About two miles from the ranch he pulled up on the reins at the sound of a woman’s scream. His heart sped up and his stomach clenched. That was Rachel. He slapped his legs against the horse’s heaving sides and they raced toward the sound. After about five minutes, he rounded a bend and spotted the wagon on the road, but there had been no other scream.
He slid off the horse and looked around, but saw nothing. “Rachel!”
She didn’t respond, but male voices and sounds of a struggle came from the woods. Pushing aside branches, he made for the sound. Ignoring any small animal holes, he continued to shove aside foliage. He reached a small clearance and rage boiled up in him, practically making his head explode.
Rachel lay on the ground, the bodice of her dress ripped open to expose her breasts. Two men held her down while another one knelt in front of her, having just dropped his pants. With a howl like an enraged animal, Rusty sprang onto the man’s back, his arm around his neck, choking him.
Taken by surprise, the two brutes holding her down just gaped as Rusty turned the man toward him and punched him in the nose, blood spurting out, drenching his shirt. The man attempted to get a swing at him but Rusty clipped him on the chin and continued to pound into him until he lay unconscious. One of the other men attempted to pull Rusty off, but when he turned to the man in a rage and went for his throat, the third bastard ran.
The sound of Rachel’s whimpers brought him back from the blind rage that had engulfed him. Seeing the second man slumped on the floor of the woods, along with the first one still unconscious, he stood and brushed off his pants, and attempted to gain control of his breathing.
Rachel had brought her knees up to cover herself. He walked to her and touched her shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me. Please, leave me alone.”
“Rachel, honey. It’s Rusty.”
She broke into sobs that tore him apart. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his knife. Holding her gently, he cut through the binding on her wrists. Her hands lay limp, most likely numb.
“Honey, I need to get you up. I’m going to have to touch you.” He slid one arm under her back, the other under her knees, and lifted her. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed as he carried her to the wagon. Still holding her in his arms, he climbed up on the wagon seat, resting her in his lap.
For several minutes all he did was hold her against him, the rage building once again. Besides being stripped, her face bore the marks of a beating. It took all his control to not go back and put a bullet into each of her attackers’ heads.
The best thing he could do now was to get her away from here, and into the security of her home. He shifted and she held on tighter. “Honey, we need to get you home.”
Her grip was like iron, but he had to tie his horse to the wagon so he could lead it back. “Rachel, please let me go for just a minute.”
She shook her head furiously.
“Just long enough for me to get the horse. Then I’ll take you home.”
After a minute, her hold eased and he jumped down and gathered his horse’s reins. The scant moonlight shone on her, revealing the beating to her face and her ripped dress. His jaw tightened as a knot of fury formed in his stomach. He removed his shirt and after climbing up next to her, helped her into it. He buttoned it up, and tugged her to his side.
Rachel had stopped crying, but the small whimpers continued. With his arm wrapped firmly around her, he used his left hand to hold the reins and drive the wagon home. It seemed to take forever to reach the ranch, but when they did, he stopped in front of the bunkhouse and shouted, “Mac!”
The older man appeared at the door, his ever-present cigarette dangling between his lips. “What?”
“Mrs. Stevens has had an accident. I need your help.”
Mac threw down his cigarette and stomped on it before walking up to the wagon. “What happened, is she all right?”
Not wanting to go into details, he said, “She fell out of the wagon, got bruised up. Unload everything and see to the horses, all right?” He lifted Rachel off the seat, and settled her in his arms.
“Is she hurt bad?”
“Some injuries to her face. I’ll tend to her, just get the wagon taken care of.”
“Yes, boss.” The older man lumbered away to take care of business.
“I don’t want to go home.” Rachel’s soft voice was almost lost in the sound of Rusty’s boots crunching on the pathway stones.
He glanced down at her. “You don’t want to go home?”
“No. I don’t want the children to see me.”
She’d started to cry again, so he hugged her close. “All right, honey. Just hold on. I’ll take you to my place.”
Once he got her into his parlor and lit the lamps around the room, he was stunned to see the amount of damage. Her right eye was swollen shut, and a nasty bruise was forming on her cheekbone. Her lip was split, with dried blood crusting there. Despite the July air, she gripped her body and shivered as she rocked back and forth on the sofa.
He had to get her out of her clothes and into something clean and warm. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “You can stay the night with me. I’ll go tell Amelia you’re staying here because you got hurt in a fall. I think they’ll both be fine by themselves for the night.”