Beauty From Ashes

by Lynnette Bonner

  The kitchen window shattered. Shards of glass shot inward. And then the crack of a rifle shot echoed off the walls.

  On instinct, both of them dove to the floor. Tess sobbed, and Liora absentmindedly plucked at the shards of glass in the girl’s curly dark hair as she fleetingly thought how much this moment represented the mess she’d made of her life.

  A shot rang out just as Reagan, Doc, Ewan McGinty, Washington Nolan, and Zane Holloway—the hastily assembled posse—started to climb the last hill before Liora’s cabin. The men dove from their mounts and hunkered down in the brush, and Reagan felt thankful to be working in a town with sensible men who could be called on in an emergency without worry that they would jump into ill-considered action.

  Washington Nolan looked ready to take on the world, and Reagan felt the weight of the burden of keeping both his posse and Liora and Joe safe.

  Motioning for the men to stay back, Reagan belly-crawled to the lip of the hill and used the new binoculars Ma had given him last Christmas to study Liora’s house and the hills surrounding it. In a gully below him, four horses had been tethered to a rope strung between two bushes. One man stood guard by them. Reagan trained his glasses on the man, but didn’t recognize him. He turned next to studying the animals. Each had a different brand, but the sight of one of them raised the hair along the back of his neck. The large Appaloosa mare belonged to a man named Burt Pike. Pike was known to do John Hunt’s dirty work. A hard man with a mean streak a mile wide, there wasn’t a fight he hadn’t started, or finished, and he had the scars to prove it.

  Reagan lowered the glasses and pondered for a moment. If Pike was here, this likely had something to do with John Hunt. Did Liora owe the man money? Was he trying to force her to come work for him? Or was there something else going on here?

  Reagan shook his head. Answers would have to wait. Four horses meant four men. One lay just below. Where would the others be? He lifted the glasses once more and it didn’t take him long to find Pike and the other two.

  Obviously, Hunt’s men were not expecting any sort of resistance, because none of them had even bothered to keep their positions hidden. Though the only damage to the cabin seemed to be a broken window, Reagan could also see that Joe would have a time of it defensively, from down there. Of course, Liora hadn’t built the cabin with a mind toward holding off attackers.

  A hot sensation curled through Reagan’s stomach. John Hunt had always been a man who irked him, but in this situation, “irked” didn’t even come close to describing how he felt. A man who would go after women was nothing but a coward. But Reagan knew that he would find no traces of Hunt here. And likely he would deny any association with these goons once they’d been rounded up. It would be their word against his. And sadly, Reagan knew whose word would be believed in a court of law.

  With a sigh, Reagan pushed himself back to where his posse waited for his instructions. They would have to content themselves with getting Liora out of this current situation and trying to catch John Hunt off guard another day.

  Very quietly, he instructed his men. He motioned for Zane and Ewan to take the knoll on the far side of the cabin. He held up two fingers. “There are two of them over there. Wait for my signal.” He touched his pistol, indicating what kind of signal it would be. “We have to take them all at once.”

  Zane nodded and clapped one hand onto Ewan’s shoulder.

  “Ewan.” Reagan spoke before the men could leave.

  Ewan met his gaze with bland curiosity.

  “I expect that you will handle yourself in an upright manner and bring your man back in one piece.”

  Ewan’s only response came as a slight smirk and a two-fingered salute. The two men melded into the brush and slipped away.

  That left two of Hunt’s men on this side of the cabin who still needed to be taken care of, so long as he hadn’t miscalculated. Reagan turned his gaze to Doc. “There’s a man just below us on the other side of this hill. You take him. I’ll get Burt Pike. He’s over to our right.”

  Doc nodded.

  “What about me?” Wash whispered, feet shifting with anticipation.

  “You stay here and guard our horses.”

  Washington’s shoulders fell but, to the kid’s credit, he didn’t backtalk or moan.

  Reagan started away then paused, realizing the parson was missing from the men who had volunteered and that wasn’t like him. “Where’s Parson Clay?”

  Doc pulled a face. “Kin was in McGinty’s again when I got there. I took him home before rejoining you all.”

  The implication in his words was clear. Not only had Kin been in the alehouse, but he’d imbibed plenty of Ewan’s rotgut liquor to boot. Reagan’s eyes shifted to Wash.

  The boy lifted his hand and shook his head. “I was right glad to have Doc come along. I’d been trying to get Kin out of there for quite some time.” He scrubbed one hand along the side of his neck. “McGinty just keeps pouring so long as Kin plunks down the money, no matter how much I ask him not to.”

  Reagan sighed, but nodded and motioned that they should get on with capturing their quarry. Doc moved off, and he did the same, yet he couldn’t help but ponder on Kin’s wayward ways. Of all the people in town, shouldn’t the son of a man who’d died in a drunken fit be one who wanted to stay as far from McGinty’s booze as possible? And yet, time and again, Preston had been forced to fetch the boy from the alehouse to sober him up.

  Releasing a breath, Reagan pushed the thoughts away to be dealt with another time. Right now, he needed to concentrate on capturing his quarry.

  Pike lay hunkered down by a boulder, sighting down the barrel of his rifle toward the house.

  Reagan shucked his pistol and scrutinized the terrain he would need to cross to get to the man. Pike had chosen as good a spot as any to make his stand. There was no way for Reagan to sneak up on him from behind without knocking bits of shale down the hill with his steps. He wouldn’t be able to even get close without alerting him to his presence.

  But a good thing came from having others helping him. He didn’t have to sneak up on the man. In fact, the more noise he made the better it would be for Zane, Doc and Ewan.

  He reached down and hefted a good-sized rock into one hand. He waited another thirty seconds to make sure the others had plenty of time to find their own quarries and then he chucked the rock good and hard so that it landed to Pike’s right. At the same moment, he leapt down the hill on his opposite side, firing two shots into the air.

  Pike heard him coming, but he was off balance because he’d spun toward the sound the rock had made, and before he could even half way spin around to bring his rifle to bear, Reagan had slid to a stop by his side and pressed his pistol behind the man’s ear.

  “I’d think very carefully about my next move if I were you.”

  Pike grunted as he climbed to his feet and gingerly held the rifle out to one side. “Got others with me. They’ll hunt you down, you so much as ruffle my whiskers.”

  “I suppose that’s a chance I’m going to have to take, Burt Pike.”

  Reagan’s use of his name seemed to give the man a start. Hands still carefully lifted by his shoulders, he peered at Reagan, clearly wondering how he knew his name.

  Reagan chuckled at that. Let him wonder. Despite his humor, Reagan felt his caution rise as he took in Pike’s size. The man was huge. Reagan hadn’t quite realized how huge until standing this close to him. Pike had a good eight inches and at least seventy-five pounds on him—and he’d heard the man could move fast. He would have to watch himself. “I’m Sheriff Reagan Callahan from Wyldhaven.” Reagan slung Pike’s rifle over his chest and patted him down for other weapons. He removed a derringer from one boot and a hunting knife from the other, then motioned for the man to precede him up the hill. “Nice and slow. Any sudden moves and I might end up doing something you’ll regret. You here working for John Hunt?”

  Pike took three careful steps before responding. “No sir.”

  Reag
an practically rolled his eyes. “That so? Well we’ll just see what all your other friends have to say.”

  “You got them too?”

  Reagan carefully placed his feet so as not to slip while they climbed toward the crest of the hill. “If my posse has done its job.”

  Pike’s shoulder flinched. It was the only warning Reagan had before the man spun, swinging a sledge-hammer fist.

  On instinct, Reagan dropped to one knee.

  Pike’s fist knocked Reagan’s hat off, missing the top of his head by no more than a hand’s breadth. The force of Pike’s punch carried him too far around and the shale rolled beneath his boots. One of his legs slid wide and Reagan heard his intake of breath as he comprehended his mistake.

  Pistol gripped tightly, Reagan threw his punch from the shoulder. The barrel of the Colt connected with the inside of Pike’s extended and vulnerable knee. Bone crunched. The joint buckled.

  Pike went down screaming, clutching at his leg. He slid some ways on the rocky ground, and for one moment Reagan thought he would slide all the way to the valley floor, but then he got hung up on a juniper bush. “You busted my leg!” He cursed Reagan soundly and continuously for the several minutes that it took for Reagan to navigate the terrain to his side.

  Leaning carefully into the angle of the hill to keep his balance, Reagan paused, looking down on him. “One of my posse is Dr. Griffin. Way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can stop your belly aching and let me help you to the top of the hill where he can patch you up. Or I can walk away and leave you here to find your own way.

  Pike glowered at him, but he did reach up one hand for Reagan’s help.

  Reagan didn’t move. “You try anything and I won’t go easy on you just because you are hurt.”

  Pike grunted, hand still outstretched. “You didn’t shoot me last time.”

  “I never said I’d shoot you. I said I’d do something you’d regret.”

  Pike gave an impatient swipe of his hand. “I ain’t gonna try anything. Just help me up.”

  By the time Reagan got him to the top of the hill, the others had each returned with their own captives. Ewan’s man looked a little worse for the wear with a large gash over one eye and a good-sized lump on his head. Reagan gave Ewan an assessing look.

  Ewan simpered. “What? I’m acting on behalf of the law, ain’t I? And at least I didn’t bust this cuss’s leg!” With a rough kick to the back of the man’s knees, he shoved his captive, whose hands were already tied behind his back, down onto the ground.

  Reagan let the matter slide. He helped Pike to a seat on a low boulder, motioning to Doc that he needed attention.

  It wasn’t long until they had all the men bound. Reagan had a lot of questions he wanted to ask them, but it would be better to do that once they were in the security of a barred cell. And he first needed to check on Joe and Liora to make sure no one had been hurt. He looked to Zane. “Can you get this lot back to town? I’d like to ride down and check on the house.”

  Zane nodded, resettling his hat on his head. “I’ve got me a haircut and a slice of pie waiting back in town, anyhow.” He grinned at Reagan.

  With a roll of his eyes, Reagan clapped Washington on one shoulder to indicate that he could come with him, then mounted and headed down the hill to Liora’s. He knew Zane had been goading him a little about the fact that he and Ma had been spending quite a bit of time together lately, but what the man didn’t know was that Reagan was more than happy for his ma to have found another man to love. Especially one as respectable and upstanding as Zane Holloway.

  Now to see if any of those shots they’d heard had done any damage.

  Liora and Tess were still cowering in the kitchen when Joe half-scrambled half-dove past the heavy oak sideboard. He landed on his belly, rifle clattering against the boards, and skidded almost all the way to the rock fire-break beneath the stove. He caught one glimpse of them, alive and well but trembling below the kitchen window, and slumped forward until his forehead rested on one fist against the floor. He only remained there for a heartbeat before he lifted his focus to Liora once more. He skimmed her from head to toe as though to reassure himself she truly was uninjured.

  A warm sensation begged to find root in her heart, but she pushed it away. She tore her gaze from his. She had Tess to think about. Now was not the time to ponder the crazy turmoil this man had foisted upon her today with his proposal. She’d never before longed for the freedom to allow a man to enfold her in the safety of his embrace.

  Tess still sobbed almost uncontrollably. “I’m sorry. I’m right sorry,” she kept repeating. “I done brought so much trouble.”

  Liora smoothed the girl’s hair back from her face and pulled her head onto her shoulder. “Hush now. This is not on you.”

  She met Joe’s gaze across the room. His jaw worked back and forth and she knew his soft heart was being ripped asunder by Tess’s predicament.

  Outside, two more shots rent the air. Tess flinched and they all three froze for a moment. But no more windows shattered. And no more shots came.

  Joe eased across the room and peered over the lip of the windowsill by the table. Only a moment later, he jumped to his feet.

  Liora’s heart stuttered. “Joe! Be careful!”

  He brushed aside her concern. “It’s Reagan.”

  Hope drew her to her own feet. She eased Tess onto one of the benches at the table and stepped to Joe’s side. Sure enough. Up on the hill, she could see Reagan helping a man. They disappeared from sight for a few minutes, and then two men rode over the crest of the hill, headed their way.

  Joe blew out a breath of relief. “That’s Reagan and Wash. Likely coming down to see if we are all okay. Someone must have heard the shooting. Thank God.”

  Liora nodded. “Yes. Thank God.”

  Joe turned to look at her. His focus honed in on something near her hairline. He raised his palms in an I-mean-no-harm gesture, then reached toward her slowly, a question in his eyes.

  She worried her lip. But it was silly to fear Joe. She gave him a nod.

  He dabbed at a spot on her forehead. When his thumb came away with blood on it, her brow lifted. Only then did she feel the pinch of the cut. She reached toward it but Joe stilled her hand.

  “I’ll get it.” He spoke softly as he laid his rifle across the table and stepped closer. “You’ve got some glass…”

  The gentle brush of his fingers plucking at her hair sent ripples of awareness over her scalp.

  Heart thudding, she started to look away but the angular contour of his jaw, bristling with a day’s worth of stubble, seemed to have a powerful grip that refused to release her. It drew her attention to the cleft in his chin, and then upward to full lips that would have been Garden-of-Eden-perfect were it not for the small scar that puckered a white line from his lip to where it disappeared just below one eye. It was so faint that she’d never noticed it before. But then again, she’d never been this close to him—

  He stilled.

  Her gaze darted to his.

  A muscle ticked beneath his eye at the point where the scar disappeared. “Had a nasty run-in with a blackberry bramble when I was seven.” His words, soft and laced with a bit of gravel, jolted a breath from her and knocked her focus down to where his Adam’s apple bobbed on a heavy swallow.

  His fingers were still laced in her hair, but they remained motionless. Unmoving for so long that her gaze involuntarily rose again to see what he might be doing.

  He also studied a scar. Her scar. The one she had inflicted on herself the night she had intended to end it all and Joe had burst into her room and saved her life. The night that had changed her life for the better.

  Ever so gently, his thumb traced over the mark on her forehead, but though his gaze remained on her forehead, he didn’t seem to be seeing the mar any longer. She knew memories of that night had also gripped him.

  She could still feel the cold press of the gun barrel beneath her chin. Remember the way her hand had
trembled as her finger curled around the trigger. Then Joe had kicked in her door just before she’d pulled the trigger. Her startled flinch had saved her life. The bullet she’d hoped would end all her problems, ironically had done just that. More accurately, the incident had brought Joe into her life and he had introduced her to the Word, where she’d discovered a God who loved her more than she would ever be able to fathom in this lifetime.

  And now he was offering to love her himself in a way she never could deserve. Could she accept that? Allow him to make that sacrifice?

  With a blink, he returned to her again, and this time his eyes drilled directly into hers. They held an intensity that told her he was a man on a mission.

  She tried to swallow but her mouth offered no moisture. She shook her head. Took a step back. “Joe—” Her voice failed her.

  “Hello the house!” Reagan called from outside. “Everyone okay in there?”

  Joe reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “We’re not done here,” he said softly. Lifting his rifle once more, he released her, giving a nod toward Tess. And then he headed for the door.

  Liora hurried into motion, fetching a cup of coffee from the kitchen for the girl. Maybe the bitter black brew would comfort and return Tess to reality in a way that Liora hadn’t seemed to be able to do since the first shots had broken.

  It only took her a moment to decide that she needed a cup herself. Her hands were trembling as though she hadn’t eaten in days and she doubted that even half of her agitation could be credited to the fact that John Hunt had practically declared war on her today.

  War she could handle.

  It was Joe Rodante she didn’t know what to do about.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Joe met Reagan and Washington in Liora’s yard. He held out a hand to his boss. “Sure was glad to see you riding over that ridge. Thanks for coming.”

  Reagan nodded. “Anytime.”

  “Wash.” Joe shook his hand.