Heaven Scent Read Free

side,
his face and arm, were caked with something thick and wet. His leg
felt like an anchor had been tied to it.
    He smelled fire, could feel the heat of
it on his face, his back.
    Damn, he was in hell.
    A warrior appeared before him, his eyes
dark, dilated, and burning with evil. Rafe watched in disbelief as
the brave raised a blade and slowly sliced it down Rafe’s side,
scraping the skin from his body. Rafe howled in pain, his agony
eliciting a roar of screams from the Indians surrounding
him.
    Holy Mother of God save
me . They were skinning him alive. He knew
the Comanches were merciless and would save their worst punishment
for their greatest enemy.
    Rafe never imagined he’d die this way.
He had always thought he would die in battle with an arrow through
the heart, or a bullet from a Mexican rifle. Never this.
    A boy of eight or nine approached him
next. He spit in Rafe’s face, the hatred turning his young face
into a mask of bitter disgust. He scraped his knife down Rafe’s
middle, smiling as he did so, enjoying the pain Rafe could not
contain. Rafe gritted his teeth against it, trying to pull his legs
up into his body to ward it off, but he had no strength, no freedom
to move. The air brushed along his raw skin, burning like
fire.
    That pissed him off. He lashed out,
trying to kick and break free of his ropes, but he was as helpless
as a newborn. Even if he’d had the freedom of movement, he didn’t
have the strength.
    His head dropped to his chest. Rafe
reminded himself he now resided in hell – he was supposed to
suffer.
    So he gave into the pain. He took it as
payment for all of the killing he’d done in the name of the
Mexican, Texas, and United States governments. In the name of right
and wrong, of civilized versus savage.
    What a damned joke.
    Patrick would be pissed when he found
out Rafe was dead. Patrick and his mother were counting on him and
he would let them down.
    A squaw about his mother’s age appeared
before Rafe next, her eyes sad as she gazed up at him. The sadness
in her eyes did nothing to detract from her intent as she took the
end of a burning branch and jabbed it into Rafe’s raw
side.
    Jesus, help
me . Rafe wondered how much pain a man could
physically take. Was there a limit when you were in
hell?
    He wished they’d stop their chanting
and screaming. Why wouldn’t they just let him suffer in
peace?
    Sutherland, there is no
peace in hell .
    This was his existence for all of
eternity. He had to accept his fate.
    Rafe forced his mind to other things.
Looking back, he should have stayed home after graduating Harvard.
But he’d headed West to see the world beyond New England. He ran
into Jack Hays on a Mississippi riverboat and the next thing he
knew, Rafe served under Hays in the Texas Rangers.
    Though it was pitch black, the
firelight surrounding him had faded. Now he wouldn’t see them
coming, only feel the blade as it tore the flesh from his bone. And
they did come, one after the other, relishing the torment he went
through.
    If he had one regret, he wished he’d
married. An hour ago, he wouldn’t have admitted that. Yet now, when
it was too late, he wished he’d married and had children. His
mother would have loved grandchildren.
    With blood pooling at his feet, sleep
descended on Rafe once again. The sweet smell of roses swirled
around him, lulling him into a blissful slumber.
    Thank God. He was so tired.
    Gunshots rang out, bringing him from
his lethargic state. The screaming began anew.
    Hell, no. He wasn’t going to listen to
that screaming anymore.
    Concentrating on the sweet scent, he
fell into a deep sleep.
     
    #####
     
    “You’re going, Tarin, and that’s
final.”
    Tarin stopped in her tracks, turned and
stared at her father. As usual, his dark brows were drawn into a
deep frown and he was issuing orders like a military
officer.
    He glared at her over the top of his
glasses, his look meant to intimidate. His entire study was meant
to intimidate, from the