“No, Hammond, I do not agree,” she snapped. “Furthermore, I find your lack of compassion grossly unsettling.”
He almost choked on a mouthful of potatoes. “Compassion? For anIndian?”
Her anger increased, as did her understanding of Hammond Charles Alexander Llewellyn. Did she really want this cold-hearted man to father a baby for her kind-hearted gentle sister and brother-in-law?
What if the child inherited Hammond’s cruelty?
“The Indians are people, Hammond, not animals to be slaughtered at the will of white men. They possess the same emotions as other human beings, and pride is among the feelings they experience. You have no right to celebrate the killing of such a proud people. Nor have you the right to hope for the eradication of an entire race. Why, you hoped for the death of aninfant,Hammond! An innocentbaby!”
“But I—”
“And while we are on the subject of your personal opinions, I shall take this opportunity to inform you that Roman’s ability with his weapons is not sleight-of-hand foolishness. You, Sir Blueblood, would do well to master the same skills he possesses. Moreover, I will have you know that Roman Montana is not a savage but a man whose kindness is of such astonishing depth that I fear it goes well beyond your realm of comprehension.”
Hammond reddened with fury. “You prefer that ill-bred gunslinger to me!”
Theodosia presented him her back and looked out over the wide open field ahead. The orange, blue, and lavender wild flowers splashed vivid colors through the long, verdant grass, and sunbeams spread shimmering goldness upon everything they touched. A few sparrows skimmed directly above the flowers. They flew so low that it appeared to Theodosia that the vegetation brushed across their feathered breasts.
A hot breeze swept past her, bringing with it an unusually loud sound of crickets. She listened to the sharp noise for a moment, then breathed deeply of the humid air, discovering it to be filled with an especially strong scent of cedar.
An eerie sensation crawled over her, like insects creeping upon her skin.
“Theodosia,” Hammond flared, “I allowed my companions to continue their tour without me because you and I had an agreement. I have spent a goodly amount of money renting the cabin and paying the townswoman to bring our meals. I must insist that you honor the bargain we made.”
She continued to stare into the meadow. Her ominous feelings intensified.
Through her mind drifted a conversation she’d once had with Roman.
Mr. Montana? About the rain—how did you know?
The birds were flying close to the ground, Miss Worth. The sounds were sharper, and everything smelled stronger than usual. Three sure signs of rain.
The sparrows in the meadow, she thought. The cricket sounds, and the strong scent of cedar.
She looked up into the oak tree.
A storm was gathering.
She was sitting beneath a tree.
Picnicking.
She scrambled off the ground, and just as she began to run, black clouds moved in front of the sun. A dark shadow veiled the ground, and a wicked fork of lightning stabbed through the somber sky.
Theodosia could barely see through her tears. Having no idea in which direction she fled, she continued blindly through the meadow.
Hammond chased her. “Theodosia! Theodosia, stop!”
She heard him calling to her, but a deep, loud rumble overcame his voice. She thought it was thunder, until five white horses galloped into the distance ahead.
Upon each snowy steed sat a black-garbed man.
“Theodosia!” Hammond shouted again. He continued racing after her but stopped suddenly when he saw the five mounted men on the other side of the field. Horror consumed him. He’d heard enough about the outlaws to know exactly who they were. “Theodosia, it’s the Blanco y Negro Gang!”
With no further consideration for Theodosia’s safety, he turned and fled toward town.
Theodosia slowed her frantic pace long enough to look over her shoulder and see Hammond leaving her. Alone beneath a sky that continued to sizzle with dangerous lightning, and at the mercy of five criminals whose horses now sped toward her, she felt a sickening terror rise into her throat, cutting off her breath and almost gagging her.
Real thunder joined the roar of the horses’ hoofbeats. As the terrible noises hammered through her, she ran. Rain began to pelt her face and drench her skirts. The soggy fabric clung to her legs, slowing her flight.
