With a shuddering sob the child crawled to his crutch and levered himself painfully to his feet. Eli started toward Renny's limp form, obviously intending to scoop the boy up in his arms, but Cain stopped him.
"No. Leave the boy here less'n yer lady friend needs a little encouragin'. The brat's out cold anyway. Ain't gonna see nothin' fer a week the way you slammed him, Eli."
"Don't say that, Cain! Blast it, don't—"
There was real distress in Eli Garvey's voice, a distress that stunned Ash. But instead of defying his brother, the big man only herded the other children toward the cellar, glowering.
Ashleen closed her eyes as the sounds of the children's crying faded, the thud of the root cellar door being jammed shut drowning out their sobs as surely as the closing of a casket's lid.
She opened her eyes to see all traces of humanity again banished from Eli's face, the huge man lumbering toward her, his eyes fixed on her breasts. She had thought—almost hoped—that Renny's injury had somehow unsettled the man, but if anything it gave his face a brittle glaze of madness, his eyes wild, drool running from the corner of his mouth.
Ash cast a last glance at Renny. The boy had moved just a little. She prayed he wouldn't wake until the Garveys had finished with her. She closed her eyes, remembering Garret when she had come to him that magical night, remembering his touch, his kiss, so tender, loving. Gone now. Forever.
"I put 'em away like you said," Eli told her, his fingers fumbling at the buttons of his trousers. "You got to do what I want now. Stand up, pretty lady, and let me see what you got under that there dress."
Ashleen couldn't stop herself from shrinking back. She glanced at the hoe, gauging her chances of reaching it, using it against the two men. It was hopeless, pitted against a gun and enough brute strength to crack her neck at will. And there was Renny sprawled on the ground, defenseless, seeming littler somehow, more a child than he had in months. She dared not do anything that might put the boy in further jeopardy.
She started at a swishing sound as Cain pulled a bowie knife from his boot top, the wicked blade glinting blue in the sun, his eyes flicking to Renny with unholy glee. "You an' Eli had an agreement, slut. You wouldn't be thinkin' on goin' back on it, would you? Mebbe we should wake this boy o' yers up after all."
"No! No, please..." Ashleen forced herself to her feet, her numb fingers unfastening her bodice. The fragile white fabric of her chemise lay beneath, and she tugged at the pink ribbons binding it together, the strip of bare flesh between widening, feeling somehow soiled beneath Eli Garvey's gaze.
Eli licked his lips, his fingers closing about the lacy chemise edge, pulling it to the side until her breast was naked.
"Damn, yer pretty, woman. Real pretty, ain't she, Cai—"
At that instant the world exploded, gunfire blazing.
"What the hell—"
Eli spun toward the sound, and Ash screamed as the man stumbled back, his chest a mass of crimson, eyes wild with pain. She wheeled to catch a glimpse of feral bronzed features, cold gray eyes alight with murder.
Garret. Sweet God, he was on the roof. His feet were braced wide on the shingled slope, guns spitting fire.
For a frozen instant she thought he was a mirage, a vision conjured of her own anguished terror. But no mere chimera could have such hate in his eyes, such killing fury. Such desperate, desperate love.
She took a running step toward him as the weapon fired again, a guttural sound coming from behind her. Cain Garvey staggered, and she sobbed in relief, certain the outlaw had met his brother's fate. But somehow the man righted himself, his hand knotting in her skirts, dragging her back into hell.
Something wet and sticky dampened her shoulder, the stench of blood filling her nostrils as Garvey used her body as a shield. A knife blade bit into the tender flesh at her throat, a stinging cut appearing where her pulse beat.
"Put down the gun, MacQuade."
"No, Garret... don't... don't..."
"Your brother's bleeding to death, Garvey, if he's not dead already. And so are you."
Cain cast a contemptuous glance down at Eli then flashed it back to Garret. "Don't brag on your aim, MacQuade. I've had worse cuts offn women clawin' beneath me. As for Eli, you saved me the trouble o' wasting an ounce o' lead. He's had his uses, but he's got a powerful wicked temper, an' he's been gettin't' be a bit of a burden. Couldn't afford t' carry him forever."
The man's voice was so cold, calculating.
"Soon as Santa Ana's gold was in my hands, I was gonna kill him anyways. As it is, I can just concentrate on havin' my fun now with your little lady."
"Cut her and I'll kill you, Garvey—an inch at a time."
"You'd have t' get hold o' me first. And I don't think you'll do that, MacQuade. Not if you have to blast your way through your slut's body to get to me. Remember what I did to your mama, boy? You thought you could save her, too."
A muscle ticked in Garret's jaw, his whole body taut, his hands rock-steady on his guns. "Let the woman go." Ash sensed he was judging the odds of being able to drill a bullet through Garvey's skull without missing and hitting her. It was as if Garvey knew that, too. Knew Garret would never risk it. He chortled, his breath hot against her cheek.
"Where ye think I should start carvin', MacQuade? Her face? Like you done to me? Ain't got much use for her face anyway, do ye, MacQuade? No, it's the rest o' her yer hungry for."
