The only furnishings were a hard cot and a slop bucket.
His wounds had been tended by the doctor, and then he’d been placed up here to await the circuit judge.He had not been comforted by talk that the last inhabitant of this room had been summarily hanged by the impatient populace.
That damn brand had convicted him in the eyes of the town.Otherwise there had been room for doubt.The men had found signs in the dirt of another man and indications he had fired at Rafe.And doubthadbeen in Dewayne’s eyes until the moment he’d seen the damning mark.
Rafe lifted his right hand and glared at theT.His gloves had been taken as well as his boots when the leg irons were applied.The scar seemed even more stark than before.Ugly and rough and indelible.The mark of Cain.Frustration caused him to sit on the cot and yank again at the chain confining him.Pain coursed through his wounded arm, through his ankles as rough iron bit into skin.
And then he heard a noise, steps on the outside stairs that provided the only access to this room.He leaned against the wall and rested a bent leg on the side of the cot in a languorous, unconcerned pose.The chain between his ankles was just long enough to permit that.
The key in the lock rattled, and the door opened.The deputy sheriff who had taken custody of him moved inside followed by another man.Rafe tensed, and he swallowed the rush of hatred that blocked his throat momentarily.
“Major Randall,” he said lazily, cloaking the fierce anger he felt at seeing his betrayer for the first time since he’d been branded.“I’m honored.”
Jack Randall had aged in the last ten years.He was heavier, obviously well fed, but not fat.His brown hair was sprinkled with gray, and his face was burned dark by the sun.But a closer look showed lines in the face, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.There was a bandage at the side of his head, and his left arm was in a sling.He licked his lips nervously as he looked at Rafe.
Randall, the tendons in his neck clearly visible, turned to the deputy: “I want to talk to him alone.”
“I don’t know about that,” the lawman said.“He’s a murderer.”
“Hell, you have my gun, and I’ll stay out of his reach,” Randall said impatiently.“I’ll take the risk.”
“All right, Mr.Randall,” the deputy said, obviously in awe of the rancher.Rafe felt his gut tighten.“Fifteen minutes.No longer.”
Rafe’s lips twisted into an ironic smile as the deputy turned around and left, closing and locking the door behind him.The sound of the key in the lock was louder than Rafe remembered, perhaps because of the silent tension that radiated in the room.
“I would offer you some hospitality, but, as you see, my resources are extremely limited at the moment.Have been, in fact, for some time.”He didn’t move from the sitting position, but every muscle was taut, every sense alert.
Perspiration dripped down the side of Randall’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice.He took a step forward, then stopped.
“Come to gloat?Or did you have another reason in mind?”Rafe was surprised at the evenness of his own voice.Christ, he’d had experience in controlling his rage, but even he was amazed at how casual he sounded when he wanted to strangle the man standing before him.
Randall didn’t say anything, but Rafe felt the intensity of his gaze.It took measure of the bandages on his arm and under his trouser leg, as well as the chains.
“Oh, I’m well chained, Major.You don’t have to worry about that.”There was no mistaking the fury underlying in the calmly spoken words.“I can’t get to you, just as I couldn’t ten years ago.Andthistime, I’ll likely hang for something you did.”
“No.”The reply held a tone of finality that puzzled Rafe.
Slowly, Rafe lowered the bent leg and placed his foot on the floor.He kept all his attention on Randall’s eyes, trying to read them.He had thought Randall had come by to gloat, but now he wasn’t so sure.“No, what?No, I won’t hang, or no, I won’t hang for something you did?”
Randall took another step toward him, his mouth opening as he obviously tried to find words.
Another step, Rafe willed him.God, he wanted to get his hands around the man’s throat.
“I … I have an offer to make you,” Randall finally said.
Rafe eyed Randall with contempt.“Say what you came here to say and get out.The sight of you makes me sick.”
“Shea …”
Rafe quickly stood and moved as close as he could to Randall.The chain stopped him two feet away.His handcuffed hands were fisted, the brand vivid on a hand now pale with strain.“What about Shea?”
“She’s disappeared.I think she might have gone looking for you.”
Rafe turned away toward a wall.He didn’t want Randall to see anything in his face.“Why would you think that?”
“She was … asking questions.”
“And you gave her the right answers?”Rafe asked mockingly, trying to fight down the desperation that was swelling inside him at Randall’s words.
