by Linda Broday
The older man grinned, showing his bloody teeth. “Kern will make you beg just like we did your sweet Claire.” He spat a tooth onto the dirt between his feet. “This ain’t over yet.”
Tait pulled his Smith & Wesson and jammed it against the man’s cheek. “Where are they? Where is Kern taking the girl?”
“Go to hell.” Another bloody grin broke free.
“I’m already there.” Tait’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Jack leaped onto him. “What are you doing? We need him alive if we hope to find Becky.”
Tait bit out a curse and rammed his pistol back in the holster. “I want him dead.”
“You’ll get your chance. But for now he can give us information.”
“I ain’t gonna tell you one damn thing!” the man yelled.
“We’ll see.” Tait shoved him against the rocks. “Move a muscle and I’ll blow your kneecap off.” Then he turned his attention to the two he and Jack had shot. “How are they?”
Jack picked up the rifles. “One’s dead. The other’s got a wound to the shoulder.”
Clay arrived from his climb up. “Looks like you did okay.” Then he noticed Jack’s arm. “On second thought, I see a bullet found you.”
“Only grazed me. I’m fine.” Jack grinned. “At least you got here in time to help us get these bastards down to the ground.”
“They say anything?” Clay glanced at the groaning men.
“Not yet.” Jack yanked the older man forward. “What’s your name? Are you a Berringer?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Tait pulled a piggin’ rope from his back pocket, turned the sullen shooter around, and tied his hands behind him. “He’s not going to talk, Jack, and Becky’s getting farther away. We’ll take him and these others to town and turn them over to Marshal Renick if he’s there.”
“And if he isn’t?” Clay threw the dead man over his shoulder.
“Good question. I can’t afford to waste time looking for Renick.” Tait put an arm around the second wounded man and started down the hillside. “I guess I’ll figure it out as I go.”
Jack helped the sullen, tall man Tait had fought around the first boulder. “Maybe Kern will be there.”
“Maybe.” But Tait would bet on a stack of Bibles that Kern would keep riding to Canadian. He’d be safe there with crooked Judge McIlroy and Richard Markham.
Or so he thought. As long as Kern had Becky, there was no place on earth where he’d be out of Tait’s reach.
It would take even more time to round up their horses, and Tait prayed they hadn’t wandered far. He was desperate to catch a break after losing hours here. And he’d give everything he owned to know Becky’s condition. Imagining the worst was driving him insane.
With the wounded and dead, it took a good hour to reach solid ground. Tait was breathing hard and soaked in sweat and blood. Pain tore through his side, and white light exploded in his head. He swayed, dizziness making him unsteady as he fought to stay on his feet.
When he could focus, he cast his gaze to the north and prayed for his little niece. She didn’t stand a chance against Kern—and had not one person to help her.
His hands turned clammy as images of what could be happening flashed in his head.
Would he find her lifeless body at the end of the trek?
* * *
Melanie focused on the path ahead of her and on keeping a firm hand on the reins of the packhorse. She wouldn’t lose that valuable cargo.
Mac had been silent except for the occasional question about why she’d made her home in such a desolate outlaw town. Now he grunted and added more commentary. “You were born to greater things, wearing satins and silks and raking in the money like I taught you.” He snorted. “You look like a dowdy housewife with not a penny to your name.”
“Stop.” She glanced over at him riding next to her. “I’m far happier now with Tait than I ever was in that life. Besides, remember where that led me? Straight to jail.”
“We’ll get your sister out, and she’ll probably be happy to pick up where we left off.”
“Don’t bet on it.” Melanie’s tone was as dry as week-old toast. Ava wouldn’t put herself in this situation again. That much Melanie knew. This experience must have scared her sister out of her mind. Once Ava was free, Melanie would try to get her to come live in Hope’s Crossing where she could make a whole new life. One where she would matter to someone.
“I can manage the packhorse if you’re getting tired.”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.” She’d caught Mac eyeing those sacks of money. He wasn’t above stealing from her. She knew where she stood with him, and he loved himself far more than anyone.
They lapsed into silence, and when the daylight faded, she looked for a place to camp. She found a tiny stream off the trail—barely a trickle, hidden in a stand of mesquites and scrub oak. It bubbled when it came to the surface which told her it sprang from an underground well.
“We’ll camp here.” Melanie dismounted and stretched.
“It ain’t much in the way of comfort. We need grass and more water than that.”
She gave him a look of disbelief. “Were you expecting the Cattleman’s Club in Fort Worth?”
“That would be nice, daughter.” Mac sighed, his arms folded.
“You’ve gotten too soft. But then I think you always might’ve been, and I just didn’t notice.” Meeting and marrying Tait had shown her how strong a man could be. Melanie pulled the saddlebags and bedroll down from Cherokee.
“Watch it, girl. I did the best I could. I can’t help it that I was better suited to sitting at a card table.” Mac lay down on a patch of buffalo grass.
Melanie nudged him with her toe. “Get up and unsaddle your gray. I’m not going to do all the work.” She should’ve left him behind and come by herself, but at the time it had seemed that having the company was better than traveling alone.
A memory came to her unbidden, and tears burned her eyes. She must’ve been eight or so and had gotten very sick. Mac had held her in his lap all night, bathing her with cold water to keep her fever down. In that moment, at least, she’d felt protected and loved and known he would fight to get her well.
She shook her head to rid herself of the picture. Did any tiny portion of that man still exist inside Mac now? The caring had certainly vanished somewhere along the way.
Although Mac grumbled at her orders, he got up and removed the saddle from the gray. Melanie left the packhorse as it was with the other two, close to a patch of grass and able to get to water. She longed for a small fire but didn’t make one for fear of drawing trouble. Thank goodness the nights weren’t too chilly yet. Releasing a sigh, she sat down on the ground and reached into the saddlebags.
“Here.” She removed her hat and shared the ham and bread Ridge had packed. Mac grunted and selected what he wanted. She was thankful he didn’t complain.
“I hardly know you anymore, daughter. What happened to the beautiful gambler?”
“That woman doesn’t exist anymore. She was shallow and very bored.” Melanie pinched off a portion of bread and threw it to a blue jay that hopped over to take it. “My life is much more satisfying now.” Even with Tait offering a lukewarm shoulder these days, she’d rather have him that way than not at all. She twisted the wedding band on her finger, trying to stop her lip from quivering.
“I have a purpose for the first time in my life, Mac. But I don’t expect you to understand.”
“You had lots of purpose. You and Ava were helping me make my fortune.” Mac cut his eyes at her in a sideways glance. “I was saving up for that house you girls wanted. Almost had enough too.”
Melanie raised her hand. “Stop. No more lies. I’m not a little girl anymore. There was never going to be a house, and you know it.” She got up and spread out her bedroll,
putting herself between Mac and the horses.
Trust was not a word she’d ever use with Mac Dunbar in the vicinity.
“I don’t know why you want to settle down in one place. That would bore me stiff.”
“I have a question for you, and I want the truth. How well do you know Kern Berringer and his sons?”
“Who said I know them?”
“Earl Berringer. In fact, he bragged about it. Don’t try to lie.”
“I know ’em. Played cards with ’em and helped ’em out a time or two.”
“Doing what?”
“They pay well for information, and my funds had sort of…well, dried up.”
“In other words, you sold…what? The location of people they were looking for?”
Mac winced. “Something like that.”
She studied his face, sick that he was her father. “Why did you risk coming to Hope’s Crossing with Kern keeping the town locked down? But then seeing as how you were buddies—”
“I don’t aim to ever share a fire with that crazy, slick-skinned bastard. Gives me the heebie-jeebies the way he keeps his hair shaved off.” Mac shivered. “Not natural.”
She agreed. She could still feel Kern ripping Becky from her arms. Those eyes were the coldest and deadest she’d ever seen.
“What did you have to give his men in order for them to let you pass safely into Hope’s Crossing? I want the truth.”
Mac sat silently, chewing his meat and bread.
Clearly he didn’t intend to answer, and that frightened her. “What did you promise Berringer’s men, Mac? You don’t have any money to pay your way in, so it had to be information. I’ll keep on until you answer me.”
Her father whirled. “I said I’d report back on the situation inside and where everything was located, especially Earl. All right? Are you happy? I had to get in somehow, and they were about to carve me up.”
Melanie’s blood froze. He’d provided Kern with what he’d needed. He’d as well as have put Becky in Kern’s arms himself. “And did you?” she asked through stiff lips.
“I slipped out late my first night there.”
Fury crawled up her neck. Melanie didn’t trust herself to look at him. She removed the gun from her saddlebags that Ridge had put there, slipped it under her blanket. Once she’d gotten situated, she lay on her side away from him. “We leave before dawn,” she snapped.
It must’ve been near midnight when a snapping twig woke her. She opened her eyes, searching the darkness.
Mac’s bedroll was empty.
Melanie reached for the gun, closed her palm around the handle, and slowly rose to her feet. She caught furtive movement from the corner of her eye. Swiveling, she noticed a man untying the packhorse. Quiet and sure, she crept toward him.
Pain and disappointment shot through her heart. He was doing it again. She raised the gun and barked, “Hold it right there or I’ll blow your damn head off.”
Mac whirled, his eyes wide. “This ain’t what it looks like.”
“You mean you’re not trying to steal the bags of money that will free Ava and give Tait back his future?”
He snorted. “The horse had gotten loose, and I was retying it. You know me.”
Yeah, she did. That was the problem. “Lies roll off your tongue like sweet molasses. Get back over there and lie down.”
“I’m no child.” Mac’s voice held a challenge. “What will you do? Shoot me?”
“You’re damned right I will. I won’t hesitate one second.” When he stalled, she pulled back the hammer. “I will fire if you don’t step away.”
Twenty-nine
Mac slowly raised his hands and sauntered toward her. “We’ve come to a sad state of affairs when a girl threatens to shoot her own father.”
“It’s no idle threat.” She tucked the gun in her waist and flew at him, raining blows on his face and chest. “I’ll beat you into the middle of next week. You disgust me. Think about someone other than yourself for a change.” She jerked off his hat and started whipping him with it.
Mac threw up his arms in self-defense. “Stop! Do you know what that money could buy?”
“Don’t even think about it. That will save Ava’s and Tait’s lives.”
“Hell, I wasn’t going to take it all. Just enough to give me seed money. They never would’ve missed it.”
“You’re pathetic. Don’t you know those railroad people have every cent Tait took written down somewhere? And if they don’t get it all back, Ava will suffer for it.” It was true Tait had given some to the town, but she wouldn’t tell Mac that. The less he knew, the better. “What’s happened to you? Don’t you even care about your own daughter anymore?”
“Of course I care.” Mac sat down and glared. “I’m her father.”
“Then act like it!” Melanie dropped onto her bedroll and pulled the blanket over her. Weariness seeped into her bones. This was hard enough without Mac pulling his stunts. “Try that one more time and you’ll find a bullet in you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Understood.” He lay back on his bedroll, turning his back to her.
Thoughts tumbled end over end in Melanie’s mind long after he began to snore. She had so much riding on her shoulders, and failure could mean all their lives.
And Becky. Where was she? What was the sweet girl doing right now? Did she have anyone who gave a damn about her shielding her from the night? Taking her to the pot. Wiping her tears. Feeding her.
Melanie drew the blanket closer, smothering her sobs. She’d never felt so alone.
* * *
Midnight tolled on a clock somewhere when Tait and the others rode into the raucous town of Mobeetie. Even though the hour was late, the town was lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. Music burst from the various saloons, dogs barked in the street, drunks hollered and carried on, gunshots rang out. They’d entered the bowels of hell.
Tait’s wary gaze swept both sides of the street, but he didn’t see Kern or anyone he recognized from the attack. He reined up in front of a building he’d never seen before, and the smell of fresh sawdust hanging in the air explained why. The words on the building proclaimed it the Wheeler County Courthouse.
“Hell and be damned! Look at that, Jack.”
Jack released a whistle. “The law has come to the Panhandle. About time.”
Clay scowled. “I don’t know what it’ll mean for half the men in Hope’s Crossing. Those who are wanted might have to up and leave, head farther west.”
Tait felt a noose tightening around his neck. He undid the top button of his collarless shirt to escape the feeling. The country was changing too fast, and if he didn’t adapt, he’d get caught up in all this progress. A tall man strode toward them from a side door of the building. He stood well over six feet and made an imposing figure in his black frock coat, twin pistols in his holster.
“You look in need of some help there. I’m Temple Houston, the district attorney of the newly formed 35th judicial district.” He glanced at the dead body draped belly-down across one horse, the wounded man barely able to stay in the saddle on another, and the restrained gray-haired outlaw.
Temple Houston’s fame preceded him. He looked the spitting image of old Sam Houston himself.
Tait ducked his head and pulled up the collar of his coat to shield his face. “We’d be obliged if someone would take these men off our hands so we can ride on.”
Thankfully, Clay moved around him and introduced himself and Jack. “A child was abducted this morning from Hope’s Crossing, and we’re on the trail of the bastards who took her. These three tried to stop us.”
“I need a doctor,” moaned the wounded outlaw. “I’m dying here.”
“We don’t have a doctor anymore. I’ll see what I can do for you in a minute.” The son of a Texas hero moved to the man’s horse. “Wh
at’s your name?”
“Roy Berringer. The old man is my uncle Leo Berringer, my father’s brother.” They finally had a name to pin on the old bastard, and he was Kern’s brother. Tait should’ve known. The mean streak ran a mile wide in both of them.
“How many damn Berringers are there?” Temple Houston snapped.
“Only eleven now. We started with twenty-five.”
Three of them Tait could take personal credit for killing. He took Temple’s measure and liked what he saw. Houston had sharp eyes, but a smile curved his mouth. His shoulder-length hair added a rebellious edge to his look that would probably help win court cases. He was intimidating as hell.
“Maybe you’ve seen a strange-looking hairless man riding through here?” Jack leaned forward in the saddle.
Temple chuckled. “Hairless?”
Clay pulled out cigarette papers and tobacco from his pocket. “I know it sounds crazy, but he has this weird obsession. Shaves off every sprig of hair each morning. Even his eyebrows.”
“That’s crazy all right,” Temple admitted. “But if he wore a hat and didn’t cause trouble, I wouldn’t notice him.”
“His name is Kern Berringer. He’d have the little girl with him.”
“How big is this girl he took?”
“Three years old.” The words slipped out before Tait could let Clay answer.
Temple swung his piercing gaze to Tait. “Three, huh? I didn’t catch your name, mister.”
“She’s my niece. Name’s Tait.” Maybe that wouldn’t be as memorable as Trinity. He hoped so anyway.
“I’d ride with you men if I could. Anyone who kidnaps a three-year-old deserves to be strung up from the nearest tree. But at least I can take these sorry bastards off your hands and lock ’em up so you can go on.”
“Much obliged.” Clay handed him the reins of the dead man’s horse. “By the way, Leo was riding with Kern and his bunch when they killed Tait’s sister and brother-in-law a month ago. Maybe Roy was there too.”
“You got no proof of anything!” Leo hollered. “I demand to be set free.”
“We’ll be happy to testify at his trial.” Jack transferred the surly man over to Temple. “He was seen at the sister’s murder site, and witnesses can identify him.”