Shane had more or less expected a full contingent of would-be rapists, or possibly just Lorraine stripped for action; instead, Little Jill stepped through the door, by herself.
The tiny outlaw carried Shane's clothing-it had been washed, and hung to dry in front of a fire. She stood in the doorway, a plate of hot food in her hand. Shane could see a pair of shadows to either side of the door-doubtless more of Rusty's gunmen. The small blonde closed the door behind her. Shane noticed that she'd left her guns outside.
Jill stood for a moment, regarding the captive lawwoman. "First of all," she began, "no point in you goin' for me. Those men outside? Shoot me as soon as look at me, so you'd have no hostage and just get yourself killed in the process. You understand?" Shane nodded, reluctantly. "So if I get you up from that bed, you gonna behave yourself?" The captive marshal nodded again.
The bandit's hands were quick and sure as she undid the buckles and straps that held Shane prisoner. She undid the gag, and left it to Shane to pull the damp, disgusting leather from her mouth. Her voice was a dry croak. "Those are my clothes."
If Jill was unhappy with Shane's decision not to thank her for being freed, she gave no sign, but simply tossed the clothes down on the bed. She stood by the doorway, watching casually as Shane dressed. No underwear-just the cotton shirt, with her badge ripped from it, cuffs flapping loose, and the denim trousers; the boots had likely already been filched, so Shane was now barefoot-not ideal for making an escape attempt.
Jill reached to her belt, and took from it a length of rope. She indicated that Shane was to turn around.
"Oh, come on, you needn't bind me again," the marshal protested. "What chance of escape do you really think I have?"
"More untied than tied, I'd say," Jill drawled. "'Sides, Blackie's not the kind that takes chances. I don't think he trusts women very much less he's got 'em under some kinda control. So, let's don't make this hard, shall we?"
Shane glowered, hesitated, took a breath… and turned her back, holding her hands behind her. She hated to allow herself to be bound once more, but even without the ropes, she was a prisoner. How much worse could being tied up make it?
The outlaw wound the scratchy cord about Shane's wrists, looping it around and between; her captors seemed bent on treating her like livestock. Jill's fingers were once more smooth and fluid as she cinched the rope tight, then took her captive by the shoulders and turned her around.
"Now, marshal, I guess you've figured out by now that ol' Lorraine's got a few ideas she'd like to try out on you."
Bound though she was, Shane straightened her shoulders, and gritted, "If that overgrown alley cat tries to-"
"Save it, marshal." Jill gave her a wintry smile. "If I wanted to, I could deliver you to Lorraine all gift-wrapped and let her have her wicked way with you." She nodded towards the door. "Same with those boys out there-don't I just think they'd be willing to show you a good time?"
"What the hell is all this about?"
"Just this." Jill took two steps closer; even drawn up to full height, she barely cleared Shane's chin. "Rusty and Blackie are too busy to keep an eye the activities of these folks all the time… right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a rapin' party."
Shane bit back the defiant rejoinder that sprang to her lips. Much as she hated to admit it, Jill was right about what could happen to her here. She might very easily find herself once more on the bed, bound and gagged, and subject to whatever depredations Lorraine or the cowboys pleased to administer.
"And you're not interested in that?" Shane sneered. She expected a sharp retort, but Jill just shrugged.
"No, marshal… I don't fancy you that way. But I sure do like seeing such a smart-mouth know-it-all bitch get what's coming to her. You want me to keep those boys off'n you? Then you show me some proper respect."
"What do you mean, respect?"
"That can wait. But I'll bet you're hungry after your long day."
Again, Shane hated to admit it, but she truly was ravenous, and the food smelled damn fine.
"And if I am?" Shane responded casually.
"Oh, you're too damn good!" Jill exclaimed. "God, but I'm gonna enjoy this." She picked up the plate of food from the table, and set it down in front of her, on the floor. "There you go, marshal."
Shane's eye widened; however low her opinion of the little outlaw was, she hadn't seen this coming.
"If you think I' m going to... no, I'm damned if I will. I'll starve first!"
"No, you won't." Jill's voice was dangerously calm. "Because while I wouldn't shed a tear if you did starve to death, you ain't gonna deny me the pleasure of seein' you crawl like an animal." She hooked a thumb toward the door. "Remember, marshal-- I may not want to use you like a strumpet myself-- but I'd surely enjoy watching those boys do it."
Shane didn't know what was keener, or more real-- that threat, or her hunger... but it didn't matter. Either led to the same course. For the time being, she was beaten.
She took one step… two… with her hands tied behind her, balance was tricky, but she clenched her teeth, and went down to one knee, then the other, in front of the grinning Jill. Even kneeling, she only barely had to look up to see the outlaw's face, but that seemed enough to satisfy Little Jill.
"Dig in, marshal."
And much as she detested herself for it, Shane did. Her inhibitions were swept away by the smell of the chicken, the steam rising off the potatoes, and the aching gnawing in her stomach. She twisted her head, to allow the heavy mane of golden hair to fall to one side.
Make the best of it, she told herself. And if she were to find any chance to escape, she'd need the nourishment. The food had been cut into bite-size portions-either they didn't want to give her any sharp implements, or Jill had planned this from the first.
"God, if that ain't a beautiful sight." Jill nearly quivered as she watched her captive's humiliation.
Shane did her best to ignore Jill's gloating, and concentrate on the admittedly delicious food. As she finished the last bite, she glanced up at Jill, then turned her head to wipe her face on the bedspread-- doubtless her captor would have enjoyed taunting her for the bits of food that would cling to her face, and that was one tiny satisfaction Shane could deny her. She continued to kneel as tall as she could, waiting for Jill's next move.
"Good grub, eh marshal?" When Shane didn't respond, Jill went on. "Guess that's somethin' else you gotta thank me for... not only keepin' the boys off you, but feedin' you too. So now it's time for you to show me that respect I was talkin' about."
Before Shane could ask for an explanation, Jill smiled, and wiggled the toe of her right boot. "Right down here, marshal… I want to see you thank me good and proper for all I done fer you."
"You don't mean…" Shane's voice trailed off as Jill's face grew hard and she nodded towards the door.
"Your choice, marshal. It's me or them." And she again presented the toe of her black boot.
Shane swallowed hard. In her law enforcement career, she'd been in some tough scrapes, but nothing like this-never before had she been left with no way out that she could see. And while she was hopeful that some opportunity would present itself-right here, right now, in this room... she had no choice.
She moved swiftly, hoping to avoid Jill's gaze, and dropped her head to the floor, her golden mane spilling around Jill's foot. She pursed her lips and pressed them to the polished leather.
"Uh-uh, marshal." Jill shook her head. "You can do better'n that. Clean 'em off for me."
Now a shudder ran through Shane's body, and she could almost feel Jill's satisfaction.
"I'll count three, marshal. After that..."
Shane opened her mouth, and let her tongue run along the tip of the toe. The boot wasn't especially dirty, but the polish and dust were a pungent combination.
Jill reached down and smoothed Shane's hair to one side. "That's better. I want to see this." And she slid her other foot out beside the first. The bound blonde continued her humiliating ministrations.
"Big bad U.S. Marshal," Jill sneered. "Not so big now."
Shane had known men who were bothered by their short stature, but Jill was the first woman she'd ever encountered who seemed to want to take out her lack of height on the rest of the world. Probably comes of riding with outlaws.
Shane closed her eyes, trying to recall the taste of the food, trying to block out the disgusting chore she was performing. After a few minutes, Jill finally told her to stop.
"I could watch this all night, but Blackie's expecting you." Jill reached into a pocket, and came to stand over Shane where she still knelt. The outlaw's hands were filled with thick white cotton duck cloth. "He wants you seen but not heard... least not til he's ready to talk to you." She balled up one of the cloths. "Open wide."
After what she'd been through, Shane couldn't see any point in balking at another gag-- at least it meant she was evidently not going to be alone with Little Jill any longer.
Though Shane opened her mouth wide, Jill still fixed a fist in her hair and yanked her head back as she forced the wad of cloth into the bound marshal's mouth. Shane nearly gagged as the cloth was jammed deep, and felt her eyes begin to tear-- a pleasure she'd hoped to deny her captor.
But if Jill even noticed, she gave no sign, as she busily used the other cloth to wedge the wadding in place, binding it around Shane's head, wrapping it over her long hair, and knotting it tightly in the back; the cloth was long enough that she was able to knot it three times, the third time finally eliciting a pained grunt from her captive.
"Now, marshal," Jill pulled Shane to her feet by her bound arms. "Let's join the party."
***
Shane was marched down the far end of the hallway, past the staircase she had been dragged up just hours before, with Jill at her shoulder, and two armed cowboys directly behind. She took some heart at this: They're obviously still scared of me, bound and gagged though I am. Maybe I'll yet have the chance to show them why.
At the end of the hall was a large wood-paneled dining room. As she was brought through the door, Shane took in the enormous table, set with silver, crystal, and fine linen, and the well-dressed men and women that sat at it. They didn't exactly ignore the sight of a bound and gagged U.S. Marshal being led into the room, but neither did they appear shocked. In fact, as Shane began to take in the faces, she recognized a number of Rio Bondo's most prominent citizens-many of whom, she recalled, had seemed less than happy with her attempts to clean things up.
"Ah, here we are." Blackie was standing at the head of the table, drink in hand. "As I promised," he nodded to the other guests.
He indicated a chair near where he stood, and Jill walked Shane over to it. She took the marshal's wrists and forced them down behind the chair, so that Shane's arms strained terribly around the chair back. More rope bound her wrists to the back rung of the chair, and was wound about her torso, pinning her back firmly against the chair. Her ankles were pulled together and bound with equal severity; her bare feet rested on the persian rug.
And, to Shane's disgust, if not precisely astonishment, the meal went on around her! No one seemed the slightest bit disturbed by the presence of a bound and gagged woman at the table-- but then, she reflected, this assortment of corrupt politicians, shady businessmen, and loose women was probably damned hard to shock.
She did find herself grateful that she hadn't been stubborn enough with Jill to refuse the food-- she shuddered at the thought of what it would have been like to sit here helplessly watching the others eat had her stomach still been empty.
While some of the diners barely acknowledged her presence, many of them did take the time to remind her of her past "transgressions" against them, and hint darkly at the fate that might be in store for her now that she was in their power; there was no mistaking the looks of gloating triumph.
As the main course was being cleared away, Blackie tapped his glass and got to his feet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a few moments." The diners sipped their drinks as they listened. "Each of you here has been instrumental in making Rio Bondo what it is today-a haven for the independent minded and ambitious."
Or the greedy and unscrupulous, who want to break the law with impunity, Shane wanted to scream at him.
"But, as we all know, not everyone shares our vision."
No, that's right-not everyone wants to live in a town where the rich can get richer by committing any crime they like, and are allowed to get away with it.
"My friends, we have here, a symbol." At that, Blackie placed his hand on Shane's head and forced her to look around the audience. "A symbol of what we established Rio Bondo to get away from-- the encroachment of the Federal 'octopus' with its greedy, petty rules and regulations." He cuffed the back of her head, and continued. "Here in Rio Bondo, those who know how to 'play the game' are rewarded-- and we don't need any damned Washington snoops coming around here to tell us our business."
He turned his chair around so it was positioned before his captive, back first, and leaned over it, straddling the chair, his face close to hers. He reached to Shane's mouth, and loosened the cloth tied around it just enough to slip it down, and leave it dangling around her neck, the thick wadding wrapped in it.
"Now, marshal. I have a few questions that you're going to answer for us."
Hopeless as her position was, Shane refused to be intimidated by this posturing mountebank. "Go to hell."
Shane's head rocked to the side as the back of Blackie's hand collided with her cheek. He backhanded her the other way, stars swimming in her vision, then he gripped her hair painfully.
"Did Rusty happen to mention that I have no objection to hitting women?" He was so close that the smell of his toilet water nearly sickened the marshal, combined as it was with the nausea from the slaps. "Did she mention that I have no qualms about hurting them in any way at all?" Without waiting for an answer, he released her hair, and sat down across his chair again.
"Now, as I was saying... a few questions. Who, from outside Rio Bondo, knows that you're here?"
Shane shuddered as the terrible answer hit the pit of her stomach-- there was no one. She might well have been reported missing from her regular rounds by now, but no one would know where to begin looking for her: her pursuit of Jill and Lorraine would have been unknown to anyone else. She tried desperately to think of some story she might concoct to disguise that fact, but her head was ringing from the slaps, and her mind felt weak and fuzzy.
"No one."
The next blow was even more vicious, the heel of his hand across her left ear.
"Don't be stupid. Don't presume that I am. Who sent you here? Who else knows of the special... 'arrangements'... we have here?"
"No one!" Shane tried to keep the pain-- and fear-- out of her voice. "I was chasing those two bank robbers that escaped from a prison train and stole my horse in the process."
Blackie studied his captive for a moment, then turned to look at Rusty.
"What do you think?"
The redheaded madame shrugged. "Could be. She did ride in right after those two showed up."
The man nodded, then picked up the wadded cloth and forced it back into Shane's mouth, obviously not caring if he choked her. He used the other cloth to once more bind it in place around her head, then got up from the chair.
"I'm going to make a few inquiries… if she's telling the truth, then we can dispose of her as we like. If not… we may have to employ somewhat sterner methods of persuasion." He nodded to his guests, shook a few hands, and left the room.
For the next hour, the guests finished desserts and coffee, now and again pausing to taunt the blue-eyed captive glaring defiantly at them over her gag. After about forty minutes, one of Rusty's cowboys had come into the room, and whispered something into her ear.
"Where? Outside?"
The man nodded, and Rusty turned to Jill and Lorraine. "Got a little problem-you two see to it for me."
For the next fifteen minutes, Shane had tried to imagine what sort of problem the two gunwomen might have been sent to fix-vermin chasing vermin?-when she heard their voices from outside the room, and Jill came in.
"Rusty, you may be interested in this." At Jill's words, Sweet Lorraine stepped into the room, a large burlap sack slung over her shoulder. Shane was horrified to see that the sack was squirming, and the sounds coming from it were the pitiful moans of a woman gagged as she herself was.
"Catch some kind of varmint?" the redhead chuckled.
"Something like that," Little Jill smiled. "The nosey type of varmint, sticking their noses in other people's business."
Lorraine shrugged her shoulder, and the sack hit the ground with a sickening thud. The tall cowgirl bent down and undid the top of the sack. Shane watched in horror as the bag was peeled back to reveal the gagged, tear-stained face of her friend, newspaper editor Maggie Ross!