Tall, Dark and Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  The gun. It wasn’t pressed against her head anymore. She didn’t know where it was—maybe an inch from her temple, maybe lying forgotten in the dirt. There was a chance Wade didn’t really know where it was either; he was too intent on his other goals. He’d loosened his hold on her to grapple with his clothing.

  She had nowhere to run, no way to defend herself—but she had to get away from Wade. His breath, the smell of his skin—she felt like she was going to be sick. She took a deep breath and felt her brain kick back into gear. Looking to one side, she saw only the wall of the cabin and a vast expanse of plains beyond it. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

  But on the other side was Galt—and Galt’s shotgun. If Lacey could just get out from under Wade and grab it, she’d have a way to defend herself.

  Lunging sideways, she tore her hair out of his grip and skittered out from under him, scrambling sideways to grab the gun. Her fingers slipped on the bloody stock, but she managed to grab it and bring it up to her shoulder. She grabbed the stock to pump it.

  Nothing. It wouldn’t move. There wasn’t a damn thing in the chamber. She’d hoped Wade was too crazed by anger and lust to know that, but without the click and thump of the pump action, the shotgun wasn’t much of a threat.

  But Chase had pumped his own gun for her, and it had been empty. There had to be a way. She pressed and squeezed and floundered for what seemed like a small eternity and finally felt something give way—a button in front of the trigger guard. Her other hand shoved the pump forward, and the satisfying clunk changed everything. Now she was the one with the power.

  She watched Wade’s face as he took in his new situation. Malice was replaced by fear, and she suddenly felt powerful and in command for the first time since—well, since the day she’d left home for Grady, before she realized how hard it was to make it on your own.

  Wade’s eyes were wide, his mouth stretched into a grimace of fear. Obviously, he didn’t know there was no load in the gun. He’d never been the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, and right now, he was looking at her like he thought she might be the last sight he’d ever see. His hands lifted from his belt buckle, rising in the air.

  Maybe she could somehow bluff her way out of this. She surged to her feet and poked him in the chest with the muzzle of the gun, pushing him toward the cabin and away from the small black pistol that lay in the dirt.

  She could grab the pistol, but that would mean looking away from Wade. And while he looked scared, he still looked attentive, as if he was just waiting for her to blink. She glanced down at the pistol on the ground, then back to Wade, then back to the pistol.

  “Don’t move.” Her voice was so thin and shaky, she was worried he’d figure out she had nothing to fight with. “Stay right there.”

  The light from the cabin lit up Wade’s face, making the sweat on his brow almost sparkle and throwing deep purple shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. His eyes were crafty, his gaze flicking from her to the pistol and back again. Suddenly he dropped to the ground and rolled, scooping up the pistol and rising to his knees to aim it straight at Lacey’s heart.

  She might die, but she would not faint. She’d go down fighting. Her hands trembled, but she kept the shotgun aimed at Wade’s chest. If he thought it was loaded, he’d think this was a Mexican standoff, each of them armed. She fixed her eyes on his trigger finger, waiting for it to twitch, wondering if she could dodge a speeding bullet.

  Chapter 43

  Chase climbed the wall of the ravine, placing his feet carefully, praying he wouldn’t miss a foothold and slide to the bottom. As he neared the top, a faint shout rose up, and then the roar of a shotgun split the night and chased away any possibility of sensible thought.

  He set off for the cabin at a run.

  He could see the cabin. There was sedan parked outside it with its headlights on, and he could hear voices first talking, then shouting. He put on a burst of speed, concentrating on his feet, willing them to slap the ground harder, faster, willing himself to fly, fly to Lacey.

  He was closing in on the cabin when the sedan pulled a quick K-turn and headed straight toward him, almost blinding him with its lights. It swerved and passed him, going way too fast.

  Somebody was running away. Maybe Lacey had managed to protect herself after all.

  He kept on running, his breath burning in his chest, his thigh muscles aching. He was probably too late, but he couldn’t slow down. Couldn’t stop and take a chance that he’d fail Lacey. He dodged a clump of sagebrush and concentrated on his feet. A fall would mean a delay, and a delay could mean death. He stared at the ground as he ran, barely able to see his feet in the darkness. The stars that had lit the world the night before were dim behind a cover of clouds that cloaked the prairie in darkness so deep he could barely see his own feet.

  He slowed to a stealthier pace as he approached the cabin, trying to move quickly but quietly while he took in the sounds coming from the other side of the small building. Footsteps, curses, and heavy breathing had given way to an ominous silence, but at least there hadn’t been any more gunshots. He pulled the revolver out and clutched it in his fist as he carefully shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  As he approached, the windowless side of the cabin was in shadow while the rest of the landscape was lit with fans of light that spread from the windows and door. He caught a hint of movement against the dark wall and paused, squinting as if that would help his eyes probe the darkness.

  Someone was there, standing against the cabin wall. A man, his back against the wall by the corner. One hand was at his side; the other was raised and held a pistol at the ready. He was moving slowly, preparing to edge around the corner.

  Somewhere beyond that corner was Lacey.

  He heard the ominous pump of a shotgun in the distance, but it was Lacey’s voice that followed.

  “Don’t move,” she said. “Stay right there.”

  His heart surged with joy at the knowledge that she was alive, then squeezed tight, wincing at the thin, frightened sound of her voice. But if she was telling someone not to move, she must have some way to enforce the command. She couldn’t have a gun; everything but the pistol in his hand had been locked up safely before Annie arrived.

  He edged sideways, steering clear of the beams of light streaming from the windows, and Lacey came into view around the backside of the house. She was standing next to something on the ground, a hump in the darkness that might be a body or might be a rock. She had a shotgun snugged against her shoulder, aimed at a man who was standing behind the cabin.

  Chase wondered where she’d gotten the gun. He’d heard a blast from it earlier, so there was a good chance it was empty unless she’d somehow managed to reload. He took a few steps closer and peered at the figure at her feet. She took a step away from it and light fell across it. It was Galt, lying on his back and staring sightless at the sky. The pain that pierced Chase’s heart at the thought of his old neighbor dying surprised him. Somehow, delivering the old man’s dinner had linked them together, made Chase responsible for him. Pam had been right—you had to help somebody. If the old man was dead, there’d be a hole in Chase’s life that would be surprisingly hard to fill.

  But he didn’t have time to think about that now. Lacey’s face was white, but her little chin was jutted out in determination, and she never took her eyes off the man in front of her: Simpson. If that gun was loaded, Chase didn’t doubt she’d shoot the guy if she had to. And considering that Wade was aiming a handgun at her, she really did have to.

  The fact that she hadn’t pulled the trigger made him almost sure the gun was empty. So he was the one who had to shoot. But he couldn’t shoot around corners, and he couldn’t afford to miss. He had to get closer.

  He glanced back at the figure in the shadows just in time to see it step into the light.

  Cody.

  Chase lifted his gun and stared through the sights at his friend’s wide shoulders. Cody had been with the woman
in the diner, and now he was here—with Wade. Right now the gun was at his side, but it would take only seconds for him to lift it and shoot Lacey.

  Shoot Lacey? Would Cody do that?

  Chase shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to have taken over his brain. Cody wouldn’t shoot her. Would he?

  In a flash, he remembered his friend sitting at the table with Janice, looking up with a guilty, hunted look. Remembered him lying about the cut finger to avoid answering questions. Remembered the way he’d disappeared, left the diner right at the time he could have overheard Chase talking to Annie and realized Lacey was alone in the woods.

  Chase clenched his teeth. Cody was on the wrong side of this fight. He lifted the revolver and took aim. He’d been wrong to trust Cody. Wrong to think he could trust anybody.

  But then there was the way the guy looked at Pam when he didn’t realize anyone was watching. The way he tried to help Annie with her homework even though Chase doubted he had much of an education himself. The way he came running when anybody needed him.

  He has a rescue complex.

  That’s what Chase had told Lacey, and it was true.

  He kind of restored my faith in human nature… he’s just… just good.

  It had to be true—because if Cody turned on him, the world would turn to shit. If Cody was one of the bad guys, Chase wouldn’t be able to trust anybody, least of all himself and his own instincts.

  But he couldn’t risk Lacey’s life to blind faith, could he? He was her protector, her champion. If he made the wrong choice now, he’d fail her. Just like he’d failed her the day she’d arrived, when he’d struck out at her, afraid to trust. Afraid to let even the woman he’d loved all his life into his world.

  He lowered the gun and took a few steps forward. When the dry grass crunched under his feet, Cody whirled to face him, and in an instant, he knew he’d chosen right. His friend’s white teeth flashed in the moonlight in a relieved smile the moment he caught sight of him.

  “Bro,” he whispered. “’Bout time you got here. Come on. Let’s take out this son of a bitch.”

  ***

  Lacey’s arm was starting to shake. She didn’t know if it was muscle fatigue from holding up the shotgun or fear of meeting Wade’s eyes. Maybe it was tension from watching his expression for the slightest twitch that might mean he was about to pull the trigger.

  All she knew was that she couldn’t hold out much longer. Eventually Wade would realize she wasn’t going to shoot, and he’d end the standoff with a bullet. Even worse, he might realize her gun wasn’t loaded. Then he’d simply take it from her and proceed with whatever he’d had in mind when she’d managed to grab the gun.

  At least she was still upright and breathing, holding panic at bay. That proved she’d beaten the fear. If she could stare down Wade Simpson without blinking, she could do anything.

  Her eyes welled with tears, making the image of Wade and his gun shift and waver. Unfortunately, she’d never get the chance to do anything. Ever again. She couldn’t see a way to survive this. She was as good as dead.

  She’d never get to live that independent life she’d envisioned. Never get to make up for all the years she’d wasted. Never get to hold Chase, to be friends with Pam, to be Annie’s favorite aunt. She’d never get the chance to help anyone, ever.

  A rustle to her right startled her out of her self-pity, and she glanced over to see two figures in the shadows. Two men. Their presence had barely registered before a shot rang out and one man slammed into Wade, knocking him to the ground. The pistol flew into the darkness as a flurry of fists hit her tormentor like a hurricane. The sickening crunch of fist smacking bone sounded half a dozen times before Wade went limp.

  Lacey went limp too as the world spun and her breath caught in her chest. She’d faced down death without panicking, but now that it was over, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand. She dropped the shotgun and buried her face in her hands, her breath rasping painfully in her chest.

  Moments later, she was lying on the ground with someone bending over her. She blinked, trying to bring the face into focus.

  “Shh.” It was Chase. “You’re all right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Not now,” she said. “But there was. I thought he was going to…”

  She couldn’t finish.

  “He won’t,” Chase said. “He won’t ever. He’s going away for a long time, Lacey, and he’ll never bother you again. And Trent testified. It’s over.”

  The rush of relief told her more about her fear than the panic attacks ever had. Without Wade out there, stalking her, the world suddenly seemed safe. Especially right here, right now, with Chase bending over her and Cody behind him, knotting the barely conscious Wade’s wrists behind his back with Captain’s reins.

  “Galt,” Lacey said, glancing over at the huddled figure of the old man. “Oh my God, Galt. I think they killed him.”

  “They didn’t kill me.” Galt sat up, putting a hand to his head and staring at it when it came away bloody. “What do you think I am, some kind of pansy? They just knocked me out, that’s all. It’s nothing.”

  The old man struggled to his feet. Blood streaked the side of his face, but his eyes were glimmering hard and mean as ever as he held out a grasping hand. “Give me my gun. I’ll shoot the whole lot of you.” He stomped toward the front of the cabin and pointed down at the dirt. “Look at that. All those ruts from your goddamn four-wheelers. Ruined my perfectly good land.”

  Chase decided now was not the time to argue the merits of Galt’s played-out acreage. “Sorry, sir, but you’re hurt. We need to get you to a doctor.”

  Galt shrugged him off. “I’m fine.”

  “Just let us drive you home, then. I’ll get the truck.”

  “All right,” Galt muttered. “Didn’t have dinner yet. Guess we’re skipping it tonight. Guess it doesn’t matter to any of you if an old man starves to death.”

  “It’s just going to be late, that’s all. I’ll get the truck.” Cody grabbed the keys from Chase. “You stay with Lacey.”

  When the pickup’s headlights fell across Galt’s face, Chase realized how pale the man was. Wade and Janice really had almost killed him, and yet the man was worrying about dinner. Old age and grief had shriveled Galt up like a strip of rawhide, but it had toughened him too.

  “I’m driving you home. Then we’ll see about dinner.” Chase seized Galt’s arm in a no-nonsense grip that didn’t allow argument. “Let’s bury the hatchet for tonight, okay?”

  “I’ll bury the hatchet,” Galt muttered. “Bury it right in your goddamn head.”

  Lacey laughed, and though there was an edge of hysteria to it, there was still a note of the carefree girl she’d been. She’d laughed a lot when he first knew her, but he realized now he hadn’t heard her laugh in the whole time she’d been at the ranch.

  The thought made him ache. She’d never learn to like it. She’d been miserable there.

  She was safe, she was free, and now she could live the life she wanted. But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be around to watch.

  Chapter 44

  “I’m used to a hot dinner,” Galt grumbled. Lacey had done her best with the sandwich meat Pam had stocked in his refrigerator for emergencies, but he poked at his meal like she’d served him day-old roadkill. “Don’t like ham, neither.”

  “Well, I’m sorry we can’t feed you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed,” Chase said. “But you might remember it was me who got you accustomed to it.”

  “Wasn’t you,” Galt said. “Your sister made you do it.”

  Chase turned to Cody, who was slouched in a dinette chair, his eyes fixed on the TV. The guy had spent two hours closeted with the state cops. They’d spent as much time with him as the had with Lacey.

  There was something going on with the guy. He’d come through tonight, but doubt had been simmering in Chase’s mind for months, doubt and guilt. He shouldn’t have taken
Pam’s word for it that the guy was trustworthy. He wasn’t protecting his sister or his niece the way he should. It was obvious Cody had a past, possibly a shady one.

  “Speaking of my sister, I need some answers from you,” he said. “How did you know that woman, anyway?”

  “I didn’t.” Cody shifted uncomfortably. “Not until that day in the café. I guess Wade did a background check and he, um, found out some stuff about me. She was working with Wade, ’cause her father was involved in the whole scam and she was trying to protect his reputation. He’s some senator or something.”

  “Senator Carrol? She’s his daughter?” Lacey asked.

  Cody nodded. “So Wade sent her to talk to me. She threatened to tell—well, never mind. I told her no.”

  “Threatened to tell what?” Lacey slid into a chair beside Galt and picked up her sandwich.

  Cody slumped, staring down at his meal. “I was in some—some trouble before I came to Grady. They knew about it, and they said they’d tell Pam about it if I didn’t tell them where Lacey was.”

  “You told them?” Chase’s head spun. This was exactly the answer he’d feared. If Cody had betrayed Lacey, he’d have to cut his friend out of his life—his life and his sister’s. But the prospect looked a lot more difficult close-up.

  “No.” Cody flipped off the top piece of bread and plucked a lettuce leaf off the sandwich, setting it aside. “I didn’t. I told them to fuck themselves. I don’t know how they found her, but it wasn’t me. I’d never do that.” He replaced the bread and lifted the sandwich, but his appetite seemed to have failed him, and he set it down without taking a bite.

  “So what did you do?”

  “Nothing.” Cody shoved his chair back from the table. “I told you, I didn’t tell them. Come on, man, what do you want?”

  “I want to know what you did before you came to Grady. I don’t know why Pam trusts you with Annie when we don’t know a damn thing about you.”