The Surrender of Lacy Morgan

by Suzanne Ferrell

  That explained why she wrote the letter.

  “But it was a trick, wasn’t it?”

  Santos laughed again. “She had no clue Devil set the whole thing up until it was too late.”

  “Then she took the money.”

  “And now she must pay.” He lowered his gun to between Quinn’s shoulder blades and nudged him forward. “What say we watch Devil make her dance? I assure you it is quite a show. She’ll tell us where the money is this time.”

  An owl hooted behind them.

  Dakota.

  Ahead, Devil had Lacy’s hands tied over her head to the pole. He’d stripped her camisole off, her golden skin visible in the light of the lantern Harris held.

  The anger Quinn had been feeling at Lacy’s lie turned to full-out rage at the men who’d done this to her. Rage at himself.

  “What makes you think she’ll tell you this time, when nearly killing her last time didn’t work?” He kept walking, wanting to be close enough to stop Devil when Dakota made his move.

  “As a poker player, I just got an ace in my hand.” The sidewinder’s lips split in a serpentine smile. “Lacy, look who I found coming to your rescue.”

  She lifted her head and turned to stare at them.

  Even in the lamplight, Quinn saw fear etch her face. Fear for him. Love and sorrow warred in her eyes and he knew she’d tell them whatever they wanted. To protect him. And when she did, they were both dead.

  Santos.

  They’d forgotten about Santos.

  Lacy would know that voice anywhere. She slowly lifted her head, her shame at being half-clothed in front of Devil and Harris forgotten. Shock and fear filled her when she realized Santos held Quinn at gunpoint.

  Quinn had let down his guard because she hadn’t confessed her involvement in Captain McCarthy’s death. The man she loved was in danger because of her.

  At that moment she realized she’d do anything to save him.

  She’d have taken the beating Devil had planned for her and kept the secret to her grave, but she wouldn’t risk Quinn’s life.

  “Let him go and I’ll tell you where the money is.”

  “You’ll tell me, girl. But first I’m gonna punish you for taking it in the first place.” Devil, whip in hand, stepped back a few feet. “Then maybe we’ll let you watch us kill your lover.”

  “No, please,” she begged, not for herself, but for Quinn. Her eyes locked on his, she begged his forgiveness. “Forgive me.”

  The whip whistled and she braced for the first stroke.

  “No!” Quinn yelled and lurched forward, only to have Santos grab him by the hair and halt his movement.

  “No, my friend, I think this is close enough.”

  Quinn watched in horror as Devil pulled his arm back and the whip coiled through the air like a rattler springing up to strike its victim. Memories of his parents’ whipping and death popped into his mind. He heard the whistle and braced for the scream.

  None came.

  His gaze locked on Lacy’s as her body jerked, seeing the tears in her eyes, the pain on her face and the pleading from her lips.

  She wasn’t begging to be spared the pain, but for him to forgive her for her lie. He read it in her beautiful eyes.

  And he knew at that moment he’d do anything to save her.

  As Devil pulled his arm back, preparing to slice the whip into Lacy’s skin again, Quinn focused on how to get free of Santos and not give in to his growing rage.

  Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream sounded behind him. He lunged sideways, at the same time kicking one leg out to knock Santos’ legs out from under him as Dakota’s body hurled into the outlaw.

  Without waiting to see if Dakota needed help with his man, Quinn grabbed his gun from where he’d dropped it, rolled onto his stomach and took aim.

  Gunfire shattered the night.

  True to its mark, his bullet slammed into Devil’s hand as he brought the whip forward, ceasing its deadly arc toward Lacy.

  Devil screamed, released the whip handle and grabbed his hand, blood pouring down his arm as he slumped onto his knees.

  Harris turned, gun in his hand, the other shaking the lantern.

  “Kill him, Harris!”

  Quinn didn’t hesitate.

  Harris hit the ground with a thud before he even pulled the trigger. The lantern fell sideways, fire igniting a patch of dead dry grass left from winter.

  “Quinn!” Lacy shouted, straining against the rope binding her to the pole.

  With a glance to see Dakota busy fighting with Santos, he scrambled past Harris and the fire toward Lacy.

  “No, the bitch is mine!” Devil, knife in his uninjured hand, hurled himself at Quinn.

  He got off one shot, hitting Devil in the shoulder before the outlaw landed on top of him, knocking the gun out of his hands. Quinn shoved the older man off him and pulled his own knife out. Coming into a crouch, he managed to counter Devil’s blade as it sliced toward his gut. “She doesn’t belong to you, Morgan. She never did.”

  “I’m gonna gut you, then cut her into little pieces.” Devil lunged again, this time catching Quinn on the back of his arm.

  He hissed, but switched the knife to the other hand and came around to catch Devil in the side. A twist of the knife and he pulled it free.

  Blood poured out and the outlaw stopped mid-stride, falling to his knees. He gasped in one breath then, eyes glazing over, he fell face first to the ground.

  Catching his breath from the brief fight, Quinn strode to Lacy’s side, cutting the rope and pulling her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell…” she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks as he unbound her hands.

  “Hush. We’ll talk about it later.” He turned to see Dakota holding the lantern, blood on his clothes. Santos’ inert body lay sprawled in the dirt behind him. “You okay?”

  “Finer than frog’s hair. We taking these two bodies with us? We need to find a place to hide before the rest of the gang wakes up,” Dakota said as he stomped out the last of the fire.

  “Thought you said they’d be out ’til morning.”

  “No guarantees how long.”

  “We’ll leave the bodies for the buzzards and a warning to the rest of the gang.” Quinn shucked his shirt and pulled it over Lacy’s head to replace the one Devil had ripped off her. She hissed as it lay over the welt on her skin.

  Damn, as angry as he was with her, he hated hurting her, but they didn’t have time to clean her up right now. “Can you get to your horse?”

  She nodded, then took a shaky step backward.

  He reached a hand to steady her. “Whoa there. You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Just a little shaken.” She looked at her feet then back up, her gaze stopping at his arm and the blood oozing down it. “You’re cut.”

  “Devil caught me once.”

  She pushed past him to grab her shirt off the ground, tearing a strip off the shredded material. “Hold still and let me wrap it.”

  He wanted to refuse, to tell her they didn’t have time. But the tears spilling over her cheeks and the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she cleaned then bound his injury stopped him from protesting.

  At that moment, he understood her too well. She needed to care for him, needed to focus on something other than the lie that stood between them and the death around them.

  She finished tying a knot in the bandage to hold it in place, then patted his arm with one hand, wiping the tears away with the other.

  “We need to leave, Lacy. It will be difficult enough picking our way through that narrow entrance without someone waking up and chasing us as we go. How you did it all those months ago, I can’t imagine.”

  She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t go that way.”

  With a finger under her chin, he lifted her face until she looked at him. “Another lie?”

  Her eyes narrowed and a spark of defiance sizzled in their green depths.
<
br />   Good. As angry as he was with her, he didn’t want to think Devil and his whip had broken her spirit.

  “It’s not a lie. You never asked me how I escaped and no one knew about the second entrance to the valley except Mama and me.”

  True. He tamped down his own anger. She hadn’t lied. He’d only assumed she’d come out the main entrance. Given how well-guarded it was, she never could’ve gotten out that way without someone warning Devil and his men.

  “Is that where you hid the gold?”

  “It’s nearby, up there.” She stepped back and pointed toward the forest in the north rim of the valley.

  “You two finished chewing the fat? Or we gonna wait for daylight to get our asses shot off?” Dakota asked, bringing all four animals from where he’d left them near the barn. Apparently he’d never unsaddled them, since they’d planned a hasty departure.

  Quinn reached for her arm to escort her to her horse. She jerked away.

  “I can manage it myself.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged, mounting his horse and motioning her to lead the way. He needed her strong for the rest of their trip to Laramie. No matter what, he needed to see this mission through. Having her angry at him would make what he had to do easier.

  * * * * *

  The spot Lacy led them to lay nestled between several fir trees. Unassuming. If not for the large stones marking the long oval shape, the place would’ve blended in to the environment completely unnoticed.

  A grave.

  Lacy knelt beside the largest stone, her head bowed in silent prayer.

  “Your mother’s grave?” Quinn asked as he and Dakota dismounted and stood just behind her.

  She nodded. “When she died, Devil didn’t care where I buried her. He just wanted her body out of sight since it was no longer of use to him. I brought her here, as far away from him as I could get her in this valley. In the spring the mountain laurel bloom all around her. She loved the pink flowers.”

  “You hid the gold near here?”

  “No.” She mopped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, then turned to the boulder beside her. With a few shoves she worked it to one side, revealing a hole beneath. She reached in and pulled out a burlap sack, set it on the ground then reached in for several more. “I hid them with Mama.”

  Dakota held out a hand to help Lacy to her feet.

  “Even in death he feared Mama’s spirit and her voodoo heritage.” She held each heavy bag out to Quinn.

  He took them, proud at how she’d outsmarted Devil. It made sense now. “You hid it in the one place Devil would never look.”

  “I knew I couldn’t get it any further, the weight was too much for me, especially the condition I was in. I left it where I knew it would be safe.” She remounted her horse and started up the mountain to the hidden exit, not waiting for them. “At least this much I can return to the authorities before I face my punishment.”

  As he tied the bags of gold to the packhorse, Quinn glanced at Dakota, ignoring the pointed look his brother gave him.

  “What?” He climbed on his horse and started up the trail after Lacy. He couldn’t argue with her.

  “She loves you.”

  “I know. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to answer for her involvement in the robbery and Cap’s murder.” Even if it killed him to watch her.

  “You love her.”

  He shot him an it’s-none-of-your-business look. But Dakota rarely paid attention to that, and now was no exception.

  “I’ve had another vision,” Dakota said, falling in behind him.

  “Of Lacy?” His stomach clenched at the thought. Dakota’s visions weren’t always positive.

  “No, my dark-haired woman.”

  Oh? “Again?”

  “More intense this time. Once this business is finished in Laramie, I may travel to try to find her.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t know yet.” He nudged his mount past Quinn’s. “Just be sure when you turn Lacy in, you’re prepared for the consequences.”

  Quinn paused. He knew what he was doing. He had every intention of delivering both her and the gold to the territorial judge over in Laramie.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lacy sat on the bench in the hallway outside the judge’s office. She slid the green silk of her dress between her thumb and finger as she waited for Quinn or Dakota to call her inside to face her punishment. She’d wanted to wear the dress Quinn bought for her in Goldwater one more time before spending her life locked in the prison they’d passed as they rode into Laramie two days before.

  The trip across the Wyoming Territory had seemed to go by in a haze for her. Quinn pushed them to ride from dawn ’til dusk, as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her and the gold. He and Dakota talked between them, but neither said more to her than when to stop, eat, sleep and ride.

  Which suited her just as well. She could still see the shock and anger on Quinn’s face the moment he learned she’d written the letter that drew his father to his death.

  How could he or Dakota ever forgive her?

  She couldn’t forgive herself.

  The only comfort she’d gotten on the long ride was every morning she woke to find herself snuggled up against Quinn’s warm body. Whether it was to protect her as they slept or to assure himself she hadn’t escaped her fate, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She’d use that memory to keep her warm during the long cold nights in her cell.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Startled by the slightly English accent, Lacy blinked and looked up at the tall, handsome blond man standing before her. She looked around. The other three benches were vacant.

  “No sir. But you might not want to sit by me,” she said, moving her skirts to the side nonetheless.

  “And why wouldn’t I want to sit by such a lovely lady as you?” he asked, settling beside her.

  “I’m about to see the judge.”

  “Not for something serious, I hope.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she nodded slightly. “Murder.”

  “Really? You killed someone?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t believe she was telling a complete stranger all this, but she’d promised herself not to lie about it again. Not to anyone.

  “You pulled out a gun and shot him?”

  “No.”

  “A knife? Or poison?”

  “No. I didn’t actually kill him. But I caused his murder.”

  “How exactly did you do that?”

  “I wrote a letter that lured him to a bank robbery, and the men who tricked me into writing the letter killed him. He was a marshal.”

  “Ah, so you were an accessory to murder.”

  “Yes.” She studied him a moment. “Are you a lawyer?”

  “No, but I’ve studied law. Do you need a lawyer?”

  She shook her head again. “No. I’m guilty and I’m willing to pay the price for my crime.” She let out a sigh, thinking about how she’d hurt Quinn. “I’ve already paid part of it.”

  “Really? How?” He laid his hand over hers, stilling the motion of her fingers on the silk.

  “The last two men who touched her without her permission are six feet under, your dukeship. Don’t make me put you there too,” Quinn announced from the doorway across the hall.

  Lacy’s head snapped up. She looked from Quinn’s stern face to the smiling man next to her. “You’re Ian?”

  “Ian Thomas Smythe, Lord Brookstone, at your service, Miss Lacy.” He lifted her fingers to his lips in a soft kiss, eliciting a growl from Quinn, who stalked over to them.

  “We call him Ian Smith in the States.” Quinn snatched her hand from Ian’s grasp then tugged slightly to pull her up beside him. “When we’re not calling him an ass.”

  Ian stood, his grin making his handsome face even more dazzling. “Nice to see you too, brother.”

  “Did you take care of that matter?” Quinn asked, tucking Lacy’s hand in his elbow.

  “Here it is.” Ian handed
him something, which Quinn placed in his pocket. “And I managed to find out that information you wanted. The answer is, it’s up to the judge’s discretion and mitigating circumstances.”

  “Good. There are definitely mitigating circumstances.” Quinn turned to Lacy. “The new judge, Judge Parks, is going to hear your plea in his chambers.”

  She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “There won’t be a trial?”

  “Do you want one?”

  “No. I wrote the letter. It was my fault your father was in Cheyenne and killed.” She felt his arm tense beneath her hand, his anger still strong.

  “Then a trial won’t be necessary.”

  Dakota, along with a dark-haired man with guns strapped low on his hips and a white-haired, bearded gentleman, all stood as they entered the book-lined room.

  “Lacy, this is Judge Parks and the other man is our brother Nicco DeCosta.” Quinn introduced the others then led her to the empty chair next to the judge’s desk. He stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, while the others resumed their seats, joined by Ian.

  “So, four of Anson’s five sons are here for this hearing,” Judge Parks said, writing something on a paper in front of him. The scratch of his pen on the parchment accented the silence in the room.

  “Yes sir,” Quinn answered when the judge looked up. “Will couldn’t leave the ranch.”

  “Fine. Then you’ll be witnesses to my final decision.” He turned to Lacy. “Young lady, Quinn and Dakota have filled me in on the details of the robbery, Anson’s murder and the killing of the men responsible for all of it. I’d like to hear your story and how you came to be here today.”

  “My mother and I went to live in Devil’s valley when I was a young girl. After she died, I had nowhere else to go, but I never participated in any of his crimes.” She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. “Not until I was convinced to write a letter to Marshal McCarthy informing him a bank robbery was planned for the Cheyenne Bank in the Montana Territory.”

  “Why did you write this letter? Did you want to see the marshal killed?”

  “Oh no sir. I thought the plan was to set a trap to capture my stepfather and prevent him from robbing the bank. I had no idea the trap was for the marshal, until I heard the gunfire.”