his daughter, his heir, had been abducted, he had been awaiting a ransom note, a demand of some kind from her kidnapper. Now--two days after her disappearance, he stared down at the missive that had sent to him from the stage driver. Dalton was shuddering with suppressed rage as he read the careful handwriting.
“You took what was mine. I took what was yours. At this very moment I have your daughter spread beneath me. Her body is mine, her maidenhead pierced, her soul corrupted. I will send her back to you when I have had my fill.”
“Sloan Harper!” Dalton shouted the signature. “Some bastard named Sloan Harper has my little girl!”
“I’ll notify the federal marshal, sir,” Jim Kitterling, Dalton’s foreman informed him. “They’ll find him, sir. He can’t have gotten far and ....”
“Do you really think that bastard is still in Texas?” Dalton yelled. “He will have taken Peyton across the border into Mexico by now, knowing full well the law can’t reach him there!”
“The Texas Rangers won’t let the border stop them, Mr. Dalton, not with it being your daughter,” Kitterling said. “They will ....”
“You’ll keep the law out of this, Kitterling! I want my own men to go after Harper,” Dalton said. “Men who won’t have to worry about upholding laws or adhering to them.”
Kitterling nodded slowly. “I’ll see to it, sir. Who from the ranch do you ...?”
“There ain’t a man on my payroll I’d trust to do this! You get me the best goddamned hired guns you can find. I want the deadliest shots, the men other gunfighters fear,” Dalton snapped. “I don’t give a shit what you have to pay them. Ride into Brownsville and get me some mean sons-of-bitches! You make sure they bring Harper back here alive, you hear me? I want that bastard alive! By the time I’m through with him that little peckerwood will know he fucked with the wrong man!”
Kitterling turned to go then memory whirled him around and he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute, sir! Sloan Harper. Isn’t that the name of the man you paid Judge Harvey to send to prison? The one whose family was burned out over on the north ridge? He shot Guthrie in a throw down, but you had the judge declare it wasn’t a fair fight.”
Dalton’s eyes flared. “Son of a bitch if it ain’t!” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “That’s the prick who has my daughter? I’ll strip the skin from him layer by layer!”
“We’ll get him, sir,” Kitterling stated. “He’s as good as dead.” He made a move toward the door again but stopped to assure his boss that Dalton’s daughter would be handled with respect on the ride back.
“No,” Dalton said, a muscle working in his cheek.
Kitterling blinked, obviously confused by the denial. “Excuse me?”
“Leave her where you find her,” Dalton said. He lifted his chin. “She’s damaged goods and I’ve no need for her now.”
Dalton’s underling had to carefully school his face not to show his shock. “You are sure about this, sir?”
“Yes,” Dalton said, teeth grinding. “I don’t want her back.”
Forcing his parted lips together, Kitterling frowned at the statement. When he spoke, he could not look at his boss. “I understand, sir, but what if she wishes to return?”
Dalton turned his back on Kitterling. “Explain to her that she will not be welcome in my home again.”
Despite his loyalty to Dalton, Kitterling thought the man’s reaction was bizarre under the circumstances, but he knew better than to question what Jacob Dalton did. He simply nodded and left, his hands clenched into fists to keep from snarling with disappointment.
* * * *
Peyton woke to the sound of rain drumming on the tin roof. She would have stretched but Harper’s head was still on her shoulder. She doubted he’d moved all night for her hand was still cupped in his and one of his long legs was laying atop hers.
“Morning,” he mumbled, but didn’t open his eyes, fully aware
“You took what was mine. I took what was yours. At this very moment I have your daughter spread beneath me. Her body is mine, her maidenhead pierced, her soul corrupted. I will send her back to you when I have had my fill.”
“Sloan Harper!” Dalton shouted the signature. “Some bastard named Sloan Harper has my little girl!”
“I’ll notify the federal marshal, sir,” Jim Kitterling, Dalton’s foreman informed him. “They’ll find him, sir. He can’t have gotten far and ....”
“Do you really think that bastard is still in Texas?” Dalton yelled. “He will have taken Peyton across the border into Mexico by now, knowing full well the law can’t reach him there!”
“The Texas Rangers won’t let the border stop them, Mr. Dalton, not with it being your daughter,” Kitterling said. “They will ....”
“You’ll keep the law out of this, Kitterling! I want my own men to go after Harper,” Dalton said. “Men who won’t have to worry about upholding laws or adhering to them.”
Kitterling nodded slowly. “I’ll see to it, sir. Who from the ranch do you ...?”
“There ain’t a man on my payroll I’d trust to do this! You get me the best goddamned hired guns you can find. I want the deadliest shots, the men other gunfighters fear,” Dalton snapped. “I don’t give a shit what you have to pay them. Ride into Brownsville and get me some mean sons-of-bitches! You make sure they bring Harper back here alive, you hear me? I want that bastard alive! By the time I’m through with him that little peckerwood will know he fucked with the wrong man!”
Kitterling turned to go then memory whirled him around and he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute, sir! Sloan Harper. Isn’t that the name of the man you paid Judge Harvey to send to prison? The one whose family was burned out over on the north ridge? He shot Guthrie in a throw down, but you had the judge declare it wasn’t a fair fight.”
Dalton’s eyes flared. “Son of a bitch if it ain’t!” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “That’s the prick who has my daughter? I’ll strip the skin from him layer by layer!”
“We’ll get him, sir,” Kitterling stated. “He’s as good as dead.” He made a move toward the door again but stopped to assure his boss that Dalton’s daughter would be handled with respect on the ride back.
“No,” Dalton said, a muscle working in his cheek.
Kitterling blinked, obviously confused by the denial. “Excuse me?”
“Leave her where you find her,” Dalton said. He lifted his chin. “She’s damaged goods and I’ve no need for her now.”
Dalton’s underling had to carefully school his face not to show his shock. “You are sure about this, sir?”
“Yes,” Dalton said, teeth grinding. “I don’t want her back.”
Forcing his parted lips together, Kitterling frowned at the statement. When he spoke, he could not look at his boss. “I understand, sir, but what if she wishes to return?”
Dalton turned his back on Kitterling. “Explain to her that she will not be welcome in my home again.”
Despite his loyalty to Dalton, Kitterling thought the man’s reaction was bizarre under the circumstances, but he knew better than to question what Jacob Dalton did. He simply nodded and left, his hands clenched into fists to keep from snarling with disappointment.
* * * *
Peyton woke to the sound of rain drumming on the tin roof. She would have stretched but Harper’s head was still on her shoulder. She doubted he’d moved all night for her hand was still cupped in his and one of his long legs was laying atop hers.
“Morning,” he mumbled, but didn’t open his eyes, fully aware
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