There was nothing more to say. It was finished, and thank God.
After looking at him for a moment, she walked toward the end of the gully, her thoughts jumping ahead. She was eager to tell Alex and Freddy that she had endured a confrontation and had not crumbled or backed away. She had stood up for herself and done what she needed to do.
The surprise of his hand roughly gripping her arm shattered her self-congratulations. Ward spun her around and hit her with his fist. When the blackness cleared from her eyes, she found herself lying on the ground near the lantern, watching his boot swing toward her ribs. Pain exploded through her rib cage. Moaning, she curled into a protective ball, her eyes stinging with shock and hot tears. This was the worst attack she had endured from anyone in her life, and she thought it would be the last. A glimpse of his face confirmed that his rage was so powerful that he could kill her. Convinced that he would, all she could do was pray.
When he jerked her onto her feet, she was so weak with relief that she could hardly stand. She didn’t think his kick had broken any ribs, but the pain was intense. She would have doubled over, if he hadn’t gripped her so hard.
“No one walks away from Ward Hamm!” he snarled. “Oh, you’d like to humiliate me, wouldn’t you? You’d like to walk out there and tell everyone that Ward Hamm isn’t good enough for a Roark! Well, you’re not going to use me, then toss me aside! I’ll see you dead before I’ll let you belittle me in front of everyone!”
He grabbed her chin so tightly that her lips puckered. “Listen and listen good,” he said, hissing spittle into her face. “You aren’t walking away—I own you. And I’ll kill you before I let you cheat me out of my money. I swear it, Les. I earned that money, and I deserve it.”
Terrified, she stared into his eyes, and she believed him. Her heart slammed against her battered ribs and she couldn’t speak.
“So help me God. If you try to cut me out of what’s mine, you’ll drown in what looks like an accident. You’ll burn in a prairie fire. You’ll fall off your horse and die of a broken neck.” His fingernails dug into her flesh. “You will do as Caldwell tells you. And if you ever defy me…”
He threw her to the ground, then picked up the lantern and walked out of the gully without a backward glance.
Defeated and hurting, Les lay on her back, blinking up at the black sky. As her shock faded, hopelessness settled on her like a slab and helpless tears streamed down her cheeks.
If she told Dal about this, he would immediately throw Caldwell off the drive. And Ward too, most likely. She would be rid of him.
But Ward would never forgive her. She didn’t doubt for an instant that he would make good on his threat. He would find a way to kill her. She would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, and one day Ward would be there. He would never let her go. And eventually he would put her in a grave.
No, she couldn’t tell anyone what he’d done. She had to pray that she could find another solution.
Curling protectively around the pain in her side, she closed her eyes and wept. Instead of escaping her trap, the trap had turned lethal.
Chapter 18
The days and nights were warmer now. Wildflowers dotted the range with glowing jewel colors. Bluebonnets, wild golden mustard, scarlet paintbrush. Ahead lay green waves of billowing open prairie that offered good grazing and frequent, easily forded creeks.
Dal rode point, enjoying a feeling of content and control. The herd was moving well, there hadn’t been a stampede in a while, his drovers were rested after the stop outside Fort Worth, and the two days that Freddy and Les had been riding flank had justified his confidence in them. They squeezed down the herd when they had to, strung them out when needed. He shook his head and smiled, thinking how far they had come in a short time.
Lifting his face to the morning sunshine, he inhaled the warm scents of late spring and green grass and cowhide, listened to a serenade of meadowlarks off to the right. It was a good day, the kind of day that made a man glad to be alive.
There were only two things worrying him. Jack Caldwell, and Frederick Roark.
He hadn’t forgetten the warning he’d received in the bathhouse. And he didn’t doubt that Lola and Jack would sink to rustling. As a precaution, he kept the herd away from stands of trees that might provide concealment for outlaws. He didn’t want to lose any more cattle between here and the Indian Territory.
That Caldwell might have arranged trouble wasn’t Dal’s only problem with the bastard. Caldwell might have thrown his cards in with Lola, but he hadn’t forgotten Freddy.