by Linda Broday
“You’re threatening me?” McIlroy went to the window and glanced out, probably looking to see if she had any accomplices lurking. Or if Stoker Legend and his boys were waiting for him to step outside. He was clearly shaken. But what if he disappeared before anyone could get here to strip him of his judgeship?
Melanie shrugged more casually than she felt. “Just stating a fact. The clock is ticking. My sister, please.”
“You can’t expect me to trust you,” McIlroy answered.
Quitman’s thin lips curved in a sneer. “We don’t trust nobody.”
Crooks were awfully full of mistrust, in her opinion.
“That’s fine, have it your way—if you’d rather deal with Stoker Legend.” Her heels struck the wooden floor as she moved to the door. “And when Richard Markham comes into town to collect the money, what do you think he’ll say?”
“Wait.”
She turned, a look of innocence on her face. “Yes, Judge?”
“Give me the first half now and bring the rest to the bridge crossing outside town tomorrow at daybreak.”
Yeah, and he’d have a nice ambush set up.
Why was he stalling? Was Ava even here? Maybe they’d moved her.
“No, I’ll have her today.”
McIlroy’s face became a stone mask. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Fear swept over her in waves, and she grabbed the back of the nearest chair. She was too late. Ava had to be dead.
Thirty-one
Thick grime coated the window of the sheriff’s office and blocked a good portion of the sunlight, just as the judge was blocking Melanie at every turn.
Melanie glared at Judge McIlroy, her voice as sharp as honed flint. “Then our deal is off, and you get none of the money.” She swung toward the door, hoping to make it outside before she collapsed.
“Wait, it’s not what you think. We had to move your sister at the doctor’s orders. She’s very ill but alive. You’ll see her tomorrow.” McIlroy took out his pocket watch. “I’m late for a meeting. Be at the bridge crossing tomorrow at daybreak. I’ll have your sister then.”
“I’d think long and hard about double-crossing me.” Melanie had one last question. “What’s wrong with my sister? If you hurt her in any way, I’d say my prayers.”
“The doctor says she has weak lungs. He called it pleurisy. He’s treating her.” McIlroy gave her a grin that chilled her blood. Her breath hung painfully in her chest. He was hiding something.
“I don’t care what shape she’s in, I want her released. Today.” She pulled on her gloves. “I want her within the hour.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you’ll never see one cent of Markham’s money.”
Silence filled the office. Finally, the judge nodded.
“One more thing. Where has Kern Berringer taken Trinity’s little niece? Since you and Markham employ him, you’d know where he hides out. Help me get her back and the governor might be lenient.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about or who Kern Berringer is.”
Melanie again made a tsking sound with her tongue. “Denial will get you a cell in Huntsville—how about the same one where you were going to send me and Ava? I hear it’s hard on an old man.”
“Where’s the first half of the money? Give it to me.”
“Tell me where Ava is or take me to her.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Then I’m afraid the half I was prepared to give you just shrank. You get a quarter.” She stepped onto the boardwalk and whistled. A few moments later, Mac appeared with the horses. “He wants his money, Mac. Let’s give it to him—a fourth only.”
She moved to the pack animal and removed the canvas covering the sacks. One by one, she and Mac launched them at McIlroy, who leaped back to avoid being struck. One of the bags came open, and money spilled everywhere. The judge scrambled on his hands and knees to pick it all up, looking anything but dignified.
When they’d finished, she climbed onto the black gelding named Cherokee. A backward glance showed the judge still scrambling for the money. She and Mac galloped to the edge of town where she pulled to a stop.
“Ava wasn’t at the jail. We have to find her. The judge said she has pleurisy and the doctor is treating her. She’s somewhere in town.”
Mac grunted and scratched his head. “Pleurisy is real bad. It’s put plenty in their graves. Any idea where they took her?”
“No, but the judge agreed to bring her in an hour. He’s mad that I outfoxed him and kept back most of the money so I don’t trust him. He’s also furious that Stoker Legend knows what he’s doing. I suspect he’s plenty scared too.”
“What exactly did the judge say?”
“He first promised to deliver Ava to the bridge crossing tomorrow at dawn, but I’m betting he’d have set up an ambush. I don’t think he intends to bring her to us in an hour or even today. He can’t afford to give her back and lose his ace in the hole. That’s what my gut is saying.” She met Mac’s stare. “Ever get those hunches?”
“Sure.” He grinned and ran a hand over his stiff stubble. “Right before I draw an inside straight.”
“That’s what we’re going to do. We’ll draw us an inside straight. We’ll ride back and try to talk to the doctor, ask him where he’s keeping Ava.”
Mac shook his head. “No, he might be in cahoots with the judge and warn him.”
“All right. If Ava is really sick, the doctor will have to check on her, and when he does, we’ll follow.” Melanie glanced at her father. Lord knew he wasn’t perfect by any means, but she was glad to have him along.
Sometimes a person had to settle for what she could get.
They turned the horses around and snuck into town the back way, keeping to the alleys and shadows. She located the doctor’s office, and they got comfortable across the street where they could watch.
Her thoughts turned to Tait. She prayed he had Becky now and that the fight hadn’t cost him, Jack, and Clay their lives. The enormous pain made it hard to breathe.
To never be able to touch Tait or kiss him again would be worse than death.
* * *
A little past noon, Tait and his friends followed Ussary’s wagon until the mercantile proprietor neared Berringer’s hideout. They hid in the thick brush and watched a well-armed guard check the wagon before letting it through.
The house was just over the rise, but unless you knew it was there, you’d never see it. No wonder Tait had never been able to find Berringer’s place.
“We’ve got to get closer,” Tait murmured to Jack and Clay.
“He could have the whole area booby-trapped. Wouldn’t put it past him.” Jack raised the binoculars and peered through them. “The brush is too damn thick. I can’t see anything.”
Tait tugged his hat low on his forehead. “You both wait here and catch Charles Ussary on his way out. Then we’ll know if Becky is even on the premises.”
“And where will you be?” Jack put the binoculars away.
“I’m going to scout around, something best done alone. I’ll be back in a bit.” Maybe sooner, depending on how thickly the guards were placed.
“Take these.” Jack handed him the binoculars.
“Thanks.”
Clay laid a hand on Tait’s back. “Don’t try to be a hero. If you fail, it’ll put Becky in more danger.”
Tait gave him a nod and moved slowly and steadily through the brush. Each step drove home his determination not to make any noise.
He kept an eye out for booby traps but still almost stepped right into a piece of thin wire stretched between two small trees before he noticed. If he’d have tripped it, a net would’ve dropped on him. Another one a little farther was harder to see, but he managed to spot and avoid the leaves and brush covering a thin piece of w
ood—over a large hole, if he had to guess.
Slowly and carefully, he crept forward until a house came into view about three hundred yards away. Cottonwood and elm trees ringed the property around it.
The house was small and built from stone, which ruled out setting it afire. He couldn’t anyway, not if there was even a sliver of a chance that Becky was inside. The windows were covered hide or oiled paper—some type of material so no one could see in. A half-dozen armed men milled about in the early-afternoon sun. Tait lifted the binoculars to see where they kept the horses and where they drew water. He needed all the information he could get.
Finally satisfied, he started to turn away when a bloody scream shot chills through him. Not an adult’s voice. No, this was a young child—Becky.
It took all his willpower not to run to her. He closed his eyes and sat there with clenched fists, tears running down his face.
At last the screams died, and the silence was more frightening than the noise. Had Kern killed her? Lucy’s face swam in front of his vision, and he knew it was possible.
Tait wiped his eyes and returned to Jack and Clay as quickly as he could. “I heard her screaming. I have to do something, and I won’t wait.”
“We heard her too. On his way out, Ussary told us he saw her and said we better get her fast.” Jack’s voice lowered. “Kern hasn’t hurt her yet, but he put her in a dog cage.”
A string of cusswords left Tait’s mouth. He’d never wanted to kill anyone so bad. Kern was nothing but an animal—no man with a conscience could make war on children. “I’m riding up to that house and taking Becky’s place. It’s me he wants—he can have me.”
“He’ll kill you, Tait, you know that.” The look in Clay’s eyes said he’d do the same as Tait.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll gladly give my life for that innocent child.” He unbuckled his gun belt and slung it over his shoulder. “So would you.”
“If you think we’re going to let you ride into the lion’s den by yourself, you’re crazy.” Jack stuck his foot in the stirrup and waited out his gelding’s nervous dance before he swung his leg over.
“I was hoping you’d come. I’ll need someone to take Becky back to Hope’s Crossing.” Tait took his knife out of his boot along with another gun. “One of you needs to stay behind.”
“I will,” Clay volunteered.
“Then take care of these.” Tait handed him his hardware.
“Mine too.” Jack added his to the pile.
Tait glanced up at the sky, the sun past the midway mark. It was a pretty enough day to die, he supposed. That Kern would torture him first was a given. There was no way to steel himself against that kind of pain, so he turned his thoughts to something else.
Damn, he wished he’d have made love to Melanie once more, told her the things in his heart. He thought he’d have plenty of nights ahead.
He swallowed hard to get past the lump. “I have a favor to ask. Tell Melanie that I lied and I hope she’ll forgive me. I love her more than I ever thought I’d be capable of loving again.” His voice broke, and it took several heartbeats before he could inhale a shaky breath and finish. “I wish I had time to prove it. Maybe she’ll finish raising the kids. If not—”
Jack’s voice came out thick and raspy. “If she can’t, Nora and I will take them. Don’t worry about that.”
“The same goes for the new house,” Tait said as he and Jack climbed into the saddle.
Clay glanced up. “Tait, you don’t have to do this. We could ride in tonight with guns blazing and do some damage.”
“And Kern will put a bullet in Becky’s head if he hasn’t already. No, this is the only way.” Tait touched his bootheels to his roan’s flanks and moved out toward the guard post.
When they rode up, the hefty man on duty jerked to his feet, his weapon pointed at them. From the dull glaze in his eyes, it appeared he’d been half-asleep. “Stop! You ain’t allowed in here.”
“I’m Tait Trinity, and I’ll have a word with Kern. You do know who I am, don’t you?”
“Yep, I reckon there ain’t too many in Texas that don’t know about you.”
“Good. Then take us to him.”
“Who’s that with you?” The guard stared at Jack from beneath his hat, a worn-out thing that had seen far better days. His front teeth protruded over his thick lips.
“A friend. He’s coming along for insurance. A problem?”
“Not as long as he lets me check for guns.”
“We’re both unarmed. You know, I came here in good faith, and I wouldn’t want to be you when Kern finds out you turned us away.” Tait slouched in the saddle and sighed. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about his temper.”
Kern had been known to gun down his own men when he was angry.
Finally, after patting them down and checking their saddlebags, the guard let them through. “The house is half a mile down this road. Stray from it and you won’t need them boots you’re wearing.”
As Tait and Jack moved out, the guard shot into the air to signal the ones ahead.
Tait’s gaze shifted from side to side, taking in every detail. He knew Jack was doing the same and committing everything to memory in case he had to leave in a hurry—or in the dark. They didn’t talk, and Tait didn’t guess they had anything left to say. His thoughts were on getting to Becky. He knew what lay in store for him, but he couldn’t think of that. His little niece had to be saved. He owed that to Claire.
If he had to sacrifice himself, so be it. He’d do it willingly.
Melanie’s face filled his vision. She deserved a better husband than she’d gotten. His biggest regret now was that he would never see her again, fall into the depths of her turquoise eyes, run his fingers up a silky thigh. He lifted a shaky hand to his jaw. Lord knew, she was everything he wanted.
He could’ve been more understanding, bridled his tongue, opened his heart more. Damn.
When he and Jack rode into the compound, a group of armed men instantly swarmed them and jerked them from their saddles.
“I think we’re going to have a little fun, boys.” One of Kern’s men snickered, his mouth curling back over yellow teeth. “We’ve waited a long time for you, Trinity.”
A fist slammed into Tait’s face, knocking him sideways. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and snarled, “Release the girl and we’ll finish this.”
Kern Berringer limped from the house, his shiny head glistening in the sun. “I thought that would bring you running. All this time and we finally, finally get to settle up.”
“Me for Becky—do we have a deal? Otherwise, I’m signaling my men and riding out.” It wasn’t a total lie. He did have two men with him, and he’d put them up against an army.
Jack wrenched free of the arms holding him. “We want the girl. Trinity’s agreed to take her place. What more do you want?”
Kern’s amber eyes swept over Jack. “Bowdre, right?”
“That’s correct. Jack Bowdre. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”
“I know you’ve put a lot of men in early graves. Some were my friends.” Kern spat on the ground. “But I got no quarrel with you. It’s Trinity I want. He’ll pay for crippling me and killing my boys.”
Kern was silent for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and gave the order to bring Becky out. Several moments later, the door opened, and Becky slowly climbed down the steps.
Tait’s heart twisted at the sight. Dirt covered her from head to toe, and tears created muddy rivers down her cheeks. She ran toward him, tripped, and sprawled headfirst. Tait tried to go to her but was held fast.
Becky picked herself up and stumbled the rest of the way, wrapping her arms around his legs. Even from there, he could smell the urine where she’d gone in her clothes. Rage went through him that they’d had no decency to let her use a pot.
“Go home. Me go home,
” Becky cried.
Tait gave the men holding him an icy glare, his voice hard. “Turn me loose. Now.”
When they did, he picked Becky up and held her tightly. He struggled for a bit of composure before speaking. “Honey, you’re going to go home with Uncle Jack. He’s going to take you to Mellie and the boys.”
“No, you go too.”
“I can’t. There’s something—” His voice broke. “Something I have to do here.” He tried to hand her to Jack, but she clung to his neck, sobbing. “Take her, Jack. Ride out and don’t try to save me. I’ve given my word.”
“Come on, honey.” Jack took Becky and sat her on his horse. He swung around to Berringer. “I’m coming back after his body and killing anyone in my way.” He clasped Tait’s hand. “I’ll see you on the other side, brother.”
“It’s been a good ride,” Tait managed, his tongue thick. “No regrets.” No one had been a better friend or a better trail partner.
Jack put his foot in the stirrup, settled behind Becky, and galloped out, the child’s sobs thick in the air. Tait’s roan followed.
A sudden gust of wind blew the stovepipe hat off the head of the yellow-toothed man, and a large group of grackles flew into a nearby tree, settling on every branch and creating a noisy din.
Becky’s wails lingered on the breeze, cutting into Tait’s heart.
But she was safe, and that was all that mattered.
A whip cracked, the metal on the tip biting through his shirt into the tender flesh of his back.
Thirty-two
The day still young, Melanie and her father hunched in the shadows, watching the doctor’s office. It sat four doors down from the jail, and a simple shingle swinging above the door read Dr. Levi McIlroy. Shock jolted her. Kin to the judge? If so, he’d probably be like-minded as well. She reached into her pocket and found the weight of the gun reassuring. Her mind slid back to the people she loved.
Please, God, don’t let Becky die. Or Tait. Or Ava.