All around him were bodies, and in the center of it all stood Isabelle and Sarah. Isabelle had her arms wrapped around her daughter protectively, but her eyes were on Quincy. He could see the fear in them. He liked that, maybe a little too much.
“Make sure they’re all dead!” he yelled to his men as he made his way to Isabelle and Sarah.
A couple of his men followed him toward the women while the others dismounted their horses and checked the men. There were a couple more gunshots, ending those who had survived, before silence filled the open expanse surrounding them.
“Now what?” Brian asked when they reached the women.
“Load them in the wagon.” He pointed at the two women. “From now on, two of us will ride in the back with them until we get home.”
Brian nodded. “And the men?”
“Take whatever valuables they have with them and leave the bodies.”
Brian quickly dismounted his horse and grabbed the two women by their arms.
“Oh, and, Brian,” Quincy said, his voice low but serious. “If any of you so much as touch them, I’ll kill you.”
“I’ll relay the message,” Brian stated, looking confused as he led the women to the wagon.
Quincy didn’t blame the man for wondering why he was being so protective of the two women. In fact, Quincy wasn’t sure himself. All he knew was that his men weren’t allowed to do anything with Isabelle until he said so, and as for Sarah, she was off-limits to all of them.
Taking his frustrations out on the gang had only temporarily eased his anger. Quincy was boiling and needed a release. He needed something more satisfying than shooting a couple of men he didn’t know.
They had traveled back from the direction they had come, and since Quincy was feeling restless, he decided to simply call it a day. He led them back to the same place they had spent the previous night and dismounted his horse. Walking over to the wagon, he pulled up one of the canvas flaps as soon as it stopped.
“You two stay with the girl, but keep your hands to yourself,” he growled, frustration washing over him in waves as he grabbed hold of Isabelle and yanked her out of the wagon. It was time to put her in her place.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, fighting against his hold on her.
Quincy pulled harder, causing her to trip and fall. “Get up.” He pulled her to her feet. “And keep up.”
“Just take me back to my daughter. We won’t try to escape again.”
It was funny that she thought she had any say in the matter. “Stop talking,” Quincy growled as he dragged her past the remnants of the previous night’s fire and the two dead bodies he had left there earlier. His men would start a fire and get rid of the bodies while he was busy. If they didn’t, there’d be hell to pay later.
“Please...” Isabelle begged, her voice catching in her throat.
Quincy led her into the sparse woods that surrounded their campsite. “There’s no need to beg,” he told her. “I’ll take you back to your daughter as soon as we’re done,” he said, letting go of her arm and pushing her back hard so that she fell to the ground.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She was scared. He could see it in her eyes and the way her lips trembled as she spoke. He liked it. Knowing he had that kind of power over somebody gave him a thrill.
“I know,” he replied simply as he lowered himself on top of her. “But I want to.”
***
Isabelle knew what was going to happen, but it still broke pieces of her she didn’t know existed. The only man she had ever been with was her husband, and that was the way it was supposed to be. Quincy had taken a little piece of her soul as he had his way with her, but she refused to let him have all of it. He hadn’t killed her and was taking her back to Sarah. Her daughter still needed her, and so she would do everything she could to be there for her.
Quincy didn’t have to drag her back to the wagon. She went willingly, refusing to look at the men as she passed them. They all knew what had happened, and the thought of them wanting a turn caused bile to rise in her throat. This was what she had been trying to avoid by escaping. She had known it was goingto happen, and she couldn’t stand the idea of any of the men touching Sarah. She could still feel Quincy’s hands on her and smell the stale whiskey and smoke that clung to him. Isabelle doubted that she would ever feel clean again.
As they approached the wagon, she took a deep breath, stood up straight, and wiped her face. She had to be strong for Sarah. She couldn’t allow her daughter to see how much what had just happened affected her.
Quincy opened the back of the wagon, and Isabelle quickly climbed inside, taking a seat on the bench next to Sarah.
“You tied her up?” he asked, pointing at Sarah.
One of the bandits nodded. “Yeah, hands behind her back this time. Will make it harder to try to escape.”
