Calico Bride Page 19
Burke stiffened a second before she heard the crackle of a boot in the grass and the metallic click of a Colt's hammer cocking. She realized the birds had silenced, the gopher had disappeared. The back of her neck tingled and iciness snaked down her spine.
"You are going to have to excuse us for interrupting, missy." Dobbs. His sardonic, mean-edged tone made her knees weaken. "We are in need of your beau."
"Why do you have a gun drawn on me?" Burke's noble baritone held no hint of fear. "What's up, Sheriff? Is there some kind of trouble?"
"It turns out there is."
Dobbs wasn't alone. She recognized the squat little man with the bar mustache she'd described in her paper to Burke. His rifle was aimed directly at her.
She gulped. She'd never looked down the barrel of a Winchester before. Little stars danced before her eyes. A loud drum rushed in her ears like a freight train heading her way and drown out Burke's words. She felt the vibration in his chest as he spoke, about what she did not know.
Another man stood behind the cover of the buggy, his long-nosed .45 drawn, gleaming in the sun. She didn't recognize him. He was brawny, unshaven, his stubble as black as the unkempt fall of his hair. He wore a red bandana at his throat, a bright splash of color against his black clothes. His cold hard glare made her shiver. The man's gun pointed at Burke's back. Did Burke know? How did she tell him? His grip had tightened on her, so she couldn't move. His every muscle tensed like those of a bear ready to spring.
"It turns out the assistant clerk at the depot is a friend of mine." Dobbs crunched through the grasses, crushing daisies and sunflowers beneath his boots. "Lucky for me, old Harold didn't feel well and went home early or I never would have heard about your telegram."
"Then I guess we have a problem." Burke rolled her out of his grasp and drew with one smooth motion so fast it was a blur. The momentum sent her stumbling onto the ground. The flowers fell from her hand but not her belief in him.
The outlaws circling them responded. Hammers thumbed back, rifles ratcheted, gunmen took deliberate aim as Dobbs swung his arm a few inches in Lila's direction. "It's your call, Marshal. Do we shoot her now or will you put down your weapon?"
"Let her go." He kept his gun trained dead center on Dobbs's chest.
"Sorry, can't do it." The sheriff didn't answer. The voice came behind him, a voice straight out of his nightmares. "If I remember, Burke, you need incentive to make the right shots. Some things never change."
"Olly." He wasn't surprised. Kid Cheever had grown up, wide-shouldered, tall, rangy and he'd finally acquired his father's cold, dead eyes.
"I thought for sure I'd finished you off that day in town." Olly spat out a stream of juice, the plug of tobacco distorting one cheek. "You are a hard man to kill."
"You ought to know. You've tried twice. Twice you have left me to die in the street." He pushed aside the memories of the year spent in the gang, the arguments, his attempts to escape and then the hopelessness when he realized escaping wouldn't matter. He was a criminal, an outlaw, and what was done couldn't be forgotten. "You've been busy robbing trains and banks. What were you doing bothering with a delivery wagon and cattle?"
"Got to eat, and that bank job was a bust. There wasn't much in the tills and the vault was locked. We have to make a living somehow." Cheever cocked his gun and aimed it at Lila, who sat where she had fallen, her big green-blue eyes as round as saucers. Two guns were trained on her now. "It turns out I need a good sniper for my next job. What, didn't you tell the lady what you used to do?"
"Don't, Olly." Burke lowered his gun. He would rather be blasted away than to lose Lila this way. "Just let her go, and I'll do whatever you want."
"You'll do what I want anyhow." Greed and power glittered in soulless eyes. "There's a payroll I want to get my hands on, and tonight is the night."
"You don't want to do this." Burke didn't flinch when Cheever took the gun from his hand. Unarmed and defenseless he tried to think of how to stop the inevitable from happening.
"Sure I do." He laughed at that. "Your little lady doesn't know you were once the most hunted gunman in the Dakotas, does she? Or that last I checked you were still wanted for murder in Wyoming?"
No, please, no. Burke squeezed his eyes shut for one long moment. He was a courageous man, but he lacked the bravery to face her. He knew what he would see. Revulsion. Disgust. Horror.
"Oh, guess I ruined the surprise." Cheever spat again. "Dobbs, get her up and tie her good. Burke, don't forget. Her life depends on you."
He hung his head. She would hate him for the lies. She would hate him for what he'd been and because that part of him would always be inside him. Everything that mattered to him was lost. Surely this could not be in God's plan, but he figured God owed him nothing. God had guided him this far but maybe no further. Perhaps finally all accounts would be settled. God might be through with him, and his impossible quest for penance would be over.
Olly wasn't going to let him live. It was Lila he had to save and that was the reason why he held out his arms for one of Cheever's lackeys to tie his wrists.
Chapter Sixteen
Night had fallen hours ago, so it had to be near midnight. Lila watched the narrow patch of the sky. From her place on the floor of the buggy and the thick trees blocking the Heavens, she couldn't see much but she knew they were far west of town. The buggy bounced and jostled on sloping roads, unlike the relatively flat lanes on the prairie. The brief glimpse of a mountain peak, close enough to touch, confirmed her suspicions. They were far from Angel Falls, far from anywhere.
The outlaw's words kept spinning through her mind. Your little lady doesn't know you were once the most hunted gunman in the Dakotas, does she? Or that last I checked you were still wanted for murder in Wyoming?
Burke hadn't denied it. He'd stood with his powerful shoulders braced, his chin raised radiating integrity like the Range Rider she'd believed him to be. But a gunman? A murderer? No, she couldn't imagine it. Not the man who'd held her with infinite tenderness, who had treated her with immeasurable gentleness. She wouldn't believe it. The outlaw, the one Burke had called Olly, was lying.
"Here we are." Dobbs sawed back on the reins and the buggy rocked to a halt. The mustang's hooves pounded in protest in the dirt.
"Easy on the bit, Dobbs," Burke barked out, harsh and with authority like the tough lawman he was. "Don't hurt the horse."
"A bleeding heart. That's a weakness, boy." Dobbs kicked the brake, tossed down his reins and leather whispered in a strange sliding rasp. Lila couldn't guess the sound until she heard a handgun cock. Dobbs had drawn his weapon. "Even when you had me fooled, you couldn't stop helping folks. You gotta learn the way of the world and I'm about to give you a good lesson. People are only good for one thing, using to get what you want."
"Dobbs, take the gun off her. I've agreed to cooperate." Frustration punched in his words.
"Maybe you've got more lessons to learn. Such as you don't cross me." The threat hung in the sultry air.
What was happening? She couldn't see Burke. She couldn't see Dobbs, only the deep shadows of the dashboard. Bridles jangled, horses sidestepped and boots thudded on hard-packed ground. Before she could protest beefy hands wrapped around her forearms and hauled her out of the buggy. Her elbow rammed into the frame. Her knee struck the step. She fell on her knees to the ground. She couldn't see anything. The forest was too dark. She could not see the men who held her.
"Git up," a disembodied voice spat. "I want ter watch ya walk."
"She's got a real nice walk," another voice, edged with threat, said with a laugh.
Her stomach twisted. What was going to happen to her? The safety of town, of her family and friends was several hours' drive away. No one knew she was here.
"Leave her be." Burke's fury darkened his face and twisted his jaw, apparent even in the shadows. "You hurt her and nothing can make me help you. Nothing."
"There's always something that works." Enough scattered starlight filtered through the old-growth trees to faintly glow on the steel of the sheriff's .45. The muzzle nosed against Burke's temple. "Take him, boys."
Terror for Burke coursed through her. Vaguely she realized she was being half dragged through the thick shadows of the trees toward an abandoned claim shanty. The moss-covered roof tilted at an angle, as if it were in the process of falling down. A hitching post in the far corner was not. Its thick round logs sank deep in the ground and rose taller than a man's head. The crossbar, waist-high, looked capable of holding the strongest ox.
Without warning, the men holding her let go. She was grateful for the release of their warm, clammy hands, but she hit the ground hard enough to rattle her teeth and knock the wind out of her. Pain slammed through ribs and she rolled to her side, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs gasped, her throat spasmed, tears swam in her eyes. Suddenly her lungs relaxed, she drew in air and swiped the dampness from her cheeks just in time to be dragged along the ground by her wrists and dropped in front of the hitching post.
She wasn't alone. Burke stood, back to the post, ankles apart, a chain gleaming in the darkness. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His hat was gone, his shirt torn. He was hurt.
"Burke." His name escaped her lips, raw with fear for him and herself.
He didn't acknowledge her. Not a muscle flickered as he towered overhead, iron-strong and defiant and invincible. The man he'd called Olly tied his hands behind him and bound him to the pole.
"Your turn next." Olly's silky tenor held a note of darkness. She shivered as his fingertips trailed the cut of her jaw and lingered on her vulnerable neck. "You are a pretty piece of calico."
"Cheever," Burke growled a warning that didn't sound at all like the tender man she'd fallen in love with. Menace grated in his tone.
As if hit, Olly removed his hand.
Roughly her wrists were bound behind her back and tied to the pole next to Burke's boots. Being tied up wasn't exactly comfortable. The rope burned the delicate skin of her wrists and dug so tightly it felt as if her bones were about to break. Her shoulders screamed with agony.
Dizzy with discomfort, she drew in fresh air in deep gasps and listened to chains binding her to the post rattle and clink. She recognized the snick of a padlock closing. Burke stood above her, as silent at the pine pole they were bound to.
"Hope you're comfortable." Done binding them, the outlaw rose. A sneer that was part amusement and part hatred twisted his shadowed face. He spat a spray of tobacco juice that landed in the darkness. "There was only one chain in the wagon we commandeered, but at least this way you can say your goodbyes to your lady friend. You have time. We ride in an hour."
That sounded terribly final. Lila leaned back, expecting to find the pole and found Burke's calf and knee instead. She looked up at him but saw only his shirt and the underside of his jaw, clenched so tight she could make out the delineation of tensed muscle, even in the near dark.
"I would much rather read about this kind of adventure," she whispered. The wind shifted and her stomach rumbled. "Is that beef I smell?"
"They're cooking supper over a spit. I can see the light," he whispered in return. "I'm guessing one of Lorenzo Davis's cattle."
Her eyes had begun to adjust to the heavy darkness. She saw an old well house not far away, a stable made of rough logs where one of Olly's lackeys was hitching Burke's horse with others, and Pa's unhitched delivery wagon. Faint shadows shifted behind a wooden corral. Probably what remained of Lorenzo's stolen livestock.
In the other direction, the ghostly dance of firelight waxed and waned. The cookout must be on the other side of the shanty. Men's voices murmured, pots clanged, steel forks scraped on enamel plates. An argument broke out over the best piece of steak.
"I can't get us out of this." Burke's whisper came chocked with emotion. "They took my guns, my knives, even the one I keep in my boot."
"I left my guns and knives at home," she quipped. What was wrong with her? She was on the edge of hysteria. She closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. She had to think. There had to be a way out of this. The books she read always offered a solution.
"When they untie us, I want you to run," Burke's tone dropped below a whisper, barely audible as a cooling wind gusted. "Run and don't look back. No matter what, I will hold them off."
"With what? You are unarmed."
"I intend to improvise. Don't worry. I'm good at it."
"But what about you?"
"Me? I don't matter. Your freedom does." His voice broke, betraying a hint at the depth of his affection for her. An answering tenderness welled within her, sparkling pure.
"Can you reach one of my hairpins?" She arched her neck toward his bound hands. "How about now?"
"What do you want with a hairpin?" His fingertips brushed the silken crown of her braided topknot.
"Just pull out one and try to drop it into my hands."
"I don't see the reason for it." He twisted as far as the bindings would allow. His spine popped. His ribs protested. His knuckles brushed against her textured braid. "It's not going to cut the rope or break the chain."
"Yes, but I read this in a book once." She tipped her head slightly.
"There." He had to concentrate to work the thin metal clip out of the thick braid. When it came loose, he managed to twist his neck just enough to see the curve of her shoulder and the back of her head. Her hands would be behind her, directly in line with her spine. He released the pin. "Here it goes."
"I didn't get it." She didn't sound perturbed. "So close. It just barely glanced off my fingertips."
"Try it again." While he worked, he kept his senses alert. The clatter at the fire pit grew louder. Everyone must be gathering around to eat, so the guards on them would be at a minimum. He couldn't see anyone watching in the dark, his eyes were still adjusting, but guards had to be somewhere. Neither Olly nor Dobbs would trust him alone, even unarmed and chained to a pole.
"Got it." Lila's whispered triumph was replaced by silence. He felt her inching closer to the post, closer to him. The chain binding the both of them drew tighter as she fought for more give. She went after the padlock.
C'mon, Lila. You can do it. He gritted his teeth as the chain threaded through his bindings shortened and the ropes cut flesh and clamped on bone. The pain was nothing, not when he thought about what would happen if she didn't get away. He'd seen it before. He lived with the Cheever gang for a year. He knew what ruthless men did to a female captive.
Regardless of any he deal struck, any he bargain made, Burke knew Lila would be beaten, raped and shot. He wouldn't be there to save her because they would have already put a bullet through his brain.
"Ooh, almost!" she muttered. The faint click of chain links might have been loud enough to carry, but the wind gusted again, hard enough to rattle the trees and send the boughs of the surrounding forest swishing and creaking. Cold air sang through the limbs, needles rustled and the faint starlight overhead eked out. Huge, scattered drops of rain plopped to the earth like popcorn popping.
Just a little more help, Father. Please. T
he sky was dark, as if Heaven no longer watched but he did not feel forsaken. A dark silhouette separated from the inky shadows. A guard patrolling the distance from the cluster of horses to the captives was getting closer.
The metallic snick told him she'd done it. She'd picked the lock. Adrenaline spilled into his bloodstream. The gunman was pacing closer, not hurried. He hadn't spotted Lila yet, but he soon would. The chain whispered as she snaked it out of the bindings holding one of his ankles to the post and a foot was free.
The shadow drew closer. He was a tall and skinny scarecrow and it could only be Slim, the head of the gang. Burke's pulse cannoned. Danger closed in only ten yards away. Nine. Eight.
Hurry, Lila. He willed her hands to go faster. He pulled at his wrists, but they were bound. He was helpless to move, helpless to protect her. Six yards. Five.
He felt the slither of the chain against his palm and his wrists came free from the post, but his hands were still bound. Slim carried his rifle, relaxed in the crook of his arm, rain dripping off the wide brim of his hat. Burke tensed, ready to move as the rope tugged and abraded his wrists as Lila worked at the knot. Three yards. Two.
"What the'" The outlaw's gaze dropped to where the woman ought to be. The rope slid free, Burke stepped forward on his free leg, grabbed the nose of the gun while Slim was too startled to move and rammed the flat of his palm directly on Slim's sternum. Without a word, the mighty outlaw crumpled and slid to the puddled ground. The tiniest splash was the only sign he'd been taken down.
"Is he'¦?" Lila gasped. "Did you'"
"I don't know." He only knew the man was unconscious. Maybe he'd stopped Slim's heart, maybe not, but he'd stopped him. He ripped the chain from his ankle, scanned the perimeter and grasped Lila by the forearm. He pulled her hard against the side of the shanty where the shadows were the deepest.
He had a gun, so he had a fighting chance. He hauled her to the corner of the building, searching the foliage, ears peeled for the slightest footfall or the tiniest splash of a puddle. Nothing. The merriment around the campfire continued, talk turning to how they were going to spend the mill's payroll once they'd stolen it. Whiskey and women seemed the most popular choice.