The Unexpected Champion

by Mary Connealy

  “I’m probably tougher and a better shot than you anyway, Trace,” Penny teased.

  Trace snorted. “Not likely.”

  “You know we need to get that evidence somewhere secure. If we all die, then Luther gets away with murder . . . including the murder of your pa, Trace. And he may go on to murder Deb, Gwen, and the children. In fact, I can promise you he will.”

  Struck by John’s words—the obvious truth—Trace’s muleheaded look faded.

  “I think that’s his plan, just like it was Raddo’s plan. They’re all witnesses.”

  Grimly unhappy about it, Trace said, “I’ll go. Take as long as you dare to get around that wall, but I agree, we can’t wait until full dark.” Turning on his heel, Trace said over his shoulder, “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  Then he was running for his horse—and Trace could run faster than anyone Penny had ever known.

  CHAPTER

  30

  It’d be uncomfortable to have wet clothes, but Penny had her trousers at least. She wouldn’t have a skirt floating in her face while they swam.

  He got what he needed from his packs, shed his boots at the lakeshore, and waded in. John was tempted to ask Cam to bring dry clothes, but he didn’t want to take the time to go dig a change out of his baggage.

  “John, wait!” Penny said.

  “What?” Everything about this investigation irritated him. Now here she was slowing him down.

  “You said you needed to tell me a couple of things, but we got caught up arguing. What was the other thing?”

  He’d forgotten to tell her because he hated the very thought of her being in danger.

  He’d spent enough time with her to know he was better with her at his side. She was strong, fast, quick thinking. Yes, he had a better chance of success with her along.

  But the thought of her being shot, maybe dying, was unbearable.

  Instead of saying that, begging her to stay behind, stay safe. Instead of admitting he cared about her, he’d gone around making outrageous suggestions. Now if something happened to him, her last memory of him would be of what a thoughtless polecat he was. He should drag her into his arms and tell her he loved her. Tell her she was more important to him than any woman he’d ever known.

  And he might’ve done it if her big brother hadn’t been standing right there. He found it impossible to declare his love right in front of his brother-in-law.

  Instead, his mouth clamped shut on words of love, and he answered her simple question, hating every syllable.

  “The other thing I needed to warn you about was that Luther’s bound to have set traps. No self-respecting Confederate city left their shores unprotected. They could get pretty creative about their defenses. Luther will have done something real mean and sneaky.”

  “That sounds like him.”

  “So be careful and stay behind me, and keep your eyes open for wires and jagged rocks and nets or ropes that might tangle you up. Who knows what he’s come up with?”

  “I’ll stay behind you and keep a sharp eye out.”

  John looked past her and saw Cam watching with eyes like an eagle. It was no time for words of love, but he did slip in one kiss. It wasn’t nearly as long as he wanted it to be. Then he headed into the water. He was up to his waist and already shivering when he heard Penny wade in.

  He was over his head in the water and had started to swim, ready to dunk his head and move faster, when shocking sudden pain jagged through his left shoulder.

  “Back! Stop, Penny!” he hissed, not shouting like he wanted to.

  Sound carried far over the water—he’d learned that lesson well.

  Watching, looking for what had stabbed him as he stroked backward, he could see nothing. To his very sharp eyes, there was nothing there.

  He bumped into Penny.

  “What is it, John, what happened?”

  “Shhh, hold on. Give me a second.” The water was clear, and he hadn’t seen anything below the surface.

  His left arm worked, but pain radiated from his shoulder down to his hand . . . and sideways into his chest.

  Penny’s alert, dark brown eyes went to his shoulder. John followed her glance. Blood oozed out of a puncture wound high on his left arm. Crimson coursed down his arm, mixing with water, staining the lake red. Penny’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she sank.

  John caught her. The cold water must’ve revived her, but her eyes went right back to the blood, and she whirled around.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

  “What? A tough frontierswoman like you?”

  “Shut up. It’s a strange thing that’s been a problem all my life. You’ll have to bandage your own wound.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” John sounded aggravated.

  He put his hand on top of her head and said, “Hold your breath.”

  He dunked her again.

  She came up gasping and whirled to face him. “Why’d you do that?”

  “I need some help here.” He pressed his right hand hard against his wound. “Now if I have to, I’ll dunk you every few seconds to bring you back around, but between faints, put a bandage on this.”

  Without saying a word, Penny swallowed hard and nodded. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to look.”

  Penny grabbed the coil of rope looped over his neck and under his arm to stop him. “Be careful. Whatever you hit, there’s bound to be more of them.”

  “Good advice.” John submerged his face and stared. It took him a while to see it. Then he saw another and another. He came up.

  “There are spikes down there, stuck in the sand, I suppose, and they’re painted a light gray color. Real close to the color of water. It makes them almost impossible to see.”

  “Do we go back?” Penny could have said that differently. She could have made it a demand. Instead she seemed to be wondering if this could be handled.

  “No, we go on, but slow.”

  “I’ll make a bandage.” Penny produced a knife from somewhere and cut at the fabric from his sleeve while he talked.

  “I’ll have to feel my way along. These are really thin wooden stakes.” He reached for the closest one and yanked. It came right up out of the water. “I’ll use this to swipe back and forth and find each spear, yank them up, and clear a path for us. But I don’t trust myself to see them in time, and I don’t want to put my head under because I don’t want to get poked in the eye.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay right in your path.” She got a long enough strip of cloth she could wrap around his arm, then up over his shoulder so it wouldn’t slip off.

  “You’ve always had trouble with blood?”

  “Yep, when Cam got his leg caught in a bear trap last winter I completely abandoned him to Deb and Gwen’s care.”

  “Cam got caught in a bear trap?” John winced.

  “Yes, set by Raddo. I’m not proud of how I acted, but I can’t seem to get over it. When it came to shooting trouble at the fort, they liked everyone to pitch in to help the wounded, but I never did.”

  “You saw that shopkeeper stabbed to death.”

  “I saw him for about a second, and you were busy enough examining the crime that you didn’t notice I turned away to keep from upchucking or fainting.”

  “I was bleeding after we got kidnapped.”

  “I turned and ran and didn’t really look at you again until after dark.” She worked fast, and he was glad the cloth had covered the wound.

  “I can shoot, skin, and butcher an elk without a speck of trouble.” She shook her head as if disgusted with herself.

  “Thanks, Penny.” He fastened his cold hands over hers, noticing how delicate they were. Strong, callused, competent, but fine boned and feminine, and right now, shaking hard. He kissed her fingertips and turned around to advance. He heard muttering behind him.

  “What’s that?” He didn’t look back. He was afraid he’d miss a spear. />
  “I said, try not to stab anything vital.”

  Inching along, he waved his spear back and forth, yanking out any new ones he found, and he found a lot, about every few feet.

  “Look at that,” he whispered. Penny came up beside him.

  “What is that thing?” Penny leaned her face close to the water.

  “I think it’s a long-dead otter. The poor animal was probably playing and got impaled.” Next, he saw a good-sized fish. Then a bald eagle. All dead. All trapped underwater and left to drown or die of their stab wounds, whichever killed them first.

  “What if some tourist wanted to go swimming?” Penny said quietly. “What if someone boated up, thinking this clearing of Luther’s would be a good place to come ashore? What if they jumped off their boat to take a swim?”

  “Luther didn’t worry one whit about people he might harm. They mean no more to him than these animals.”

  “And he had plans to bring the children here, at least Ronnie.” Penny’s voice was tight with rage. “He might’ve waded out into the water and found himself in deadly danger.”

  Looking at the bald eagle, John’s stomach twisted as he imagined a human killed in such a way—a child—an innocent little boy. If Luther’d had his way, John and Penny would have been his victims. John pulled the next spear out of the ground and handed it to Penny.

  “It wouldn’t bother me overly,” she said, gripping the spear so tightly her knuckles turned white, “to use this on Luther Payne.”

  With a nod of agreement, John moved on in the chilled water. He already knew the kind of man he was up against, but the cruelty of this trap was sickening. John wanted to take the time to cut out every one of these spikes. Get rid of them so they’d stop killing animals and endangering people. And he would, but for now he had to keep moving.

  John hoped Luther entrusted his safety to his hired guns. Maybe he’d gotten soft, and learned to leave those defensive things to others. Maybe John could just walk straight into the mansion and pull his gun—or rather, Penny could pull her little derringer—and this would end.

  He didn’t believe it, but he could hope.

  John got near the end of the wall, ready to round it and be on Luther’s side of it. He cleared out the last of the spears, figuring they’d start up again once he rounded the wall, and signaled for Penny to swim up beside him.

  “We’re probably going to be visible from the house in the next few feet.” He produced two reeds. He handed Penny one and said, “Watch this.”

  He put the reed in his mouth and sank under the water, breathing through the little hollow tube. When he came back up, Penny was under, the reed showing a few inches above the surface. Then she came back up.

  Water streamed off her hair, which was in her customary twin braids. Her long dark lashes glinted with water. Her eyes flashed with trust . . . all aimed at him.

  “The spikes seem to be gone, but I suspect we’ll find more once we round the wall. This is taking forever, and the cold water is taking a toll, but we have to move cautiously.”

  As one, they turned to look at the sun. It had slipped behind the peaks of the Sierra Nevadas. The surface of Lake Tahoe became a pure mirror of the blue sky. It would be impossible to see anyone standing on shore from beneath the surface.

  Thinking the word shore had John turn to where they’d just come from. He saw nothing on the outside of the wall. Then Cam stepped out from behind a tree. He’d obviously been watching them while keeping himself concealed. He waved, then vanished back into the forest.

  “Let’s go. No sense waiting any longer.” John kissed her again. “You’re beautiful when you’re soaked more than a wet hen.”

  She grinned. “Get going.” Then she leaned close. “You are, too.”

  John shook his head once, then turned and swam forward—inched forward. The water was deep here. When he rounded the end of the wall, he sank beneath the lake. If he was above the surface, he’d be clearly visible now from the house. Using the reed to breathe, he swam on, swiping back and forth with the spear he’d kept to search for the next trap.

  Penny stayed directly behind John. It took no thought, which unfortunately left her plenty of time to rage against Luther Payne.

  She touched the little gun tucked inside her shirt to make sure it was still well wrapped and hopefully dry.

  They rounded the wall that had tapered down to nothing about twenty yards out into the water. With her head submerged, the water was almost as clear as air. She marveled at breathing through the reed. How had he known to do this?

  But of course, she knew. He’d learned it being a navy spy.

  Handy.

  And if it wasn’t so blasted life and death, it’d be interesting. It was beautiful down here. With the reed, she could stay underwater all day. Fish swam by. There were pretty shells gleaming with color on the sandy bottom many feet down. She’d come back and spend some time underwater in Lake Tahoe. The water was cold, but she didn’t think it was dangerously cold. She hoped.

  She stayed alert. A deep chill could addle the mind, make someone sleepy when sleep was a terrible idea. So far, she felt nothing like that. She still had the spear John had given her, and she waved it out to the side, feeling around for the camouflaged spikes Luther had put in. She hadn’t found any in her path, though she saw some off to the side. She couldn’t reach them and stay behind John at the same time, so she followed him.

  Ahead, she saw John jerk one of the spears out of the sand. He’d found more, which meant the water was getting shallow. Then her feet touched the ground, and after a few inches she realized her head was coming out of the water so she ducked down. She had to crouch to stay under the water. Moving faster now, John reached back and tugged her to her knees, then she watched him and saw him lay flat on his belly with his head tilted up to breathe.

  John caught her wrist and this time tugged her up and forward. They were out of the water only inches from the wall. They rushed for a clump of cattails and ducked out of sight. Penny searched the grounds of the mansion for any sign of a witness to their invasion.

  John said, “I’m going to get Cam in here right now. I don’t see anyone coming, yelling, or shooting. So, let’s get this done. Stay low. Get your gun unwrapped. Cover me.”

  Penny had the derringer out in no time flat. She looked at the house, and merciful heavens, what a house. She’d seen pictures of castles in England, and this reminded her of that. Payne must be stunningly rich. Stupid, too. How did he heat this thing?

  John rushed the wall, whipping the coil of rope off his body. He tied it around a handy rock and tossed it up and over.

  Cam would be watching for it.

  Penny kept a sharp eye on the house. She couldn’t believe the arrogance it would take to believe you deserved a home this size. A man alone, if their information was correct. If he planned to marry late in life and have ten children, this would still be a fool’s house.

  She thought of the very tidy little cabin being built on her homestead. It would have two bedrooms and be spacious and lovely.

  She’d lived in an attic with one bedroom with Abe and Delia and the two children. It had been terribly crowded, but they’d loved each other and been polite and careful, and they’d made do.

  This was two full stories with windows coming out of the steeply pitched roof. It had a central house, then two wings that angled back from the shoreline. It was made of the gray native stone that surrounded them. Set back about fifty feet from the lake and up a slope. Lake water could rise and lower, so building up high made sense. There weren’t a whole lot of windows. That would be wise for protection against harshly cold winters. But why build here and then block off the view?

  Penny suspected the lack of windows wasn’t a decision between saving on firewood or getting a lovely view. It was about defense. Fewer windows made it harder for anyone outside to shoot someone inside.

  Considering the massive wall, defense was probably at the root of every decision Luther
made while building.

  He was a man suspicious of everyone.

  As well he should be.

  He hurt so many people that she’d bet he had more enemies than there were trees in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

  A scratching sound from behind her drew her attention. Sparing a quick glance back, she saw Cam top the wall. He swung over and dropped, hand over hand, to the bottom of the rope, fast as a running squirrel.

  He had Penny’s pack over his shoulder. It bulged, and she knew it had guns for all of them. Including her trusty Army Colt. She liked her little pepperbox, but for stopping power, she much preferred her Colt.

  Cam was at her side, the three of them crouched behind the succulent reeds and marsh grasses on the sandy soil, right against the wall. He’d brought their boots, and Penny pulled them on her chilled feet.

  Wrenching open the pack, Penny grabbed her weapon, checked the load, double-checked that her derringer was dry, and said, “Ready?”

  “I’ll take the back of the house, see what entrances there are.” Cam’s cold eyes surveyed the monstrosity of a house.

  “I’m going in that window low on the south side.” John jabbed a finger at the closest window. “I’m betting that’s an empty room. Oh, for heaven’s sake, they’re all empty. There aren’t enough people in all of Nevada to put a person in every room in that house.”

  “After he’s dead,” Penny said with an anger colder than the lake water soaking her clothes, “maybe Mr. Bolling can knock some holes in these walls and use this for his next boardinghouse.”

  “Bolling strikes me as a reasonable man. He might see it as a good investment for the tourism business.”

  Penny brought them back to the goal at hand. “I guess that leaves me to go marching right in the front door.”

  “No,” John snapped.

  “You’re coming with me.” Cam spoke at the same instant.

  “We’ll do better split up. We can sneak up on them. And if they get one of us, the others have a chance to stage a rescue. And if I happen upon Florence Chilton, I’m going to take pleasure in having her arrested, and I might knock her in the head before I try and take her captive.”