by James, Terry
Jake couldn’t resist a question that had been bothering him. ‘I saw what happened today with you, Swain and Radley. Your sister thought you wanted to get yourself killed, but you didn’t, did you? Even with your sister-in-law’s body still warm on the ground, you somehow wanted to put a peaceable end to … whatever it is that’s causing this poison to spread.’
‘You’re a fancy talker, Marshal. I could almost believe you, but, to be honest, I’m not sure how far I would’ve gone – how far I will go.’ He scuffed his toe in the dirt. ‘I’ve tried to find some middle ground with Swain, even after my brother Bill was killed, but … I dunno. I’m starting to believe this is the only way to reason with him.’
There was no malice, just plainly stated fact.
‘We could just turn around and go back, fetch some reinforcements,’ Jake suggested, testing the kid’s resolve.
Matt’s knuckles whitened around the shotgun. ‘I’ll be honest with you. I’m scared to death of what’s going to happen when we walk in there, and I don’t really know where you stand in all this, but I’m prepared to go on a little faith and say it’s your call.’
An old, familiar gut instinct kicked in. It had been a long time since Jake had considered deliberately lighting a fuse under trouble. He liked to think age and experience had slowed him down, but maybe it was just lack of incentive. That wasn’t going to be a problem now. Not when an innocent ten-year-old boy was fighting for his life, a woman was missing, and the man probably responsible was undoubtedly drinking to his own success.
‘We both know we should turn around, walk away and wait for Swain to make the next move; I wouldn’t blame you if you did. After all, you’ve got a wife to consider and a baby on the way.’
Matt’s shrug was non-committal and unconvincing and Jake held out his hand, waiting until Matt took it in a firm grip.
‘All right then. Let’s take a walk.’
CHAPTER 11
Ros spluttered as cold water splashed her face. ‘I’m awake. There’s no need to try and drown me.’
Somewhere nearby, music and laughter mingled in a raucous din, punctuated by the clink of glasses and the rumble of voices. Opening her eyes, she blinked several times against the brightness cast by a lamp held close to her face. Behind it, two men watched her, their features blurred by the glare.
She forced herself awkwardly into a sitting position.
‘Is this business or pleasure?’ she asked, finding herself wallowing on a soft mattress in a room garishly decorated and perfumed to high heaven.
‘Shut up and listen.’
Her hand came up automatically to block the slap that followed.
‘Carson, if you touch her again, you’re finished in this town.’
She recognized Emmett’s lazy tone, and the man who had kidnapped her from the doc’s house. He grunted and stepped back into the shadows. Left to his own means, he would undoubtedly take pleasure in doling out more than a slap.
‘What do you want?’ Ros asked, fighting the urge to make a move for the door, too eager to find out her fate.
Emmett swaggered towards her, stopping within inches to stare down at her. He had changed into a black suit since she’d last seen him and his complexion contrasted pale as milk against it. His dark eyes shone black as coal, making her think of his heart.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you just yet. I only want to clear up a few things before you think about settling back in Langley.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to admit she had no intention of staying more than a day or two, but mischief got the better of her. As a child, she’d always enjoyed teasing Emmett. An orphan passed from family to family, he’d been eager to fit in, an easy target for harmless pranks. Maybe it was her guilt, and not love, that had finally brought them together then torn them apart. She’d certainly paid a high price for her part in his downfall.
She stiffened her back and raised her chin defiantly. ‘I came home to see my family.’ The reference made her wince as she waited for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. ‘I’m willing to include you in that group, Emmett, whatever you might think. Let the past lie.’
‘It’s not that simple. You cost me three years of my life. You and your lover. You should have stayed dead – both of you. At the very least, you shouldn’t have shown your faces here.’
His rambling made no sense. He’d always been able to put two-and-two together and come up with five. The coincidence of her arriving in town at the same time as Rudd would be enough for Emmett’s imagination to conjure a hundred twisted scenarios. But why blame her for costing him three years of his life?
‘So the only thing standing between you and the L would have been Matt?’ she asked, cutting to the chase.
‘After all this time, you still think you know everything.’
‘I know you’re still holding a grudge. You should let it go. What happened was wrong, but it’s in the past.’
He grinned, revealing tobacco stained teeth. ‘Still trying to make everything right after all this time? Well, sweet as that is, me, I take betrayal seriously.’ His laughter filled the room, crushing her under the weight of its irony. ‘Don’t think your exile is payment enough for what you did to me. I wanted you dead and that hasn’t changed. You’ve been living on borrowed time and I intend to take it back when you’ve seen me destroy what’s left of the West name and fortune.’
She forced herself not to strike out and give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his words affected her, but her tongue wouldn’t stay still.
‘I forfeited three years of my life trying to make up for what happened to you. Isn’t that enough?’
‘I have to admit, it turned out better than I imagined. I thought you being dead would be enough, but I feel so much more fulfilled, knowing you’ve suffered.’ He nodded with a smug grin. ‘You should use that hatred I see in your eyes, but don’t let it blind you to the simple truth that I will get what I want.’
His certainty irritated her. ‘What do you want? My father’s dead. Bill and May. Matt was too young to know what was going on and me … I loved you. I know you never doubted that. Didn’t I turn my back on my family, follow you across Kansas and.…’ She couldn’t say more as her missing memories plunged her into a pit of nothingness.
‘So let’s all pretend we’re one happy family?’ Emmett laughed. ‘Nice try, Ros, but after what happened, my hatred runs too deep for that. You’re dead to me.’
Carson stepped forward, rubbing his palms together excitedly. ‘Can I have her now, boss?’
‘Shut up.’ Emmett gave Ros a crooked smile. ‘I’ll tell you when.’
‘But what about Shorty and Sully and Barclay? She—’
Emmett backhanded the big man, drawing blood from a split lip. ‘I said, shut up. In fact, get out of here.’
He waited for the door to close behind Carson and his mumbled curses to fade. Then, after a slight pause, he dropped to his haunches and took Ros’s hand in his own. She tried to pull away, but he held tight, crushing her fingers until she relaxed.
‘Have you told Matt the truth yet? Told him that I’m the oldest brother and the ranch is already mine.’
‘You’re the bastard brother, with no proof to say otherwise. You’ve got no claim.’
He grinned. ‘Surely you remember Pa’s letter.’
Ros’s mind worked into a frenzy of denial but if he still had the letter…
‘Doesn’t Matt deserve to know what this is all about? You ran away. Doesn’t he deserve the same chance?’
‘He won’t run,’ she said, bitterly.
Emmett shrugged. ‘What other choice does he have? I own most of this town and most of the people in it. I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?’
A lifeline swung to the fore of Ros’s confusion. ‘Aren’t you forgetting somebody?’
‘Your friend the marshal? Or should I say Jay Langerud?’
His nails dug into her skin until she thought her bones mu
st snap. Ros’s nerve faltered as a long-forgotten image flashed through her mind.
‘You look surprised, Ros. That was an unfortunate mistake you made earlier, letting me see you together and reminding me of the last time I saw you both. I have to admit I was surprised. He’s got more forgiveness in his soul than I have.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘If you’d put a bullet in my back.…’
She stared at him, her mind as blank as a new notebook.
‘Of course, it worked out well for me. Who wouldn’t believe that in your grief you threw yourself under those horses?’
Realization exploded like a stopper from a bottle. Emmett, or someone he had paid, had pushed her in front of that stage. Undoubtedly, Emmett had been the one paying the most recent bounty on her. What Jake’s role in the whole affair had been, she didn’t know but the need to defend him raged inside her.
‘I wouldn’t underestimate him.’
‘I don’t intend to, but despite what he did to me, he’s not really my concern. You see, when I tell Radley that the man who killed Parley Jones – his pa – is in town, I think that particular problem’s going to take care of itself.
‘In the meantime, talk to Matt.’ He stood abruptly, shoving her so she sprawled on the bed. ‘He’s a good kid. I don’t know why I should like him but I do. Still, if things get dirty, you know me, I always enjoy a fight and I don’t let people or sentiment stand in my way. You and Jay are dead already, but Matt.…’
Ros made a grab for him as he turned to leave, but missed and lay back on the bed, staring at the boarded ceiling as the door opened and closed. There’d be other times to fight. Right now, she needed to think of a way out of this mess.
CHAPTER 12
A dozen loafers and whores cluttered the Crystal Slipper when Jake and Matt arrived. Jake surveyed the interior through a window before pushing between the batwing doors. His breath caught as he entered. He never got used to the stench of sawdust and spilt whiskey mingling with cheap perfume and sweat. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the haze of smoke hovering in the low-lit room.
Stiff backs and mumbled conversations greeted him as he weaved his way between tables. As he neared the long maple bar, a saggy old whore started towards him, half-dressed and startlingly garish with painted eyebrows and vivid red lips.
‘Buy me a drink, mister?’
Jake sidestepped and leaned his elbows on the bar. His gaze rested on the mirrored reflections of Radley, Swain, and a bull-sized, redheaded man he didn’t recognize. They’d been playing cards, but now the game seemed to have lost its interest as they watched him.
The whore moved in closer, the stench of sex preceding her. ‘Did you hear me, mister? I said, buy me a drink?’
‘Flo, you leave Mr Rudd alone,’ Swain shouted. ‘He looks a mite upset. Better make that whiskey a double, Frank, on the house.’
The same bartender who had served Jake earlier pushed forward a glass and filled it. Then he stood back, running his fingers through his thinning hair while he waited.
Jake’s gaze flicked to the liquor then back to his quarry. Strange he should think of them that way, but the tension buzzing around him added an element of sport to the situation. Deliberately, he slammed a coin on the polished bar and saw Frank leap into the air.
‘I’ll pay for my own drink, if it’s all the same to you.’ He tipped his head back to drink, just enough that he didn’t lose sight of Swain.
A lull descended over the room, the silence broken only by the discrete movement of a chair scraped across dry boards. Frank’s eyes rolled as he looked nervously between the money and his boss.
Swain straightened in his seat looking uncomfortable despite his ever-present smirk. His skin shone pale and sweaty against the severity of his black shirt and suit. The only glimpse of colour was a red sling, half-hidden beneath his coat, and supporting his injured arm. His redundant sleeve disappeared inside its armhole giving him a lopsided, comical appearance.
‘Just trying to be friendly, Mr Rudd. Interest you in a hand of cards maybe?’
Jake turned through ninety degrees, holding his drink in his left hand, he swallowed it and slipped the glass back onto the bar. ‘I think, maybe before we go any further, there’s something you should know about me, Mr Swain.’
‘And what would that be, Mr Rudd? That you took a look around and decided this ain’t your kinda town?’
Jake rankled at Swain’s disdain, but he pretended to consider the idea as a dozen snickers circled the room. ‘You need to know that I don’t play games.’
Swain looked first at Radley, then the redhead, before returning his attention to Jake. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Well, say for instance a man comes after me with a gun, he better be ready to face me.’ Jake’s glare lingered on the redhead sitting to Swain’s left and easing his neck inside his collar like a turkey. ‘Not shoot into the dark like a yellow-bellied coward.’
The big man shifted in his chair, his mouth drawing into a grim line. Jake tensed, his senses screaming. Was this what he’d come looking for? A fight? What the hell had he been thinking? That he could reason with men who would kidnap and murder women and children? A stark image of Jimmy, small and twisted, lying in a pool of blood, crossed his mind. That’s what he’d been thinking about when he walked into the Crystal Slipper.
As quickly as his doubts surfaced, they disappeared. ‘You got something to say, big man?’ he asked the redhead.
Jake caught sight of a small movement as Frank shuffled closer to the bar. To Swain’s right, Radley sat stock-still, three cards fanned out in his left hand, his right hand resting on his outstretched thigh. A telltale fever glistened in his eyes.
Everyone else in the room seemed frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, Jake reassessed them. Mostly, they appeared to be worn-out whores and broken down men, there because they had nowhere else to go. When the shooting started, he was sure they’d hold fire until a winner started to emerge.
With renewed calm, Jake addressed Swain. ‘I guess you heard what happened. Twice today I’ve been shot at. I didn’t come over here looking for the culprit. I just came to set a few things straight, since I know a saloon is a good a place to start a rumour.’
Swain leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cheroot. With the arrogance only a man who knows his back is covered can have, he shifted his sights to Radley, waiting until the gunman struck a match and lit his smoke. After a few gentle puffs, he returned his attention to Jake.
‘Well, Mr Rudd, you’re probably right about that. So, what happens now?’ He smiled around the room, fuelling the oppressive atmosphere. ‘Do we each take a guess, or are you gonna say what’s on your mind?’
‘First, I want you’ – he inclined his chin in Frank’s direction, keeping his main focus on Radley and Swain – ‘to move away from that rifle, or whatever it is you’re hiding under there, and put your hands flat on the bar.’
Frank feigned innocence with a shrug. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I think you do, Frank Hardy,’ Matt called out.
He had slipped in through the batwing doors, the shotgun aimed at the bartender. With a slight nod to Jake, he pressed his back to the wall and fanned the barrel around the room. Jake released his breath. He hadn’t exactly doubted Matt, but he’d taken a risk trusting a kid to watch his back. Slowly and precisely, he unfastened his jacket and dipped his fingers into his waistcoat pocket. Striding towards Swain’s table, he pulled out a US marshal’s badge.
‘Do you see this?’ Jake asked, carefully pinning it to his left lapel. ‘This badge means that when you speak to me, you call me Marshal or Marshal Rudd, not Mr Rudd. Do you understand?’
Swain gave the briefest of nods.
Carson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed. ‘A piece o’ shit is still a piece o’ shit. Don’t matter what name you give it.’
He didn’t see Jake’s elbow before it smashed into his face. There wasn’t time as his chair upended
and he spewed backwards onto the floor. Rolling in the spit and sawdust, it was obviously all he could do to breathe as he clutched his twisted nose and tried not to choke on his own blood.
‘Je-sus, Ru—Marshal,’ Swain corrected quickly as he dived right, knocking Radley half to the floor and clinging to his own injured arm as if it were detached.
Jake’s gun appeared in his hand, covering Radley before the shootist could reach for his. He looked directly at Radley, who paused half-crouched, his hands fanned out at arm’s length. Spilt whiskey stained his tan leather waistcoat and the front of his shirt. With his hair mussed and a snarl curling his lips, he didn’t look half as confident as he had a moment before.
Jake waited for Radley to relax, then scanned the whole room. ‘Now all of you understand this. I’m a United States Marshal, bound to uphold the law, and I take my responsibility very seriously. An innocent boy was shot tonight and a woman was kidnapped. At least one of you knows where she is, and I want to know what you know.’
Radley’s fingers flexed, but his hand stayed clear of his holster.
Swain picked himself up from his position sprawled across the card table. ‘Now what makes you think we know anything about a kidnapping, Marshal?’
Jake hauled Carson to his knees. ‘Because this,’ he said, pulling several strands of long hair off Carson’s shirtfront, ‘is a pretty close match for—’
‘Don’t waste your time, Marshal. I’m here.’
Ros materialized from the shadows at the back of the saloon and strode directly to Jake. Standing between him and his adversaries, she looked pale and unsteady, but her chin was raised at a defiant angle. He cut his eyes at the fresh bruises appearing on her face feeling anger burn in the pit of his stomach.
‘Which one of them took you?’
She shook her head and started past him, hesitating when he didn’t immediately follow. This time she spoke in barely more than a whisper.