School was out. Gerard was intensely proud of his students. The seniors had all graduated, and all of the undergraduates had passed. All of them intended to finish high school, and a couple of them wanted to go to college. It was a record to thrill any teacher's heart.

Lucas didn't get a respite. Gerard decided he needed more advanced classes in math than he was qualified to teach and began a search for a teacher who was qualified. He found one in a town seventy miles distant, and three times a week Lucas made the trip for a two-hour accelerated course. Gerard continued to teach him at night.

The days passed in a haze of happiness for Gerard. He seldom left the mountain, seldom saw anyone except Frank and Lucas. Even when they were both gone, he felt safe. It had been only a little over two weeks since the attack, but it seemed as if it had happened a long time ago. Whenever a sliver of memory surfaced to unsettle his emotions, he scolded himself for letting it bother him. Nothing had happened, except he had been terrified. If anyone needed care and consideration, it was Cathy Teele. So Gerard pushed the memories away and concentrated on the present. The present, inevitably, was Frank.

He dominated Gerard's life, waking and sleeping. He began teaching him how to ride and how to help him with the horses, and he suspected he used the same method with him that he used with the young colts and fillies that were brought to him. He was firm and demanding, but utterly clear in his instructions and what he wanted out of both him and the horses. When they obeyed, he rewarded them with approval and affection. In fact, Gerard mused, he was easier on the horses than he was on him! When they disobeyed, he was unfailingly patient. When he didn't do something exactly as he'd told him, he let him know about it in unmistakable terms.

But Frank was always affectionate. Actually, he decided, "lusty" was a better description. He made love to him every night, sometimes twice. He made love to him in the empty stall where Lucas had interrupted them. He made love to him in the shower. He knew he wasn't even close to sexy, but Frank seemed enthralled with his body. When they lay in bed at night he would turn on the lamp and lean on his elbow, watching as he stroked his hand over Gerard from shoulders to knees, seemingly fascinated by the difference between his pale, delicate skin and his own dark, powerful, work-callused hand.

Wyoming weather in the summer was generally cool and dry, at least compared to California, but the summer vacation from school had scarcely begun when a heat wave sent the temperatures into the nineties, even edging into the low hundreds by late afternoon. For the first time in his life, Gerard wished he had some shorts to wear, but Grandma had never allowed them. He did find, however, that his plain cotton pants were cooler than the new jeans he was so proud of, not that Grandma would have approved of Gerard's attire even then, for she strongly believed that any man who left the house in less than a full suit and tie, was an out-and-out hussy.

One morning just after Lucas had left to drive to his class, Gerard walked out to the barn and reflected on his state of hussiness. All in all, he was satisfied with it. Being a hussy had its advantages.

He could hear some horses snorting and stamping around in the small corral behind the barn, though Frank usually used the larger one adjacent to the stables for training. The sound of activity, however, told him where he could find him, and that was all he wanted to know.

But when he rounded the corner of the barn, he stopped in his tracks. Frank's big bay stallion was mounting the mare he had been riding during his lessons. The mare's front hooves were hobbled, and protective boots covered her rear hooves. The stallion was snorting and grunting, and the mare squealed as he entered her. Frank moved to her head to steady her, and then she stood quietly.

"There, sweetheart.."

He crooned.

"You can handle this big old guy, can't you?"

The mare shivered under the impact of the stallion's thrusts, but she stood still for the service and it was over in only a couple of minutes. The stallion snorted and dropped off her, his head down low as he snuffled and blew.

Frank continued talking in that low, soothing voice to the mare as he bent down to remove the hobble. As he started to remove the boots, Gerard stepped forward and caught his attention.

"You—you tied her!"

He said accusingly.
Frank grinned as he finished unbuckling the protective boots. Mr. Gerard Arthur Way stood before him in full form, his back ramrod-straight, chin lifted.

"I didn't tie her.."

He said with amused patience.

"I hobbled her."

"So she couldn't get away from him!"

"She didn't want to get away from him."

"How do you know?"

"Because she would have kicked him if she hadn't been ready for him to cover her."

He explained as he led the mare back into the barn. Gerard followed, his face still filled with indignation.

"A lot of good it would have done if she'd kicked him—you put those boots on her so she wouldn't hurt him!"

"Well, I didn't want my stallion damaged. On the other hand, if she had resisted service, I would have gotten her out of there. When a mare resists, it means I've misjudged the time, or something is wrong with her. But she took him nicely, didn't you girl?"

He finished, patting the mare's neck.

Gerard watched, fidgeting, as Frank washed the mare. He still didn't like the idea of the mare being unable to run away from the stallion, even though this particular mare was now standing as placidly as if nothing had happened a few minutes ago. It disturbed him on a deep emotional level that didn't respond to logic, and he felt uneasy.

Frank led the mare to her stall, fed her and gave her fresh water. Then he squatted in front of the faucet to wash his hands and arms. When he looked up, Gerard was still standing there, a troubled, almost frightened look in his eyes. He straightened.

"What's wrong?"

Desperately he tried to shrug his uneasiness aside, but it didn't work. It was plain in his face and voice.

"It looked—it looked..."

His voice trailed off, but suddenly Frank understood.
He moved slowly toward Gerard and wasn't surprised when he backed up a step.

"Horses aren't people."

He said gently.

"They're big, and they snort and squeal. It looks rough, but that's just how horses mate. It would be even rougher if they were allowed to run free, because they'd kick and bite."

Gerard looked at the mare.

"I know. It's just—"

He stopped, because he really couldn't say what was bothering him.
Frank reached him and put his hands on his waist, holding him lightly so he wouldn't be alarmed and wouldn't know that he couldn't break free unless he let him.

"It's just that the roughness reminded you of being attacked?"

Frank finished for him.
Gerard gave him a quick, disturbed look, then just as quickly looked away.

"I know the memory is still there, baby."

He slowly tightened his hands, bringing him close against him and just holding him. After a moment Gerard began to relax, and his silky head rested against Frank's broad chest. Only then did he put his arms around him, because he didn't want him to feel restrained.

"I want to kiss you."

He murmured.
Gerard lifted his head and smiled at him.

"That's why I came out here: to tempt you into a kiss. I've become a shameless hussy. Grandma would have disowned me."

"Your Grandma sounds like a pain in the—"

"She was wonderful.."

Gerard said firmly.

"It's just that she was very old-fashioned and had strict notions of what was proper and what wasn't. For instance, only shameless hussies would wear a pants without a jacket and tie."

"Then let's hear it for shameless hussies."

Frank bent his head and kissed him, and felt the familiar hot excitement begin building in his body. Ruthlessly he controlled it, because control was critical right now. He had to show Gerard something, and he couldn't do it if his libido overcame his common sense. He had to do something to banish that ever-present fear from the back of his mind.

Frank raised his head and hugged him for a minute before letting his arms drop. Instead he took his hands and held them, and the expression on his face made the smile leave Gerard's eyes. He said slowly..

"Are you willing to try something that might get you over being frightened?"

Gerard looked cautious.

"Such as?"

"We could reenact parts of the attack."

Gerard stared at him. He was curious, but also wary. Part of him didn't want to do anything that would remind him of that day, but on the other hand, he didn't like being afraid.

"Which parts?"

"I could chase you."

"He didn't chase me. He grabbed me from behind."

"So will I, when I catch you."

Gerard considered it.

"It won't work. I'll know it's you."

"We could try."

He stared at Frank for a long time, then stiffened as a thought came to him.

"He threw me facedown on the ground.."

He whispered.

"He was on top of me, rubbing himself against me."

Frank's face was strained.

"Do you want me to do that, too?"

Gerard shuddered.

"Want you to? No. But I think you're going to have to. I don't want to be afraid any longer. Make love to me like that—please."

"What if you get really scared?"

"Don't—"

He swallowed.

"Don't stop."

Frank looked at him for a long minute, as if measuring his resolve; then his mouth began to quirk up on one side.

"All right. Run."

He didn't. He stared at him.

"What?"

"Run. I can't chase you if you don't run."

All of a sudden Gerard felt silly at the thought of running about the yard like a child.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. Think of it this way: when I catch you, I'm going to pull your clothes off and make love to you, so why are you waiting?"

He removed his hat to hook it on a post. Gerard took a step backward, then, despite his dignity, whirled and ran. He heard the thudding of Frank's boots as he came after him, and laughed with excitement despite himself. He knew he didn't have a prayer of reaching the house; Frank's legs were longer than his. Instead, he relied on agility and dodged around Frank's truck, then a tree.

"I'm going to get you."

Frank growled, his voice right behind him, and his hand closed briefly on his shoulder before he sprinted away from him.

Gerard sought refuge behind his truck again, with him on the other side. They feinted, but neither gained an advantage. Panting, his face alight with both excitement and triumph, Gerard taunted him.

"Can't catch me, can't catch me."

A slow, unholy smile touched Frank's mouth as he looked at him. Gerard was almost glowing with his success, his silky blonde hair tumbling around his face, and he wanted him so much it hurt. Frank wanted to take him in his arms and make love to him, and he swore to himself because he couldn't, not right now. First he had to play this through, and, despite his brave words, Frank hoped he could bear it.

They had been staring at each other, and suddenly it struck Gerard how savage he looked. Frank was aroused. He knew that look on his face as well as he knew his own, and his breath caught. He wasn't playing; he was deadly earnest. For the first time, fear began to creep in on him. He tried to tamp it down, because he knew Frank would never hurt him. It was just—oh, damn, something about it did remind him of the attack, no matter how he tried to push the thought away. The playfulness drained out of him, and an unreasonable panic took its place.

"Frank? Let's stop now."

His chest rose and fell with his breathing, and a bleak look entered his eyes, but his voice was guttural.

"No. I'm going to catch you."

Gerard ran blindly, leaving the dubious safety of the truck. Frank's running steps behind him sounded like thunder, obscuring every other sound, even that of his rasping breath. It was like being in that alley again, even though a part of him clung to the knowledge that this was Frank, and he wanted him to do this. He hadn't had a chance to run from his attacker, but he had been behind him; he had heard his breathing just as he now heard Frank's. He screamed, a high, terrified sound, just before Frank caught him and bore him down, on his stomach, to the ground, his heavy weight coming down on top of him.

Frank supported himself on his arms to keep from crushing him, and nuzzled his ear.

"Ha, I caught you."

He forced himself to say the words lightly, but his chest was tight with pain at what Gerard was going through. He could feel the terror that held him in its grip, and he began trying to loosen its bonds, speaking softly to him, reminding him of the heated, sensuous pleasures they had shared. Tears stung Frank's eyes at the sounds Gerard made, those of a trapped and terrified animal. God, he didn't know if he could do it. The lust had died in him at the first scream.

At first Gerard struggled like a wild thing, kicking and bucking, trying to free his arms, but Frank held them clamped down. He was maddened with fear, so much so that despite the difference in their sizes and strength, he might have hurt Frank if not for his training. As it was, all he could do was hold Gerard and try to break through the black mist of fear that enveloped him.

"Calm down, sweetheart, calm down. You know I won't hurt you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you. You know who I am."

Frank repeated it over and over, until exhaustion claimed Gerard, and his struggles became weak and aimless. Only then could he begin to listen; only then could Frank's crooning words penetrate the barrier of fear. Suddenly he collapsed on the ground with his face buried in the hot, sweet grass and began to cry.

Frank lay on top of him with his arms still locked securely around him and soothed him while he cried. He petted him and kissed his hair, his shoulder, his delicate nape, until at last he lay limply on the grass, both tears and energy exhausted. The endless caresses affected Frank, too, now that Gerard was calmer; he felt a return of the desire that was never far away from him since he'd met him.

Frank nuzzled his neck again.

"Are you still frightened?"

He murmured.
Braised, swollen eyelids were closed over Gerard's eyes.

"No.."

He whispered.

"I'm sorry I keep putting you through this. I love you."

"I know, sweetheart. Hold on to that thought."

Then he lifted himself back on his knees and pulled Gerard's pants down his pale legs.
Gerard's eyes flared open when he felt him pulling them, and his underpants down, and his voice was sharp.

"Frank! No!"

Frank stripped the garments down his legs, and Gerard trembled in reaction. It was so much like before, in the alley. He was on his stomach on the ground, with a man's weight on top of him, and he couldn't bear it. He tried to scramble forward, but Frank locked one arm around his waist and held him still, while he unfastened his jeans with the other hand. He kneed Gerard's legs farther apart and eased himself against him again.

"This reminds you of it, doesn't it?"

He asked in a low, gentle voice.

"Being on the ground, with me behind you. But you know I won't hurt you, that you don't have to be afraid, don't you?"

"I don't care. I don't like this! Let me up, I want up!"

"I know, baby. Come on now, relax. Think of how many times I've made love to you and how much you've enjoyed it. Trust me."

The smell of the hot earth was in Gerard's nostrils.

"I don't want you to make love to me now.."

He managed to say, albeit raggedly.

"Not like this."

"Then I won't. Don't be afraid, baby. I won't go any further unless you want me to. Just relax, and let's feel each other. I don't want you to be afraid when I come up behind you. I admit, your pretty little rear end turns me on. I like to look at it and touch it, and when you cuddle it against me in bed it drives me crazy. I guess you've noticed, though, haven't you?"

Dazedly, Gerard tried to gather his scattered senses. Frank had never hurt him before, and now that the haze of fear was fading, he knew he never would. This was Frank, the man he loved, not his attacker. He was in his strong arms, where he was safe.
Gerard relaxed, his tired muscles going limp. Yes, Frank was definitely aroused. He could feel him, nestled between his spread legs, but true to his word he was making no move to enter him.
Frank stroked his sides and kissed his neck.

"Are you all right now?"

Gerard sighed, a barely audible release of breath.

"Yes."

He whispered.

Frank shifted to his knees again and sat back on his heels. Before Gerard could guess what he was about, his steely hands lifted him up and back, so he was sitting astride his thighs, but facing away from him. Their naked loins were pressed together, but still he didn't enter him.

The first twinge of excitement sang along Gerard's nerves. The moment was doubly erotic because they were out in the open, crouched on the grass with the hot, bright sun blazing down on them. If anyone happened to drive up, they would be caught. The sudden sense of danger sharply heightened his arousal. Frank held him to him with one hand on his stomach, and the other hand slid down between his legs, wrapping loosely around his hardening cock. The intimate contact brought a sharp little cry to his lips.

"Do you like that?"

Frank murmured against his ear and gently nipped the lobe.
Gerard made some incoherent answer. Frank's rough fingertips were rasping over his most sensitive flesh, creating and building such pleasure that he could barely speak. Frank knew exactly how to touch him, how to build him to readiness and take him to ecstasy. Mindlessly Gerard arched back against him; the movement brought Frank's manhood more solidly against him, and he groaned aloud.

"Frank—please!"

He groaned, too, from between clenched teeth.

"I'll please you any way you want, baby. Just tell me how."

Gerard could barely speak for the powerful coil of sensation tightening inside him.

"I want you."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Like this?"

Gerard moved against him and this time had to choke back a cry.

"Yes!"

Frank eased him forward until he was on his hands and knees, and covered him. His entry was slow and gentle, and fever enveloped Gerard's body. Eagerly he met the impact of Frank's thrusts, his body on fire, all thoughts suspended before such all-consuming need. This wasn't a nightmare; this was another part of the sensual delights he'd been teaching him. He writhed against Frank and felt the coil tighten unbearably. Then it sprang free, and he convulsed in his arms, spraying the grass beneath him. Frank clamped his hands on Gerard's slim hips and loosed his own responses, driving into him hard and fast until his pulsing release freed him.

They lay together on the grass for a long time, half-dozing, too exhausted to move. Only when Gerard felt his legs begin to tingle from too much sun did he find the strength to move. Frank murmured a protest and slid his hand up Gerard's thigh.

Gerard opened his eyes. The sky was bright blue, cloudless, and the sweet scent of fresh grass filled his lungs, radiated through his body. The earth was hot beneath him, the man he loved dozed beside him, and every inch of him still held the remnants of sensation from their lovemaking. The memory of it, so fresh and powerful, began to warm his body to desire again, and suddenly he realised that Frank's plan had worked. He had recreated the scenario that had so terrified him, but substituted himself for the attacker. Instead of fear, pain and humiliation, he had given him desire and, ultimately, an ecstasy so strong it had taken him out of himself. He had replaced a terrible memory with a wonderful one.

Frank's hand was lying low on Gerard's abdomen now, and the simple intimacy of his touch stunned him. He knew that he couldn't be carrying his child. Impossible. But he sort of wished it wasn't. It was what he wanted, even if their relationship didn't last, he would want his baby, a child with his strength and fire. If it could be a duplicate of him, nothing would make him happier. Gerard stirred, and the pressure of Frank's hand on his abdomen increased.

"The sun is too hot.."

He murmured.

"I'm getting burned."

Frank groaned, but fastened his jeans and sat up. Then he picked up Gerard's pants and underpants, tucked them in his pocket and lifted him in his arms in the same motion he used to get to his feet.

"I can walk."

Gerard informed him, though he wound his arms around his neck.

"I know."

Frank grinned down at him.

"It's just that it's more romantic to carry you into the house to make love."

"But we just made love."

There was fire in his black eyes.

"So?"

~

~

~

Frank was just about to enter the feed store when a tingle touched the back of his neck like a cool wind. He didn't stop, which would have signalled an alarm to anyone watching, but, using his peripheral vision, he took a quick look around. The sense of danger was like a touch. Someone was watching him. His sixth sense was highly developed from hard training and years of application, and further enhanced by the strong mysticism of his heritage.

It wasn't just that he was being watched; he could feel the hatred directed toward him. He strode into the feed store and immediately stepped to the side, flattening himself against the wall as he looked out the door. Conversation in the store halted as if the words had hit a stone wall, but he ignored the thick silence. Adrenaline pumped through his body; he didn't notice that his gloved hand automatically slid over his chest to touch the knife that had been securely attached to the webbing he'd worn sixteen years before, in a steamy, hauntingly beautiful little country that reeked of blood and death. Only when his hand encountered nothing but his shirt did he realize that old habits had come to the fore.

Suddenly he realized that it was the man he'd been hunting, standing somewhere out there and staring at him with hatred, and rage surged through him. He didn't need a knife. Without a word he removed his hat and boots, the hat because it increased his silhouette, the boots because they were too noisy. In his sock feet he ran lightly past the stunned and silent little knot of men who had been standing around chewing the fat. Only one voiced a hesitant..

"What's going on?"

Frank didn't take time to answer, but slipped out the back door of the feed store. His movements were silent, deliberate, as he used every available bit of cover while moving from building to building, working his way around so he would come out behind where he had estimated the man to be. It was hard to pinpoint his position, but Frank had automatically picked out the best locations for concealment. If he kept looking long enough, he'd find another of the tracks he'd been searching for; the guy would get careless, and Frank would get him.

He slid around the back of the drugstore, feeling the heat of the sun-warmed boards against his back. He was more cautious than before, not wanting the wood to rasp against his shirt. It was gravelly here, too, and he placed his feet with care to keep the little rocks from making a telltale grinding.

He heard the heavy, thudding sound of someone running, as if he had bolted in panic. Frank ran around the front of the building and knelt briefly to inspect a faint print in the dust, only a part of a print, but his blood surged. It was the same print, same shoe, same toeing-in stride. He sprinted like a big timber wolf, no longer caring about noise, racing up the street, looking left and right for anyone in the street.

Nothing. No one. The street was empty. He stopped to listen. He heard birds, the rustle of a fitful breeze in the trees, the far-off sound of an engine climbing the slight rise on the north side of the town. Nothing else. No fast breathing, no running footsteps.

Frank swore to himself. The guy was worse than an amateur, he was clumsy and made stupid moves, as well as being out of shape. If he'd been anywhere close by, Frank would have been able to hear his labuored breathing. Damn it, somehow his quarry had slipped away.

Frank looked at the quiet houses nestled under the trees. Ruth didn't have residential and commercial zoning; it was too small. The result was that the houses and few businesses were mixed together without order. The man could have gone into any of the houses; the way he'd disappeared so suddenly left no other possibility. It verified Frank's conviction that the rapist lived in Ruth; after all, both attacks had happened right in town.

He noted who lived in the houses on the street and tried to think of who inside them matched Gerard's description of a heavily freckled man. No one came to mind. But someone would. By God, Frank vowed, someone would. He was slowly eliminating men from his mental list. Eventually, there would be only one left.

From inside a house, a curtain moved fractionally. The sound of his own raspy breathing as he sucked air into his labouring lungs filled the man's ears. Through the tiny crack he'd made, he could see the Indian still standing in the street, staring at first one house, then another. Murderous black eyes moved across the window where the man stood, and he automatically stepped back out of sight.

His own fear sickened and enraged him. He didn't want to be afraid of the Indian, but he was.

"Damn filthy Indian!"

He whispered the words, then echoed them in his head. He liked doing that, saying things out loud the first time, then saying them to himself for his private understanding and enjoyment.

The Indian was a murderer. They said he knew more ways of killing people than normal folks could even imagine. The man believed it, because he knew firsthand how Indians could kill.

He'd like to kill the Indian, and that boy of his with the strange, pale eyes that looked through him. But he was afraid, because he didn't know how to kill, and he knew he'd wind up getting killed himself. He was too afraid of getting that close to the Indian to even try it.

He'd thought about it, but he couldn't come up with a plan. He'd like to shoot the Indian, because he wouldn't have to get close to do that, but he didn't have a gun, and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by buying one. But he liked what he'd done to get back at the Indian. It gave him savage satisfaction to know he was punishing the Indian by hurting those stupid people who had taken up for him. Why couldn't they see him for the filthy, murdering trash he was? That stupid Cathy had said the Indian was good-looking! She'd even said she'd go out with the boy, and he knew that meant she'd let the boy touch her, and kiss her. She'd been willing to let the filthy Ieros kiss her, but she'd fought and screamed and gagged when he'd touched her.

It didn't make sense, but, he didn't care. He'd wanted to punish her and punish the Indian for—for being there, for letting stupid Cathy look at him and think he was good-looking.

And the schoolteacher. He hated him almost as much as he hated the Ieros, maybe more. He was so goody-goody, making people think the boy was something special, trying to talk people around so they'd be friendly to the half-breeds. Preaching in the general store!

He'd wanted to spit on him. He'd wanted to hurt him, bad. He'd been so excited he almost hadn't been able to stand it when he'd dragged him down that alley and felt him squirming beneath him. If that stupid deputy hadn't shown up, he'd have done to him what he'd done to Cathy, and he knew he'd have liked it more. He'd wanted to hit the teacher with his fists while he did it to him. That would have shown him. He would never have stuck up for the half-breeds again.

He still wanted to get him, to teach him a lesson, but school was out now, and he'd heard people say that the deputy had made him move to some safe place, and no one knew where he was. He didn't want to wait until school started again, but he thought he might have to.

And that stupid Pam Hearst. She needed a lesson, too. He'd heard that she had gone to a dance with the half-breed boy. He knew what that meant. He'd had his hands on her, and she'd probably let him kiss her and maybe do a lot more, because everyone knew what the Ieros were like. As far as he was concerned, that made Pam a slut. She deserved to be taught a lesson just like Cathy, and just like the lesson the schoolteacher still had coming.

He peeked outside again. The Indian was gone. He immediately felt safe, and he began to plan.

When Frank walked back into the feed store, the same group of men were still there.

"We don't much like you tracking folks around like we're criminals."

One man snapped.
Frank grunted and sat down to pull on his boots. He didn't care if they liked it or not.

"Did you hear what I said?"

He looked up.

"I heard."

"And?"

"And nothing."

"Now look here, damn it!"

"I'm looking."

The men fidgeted under his cold black stare. Another spoke up.

"You're making the women nervous."

"They should be nervous. It might keep them on guard, keep them from getting raped."

"It was some drifter trash who blew in and blew out! Likely the sheriff won't ever find who did it."

"It's trash, all right, but he's still here. I just found his track."

The men fell silent and looked at each other. Stu Kilgore, the foreman on Eli Baugh's spread, cleared his throat.

"We're supposed to believe you can tell it was made by the same man?"

"I can tell."

Frank gave them a smile that was closer to a snarl.

"Uncle Sam made sure I got the best training available. It's the same man. He lives here. He slipped into one of the houses."

"That's hard to believe. We've lived here all our lives. The only stranger around is the schoolteacher. Why would someone just up and start attacking people?"

"Someone did. That's all I care about, that and catching him."

He left the men murmuring among themselves while he loaded his feed.

Pam was bored. Since the two attacks, she hadn't even stepped outside the house by herself; she'd been pretty scared at first, but the days had passed without any more attacks, and the shock had worn off. Folks were beginning to venture out again, even by themselves.

She was going to another dance with Lucas, and she wanted a new dress. She knew he was going away, knew she couldn't hold him, but there was still something about him that made her heart race. She refused to let herself love him, even though she knew any other boyfriend would have a hard time replacing Lucas. Hard, but not impossible. She wasn't going to mope after he'd left; she'd get on with her life—but right now he was still here, and she savoured every moment with him.

She really wanted a new dress, but she'd promised Lucas she wouldn't go anywhere alone, and she didn't intend to break her promise. When her mother returned from shopping with a neighbour, she'd ask her about going with her to get a new dress. Not in Ruth, of course; she wanted to go to a real town, with a real dress shop.

Finally she picked up a book and walked out onto the back porch, away from the sun. There were neighbours on both sides, and she felt safe. She read for a while, then became sleepy and lay down on the porch swing, arranging her long legs over the back of the swing. She dozed immediately.

The abrupt jolting of the swing awakened her some time later. She opened her eyes and stared at a ski mask, with narrowed, hate-filled eyes glittering through the slits. He was already on her when she screamed.

He hit her with his fist, but she jerked her head back so that the blow landed on her shoulder. She screamed again and tried to kick him, and the unsteady swing toppled them to the porch. She kicked again, catching him in the stomach, and he grunted, sounding oddly surprised.

She couldn't stop screaming, even as she scrabbled away from him. She was more terrified than she'd ever been before in her life, but also oddly detached, watching the scene from some safe distance. The wooden slats of the porch scraped her hands and arms, but she kept moving backward. He suddenly sprang, and she kicked at him again, but he caught her ankle. She didn't stop. She just kicked, using both legs, trying to catch him in the head or the groin, and she screamed.

Someone next door yelled. The man jerked his head up and dropped her ankle. Blood had seeped through the multicoloured ski mask; she'd managed to kick him in the mouth. He said..

"Indian's dirty whore."

In a hate-thickened voice, and jumped from the porch, already running.

Pam lay on the porch, sobbing in dry, painful gasps. The neighbour yelled again, and somehow she garnered enough strength to scream.

"Help me!"

Before the terror made her curl into a ball and whimper like a child.

Notes

Hi there chipmunks.. What's up?..

So some of you wanted all the remaining chapters in one go, and some wanted them separately... So I decided to go all in.. The final chapter and epilogue will be up VERY soon.. Watch this space!!

Please comment, stay safe, and peace out babies!
<3