Chapter Eleven

Brody had a fire going and had picked some of the long grasses to improvise a makeshift bed by the time Elizabeth returned. The sun was nearly set and dark shadows stretched across the land as the firelight glowed. Brody had some sticks over the fire and the snake meat was stretched across them. The scent of the cooking meat filled Elizabeth's senses and caused her to drool.

"Took you long enough," Brody snapped roughly.

Elizabeth bristled at first but then stopped herself from responding just as harshly. She was starting to understand that his temper was often a cover for other emotions like fear and tenderness. She thought maybe he was ashamed to show those things and so he used his temper to cover them up. Just the same as her temper often came out at innocent people when she was irritated at someone or something else.

"I found us some prickly pears," Elizabeth held out the treats she'd found.

Brody nodded, "Those'll taste good with the snake." He pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it in the campfire.

"You might want to slow down smoking those things," Elizabeth warned as she sat down cross legged, on the other side of the fire.

Brody took a long draw and then he blew out perfect smoke rings, that floated up into the darkness. Elizabeth wondered if he was trying to impress her and when she looked back at his face she saw that he was smiling with amusement.

"Why's that?" he asked.

Elizabeth quickly looked away from his face and poked a stick at the small fire. Looking at him made her body fill with a tingling heat that made it impossible for her to think. Had she really looked down on women that couldn't control their thoughts, emotions and bodies around attractive men? Every time she looked at Brody or their bodies brushed together she had to fight the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him with reckless abandon.

She felt a heated flush color her cheeks and when she cast a glance back at Brody she saw that his eyes had darkened in the firelight. The fire was casting shadows across his face and judging by the way his head was cocked to the side and the intensity in his green eyes as they roamed over her, he knew where her mind had gone.

"Why what?" she whispered, suddenly forgetting what they had been talking about.

Brody shifted and held out his hand, "Give me them pears," he said, his voice deep and rough.

She handed them to him and sparks flew through the night air as their hands brushed. Brody pulled away quickly and began peeling the pears with his knife. "Why should I slow down on the cigarettes?" he asked.

Elizabeth looked at the cigarette that was now hanging off his firm lip and remembered what they'd been talking about before her thoughts had become completely out of control, "Because you'll run out... I know that Braxton becomes as grouchy as a bull with a toothache if he runs out of tobacco."

The mention of Braxton drove all sensual thoughts of Elizabeth from Brody's mind. Anger took their place as he remembered his suspicions that Braxton was the one that had had Elizabeth kidnapped and Braxton was the one that had told those men to kill her. Brody could only thank God that Braxton's hired men hadn't been worried about honesty or loyalty because killing her would have been easy while he'd been unconscious. He shivered at the thought of her dying and since it was an unpleasant thought he pushed it aside.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth, I promise I'll be nice even if I run out of cigarettes."

"You, nice?" she snorted with laughter and Brody looked truly hurt.

"You don't think I'm nice?" he asked.

"Are you honestly asking me that? You're as prickly as the damn cactus I picked those pears of off." Elizabeth replied with a smile.

Brody's eyes lit with amusement when he realized she was teasing him. She was an incredible woman. She'd been hit over the head, kidnapped, witnessed him kill two men before the two of them had been left for dead. She had been walking through the hot Texas heat all day, nearly been bitten by a rattler and looked more tired than anyone he'd ever seen but still she was joking.

She was his kind of woman. Brody hadn't realized that he had a 'kind' of woman until he'd met Elizabeth McCready. If they made it back to that ranch alive, there was no way in hell he was letting her marry Grant Foster. She was going to be his, but first he had to save both of them.

"And you, Miss McCready, are like the damn rattler we're fixin' to eat.... 'Course I guess that's not right because at least the rattler warns a man before it sinks in its fangs."

Elizabeth made a face at him that had him chuckling and then she reached out her hand, "If you're done peeling that pear, I'd like to eat it now because I don't think I've got much of a backbone left."

"Yes ma'am," Brody replied and he tossed a peeled pear to her. She bit into the pear and Brody felt his body stiffen and his pants become a little tighter when she moaned with pleasure. Juice ran over her lip and down her chin as her eyes slipped closed.

Brody cleared his throat, put his cigarette out on his boot and began to eat his own pear, being careful to keep his eyes off of her. The sounds of her pleasure as she ate the pear filled the air and there was nothing he could do to keep from hearing them. He tried to focus on the owl hooting in the distance, the gentle flowing stream and the crickets in the grass but still those soft, feminine moans cut through.

They didn't speak as they ate the pears and the snake and then, after taking a drink from the stream, Elizabeth walked toward the grass bed, "Thanks for making me a bed."

Brody shook his head, stepped around her and stretched out on the bed of grass, "I didn't make you a bed."

Elizabeth's face fell and she put her hands on her hips, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" she demanded.

Brody shrugged before folding his hands behind his head and crossing his legs, "Make yourself a bed." He grinned and laid his arm out, "Or you could sleep with me."

Elizabeth felt a warm tingling sensation that started in her head and worked its way down to her low abdomen where it coiled and pooled and filled her with an ache that she had never felt before.

"Make up your damn mind because I'm going to sleep," Brody growled and he rolled to his side away from her.

Elizabeth felt the heat cool suddenly. It was as if someone had doused her with cold water. That man could be such an ass.

She stomped around gathering grass and laid it out about a foot and a half from where he lay. She took the gun from her pants and set it on the ground between them and then she curled up on her side and stared at his broad back. Had he really wanted her to curl up with him or had he only been teasing? She couldn't tell. She had never met anyone who confused her the way he did.

"Get some sleep Elizabeth, quit staring at my back so hard," Brody mumbled and she quickly rolled to her other side and stared off into the night.

"Goodnight Brody."

"Yeah," he grunted in agreement and Elizabeth closed her eyes to try to find sleep.

***

The early summer morning that the dirty soldiers rode up to the small family shack, started innocently enough. The mist was still rising over the mountains and everything was dripping with dew. The air was thick and already warm. It was going to be a hot day. Brody and Jacob were sitting at the table with their mother and father and their two younger twin, three year old sisters. They were eating a breakfast of oatmeal and fresh goat milk. Christine and Catherine, Brody's older sisters were outside picking some peaches for the two young girls to eat with their breakfast.

"We have to get the garden hoed today before the weeds kill our plants," Hank Atkinson told his sons. Brody and Jacob both nodded.

"I want a dolly," little Susie said and Sally nodded in agreement. Their mother, Sara, smiled and rose from the table. She left the room and came back a moment later with two small dolls, she'd made with black thread, and burlap sacks. She'd even sewed them tiny gingham dresses just like the girls wore.

"Yay!" Susie and Sally exclaimed as they took their new toys and held them tight. "Thank you mama!"

Brody smiled. He loved his family. At sixteen most boys his age were wanting to break away and start lives of their own but not Brody. His seventeen year old brother Jacob was in no hurry to leave either.

The sound of horses approaching on the dusty mountain road reached their ears and Hank stood and opened the wooden shutter so he could look outside. Brody knew instantly that something was wrong when his father's shoulders tensed and he turned to his family.

"Brody, Jacob, take the little ones under the floor," he ordered.

"What is it pa?" Brody asked.

"Do as I say boy!" Hank yelled and Brody knew then that trouble was coming. Hank was a peace loving man. Against any kind of violence and only owning one hunting rifle. He never yelled and Brody had never seen him angry.

Brody and Jacob rose from the table and grabbed Susie and Sally. Brody yanked open the trap door and they lay down on their stomachs beneath the floorboards as their mother closed the door.

"Hank what is it?" she asked.

"Union soldiers," he replied.

"Christine and Catherine!" she exclaimed.

"Hopefully they'll hide," he said.

Brody lay there and listened and he heard his sisters yells of fear come from outside. He heard boots pounding across the porch and then the shack door flew open and banged against the wall.

"Let go of my daughters!" Hank exclaimed. "We'll provide you with food and...."

"It isn't food we're wanting you damn rebel." a Yankee voice replied and the sound of a gunshot filled the air in the tiny shack. Brody clamped his hands over his tiny sisters mouths and looked at Jacob in horror. Both brothers were helpless to do anything to help.

The sound of a body hitting the ground above them had Brody looking up through the cracks to see his fathers lifeless green eyes staring down at him. His blood dripped through the crack and landed with a plopping thud on Brody's cheek. He couldn't wipe it away because he was using both his hands to keep his sisters quiet.

"Hank!" his mother screamed and then the sound of ripping fabric and feminine screams filled the air. Brody couldn't see what was happening but he could hear his mother and sisters pleas, he could hear the tearing fabrics, the grunting of the soldiers, and the slapping of flesh against flesh.

It seemed hours, though it was only minutes, that these sounds filled the shack and then suddenly there was silence. Brody felt his heart fall at the silence. 'Please let them be okay.' he prayed silently. He had lost his father to these Yankees, he couldn't lose his mother and his older sisters too.

The sounds of the soldiers walking around the house and his mother's organized cupboards being opened and destroyed, slowly faded and then just as quickly as they'd come the soldiers left the house and the sound of their horses hooves pounding away faded into the distance.

Jacob was the first to open the trap door and step out and Brody heard him vomit on the cabin floor. He moved his hands off his sisters mouths and covered their tear filled eyes. They cried as he led them out into the cabin.

Brody stared in shock and horror. His father was dead of course with a single gunshot to his forehead. His mother, Catherine and Christine were staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Their clothes had been ripped from their bodies and they were covered in hundreds of cuts from the soldiers knives. Their lives had not been spared.

Brody felt his own lunch wanting to rise but fought it back and in that moment something inside of him died. His mind became black with rage and his heart filled with nothing but a need for vengeance.

He looked down at his loving mother and then suddenly the scene changed. He was inside the wagon that he and Elizabeth had been taken away in. He looked through the dim light and saw Elizabeth, her blond hair turned red with blood and she stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Her beautiful face was gray with her lifelessness and her blood coated the wagon floor. Her clothing was ripped and torn and it was clear that she' d been violated.

"No! No, not her too!" he screamed as he crawled across the rough wood planks to her body. "I saved her! I saved her! Elizabeth!" He shook her and shook her and shook her but she didn't wake.

Tears filled his eyes and he gathered her in his arms and kissed her bloody hair, "Wake up, cowgirl. Please wake up. Don't leave me..."

"I'm here Brody," her soft voice filled his dream and he smiled. But then became confused as he felt small hands on his shoulders shaking him.

"Brody wake up!"

Brody opened his eyes and there she was. Elizabeth. Her hair was blood free in the firelight. Her green eyes full of life and worry. He raised his hand to her cheek and she leaned her face against it as her eyes drifted closed momentarily.

"You're alive," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and covered his hand with hers, "Of course I'm alive. You saved me remember?"

Brody pulled her into his arms and she willingly laid down beside him, resting her head against his chest. She could tell he was still more asleep than awake. She wondered what kind of horrible nightmare had caused the fear, sadness and panic that she had heard in his voice.

Elizabeth listened to his heart, thundering beneath his ribs and she could feel his heat as she pressed her body against his.

"You're sleeping with me tonight," he grumbled in his harsh demanding way and Elizabeth nodded and snuggled closer. She had never laid like this with a man before and his body felt rock hard and strong against hers. With his arm wrapped tight around her she felt safe, protected and warm.

"Yes sir," she replied softly as she gazed up at his face. She realized his eyes were closed and he had already drifted back to sleep. "My pa said real love doesn't exist, Brody, but the longer I'm with you, the more I believe he was lying."