Beaming, he had told her that she was very astute. He had served in the Civil War in the great struggle to preserve the Union. Later after they had all shared a meal Lilybelle had whipped up from their provisions in the wagon, he had talked more about his experiences in the war. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed McKenna watching him to see if he would tell the whole story, a story that led to them being on patrol in the West at this time and place to rescue the stranded women.
He didn't though. Riker stopped before he got to that dark day at Gettysburg. He knew if he continued, he would be talking all night on how that had set both he and his sister on the path they walked now. Plus, he would have to reveal their status as special marshals. He was always judicious when it came to letting people know that he was a lawman. There was something about the anonymity of appearing to be just another cowboy, nester, or any other manner of person roaming through the West that appealed to him.
McKenna, though, was the opposite when it came to their status, and he couldn’t hold it against her. It was with great pride that she liked people to know she was an officer of the law even though such work was dubbed as being a lawman when her endowments and pleasing curves bespoke that she was indeed a woman. Still, she always followed his lead and not once in the time since they had met the Keene sisters had she let it slip. They had given a cursory explanation that they were traveling the West but had avoided elaborating any further.
Tonight, he wasn't out to share his story; he wanted to know Sara's. To that end, he had suggested they take a walk in the moonlight and have a nice talk. He had caught McKenna looking at him with a smirk, and Lilybelle seemed delighted in the notion of Sara heading off with the man. They were almost out of earshot when he had heard the teen saying it was about time Sara stopped worrying about her and had a little fun. Sara appeared to pretend she hadn't heard her sister.
It had been a pleasant walk, and by and by, they had found themselves sitting on a large boulder, side by side. She shared her story about her father and uncle Donald moving to the coastal community in Oregon to start a new life for them. Hiram Keene had tired of his life in the Lone Star State that he had put his life on the line to pry away from Santa Anna and his troops. They had missed their father so but had respected his wishes that he become established in the town and make sure he wished to remain in such a vastly different climate than Texas.
Sara had continued her work as a schoolmarm right up until the time Uncle Donald had returned traveling in the company of a different wagon master who had led his group to Oregon and was now on his way back to San Antonio. The sisters had been looking forward to their new life, so after their home had been sold and they packed what few possessions they still kept, their uncle had signed them up with the Langston outfit, unaware of what lay ahead of them.
A warm silence filled the air after she had brought him up to date. The rest she had said he already knew. They had stared up into the blackness of the heavens, lit by a moon that was only a night or so away from becoming full. A tentative hand had reached out and put itself atop his and he had turned to her. Once more words of gratitude had flowed from her mouth, and he had gently told her she didn’t need to thank him anymore. Another silence followed and in the beat of a heart, she had moved in and kissed him.
How long they had sat on that rock, their lips entwined, he wasn't sure. Soon their hands had begun to roam everywhere, and it seemed like the inevitable was about to occur, but then the howl of a wolf in the distance had filled the air, followed by a sympathetic wail of a companion. Sara had immediately become concerned about Lilybelle. As brash as the young woman was, she was deftly afraid of wildlife and she knew the girl would be panicking. Riker had to stop himself from pointing out that the girl would be safe with McKenna, but he was a gentleman, and he knew he had no choice but to respect her wishes about wanting to get back to the campsite.
Returning to the encampment, Lilybelle was indeed rattled despite McKenna's attempts to calm her. He had decided that the Keene women should turn in, and he and McKenna would keep watch for a little while before they retired as well. Soon the exhausted sisters were sound asleep and the Rikers relaxed as the howl of the wolves became further and further away until they had faded altogether. The pair had talked briefly before they turned in with plans to wire lawmen along the wagon trail and get someone with a badge to investigate Langston and his sons. In their opinion, these men were pieces that needed removing from the chess board.
Soon the others had joined him in being awake, and once more Lilybelle hustled to make them all breakfast. After a hearty meal of bacon and biscuits, the four went over their plans again to head for Bullet. McKenna had said that she’d noticed the barrel of water attached to the side of their wagon was nearly empty, and she suggested they fill it before they set out. Riker had a suggestion of his own knowing that this would be his last opportunity to spend any time alone with Sara. He had said she should get in some more practice with her long gun and there would be no better way than to do a little hunting. It was a skill she should learn as a settler, and she had readily agreed. The twinkle in her eyes made it clear she was looking forward to some alone time with him as well.
When they last saw them as they headed off to hunt, McKenna and Lilybelle were toting a couple of pails in each hand, heading for the stream his sister had spied from the edge of the escarpment the previous day. Riker and Sara headed for one of the nearby hills that he hoped would provide either some game … or an ideal spot to get better acquainted with the lovely Texan pioneer. Neither could have known that danger rode astride horseback and was heading their way.
***
Jet Langston and his brother Cole were nearly back to the spot where their father had forced the Keene sisters to separate from the wagon train. Side by side, they urged their horses faster looking forward to the sexual bonanza that awaited them when they caught up to the young women. When their father had first dispatched them from the wagon train, they had been in full support of the idea, Jet especially as it had been he who had the close shave with the business end of Sara's shotgun. He was so mad he had ridden back and killed their team to strand the women and effectively ensure a death sentence. Overnight though their feelings had changed.
Just after sunset, the wagon train had been stopped an hour or so short of Bullet. The recent rains had given rise to the waters of the Somerset River. Bitterly, Dieter said there was no way they could safely cross it until the next day when hopefully the water had dropped back down to more manageable levels that would allow the wagon train to ford the river. During the night as the brothers kept watch, they had entertained themselves by saying what they would do to the two sisters if they had them.
It was somewhere before dawn that Jet had the idea that they were likely going to be stuck waiting until the afternoon to get across the river and that they should make good use of the time. The pair sauntered over and looked at the Somerset and it was indeed dropping, but it had a ways to go. Cole agreed that they would have enough time to ride back, assault the women and get back before it was time for their father to order the wagon train across the river. A hasty note had been written to Dieter that they were going scout down the bank of their side of the river to see if there might be a better place to cross. It was a horseshit excuse, and they knew the old man would see through it, but they had to try.
Sweat was dripping from their dirty, matted hair as they brought their horses to a stop at the edge of the gully and looked down at the carcasses that he been picked clean by vultures and Cole mumbled what did not need saying.
“No wagon.”
"Now ain't this a fine barrel of manure!" Jet growled as he spat a wad of tobacco he had been savoring against his gums. He watched the brown juice land in a wagon rut. Getting down on his haunches he saw that it wasn't the ruts that had led to the gully but a second set next to them where the wagon had traveled away thanks to whoever had come along to rescue the women. He turned to his brother after Col
e called out for him to have a look. In his hands, he saw the broken spoke someone had removed. This infuriated him further that quite the guardian angel appeared to have dropped down into what he considered the middle of the nowhere.
"C' mon!" Jet wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but the pair mounted up and began to follow the tracks away from the gully. To their surprise, they didn't turn onto the wagon trail. He had suspected they would have headed back the way they came rather than risk running into his family again. Instead, they headed directly for the cluster of hills that lined the nearby cliff face of the slope.
“What the hell are you bitches up to?” Perhaps he would have his virgin meat after all and leave the bodies of the sisters and whoever the good Samaritan that was helping them for the vultures. Putting their horses into a trot, the duo lost little time heading towards the hills.
CHAPTER 4
As Mckenna and Lilybelle each poured water into the barrel from their pails they laughed over a joke the teenager had told. Despite the way they had met, the pair had quickly bonded and were quite enjoying each other’s company. McKenna admired the girl’s grit and spunk and she reminded her of herself when she was around that age. She too had crossed the sprawling country in her teens as she and Nash had journeyed back to the East on a solemn mission. When they were children the very first time he had ever mentioned what to do if he’d ever died he had said he wished his ashes to be brought back east. Even though he rarely mentioned her for reasons seemingly known only to him, both twins had assumed he would ask to be buried next to the grave of their mother, but he had surprised them. Twins had run in the Riker family and it had been their father’s wish his ashes be buried next to his twin brother who had died when they were both young men. It had been during that journey when their paths had crossed with a man who would one day be destined for greatness beyond what few could imagine. A man who would help save the union.
With their task done they decided to wait for Nash and Sara’s return by listening to Lilybelle play her guitar. Earlier the young woman had gushed about how it was her favorite thing to do in the whole world and how she would always be grateful for her uncle who had died along the trail for teaching her when she was just six years old. The two settled onto a log side by side and Sara began to play, and soon joyful melodies drifted through the air along with Lilybelle’s singing voice. McKenna was so enjoying herself that when the girl started playing "Clementine," she joined in. They were just coming to the middle of the song when McKenna suddenly tensed as she saw a shadow cast from behind. There wasn't even time to move before she felt the cold steel from a barrel poking the back of her neck as another hand yanked her Colt from its holster. Lilybelle turned around and opened her mouth to scream but a hand clamped over it and she was pulled to her feet.
“Up.”
With no choice but to follow the command, McKenna slowly rose and turned to the voice. Two roughhewn looking men, one with a stubbled face and the other with a full beard had snuck up on them. One of the men was shoving her pistol into his waistband as the bearded one held his hand over Lilybelle’s mouth and barked at her.
“I’m taking my hand down. You scream, and your bitch sister gets it.”
The man with the coarse stubble on his cheeks eyes narrowed as he inspected McKenna. “Hold up now, Cole. This ain’t the sister at all. Must be the good Samaritan helping them out.”
Cole released his hand over the girl’s mouth but still clutched her arm. “Where’s Sara gone off to?” he demanded.
“You won’t talk to her. You will talk to me. The name’s McKenna Riker, a deputy marshal with the government,” she said icily even as she saw Lilybelle’s eyes widen at the revelation. “You could only be the Langston brothers, right? Back off right now, and I won’t send you to the nearest hoosegow.” She nodded to where their horses stood nearby, seething inside that this pair had managed to sneak up on her. “I won’t give you another warning.”
The pair hooted in laughter as Jet waved the gun he had on McKenna and Cole pulled out his own gun.
“You’re a real funny piece of shavetail. Where we come from women aren’t marshals and even if you were, we’re the ones with the guns. Now we came a long way to get what we are after, and we’re gonna get it. Cole, time to trade!”
Cole shoved Lilybelle at him, and she nearly tripped as her foot caught on the ring of rocks they had made the campfire in the night before. Jet caught her as Cole trained his gun on McKenna to keep her at bay, but he rocked back on his feet nervously.
"I don't like this, Jet. We don't know where Sara is, and I don't believe for a minute these three women got that wagon free. There could be a man somewhere with Sara. Maybe this stranger's husband."
“Then we better be quick about it!” Jet laughed as he roughly dragged Lilybelle to the rear of the wagon. “Sorry, brother, that you aren’t getting Sara like you wanted, but look at the tits on that one. Definitely a horse trade up. But you’re gonna have to take her right out in the open, I’m claiming the wagon for myself! Up you go!” he shouted at Lilybelle who looked desperately at McKenna who gave her a nod and tried to shoot her a look of reassurance. With no choice but to comply, the girl climbed into the wagon followed by Jet.
Leering, the remaining man approached McKenna, and she feigned terror and started backing away towards the wagon.
“Where you going, stranger?” Cole sniggered as he closed in. With nowhere left to go, he pressed her back up against the wagon as she hoped. He hovered over her, the stink of his unwashed sweat assailing her as he began to nuzzle her neck. One hand loosely held the gun by her head and the other was cupping her ass. All good, she thought as her hand slipped to the special pouch on her holster and deftly flipped open the snap. Reaching inside, she slipped her hand into the brass knuckles, pulled it free, and used her thumb to extend the blade. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she heard the muffled sound of Jet laughing inside the covered wagon. She had to save Lilybelle, and she had to do it now!
McKenna suddenly lurched forward head-butting Cole sending him staggering back. In a sweeping motion, she brought the blade up, intent on driving its point into the fleshy folds of his neck but his speed shocked her, and his free hand went up and seized her wrist, stopping her. He squeezed so hard that her fingers surrendered their grip and the revolver dropped to the dirt. She struggled to try to free herself, but when that didn't work she shot her knee upward hoping to catch him in the groin, but he shifted to one side and she only struck the front of his thick thigh. Undaunted, she brought both of her hands up slamming each of his ears, hoping to stun him. He stumbled but just for a moment before jamming the pistol against her forehead.
“Stop fighting, you wild cat!”
“What’s going on out there!” Jet cried out from within.
“Nothing that I can’t handle! Now hands in the air you or so help me I will blow your head off.”
Still weighing her options, she complied. McKenna refused to allow her mind to entertain the notion that this would be a good time for Nash to return. The pair long ago had made a vow that they couldn't ever get into the mindset that the other would rescue them in a jam. They needed to keep sharp and think for themselves when things got desperate. Gritting her teeth, she found it a challenging mental discipline to accomplish because the truth was they'd both saved each other many times over in their adventures throughout the West.
As her mind worked overtime, she suddenly became aware of Cole bending down for a moment, and when he came back up in his free hand, he held the Knuckleduster.
“What the hell is this thing?”
“What does it look like? A three-in-one weapon!” she snarled at him as he began to turn it over in his hand.
"You know what? I think I heard of these once in a saloon back in Laredo." With his attention diverted to the weapon, McKenna shifted her eyes hoping that his grip on his six-shooter would waver, but to her dismay, he held it rock steady. As it turned out, it didn't matter as what
happened next, she would later use the word astonishing to describe.
Cole flipped the gun around and held it up near his face to get a better look at the intricate little weapon when his finger accidentally brushed against the trigger. With a sharp retort, the 7mm bullet blasted out of the tiny barrel and shot clear through his eye. Unable to penetrate his skull, the shell ricocheted around inside, tearing through his brain. Stunned by the accident, McKenna stood rooted in one spot before snapping back to her senses.
"Looks like all the folks that were bellyaching about a lack of a trigger guard had some merit after all!" she mumbled as the body collapsed to the ground. She bolted towards it, dropping to her knees next to the corpse and reached for his weapon still gripped in his lifeless hand.
McKenna barely had time to scramble behind a nearby boulder when a shot rang out behind her followed by the mournful wail of Jet Langston’s voice.
“Coooooooooooole! What have you done, you whore?”
She shot up from behind the rock and saw that the man was hanging off the back of the wagon with his gun pointed in her direction.
"He did it to himself!" she shouted back at him as their guns fired at the same moment. McKenna dropped back behind the rock. She steeled herself and instead of shooting over the top of the boulder again, she peered around the side and fired. A surge of anger coursed through her as the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Pulling back behind the rock, she flipped open the cylinder only to find it empty. What the hell kind of person travels the West without a fully loaded pistol, she moaned to herself? Her fingers dropped to her gun belt and then she balled her hand up in a fist in frustration. The late would-be rapist’s gun was a different caliber than the bullets ringing her holster.
Six-Guns Or Surrender (Lincoln's Lawman Book 1) Page 3