by Linda Broday
The words Brett had tried to shield her from brought rage. “I’ll cut your tongue out before this is over and feed it to you. I’m taking her far away from you.”
“Try it an’ you’ll die.”
“Reckon it’s a good night for it. I’ll happily risk my life, do anything, to set Rayna free.” Anger so deep and bitter rose until he tasted it on his tongue. Brett had never felt such hatred for anyone, but this shook him all the way to his toes.
A distance of about three feet stood between them. He took a moment to inhale a calming breath against the pain that would surely come. Marshaling every bit of strength in his body, he leaped and delivered a powerful kick to the black-hearted bone-picker’s midsection. The whiskey jug flew from his hand.
Harper went down to his knees but got up quickly, fumbling for the gun that had slipped from his grasp. Having lost the weapon in the darkness, he dropped his head and charged.
Brett was ready, and when the man reached him, he sidestepped and gripped his opponent under his right armpit. Again, using all his remaining strength, Brett slung him over his shoulder.
The sharp cry when Harper slammed into the ground brought his men running.
Desperate for any leverage Brett could use, and knowing he was out of time, he grabbed his enemy’s shirt, heaved him to his feet, and pressed his knife to his throat.
“Stay back or he dies,” Brett ordered. “I won’t hesitate to slice his gizzard out.”
“Do as he says. He’ll kill me.” Harper’s pleas stopped the group’s advance.
For now anyway.
Rayna clutched Brett from behind, letting him know she was out of immediate danger. Slowly he backed into the woods, using the bone-picker as a shield. “You’re coming with us, and then I’m turning you over to the law.”
“We’ll put you an’ every one of your kind into the ground before the next nightfall,” Harper vowed.
“When hell freezes over.” The brittle hardness of Brett’s reply must’ve gotten his hostage’s attention, because he lapsed into silence.
Or it could’ve been the increased pressure of the keen edge of the knife blade.
Though Brett had always embraced peace and harmony, he’d once killed a man, Tolbert Early, to protect Cooper’s life. The violent rage building inside him again threatened to explode.
It wouldn’t be difficult at all to end Raymond Harper’s miserable existence.
Rayna must’ve sensed that. She placed her hand over the one holding the knife. “Not this way, Brett. That’s not who you are.”
Thirty-six
The edges of dawn, reminding Brett of a frayed pair of lacy curtains at Mabel’s Boardinghouse, spread across the sky as he rode onto the Wild Horse. Looking ready to collapse, Raymond Harper staggered behind, tethered to him by a rope.
Alongside on her gray mare, Lady Pearl, Rayna maneuvered closer and laid her hand on Brett’s. “I knew you’d come. I’m glad you brought me home.”
Home. There was that word again. They were both home.
“Don’t you know my heart isn’t happy unless you’re near? It beats only for you, my Wish Book woman.”
“I’m not something out of reach now. You have me.”
The streaks of dirt amid the bruises on her cheeks, and her ripped dress, told of what she’d endured, but she had never been more beautiful or desirable. He was about to lean over and whisper sweet nothings in her ear when Cooper and Rand galloped toward them.
“Got a present for you, Coop,” Brett said, handing him the rope tied around Harper’s chest.
Cooper grinned. “Don’t know how you managed this, but glad you did. Oldham got away, the weasel. He’ll be disoriented, so it’ll take some time before he can find his way back to camp, but he’ll sure be rallying his men when he gets there. We need to be ready.”
Harper snarled and bragged, “Won’t be here long. Those men are coming, an’ we’ll take pleasure in killin’ all of you. We’ll start with the snot-nosed brats first.”
“Don’t we have a good ant bed we can stake him out in?” Rand asked. “Be a pure shame not to.”
In a sudden move, Cooper’s buckskin leaped forward into a jog before he could settle him down, forcing the bone-picker to run to keep from being dragged. It appeared to take the bluster out of him.
Brett hurried to catch up to his brothers. They had more plans to make.
His neighbor and Oldham had taken people’s fear of ones like him, like Adam, like the orphans, and whipped their jitters into a frenzy until Brett was certain the whole lot would stop at nothing to wipe them from the earth. At first glance, he couldn’t see how to survive. He just knew it would take every bit of their strength and will to defeat the foe.
Somehow, someway they would, because they had to. The choice wasn’t theirs.
*
As soon as Cooper tied Harper to a stout tree and gagged him, each man filled their bellies. Afterward, Rayna checked Brett’s wound and changed the bandage, her gentle touch seeping into his soul where his deep love for her dwelt.
He closed his eyes, loving the feel of her hands on his skin. He wished for time to make love to her, but there wasn’t any—only a moment to bring her hand to his lips, where he pressed a kiss. Releasing her, he brushed his fingertips across her face and down her throat, wanting to prolong the sound of the wild beating of her heart.
Once she declared him in good shape, Brett called all the men around the campfire.
“They’re coming,” he said, “and it’s not going to be easy.”
Rand shook his head. “This is going to be a final, winner-take-all battle. How are we going to defend these orphans? I won’t let anything happen to them, however we have to do it.”
“We have to take them somewhere.” Cooper’s face had set in deep lines, giving evidence of the toll. “Any suggestions?”
“The box canyon.” Brett stared toward the place that might provide a haven. A couple of men posted at the entrance that measured only four horses wide could hold off an army.
Adam spoke quietly. “If you don’t mind, Uncle Brett, I’d like that job.”
“It’s yours. I know you’ll guard them with your life.” Brett stared at the boy who’d grown into a man in front of his eyes. He’d never felt such pride in anyone.
Cooper seemed in deep thought. “Since the wagon’s busted, horseback is the only way of getting them there.”
“With three kids on each horse, plus the two women, it’ll take about ten or so.” Brett stared toward the grazing mustangs and Thoroughbreds. Some had yet to be gentled; still, he felt confident he could pick out a dozen. “It’s the only way.”
“I agree.” Cooper leaned forward on the log seat. “Once we have them to safety, how will we defend this place against a blistering attack? We lost Gabe Booker, and three more are wounded. We’re down to ten. On the ground, they’ll pick us off like sitting ducks.”
Brett grinned. “Then we’ll go up. Into the trees.”
Rand slapped Brett on the back. “You should be a general. Are you sure you’re not kin to one of the great Indian chiefs?”
“Maybe one.” Sarah had told him their grandfather was a chief. Brett wished he’d asked his name. “Their numbers are large, and after they know to look up, they’ll shoot us out of the trees.”
Brett had always wondered what it would feel like when his time was up. He was about to find out. So were the others. He searched each face but found no wavering in the men staring back at him. Their grim features said more than words.
“We’ll hold off firing until a big group rides in,” Cooper said. “When they don’t see anyone, they’ll relax, thinking we’ve lit out of here. Brett can give us a birdcall when it’s time to let loose. The element of surprise will give us the advantage. I like it.” Cooper stood. “We’d best get the children heading toward the canyon.”
Once Brett told Rayna the plan and asked her to get the little ones ready, he and Adam went to get enough bridles for a dozen
horses. Adam’s long gait matched him stride for stride, and when they began picking out the gentlest of the herd, Adam instinctively knew which ones would be easiest to ride.
His nephew was a natural. The Wild Horse was in his blood.
“What?” Adam asked when he glanced up and caught Brett staring.
“I never told you I love you. But I do.”
“I feel the same, Uncle. But why now?”
Brett shrugged. “Seems a good time. May not get another chance, and I don’t want to leave this world without saying it.”
He took a piece of leather from inside his trouser pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give you this. You may need it.”
Adam unwound the strip holding the pouch closed then grinned, slipping it over his dark head. “A medicine bag like yours.”
“You’re a man, and a man needs his power. I put some sage, a piece of flint, and a stone I once found that’s in the shape of a half-moon inside. You can add to those.”
“I’ll never take it off. Thank you.”
Before Adam turned away, Brett saw him blink hard to get rid of the tears in his eyes.
After that they worked silently, each focused on the task.
Once they had bridles on the horses, Rand led them to the edge of the tree line, where the frightened orphans waited. Brett noticed some were crying when he brought the last two horses.
Flower sobbed. “Why do people hate?”
He knelt down, wiped her tears, and put his arms around her. “I wish I knew. There’s nothing to worry about, honey. In no time, we’ll bring you back here, and everything will be all right. No more running or hiding, I promise. Try to be real brave.” Picking her up, he sat her on the bare back of a sorrel mare behind an older child, and handed one of the cats up to her. “Can you take good care of your friend?”
“I will,” she said, sniffling.
Soon all had mounted except Rayna. The dark bruise on her jaw added the only color to her pale face. She tried to still her quivering lips as she tilted her face for a kiss. He held her against his chest, feeling the frantic beating of her heart, and pressed his mouth firmly to hers. “You’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“But who’s going to look after you?” she asked. “I should stay here and help fight. You can use the extra gun.”
Brett brushed back her glorious hair. “The orphans’ need is greater.” Staring into her beautiful eyes, he moved on to something else he needed to wrap up. “This horse you’re riding, Lady Pearl, is yours. She belongs to you now.”
A little sob escaped. “This sounds like good-bye. I will die if I never see you again. Please tell me it’s going to be all right.”
If only he could.
He held her against him and spoke against her hair. “However this ends, just know that I love you with all that I am and all I will ever be. We are one heart, one body, one soul. You are as much my wife as if we saw a preacher. We said our vows in all the ways that matter.” He wanted to say more, only his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, hoping the words he’d managed were enough. “Did you remember everything to take with you?”
Her blue-green eyes filled with tears. “Water, blankets, food, and my medicines.” He cupped his hands to form a step, and she mounted. “Come get us the minute this is over.”
“If I am able.” And then if the light hadn’t gone from his eyes, he’d take her to their special place and fill her with his love, so she would have no doubts about how much he cherished each second spent with her.
He moved to the horse Adam was riding with little Joseph. “Take good care of them. Let Cooper’s man, Fletcher, lead, and you stay behind the children so you can help if they need it.”
“I will. Don’t worry about us,” Adam said. “Take care of yourself and the Wild Horse.”
“Now get going. I have lots to do.”
The minute the line of horses began to move, Brett turned his attention to the rest of the plan, aware that Raymond Harper watched everything they did. Being gagged, he couldn’t alert anyone, but to make sure, they moved him out of sight, deeper into the woods.
They had barely gathered all the ammunition and positioned themselves in the trees when thundering hooves shattered the silence. If Brett had been standing, he’d have felt the trembling ground.
Hidden by the green canopy, he took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the rifle.
Dust rose around the horses’ feet in great billows with the first wave of probably two dozen whooping riders filled with bloodlust.
Brett and the others held their fire, watching and waiting.
When the riders didn’t see anyone and weren’t met with gunfire, they stopped, perplexed. The horses danced in circles while they yelled to one another.
The second wave brought another dozen or so, men they must’ve pulled from blockading the road.
Men and horses swarmed over his beloved land, trampling everything he’d built. The land that represented all his hopes and dreams was defiled by hate and prejudice.
It was time. Be it good or ill, it would end here today.
This was their chance to stand up for those who couldn’t fend for themselves. Time to put evil men where they belonged.
Sweat coated Brett’s palms as he cupped his hands and sounded the birdcall.
Firing began simultaneously, and bullets rained down on the army of attackers.
In the confusion below, a dozen riders plunged to the ground, their lifeless bodies lying like sticks of cordwood tossed by the wind.
But once they figured out the blasts came from above, they began shooting into the trees.
Bullets whizzed by Brett’s body. Some found only air, while others split the branches.
Somehow in the midst of the chaos, Brett spotted Raymond Harper running from the woods, yelling to the men. How he’d gotten free was beyond him. But then, rats always gnawed their way out.
Helpless terror gripped him as Harper jumped onto a horse, and with Oldham, raced toward the canyon with five of their fighters.
Brett’s gut churned with the need to go after them, though he knew he’d be cut down the minute he climbed from the tree. All he could do was to keep firing and pray that Adam and Fletcher could hold off the onslaught riding their way.
Rayna’s beautiful eyes brimming with tears as she’d said good-bye filled his mind.
He had to get to her. He was willing to risk anything.
Below, he made out the form of Edgar Dowlen, and watched him ride closer. So much for bowing out of the fight. It made what he had to do easier. No matter what, he had to have that horse.
When he had Dowlen clearly in his sights, he squeezed the trigger.
But instead of a rifle blast that would’ve sent the scum to the hereafter, nothing happened. No shot, no scream. Dowlen didn’t fall, writhing on the ground. Nothing.
The rifle had no more bullets.
Pulling his Colt from the holster, he fired…and missed when the horse made a sudden move.
Dowlen glanced up and sent a ball of orange flame into the tree, the metal grazing Brett’s leg.
Stinging pain tore through him, but he gritted his teeth and again drew a bead on the man who’d started all of this. But before he could press the trigger, Dowlen fired a shot that struck the Colt, knocking it from his hand.
Perched on a branch, Brett did the only thing he could. He jumped. He landed on Dowlen, and the momentum carried both to the ground. He got to his feet first, dragging the man upright by the front of his shirt. Around them, rifles blasted as men yelled. Dragging smoke-filled air into his lungs, he slammed a fist into the man’s pockmarked face with all the force he could muster.
Though Brett stood three inches taller, he discovered he’d underestimated his scrappy opponent. Edgar wasn’t afraid to use his fists. He delivered a blow to Brett’s jaw, followed by one to his gut, and the pain took his breath.
“Got you now, breed,” Dowlen gloated. “Best stay down.”
“I never give up,” Brett shouted, shaking his head to clear it. A glance around gave him strength. His Winchester must’ve fallen from the tree and lay no more than two feet away.
With a rolling twist, he grabbed the rifle and stood. Drawing back, he swung and caught the man’s midsection. Dowlen screamed and went down, but he didn’t stay. With blood streaming from his mouth, he staggered to his feet, trying to reach a riderless mount. He managed to stick a foot in the stirrup.
In the midst of rearing, terrified horses, Brett lunged and caught his ankle, pulling him down. He crawled on top and tightened his hands around Dowlen’s throat.
“You’re done with this madness. I’m going to make sure you don’t strike fear in any more children if it’s the last thing I do.” The force driving him to end the man’s life rose up so powerfully his arms shook.
While Brett fought the urge to make Dowlen pay for all he’d done, his attention swept to a new influx of riders.
Fresh despair and hopelessness washed over him as they swarmed onto the Wild Horse, followed by careening wagons and buggies.
To his surprise, the new bunch began shooting at Dowlen’s men. A closer look revealed familiar faces—the people of Battle Creek.
Astride a roan, looking like an avenging queen, sat Sarah, sending a barrage of bullets at the invaders.
Rifle fire stopped as Dowlen’s recruits turned, raising their hands in surrender.
He didn’t have time to waste. Brett released his adversary and flung himself onto the nearest horse, spurring the animal into a gallop.
Though the Thoroughbred gobbled up ground, it seemed to take forever to reach the canyon. With each pounding hoof, the harder his heart beat in his chest. Desperate to save the ones he loved, he urged the animal faster until it had no more to give.
Gunfire sounded as he neared.
The lathered horse’s sides heaved in and out like the bellows of a blacksmith by the time he dismounted a short distance from the canyon’s opening. He had no weapons except his knife, clearly a disadvantage in that it required close contact. But he loved the familiar feel of it in his hand as he quickly took cover in the thick brush.