Marna by Norah Hess Page A

hulking beast would dare lay hands on her surged
through her veins. She was a decent married woman,
and this person had no right to treat her in this manner.
With a sudden twist of her body, she darted past him
and raced for the other room. With Corey swearing at
her heels, she threw herself at Matt's saddlebags. Her
fingers groped frantically for the long-bladed knife she
had seen there earlier.
    Her fingers closed around the handle just as Corey
sprang at her. He grabbed the neck of her gown and
pulled. The worn material gave way, exposing her
body. Her arm came up, poised to strike. Corey gripped
her wrist and twisted. The knife dropped, and her only
defense was gone. She gasped in terror as she was
flipped onto her back and firmly pinned down.
    She fought him silently, furiously, her nails raking at
his face, gouging at his eyes. But her meager strength
was no match for his brutal power. She felt herself
growing weaker and knew that her blows were only
annoying pats to him. When she saw his raised fist
coming toward her she used the rest of her breath to
call Matt's name.

    Corey's fist landed on Marna's chin and her head fell
limply to one side. He sat back on his heels and let his
eyes run hungrily over the curves and valleys of her
helpless body. Swiping at the trickles of blood running
down his face, he licked his lips in anticipation. He
reached out a hand to stroke her. Then, sensing the
presence of someone else in the room, he stiffened. He
turned his head fearfully and gazed on the figure of
Matt.
    The large man stood there, strangely silent as his
fingers opened and shut spasmodically. Corey scrambled to his feet, his ruddy complexion gone ashen.
Forcing an artificial smile to his fat lips, he said, "No
harm intended, Matt. I didn't think you'd mind...
sleeping with squaws and all."
    A mirthless smile wreathed Matt's lips for a fleeting
second. Then he lunged for Corey. "You rotten scum.
Forcing yourself on an innocent woods girl."
    His right fist flashed up, found Corey's chin, and
lifted him to his toes. As the hunter grunted, his left fist
caught him just below the ear, sending him crashing to
the ground. He stood over the fallen man, gasping for
breath. "Get up, you bastard, and fight."
    But Corey had had enough and cowered away, shaking his head.
    Matt stared down at him, then swung a contemptuous foot to his ribs. His voice hoarse with emotion, he
grated out, "Don't ever let me catch you around here
again. Don't let me see you even lookin' at her."
    As Corey grabbed his trousers and crawled toward
the door, Matt lifted Marna's limp body onto his bed of
cedar boughs. Tucking the blanket around her nakedness, his fingers brushed the velvet feel of her and hot,
surging liquid shot through his veins, making him catch
his breath.

     

The next morning Marna awakened, shivering with the
cold. Half asleep, she pulled the covers closer around
her shoulders. Her jaw ached painfully, and when she
reached up to touch it, she realized that she was bare.
Corey's hateful face swam before her. She stared at the
wall, remembering her struggle with him. What had
happened after he hit her? Had Matt heard her cry in
time?
    She lay still, concentrating on her lower body. She
felt all right-no different from any other time. There
would be a telltale soreness, she imagined, if Corey had
had his way with her. Matt must have come in time.
She doubted that Corey would have put her in bed and
covered her up.
    An embarrassed flush surged over her. If that were
the case, Matt had seen her nakedness. She rolled herself tighter in the blankets. How could she ever face
him?
    She lay a moment longer, then sat up. Drawing on
her buckskins, she thought rapidly, I must start some
new stew in case he comes home for supper.
    Her day was spent alternating between hope and shy
dread of Matt's returning.
    It was full dark when Matt entered the tiny clearing
and saw the dim light in his