Cord’s heart lodged in his throat at that moment, and he wished it would choke him.
Oh, God, not Josie. Not my Josie.
She stood against the wall of the saloon, her raven hair loose, her dress unbuttoned. Paralyzed, Cord watched as a man stood in front of her, fondling her, his hands and mouth all over her bare skin, her breasts. And she stood there, letting him, not even struggling, as this man touched her and pressed himself to her.
Pain sliced through Cord, stealing his breath. This was his Josie, his beautiful Josie, bared for another man. Anger welled up inside of him. What the hell was she doing here with another man? How long had she been meeting him?
Burning rage seared all rational thought, and all Cord could think about as he watched this man hike up the skirt of the woman he loved was how good it would feel to kill the sonofabitch.
Fists itching to collide with bone and muscle, he stepped out of the shadows, seeing nothing but the compliant look upon Josie’s face as the man reached for his fly.
"Step away from her right now, mister," he said, slowly and deliberately walking toward them. It was the only way he could keep from leaping onto the bastard to beat the life out of him. "What the hell is going on here, Josie?"
She didn’t answer, didn’t seem to recognize him.
Cord stared at her, anger seething inside of him, every muscle in his body tense and ready to spring. "Josie, I asked you a question."
"Well, now. Look who showed up," said the man, still touching her bared skin. "Don’t worry, friend, I’ll leave you some. Nothin’ wrong with sharing, now is there?"
Cord stopped a few feet from them. Hatred burned deep and hot as the words flowed from the bastard whose hands were on his Josie. He wanted to break those hands right now. She just stood there, her eyes wide, making no move to leave, not even to cover herself.
"I asked you a question," he said between gritted teeth, his words brittle.
She blinked, and seemed to focus on him finally. Slow realization stole over her face, deepening to horror.
"You can have her back when I’m done, mister. There’s plenty of her to go around." The man bared his teeth in some kind of sick smile. "Me and her are getting reacquainted. Isn’t that right, Liza?" He turned back toward Josie and kicked her legs apart, reaching again for his fly. She let out a whimper.
The sound angered Cord even more. He lunged and grabbed the man by the collar, hands itching to latch around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. He glared at the sonofabitch, his rage an inferno burning through him. He recognized John Paulson from the store that day.
"Get the hell out of here," he said savagely, "and never come back, do you hear me?"
Paulson held up his hands. "No need to get all worked up over some cheap whore--"
It was the word. The word that snapped the final thread of control Cord held on his fury. That one word loosened up all the anger, the pain, the desire to punish.
His fist connected with soft belly flesh and the man doubled over in pain. Satisfaction burned through him with every punch. Cord used his fists as weapons, pounding the bastard until he lay sprawled in the dirt at Cord’s feet. But it wasn’t enough. Rage howled inside of him, the need to cause pain blinding him. He pulled Paulson up, glorying in the crunch of bone beneath his fist, ignoring the pain that shot up his healing arm.
He stumbled with exertion and sucked in great lungfuls of air. The man lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. The acrid smell of blood filled his nostrils.
Josie’s sobs invaded his senses. She cowered in the shadows, clutching her dress together with shaking fingers. Burning questions battled in his mind. His anger blazed brightly, and it took every scrap of will he had left to keep from running to her and shaking her.
"What are you doing here, Josie?"
Dear God, no. Josie swallowed back the lump of horror in her throat and shook her head. Cord had the look of a wild man. His eyes shone fiercely, anger burning within them. She looked around, but there was nowhere to run.
"I followed you. You came out here to meet him." He clenched his fists at his sides.
"He made me do it," she whispered, afraid to look him in the eyes.
He gripped her arms with bloodied hands and shook her. "I saw you!" Anger flashed in his eyes. "You let him touch you like that, like some kind of--of whore, for Christ’s sake!"
Josie jerked as if he had slapped her. A slap would have stung far less than hearing that word come from the man she loved. Hearing him call her a whore tore through her soul. What could she say? He’d seen it all. "I did what I had to do, Cord. I’m so sorry."
He looked at her, disbelief in his eyes, as if he had expected her to deny what he had seen with his own eyes. "You’re sorry?" His voice rose to near hysteria. "You’re sorry?"
"Don’t worry yourself, mister." Paulson rose to his knees, coughing. "There’s plenty of her to go ‘round. She’s a whore, all right. A real good one, too. I suppose little Liza didn’t tell you ‘bout that." He coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. "Fancies herself an honest woman now. But I know better. She’ll let you do whatever you want to her."
Shock stole over Cord’s face, stealing the air from Josie’s lungs. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed the shaking hands clutching the edges of her dress over her nakedness.
"Cord, please understand," she whispered. "I had to do it."
He jerked his hands back as if she were a hot iron. "No. I don’t understand. I can’t understand why you would do this. Jesus, Josie, I thought we were building something between us." He backed away, the stark pain in his face tearing at her heart. "How could you be a whore?" he whispered, then turned and walked away.
Josie couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. "Cord!" she called after him, tears stinging her eyes. "Cord, I had to do this. I didn’t want to lose you and the children."
He stopped and hung his head, but didn’t face her. "I don’t see how you can stay with us now, not after this."
"Cord, don’t!" She ran after him. He turned and glared at her with hard eyes, full of contempt. "Don’t throw me out," she begged. "Please, let me explain. Let me make you understand!"
With obvious effort, he unclenched his jaw. "There’s nothing to explain, Josie. Take your things and be gone by morning."
Cord turned and stalked back toward the store, before he changed his mind. Behind him, Josie’s sobs filled the air, and every step he took away from her tore at his heart. How could she be a whore? How could the loving, gentle woman that made his house a home again, who loved his children, who made him laugh, who had helped to heal his grief, be a whore?
He’d spent every moment of his life hating the women who painted themselves and sold their bodies, just like his mother had. And now he’d let one into his life and his heart. And he hated himself for it.
He hated her for it.
A firestorm of rage burned inside him. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out her pitiful sobs behind him. He shut out the noise. He didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to see, didn’t want to feel anything but the anger inside him.
For the first time since that hot August night years ago, when he’d heard the crunch of bone and watched a man crumple to the dust in front of him, never to get up again, Cord had turned his fists against another man. That night had landed him in prison. This night, he had once again turned to violence, despite his vow never to do it again. And it was her fault.
He had enjoyed every single sickening thud of his fist against Paulson’s body, pummeling his fury into him, relishing the crunch of the bastard’s nose beneath his knuckles. Oh, yes, he could have easily killed him, the rage had burned that brightly. But the one cold spot in the inferno inside of him was that she wasn’t worth losing everything he had. That thought alone had stopped him from beating the man into the dirt.
She was a whore.
Josie sank to the ground as Cord disappeared into the night. Clutching the dirt with her fingers, she gave in to the wracking sobs that overtook her.
It was over. She’d lost her family, her job, Cord. Everything. All gone in a single moment. The moment he’d learned she was a whore.
"Damn you, Paulson. Damn you to hell!" she spat behind her, wiping her wet cheeks with dirty hands.
His mocking laughter answered her. "I always liked that about you, Liza. The fact that you hate me makes having you so much more exciting."
She heard him grunt to his feet, coins jingling in his pocket. A shudder gripped her, triggered by memories of coins thrown at her, and pain, always pain.
"How ‘bout it, Liza? He won’t care now. You and me can have a little fun. Just like old times." His staggering footsteps sounded behind her.
"You’ve done enough to me tonight, Paulson. More than enough." She stood and fastened the buttons of her dress with shaking fingers.
"Aww, come on Liza. Just one more poke."
Josie clenched her teeth tightly and swung around, throwing all the anger and anguish boiling inside of her into her glare. "If you ever come near me again, I swear I’ll kill you," she hissed.
Josie closed the back door silently. Cord had left it unlocked for her. Or perhaps in his disgust, he had forgotten to slide the bolt home. Darkness filled the kitchen, save for the silver slice of moonlight falling through the window curtains, just enough light to get to her room. She lit the lamp and set it on the dresser, avoiding her reflection in the mirror above it. She couldn’t face Liza again.
It was bound to happen some day, she told herself, swiping a tear with the back of her dirty hand. It was all too good to be true. A family, a home, someone who loved her. At least she should be thankful for having them as long as she had. But all she could feel was the stabbing pain from losing them.
Josie stripped off the soiled dress and scrubbed her skin with cold water until she was red. It didn’t matter how much or how hard she scrubbed, she would always be dirty, stained. And Cord would always hate her for it.
The wardrobe he’d nearly killed himself moving for her sat outside her room. All the clothes in it belonged to his wife, like everything else here. Josie took out her own dress, the one she had started her new life with. The mud stains that she never could scrub out completely mocked her.
With wooden fingers, Josie worked the buttons of her dress. She couldn’t find enough pins for her hair. They’d been torn out by Paulson’s groping fingers. Hot tears blinded her as she yanked a brush through her hair.
Why? Why did John Paulson have to show up here? She threw her brush down and slumped to the edge of her cot, burying her face in her hands. Why did he have to steal away her only happiness in life? If only she hadn’t gone into the Blue Rose to bring Cord home. She should have let him sleep it off at the bar that night, instead of worrying about him and caring for him.
Why did she have to care?
A soft, flickering light warmed the darkness and she looked up to find Cord filling her doorway. His lean features were hard, his body rigid. Josie couldn’t help but think of how handsome he was, with his suspenders hanging down and his shirt open to reveal the dusting of dark chest hair. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even with his hair rumpled and a day’s growth of beard. But he didn’t look at her.
"Cord?" she said softly, afraid of what he would say next.
"Tell me." He turned to her with eyes of stone, emotion breaking in his voice. He looked as though he barely had a grip on his anger. "Tell me why you lied."
Pinpricks of pain stung behind her eyes. She clamped them shut to hold back the flood of tears. In all her life, she’d never shed so many tears. She’d always hid inside herself and let all emotion drain from her, but not now, not with Cord. God, she wished she could hide now.
"Cord, I’m so sorry," she whispered, "so very sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, or the children."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don’t think you could have done a better job if you’d tried."
"I just wanted a new life. I wanted to leave my past behind and start over." She scowled. "God, I wish I could forget about those days."
His lamp flickered as he set it on the dresser. "So why did you do it? Why did you meet him tonight?" he said, whirling on her. "Or have you been sneaking out to meet men all along?"
"No! Cord, I swear, it was all in the past. He was going to tell you everything if I didn’t meet him. I didn’t want to lose you or the kids."
He pinned her once more in his stony gaze. "So you thought you’d go and be a whore just this once and then everything would be fine?"
"No!" she cried. But he was right. That was exactly what she had done. More tears burned in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "I just wanted him to go away. I know how you feel about--about that kind of woman, Cord. I couldn’t let you think that way about me."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you know why I can’t stand whores, Josie? Or is it Liza? Is that your real name? Did you lie about your name as well?"
She looked down at her hands. "I don’t like being called Liza," she whispered. "My name is Eliza Josephine. I wish Liza would just die and go away."
He turned his back to her again. "You know my mother was a whore," he said, gripping the top of the dresser. "She left me in an orphanage and never once visited. No one wanted me until I was big enough for farm work. I grew up hating her and everything she was for abandoning me."
Pity gripped Josie’s heart for the lonely little boy he must have been. "Oh, Cord..."
He turned and stared at her evenly, his eyes cold as glaciers. "So you understand why I’m having such a hard time accepting that you are a whore, Josie. It’s not something I can let go of."
Whore. The way he said it left her cold. "I was a whore, Cord. I’m not anymore."
"From what I saw tonight, you’re still in the game." He jammed his hand through his hair and turned toward the door, as if deciding whether to stay or leave. He swung around and pinned her in a pained gaze. "Jesus, Josie, how could you do it?" he cried.
Josie shook her head, unable to hold back the tears. "I told you why. He was going to tell you about my past."
"That’s not what I mean." He raked a hand through his hair again, then stabbed the air with it. "How could you be a whore? How could you take strangers to your bed for money? Jesus, it makes me furious to think about other men touching you. How, Josie?"
She twisted her fingers in her skirt. "It didn’t start out that way. It wasn’t supposed to be like that."
"Do you know how much I hurt right now? Have you any idea?" he cried, slapping his palm against the door.
Josie saw his wince of pain. He’d washed Paulson’s blood from his hands, but they were reddened and swelling. She wanted so badly to wrap a cool towel around his hands and smooth away the angry lines in his face with her fingers. But she was sure that he would never let her near enough to touch him again.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Meeting Paulson was supposed to have bought her time. Now her time was out. She had to be gone by morning.
Josie rose slowly, grief weighing her down, and pulled battered bag from under the cot. "I’ll leave before sunup," she whispered, nearly choking on the words.
Cord stood silently at the doorway, arms crossed, his body rigid as granite. Strangers once more.
"Where?" he said.
"Does it matter?"
His only answer was to walk away.