Free Early Dawn by Catherine Anderson Page B

more intensely from the relentless cold and biting wind when “playtime” finally ended. She was given no blanket. Her daily rations consisted of one tough piece of jerky and three cups of brackish water. Wanting to conserve her strength in case an opportunity arose for her to escape, she consumed every drop and morsel.
    But a chance to escape never came. When the men rested the horses during the day, she was tossed to the ground, ordered not to move, and was watched very closely. Once, when she dared to join the horses at the creek to get a drink, she was beaten for her trouble. Each night when they stopped, Pete, the cruelest one, assumed the duty of binding her hands and feet. After he’d finished cinching the leather so tight that her fingers and toes started to throb, he helped set up camp for the night. Then he returned to drag her over to the others.
    After the men bedeviled her and drank themselves stupid, Wallace, the keeper of Eden, Estacado’s prize, maintained the precautions he’d established the first night, tying the loose end of her noose around his wrist so he would feel the tug if she moved while he slept. She huddled on the ground, chilled to the bone and filled with despair. Though Wallace had thus far saved her from being raped, he didn’t hesitate to take his turn playing with her in the evening. To these men, she was nothing but an object to be sold or used. If anything happened to make them question her eventual worth, she knew she would be raped and then killed.
    By the end of the fourth day, Eden felt hollowed out. She was so far from home now, at least five days of solid riding from Denver, plus another to reach No Name. Even worse, the Sebastians were going northwest now instead of doubling back for the border, as law enforcement would undoubtedly expect them to do. She felt so alone—cut off from all that was familiar.
    Since early childhood, Eden had clung to the belief, under Ace’s tutelage, that nothing could ever take her to her knees. But neither she nor her brother could have foreseen her abduction by these monsters. Her fiery temper and feisty nature had deserted her. All her high-flown ideals about strength and perseverance had become as elusive as dandelion fluff dancing on the wind. Slowly but surely, her primary emotions became terror and a debilitating sense of defeat.
    She no longer felt certain her brothers were going to show up. Granted, she knew they were searching for her, but the Sebastians were pushing their horses with cruel disregard for the animals’ welfare. They were also clever, riding willy-nilly, first north and then northwest, with no apparent plan of escape. How could her brothers outguess men who didn’t appear to have a rational thought in their heads?
    While the men set up camp the fourth night, Eden sat in the moonlit darkness with her back to a boulder. The trailing branches of a wild plum brushed her cheeks with its delicate, fragrant blossoms. Though she tried to focus on the softness of the petals and their lovely scent, she found it difficult. The rawhide thongs that bound her hands and feet dug into her flesh, so tight that her fingers and toes pulsated with pain. By now, she knew the discomfort would eventually abate as numbness set in, but until then, the hurting was nearly unbearable.
    The men worked in the silvery shadows all around her. James, the youngest of the five, had been assigned the task of unsaddling and rubbing down the horses every night. While he did that, Pete and Harold strung a high line between two trees where the animals could be tethered until morning. The two oldest brothers, Wallace and Charles, spread out everyone’s pallets and blankets, swilling whiskey while they worked.
    “I don’t understand how come you won’t let us give that gal a poke,” Charles grumbled. “Don’t make no sense, savin’ her for Estacado when you ain’t even sure he’ll buy her.”
    “Hell, he probably won’t!” Pete hollered across the