The Lonely Breed by Leslie Frank

Author:Leslie, Frank [Leslie, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2007-03-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Faith dropped to her left knee, then catapulted back to her feet. Jerking her hair free of Dietrich’s grasp, she ran toward the creek shimmering in the near-darkness at the base of the stone bluff.

“Get back here, whore!” the freighter shouted.

“Want me to plug her from here?” asked Grayson, his voice just audible above Faith’s heavy breathing and footfalls. “I got a bead on her.”

“No,” Dietrich said tightly, his breath labored. “She’s mine.”

“That girl’s nothin’ but trouble,” exclaimed Schultz. “I say we slit her damn throat when . . .”

Faith didn’t hear the rest. As she plunged straight into the stream, the splashing water drowned the men’s angry exclamations. She swung her arms and lifted her knees as high as she could, the frigid water piercing her like sharp knives. She turned to look back.

Dietrich ran behind her, pumping his arms and legs, his ugly face set with grim fury.

Faith made for the opposite bank.

She had no idea where she was headed. If she climbed to the top of the stone bluff—assuming she could make it— would Dietrich give up on her, decide she wasn’t worth trifling with?

Halfway across the narrow stream, she turned her head. She was gaining some distance from Dietrich, a bulky shadow behind her. He was slipping on the rocks at the creek’s bottom, throwing his arms out for balance. Her chest welling hopefully, she lunged toward the far shore.

She would run to that crevice in the bluff, climb up through the trough to the top.

When she was nearly out of the stream, her left foot slipped off a rock, twisting her ankle. She groaned as the pain shot up her lower leg, and before she realized it, she was down on both knees at the edge of the creek, turning onto her butt and grabbing her calf.

“No!” she cried, her voice edged with rage, the cold water biting her deep. She turned to Dietrich stepping high in the knee-deep water. “Goddamn you!”

“Goddamn me?” Dietrich bellowed, grabbing her collar and hauling her onto the bank. “Goddamn you!”

Faith kicked and screamed as he dragged her across the sand and rocks and high, brown grass and shrubs. She grunted and clawed at his hands, cursing him.

He threw her into the tall grass and spindly willows at the base of the bluff, smacked her hard across her face. Kneeling down, he jerked one knee away from the other, then crawled up between her legs and leaned forward to unbutton her men’s denim trousers.

“Goddamn you to hell, Dietrich!” she cried, kicking at him futilely, her strength all but gone, a sharp pain spike grinding into her ankle. “I’ll kill you!”

Dietrich laughed and jerked her pants halfway down her thighs.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. There was no point in resisting anymore. His slaps had addled her, and her head swam. She wanted only to fall back into a warm, dark place and sleep.

A rifle cracked in the direction of the camp. As the report echoed, a man shouted.

Faith opened her eyes as Dietrich snapped his head back and twisted around to look beyond the creek.

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