The Unexpected Champion

by Mary Connealy

  John didn’t answer because he could only remember the Chiltons’ cold insistence that if he brought the girl back, she’d be his to deal with. They had no interest in her.

  “You’ve got a decent character that I can see, judging by how you helped me escape those men, and by the way you offered your life to save mine. There’s no finer thing. But you have to know this is wrong.”

  John straightened, and she pressed the cloth to his head again. Their eyes met. Shadowed by the night, her eyes caught starlight. Her skin was washed blue. Every feature on her face—her cheekbones, nose, brow, and those eyes and lips—were displayed in their sweet curves and fine bones.

  With no hat and her hair tangled, she looked like a magical creature. Brave and smart. Beautiful as an angel, and mad as the devil. His eyes dropped to her lips. Full and pretty and sassy.

  He’d never before been this close to a woman like Penny Scott. A woman in boots and trousers who knew the frontier, who truly was closer to an untamed creature than a civilized, proper woman.

  How could a man not find her fascinating?

  She didn’t move, and he sure didn’t tell her to.

  It went on far too long before the cry of an owl, the whisper of the breeze, and the rustling of branches from far overhead broke the trance. He stepped away and her fingertips, cold from the cloth, slid down his face and his neck, then dropped to her side.

  He cleared his throat and said quickly, “This plan to quit leaving tracks made sense up on that trail, but down here, with these banks hanging high over our heads and the stream just beginning from springs out of solid rock, there’s nowhere else we can walk, so if they follow us this far they’ll pick the same direction.”

  Miss Scott sighed. “You’re right. But we still don’t want them to know where we break off. How long do you think we should walk? Should we try and get out of this canyon? Or look for a sheltered place down here?”

  She was consulting him. It was a proud moment. “The stars are out now, let’s keep pushing. And if a place to stay pops up, we’ll rest awhile.”

  “It’s a decent night, not too cold, but the water must be runoff from the snowcaps. It’s nearly as cold as ice. I’ve got some beef jerky in my bag here.” She fished it out and handed him a couple of pieces. “But no blanket, certainly no dry clothes. I can’t hunt, the noise would give us away. We’ll be none too comfortable.”

  She kicked into the icy water and began wading knee-deep. “Watch for a bank that has a stony surface. We’ll need to get out of this water now and then, or our feet will freeze.”

  He couldn’t help but notice her lovely figure right in front of him, despite those outrageous trousers she had on. A man had to be very careful of his mind wandering off, thinking thoughts he ought not to ponder. Instead, he thought about whether to take up their talk of Ronnie again but decided to opt for peace, at least for a time. What became of that little boy needed to be settled, and yet John had accepted money to complete the job.

  But he wouldn’t steal a child away except to protect that child. “Since I’ve met you, you’ve threatened to shoot me, you’re wearing disreputable clothes, and you’re traipsing through the wilderness alone with a man you only met today.”

  And he’d decided to keep his mouth shut, hadn’t he? And yet here he was, yammering. “I’m not sure Ronnie is safe with you.”

  Even in the dark, with her a few paces ahead, he saw her shoulders square. He’d bet her chin just jutted out and her eyes flashed fire.

  Well, at least he was getting to know her.

  Trying not to dig himself any deeper into trouble, John said, “I can see you care about him, but I’ll bet the Chiltons haven’t been shot at in years.”

  Tossing her head, Miss Scott kept walking. Again he decided to shut up and eat his evening meal . . . and his midday meal . . . breakfast too, maybe. He could barely remember back that far.

  “If you really love that little boy”—this was not shutting up—“are you sure you’re behaving in a way that’s best for him? It’s a wild, dangerous land. And the Chiltons are in a position to give him safety, decent food, and clothes. They can send him to good schools and guide him toward a well-paying job. If you really love him, shouldn’t you want those things for him? Or, are you letting your feelings override what’s best for the boy?”

  She stopped and stormed right back at him. “I know the Chiltons. Do you?”

  “I met them, and they’ve done business with the Pinkertons a few times. Many times. They are investigating fools, honestly. Especially that Florence. Always wants someone checked out.” John didn’t mention that he and his fellow agents drew straws to decide who would go see the Chiltons. John had lost.

  “I know she was worse than cruel to Delia.”

  “Really?” John thought they should probably keep moving. He came up beside her. The stream was wide, and anyway his feet were too cold to just stand here soaking them. He caught her arm, turning her around, and they went back to walking, this time side by side. “Cruel? What did she do?”

  “I lived with them for two years, and in that time, the Chiltons barely saw Delia. And when they did it was always ugly. They hated my brother. They wanted her to leave him.”

  “Well, she married outside her level of society. It’s not fair or even wise for parents to be cruel to their daughter for that, not if they want to know their grandchildren. But it’s understandable.”

  “When Ronnie was born they acted like he was beneath them because of who his father was. I wonder why they want him now? They may have changed their minds, but I’ll never believe they can treat that little boy with any kindness or love. No matter the danger out here, no matter the hardship, he is better off with people who love him. Money, comfort, education, opportunity, none of that is worth much if he doesn’t have love.”

  “He’s their only living family, and they’ve realized their mistakes. They learned of Delia’s death, along with her husband’s, and knew their grandson was alone in the world. Of course they sent someone to get him.”

  Shaking her head, Miss Scott looked skeptical. “It took them too long to decide they loved him. They did nothing but make his life harder as a baby.”

  “I thought you said they weren’t around much.”

  “Oh, they weren’t, but they found a way to punish Abe . . . hoping it would bring Delia running home. The Chiltons would cause trouble, tell lies, spread money around, and before you know it, Abe would be fired. He was a good man, hardworking, honest, decent. And he and Delia loved each other. Add to that, with so many men gone to war, he could have had his pick of jobs. Once we figured out why he kept getting fired, he worked for a few people real privately, shoveling out barns at night and the like, honest work, but it didn’t pay well. I managed to find work in a general store and mostly supported the whole family. The Chiltons didn’t notice me enough to realize I was working, or they’d’ve ruined that, too.

  “Heading west was mostly done to escape their control. If anyone’s responsible for Delia’s death, beyond the murderous vermin who did it, it’s the Chiltons. They set us on that trail.”

  Silence lingered between them. The water was chilling his feet, and the sweet breeze felt cold because of it. John didn’t want to admit he had serious concerns about the Chiltons, so he changed the subject.

  “You know, a stroll in the moonlight might almost be considered romantic.”

  She surprised him by grinning. “This would be the kind of romance I’d get.”

  “Nothing wrong with it.”

  “Except for the ice water.”

  “Yep, that puts a damper on things, I’m sure.”

  “Damper’s right.” She kicked one foot through the water and laughed, then punched him in the shoulder, hard. Must be her idea of a friendly gesture—or at least it suited him to count it as one—if punching could be friendly.

  “And except for the lumps on your head,” she added.

  “My brain is pounding like it wants to ge
t out and go live in someone else’s skull.”

  “And except for the armed gunmen.”

  “Now, that’s not fair. No one’s shot at us for at least an hour. Maybe two—or three even.”

  She smiled over that—he was definitely cheering her up. “True enough. It’s romantic, then, except you’re trying to steal my nephew. And you’re a city boy, who I’m probably going to have to drag out of these mountains, probably carry you on my back before we’re done, and since you look heavy, that might end up killing us both.”

  “Yes, except for that.”

  She stopped, every muscle at attention. “You hear that, McCall? The water’s louder ahead. Either a stretch of white water or a waterfall. We’d better get out of this stream before we fall over something even meaner than that cliff.”

  Sure enough, with Miss Scott back in the lead, they came upon a waterfall and a rugged trail alongside it that led downward.

  As they descended, the temperature dropped. Feeling the cold, desperation took hold of him, and he studied the terrain ahead. “Look at that.” It was near pitch-dark, but a blacker-than-black circle, tucked half behind the falls, caught his eye. “If it’s dry in there, let’s hole up awhile.”

  She came back to his side and saw what he was pointing at. “Stepping out of that water helped me realize how cold my feet are. I’m ready for more jerky, and a few hours of sleep would make the going easier.”

  Should they build a fire and maybe take their clothes and boots off to dry them? That would be the smart thing.

  He shook his head at the idea. Nope. Such a suggestion would be downright improper and might just cause her to punch him even harder.

  Cam peered ahead of them. “It’s hard to tell for certain in the dark, but that looks like Penny’s horse over there.” Cam reined in his own horse toward the livery, feeling the tension in his shoulders relax a bit. “Riding all this way without meeting them had me half out of my mind thinking of all that could’ve happened. At least we know they’re still here in Dismal.”

  Cam dismounted, lashed his horse to the hitching post, and strode inside the livery, with Trace and Utah after him. There was a hostler just coming out of a stall, carrying the hammer a man used to shoe a horse.

  “Help you fellas?” He was a stout man, with forearms corded with muscles. A fire flickered in the forge, and the man was covered by a leather apron tied around his neck. His face was blackened with soot, and what little hair he had wrapped around his head and left the top bald.

  He sounded friendly, but he had shrewd eyes that slid between the three men and his grip tightened on his hammer. A man who’d had trouble before.

  “We’re looking for a man and woman who were riding those horses out in your corral.”

  “I have two horses brought in a few hours ago by the sheriff. The folks riding them were a man and woman like you said, but they disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Cam shook his head, the tension he’d just let go flaring back to life. “You mean, like, in front of your eyes?”

  The hostler barked out a laugh. “Nope. The sheriff was waiting for them to come in and answer some questions, and they never came. That’s it. The sheriff waited a long while, figuring they’d taken off to eat, then he got impatient and went hunting them. They searched every building in town, and they’re not here, but no one saw them leave.”

  “Without their horses? Do you honestly believe they walked out of town?”

  The man shrugged a shoulder. “If’n they did, not a man in town seen ’em go. But go they did. Must’ve, ’cuz they’re sure enough gone.”

  Cam glanced at Trace. “Did McCall have it planned from the time he headed out to my place? Or did he see we weren’t giving up Ronnie and grabbed Penny, hoping I’d hand over the youngster to get my sister back?” Cam spun on his heel. “Or maybe there’s some connection to Raddo. I’ve got to talk to the sheriff.”

  “Here now, someone’s gotta pay to board these horses. I’m claimin’ them for mine if you don’t.”

  Cam whirled around, yelling, “My sister is missing! I don’t—”

  Trace threw himself between Cam and the hostler. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “I’ll handle it, Cam,” Utah said. “You and Trace go.”

  Trace turned Cam around forcefully.

  “Sorry,” Cam muttered, not loud enough for the hostler to hear. “I know I’m acting like a madman. I’m just—my head is going crazy with all the things that could’ve happened to her. That could be happening to her right now.”

  Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his stomach twisted thinking of a woman at the mercy of a stranger.

  “Let’s go. McCall was a greenhorn. If he’s taken her, he’ll be easy to catch.”

  “If he wasn’t pretending to be unskilled, so we wouldn’t be expecting much from him.”

  “Remember your sister. If anyone can leave a trail, it’s her. And if McCall’s got her, all he needs to do is give her a chance, and she’ll escape.”

  That was the most encouraging thing so far. “It’s true. If Penny gets free in the woods no one can catch her, no one can pick up her trail. She’s had to learn a lot of skills in a mighty hard school thanks to us growing up in the mountains of Pennsylvania, then me dragging her around to frontier army posts.”

  Feeling more hopeful, Cam picked up his pace as he headed for the sheriff’s office, grimly determined to get some answers, and get them fast, because he had a sister to find and a kidnapper to haul to jail and see hanged.

  Penny made the decision that they could light a fire. The cave was deep and twisted around and had an opening near the back of it that wasn’t far from the entrance they’d come in but was still a second way out. Both ways were tucked around the waterfall. She liked that.

  The back entrance led straight into the water and was half-blocked by a huge muskrat nest. She was so cold she didn’t think she’d be able to get a lick of sleep without a fire. She figured it was safe to build one. If the smoke escaped, the waterfall would conceal it, and they needed rest.

  And that was true even if they hadn’t shed those outlaws.

  Rather than consult McCall, which usually just slowed her down, she got to work on a fire.

  She gathered an armload of branches, reeds, and leaves off the muskrat nest.

  “Can I help?”

  Giving him orders was the best part of this mess. “I’m building a fire. Bring me the driest branches you can find, and I’ll get it lit.”

  He went to work while she unhooked her bag. Matches, jerky, a gun. The basics of survival.

  Kneeling on the hard rock, she soon had the flames licking through leaves she’d crumbled nearly to dust. When the fire ate into the reeds and branches, she piled on every bit of kindling she’d collected.

  McCall came back with his arms full. A little more of this and she might start expecting common sense from him.

  She built the fire bigger, but not huge because she was worried the cave might fill with smoke. Then she rolled off her knees to sit and tug at her boots. “My feet are freezing. Our boots will dry overnight and—” she wasn’t taking anything else off, so—“if we sleep with our feet stretched out close to the fire, our clothes will dry overnight, or at least get good and warm.”

  “It’s going to be miserable.”

  She couldn’t have gotten kidnapped with a man who looked on the bright side of things?

  “No blankets. Just cold, hard stone.” He sounded purely depressed about it.

  “It beats being dead.”

  He sat and went to tugging off his own boots. In the firelight, he looked like a wreck. He had on a black city suit with one sleeve ripped badly at the shoulder and a white shirt darkened with dried blood. His head was bare and his short dark blond hair mussed. His black boots weren’t in the normal western style, and they’d been shining earlier. Now as he tugged them off, the firelight revealed the leather was worn and sagging with wetness.

  She handed
him jerky. It was all she had, and it was only from a lifetime habit of being prepared for trouble that she had that. After eating her ration and filling her belly the rest of the way with the fresh water, she lay down on the cold, hard ground, pondering all she knew of mountains. It didn’t seem like near enough.

  Where in the world were they?

  CHAPTER

  5

  “We lost ’em, boss.”

  Luther Payne needed to shoot somebody, but these three men were the only help he had.

  “Get back out there and find their trail.”

  All three hesitated, and they usually jumped when he gave an order.

  “They fell over a cliff,” Dudd Schroeder, one of his three hired guns, said. “And we can’t find a way down, not in the dark. I decided we should come back and report to you.”

  “Fell over a cliff?” Luth thought that sounded hopeful. All his problems might be solved. “Did they survive the fall?”

  “It’s too dark to see to the bottom or to pick our way down. We’ll try it if you say so, but our chances of making it down in the dark are slim. Best to wait for daylight.”

  Luth knew it was true. He also knew he needed those two to answer questions. But did they know anything? The woman seemed to mean it when she started whimpering about Raddo not carrying anything.

  Where had he left the evidence? Luth had no doubt it was somewhere, but maybe Raddo had been too smart for his own good. Maybe he’d hidden it so well no one would ever find it.

  Luth had no problem pulling a trigger, but he knew better than to go shooting his own men like a headlong fool just out of a mean temper.

  “I’m going home. I’ve been out too long now, considering those two disappeared and questions might be asked about an alibi. No reason they should look to me, but I want to make it real easy for them to never consider doing that.”