’s office, her heart fell when she realized Mason wasn’t there.

Dorchester leaned in close, his voice low. “You tell Sheriff Birch you’re dropping all charges, that you made it up. If you don’t, I’ll send my men back to the ranch to wait for those two, and then I’ll kill you. You do this, nobody gets hurt.”

With her jaw clenched, she followed Dorchester inside. Sheriff Birch looked at her funny, but after Dorchester talked for several more minutes, and she managed to hold back her tears under the sheriff’s questioning, he finally, reluctantly agreed to let Junior go.

Sheriff Birch waggled a finger at Senior. “You and your son stay out of my town, got it? You ain’t welcomed here no more.” With a final glance at Katie, who couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, he went in back and freed Junior.

Senior wasted no time hustling her and Junior into the buggy and racing out of town via a different road she wasn’t familiar with. As Brooksville fell farther behind them, Katie wondered how much longer she’d be alive.

Mason tried to hold back his fear as he pushed his horse hard back to town. He arrived at the sheriff’s office and burst through the door. Joe stood there looking as angry and upset as he felt. “What in blazes is going on?” Mason demanded.

Sheriff Birch wore a dark expression. “I don’t know, boys. Like I was just telling Joe here, I suggest you two track her down as soon as possible. I strongly suspect Senior coerced her by some sort of force to recant her story.”

Joe and Mason looked at each other. “Let’s get back to the house. Maybe she’s there.” The two of them jumped on their horses and rode back to the house.

Joe didn’t even bother tying his mount. He rode up to the front porch, jumped off, and ran inside screaming her name. “Katie! Where are you?”

Mason followed him, pulling up short in the kitchen where Joe held a piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

Joe held up a staying hand as he read before he handed it to Mason. “She’s gone,” he whispered.

Katie kept her gaze firmly focused out the window at the landscape passing just beyond the tracks. Every clack of the wheels ripped another piece from her heart and threatened to send her upset stomach over the cliff. She’d felt horribly nauseous all day long.

Something else she could blame on the Dorchesters.

She should have known she’d never find happiness. She should have known that the Dorchesters would win.

She wouldn’t cry. She swore she’d never give them the satisfaction of shedding another tear in front of them.

And Heaven help Junior if he thought he was going to consummate their sham of a wedding after it happened. She’d geld him before he could even get both legs out of his trousers.

“Well, Katherine. A few more hours, and we’ll be home.”

She didn’t turn to her once and soon-to-be-again father-in-law. “It’s not my home. It never will be. You’ll see to that, no doubt.”

Senior settled his bulk into the seat across from her. She didn’t look at him even when he grabbed her knee through her skirt and painfully squeezed. “You’re right about that,” he growled in a dangerous tone. “You’ll be lucky if you see your first anniversary if you keep this up.”

She finally turned to him, knowing her expression looked as deadly as his. “If I’m lucky, I won’t.”

“I could easily arrange that,” he grumbled in a low voice before heaving his body out of his seat and trundling himself down the aisle.