by Deeanne Gist
Keeping cover among the shrubs, he darted from tree to tree until he was pressed against the house’s whitewashed siding. He stayed where he was, listening.
A man’s rumble followed by a child’s giggle came from the back window. Luke eased that direction, inclining his ears, but could only make out voices, not actual words. He didn’t risk looking inside, but from the sound of it, Ragston had one of his daughters with him.
Where was the missus? The rest of the children?
Creeping toward the kitchen door, he flung it open and pointed the gun, not at Ragston, but at a man playing cards with . . . Bettina.
A pistol sat on the table, a foot from the card-player’s hand. Darting a glance at the weapon, the man grabbed for it.
Luke fired the Winchester. The bullet sent the pistol skittering across the room, well out of reach. Bettina dropped to the floor, covering her head with her arms.
Luke cocked his rifle and kept the barrel leveled at the stranger. “Where’s Ragston?”
The man made no move to raise his hands, but instead settled into his chair and played a card as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was about Luke’s age, brown hair, blue eyes, very familiar looking. Where had he seen him?
“Ragston’s not here.” The man’s voice sent shock waves through Luke. He knew him. Knew him well. But from where? Where?
He kept his rifle steady but spoke to Bettina. “What are you doing here, girl? You’re supposed to be on your way to Industry.”
Her eyes wide, she slowly straightened. “Mr. Luke? What happened to yer overalls?”
“My real name’s Lucious Landrum.”
Her lips parted. “The Ranger?”
“Yes. Now, why are you here?”
She glanced between him and the man. “I didn’t go ta Industry. I went and fetched Comer instead.”
Euphoria swept through him. This was Comer. Dead to rights at the other end of his barrel. Bettina might have gone to warn him, but instead had delivered him right into his hands. He wondered at Comer’s audacity. Had the man become so complacent he thought he couldn’t be brought in? Well, he’d find out differently now.
Comer put down another card and drew one from the deck. “I want to thank you for rounding up my men for me. We’ve a train to rob today.” He raised his gaze. “I believe I’ll take ’em off your hands now.”
“You’re not doing anything but putting your own hands in the air.”
Comer shook his head. “Still bossy, I see.”
Luke frowned.
Setting his cards on the table, Comer nodded toward the door. “Go let the men loose, Bettina.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind.”
She froze at his sharp command. “You really Lucious Landrum?”
“I am. And, make no mistake, Bettina, as of now, the Comer Gang is no more.”
She swallowed, torn between her misplaced loyalty to Comer and what was clearly a fascination with the new Luke.
“Go on.” Comer shooed her with his hand. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
After a slight hesitation, she dashed down the hallway and out the front door. Luke let her go. She didn’t have keys for the cuffs and she had no idea Georgie was out there. When she found out, she’d be hard-pressed to betray the woman who’d hired her when no one else would. No, he was much more worried about Ragston than Bettina. He needed to get out there.
“Let’s go, Comer.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“I recognize you. I just don’t know from where.”
Comer lifted a brow. “Well, I’d recognize you anywhere. You look exactly the same since the last time I saw you. You’d tucked your tail under and run, leaving me high and dry at Glaser’s mercy.”
Chapter Forty-Three
The wind left Luke as surely as if he’d received a flattening blow to the gut. He fell back a step. “Alec?”
“In the flesh.” He crossed his arms. “So, what do you hear from Ma?”
Luke soaked in the changes the last eleven years had wrought. Alec’s face had lengthened and lost its roundness. His cheeks and jaw had taken on sharp angular lines he’d not had before. His nose had lost its gentle slope and instead started high between the brows before coming to a straight point.
But now that he knew who it was, he was able to pick out the familiar. The eyes were the same. The smile. The dimple. The mannerisms.
On the outside, Luke held the Winchester level, but inside he was reeling. Like a bare-knuckle boxer who’d dropped his guard at the wrong moment, the revelations pummeled him one by one. His love for the brother he’d raised cracked his head back like an uppercut. The news he was alive after all these years hit him like a left jab. But the finishing blow, the hard right, was the discovery his beloved brother was none other than the notorious Frank Comer, and this time, instead of watching Alec be arrested, he’d have to do it himself.
He took a shaky breath. “You’ve changed. You’ve . . .” Become a man, he wanted to say. But the man he’d become wasn’t worthy of the name, so he said nothing.
“You may as well put the gun away, Lucious. You aren’t going to shoot me.”
He adjusted the rifle, securing the stock against his side, aiming the barrel at Alec’s heart. But if it came to pulling the trigger, his brother was right. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. It had been a long time, though. Long enough for Alec not to know for certain what Luke would or wouldn’t do. He hoped.
“We were told you were dead,” Luke said. “Had a photograph, a letter written in your hand, everything.”
His brother shrugged. “I was tired of you hunting me down. Seemed like every time I turned around, you were on my trail. Made the fellas I ran with a bit uneasy. So I staged my death.” He gave a rueful smile. “Posing in that coffin was a mite uncomfortable, but it sure looked convincing, didn’t it?”
“Ma was devastated.” He paused. “I was devastated.”
“You both managed to carry on.”
“A day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t thought of you. Why didn’t you wait for me when you got out? I told you I was coming.”
Alec dropped his chair legs on the floor, his eyes turning cold. “I wanted nothing to do with you. Still don’t.” He gave a sardonic smile. “How’d you like shooting up Main Street? You think of me?”
“You know I did.”
He cackled. “That’s why I had you do it. And all that stuff to your lady friend, too.”
Heartsore, Luke shoved his emotions aside. Now more than ever, he needed to remain calm. “Do Necker and the others know we’re brothers?”
Alec harrumphed. “I’d never admit to something like that.”
Sorrow shot through Luke like a fiery dart finding the one sure kink in his armor. “I’m sorry I left you with Glaser that night. In my arrogance, I’d planned to go round up a bunch of fellows to bust you out of jail. Never did it occur to me Glaser would hightail it out of there, heap on a bunch of unfounded charges, and have you locked up in the penitentiary before I knew what happened.”
Scooping up the cards, Alec began to shuffle. “They weren’t trumped-up charges. I’d done every single one of those things.”
A hard right cross completely out of nowhere. “What? But how? Where was I?”
He began to deal a game of solitaire. “While you were out coon hunting and chasing the ladies, I had a pretty good operation going.”
Luke sucked in his breath. He’d had no idea Alec had dealings on the other side of the law. “When did that start?”
“I dunno. Does it matter?”
Grief warred with shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alec moved an ace to the foundation pile and began to build a stack. “I was tired of being in your shadow. Lucious this, Lucious that. You’re all anyone ever talked about. Yet all the while, I was the one robbing the neighbors, peeking in girls’ windows when they thought they were alone. And one time I snuck in and took m
ore from a gal than the jewelry on her dresser. But I couldn’t tell nobody nothing.”
Luke’s gut clenched. He remembered hearing rumors about one of his schoolmates who’d been packed off to live with her aunt and uncle in Virginia. Alec, in particular, had spread the worst kind of gossip about her. Claimed he had firsthand knowledge of her. Never had it occurred to Luke his brother had forced himself on her. Bile churned in his stomach.
Alec shifted in his chair. “Everything changed, though, when I went to jail. Those fellows had never heard of Lucious Landrum. Only of Alec Landrum. And I made a name for myself. Everybody looked up to me. Me, not you. When I got out, I just continued on, is all.”
Luke didn’t know what to do. What to think. He’d sworn an oath. Yet to uphold it, he’d have to sacrifice the very person he’d spent his youth trying to protect. It seemed the ones who needed protecting, though, were their friends and neighbors. “I thought you cared about the people you robbed.”
“I needed to win ’em over so my boys could stay hidden. But that’s about the extent of it.”
How could two brothers be so different? he wondered. Make such different choices? And how could he not have known?
Alec moved a row of black-and-red cards to another spot, then turned over a four of hearts. “I was really sore when you joined the Ranger force after I staged my death and the papers began talking about how you’d been born with a gun in your hand or could pick cherries with your rifle, or how you charged into the last retreat of desperados and brought them out handcuffed—the living ones, anyway.” He shook his head in disgust. “Lucious this. Lucious that. I’d just read about you capturing the state title for all-round rapid-fire marksman when I decided to make a name for myself. To turn the tide.” He finished off a second foundation stack. “And I did it, too. I’m every bit as famous as you and a lot more popular.”
Luke’s mind began to spin. All his young life his pa had impressed upon him the importance of family and loyalty. But he’d also spoken of integrity and the sacredness of a man’s word. What he’d never mentioned, however, was what to do when family loyalty and personal integrity squared off.
“Don’t use me as an excuse for your choices, Alec,” he said. “This isn’t a competition. Never has been.”
Looking up, Alec pushed back the brim of his brown felt Stetson. “No? What about right now? When we leave this room, one of us will be the winner. One will be the loser. Sounds like a competition to me. And one I don’t intend to lose.”
“I’m the one holding the gun. And make no mistake, I’ll use it.” It wasn’t until that moment he realized it was true. The inscription on his pistols flashed through his mind. Never Draw Me Without Cause or Holster Me With Dishonor.
The very best way he could show his love and loyalty to Alec was to stand firm on what was right and what was wrong. Compromising his word would not only be dishonorable, it would do a lot more harm than good. It was his sworn duty and moral obligation to protect innocent lives. If that meant arresting Alec, so be it.
Luke gave a quick upward jerk with his chin. “Put your hands in the air. You’re under arrest.”
“And if I refuse?” His eyes clouded, making them as opaque as a thick curtain. “You gonna shoot me down in cold blood? Your own kin?”
Luke’s pulse hammered so hard he could feel it in his neck. “Get them up.”
After a tense moment, Alec lifted his arms and slowly rose, approaching as if he were a deadly cobra preparing to strike. “It’s over, Lucious,” he snarled. “Ragston’s out there. He’ll have freed the boys. Threaten me all you want, but you’re not leaving here alive.”
A shot rang out in the distance. Georgie’s scream pierced the air. Luke jerked toward the sound.
It was all the advantage Alec needed. Lunging forward, he knocked the barrel aside, wrenching the butt away from Luke’s torso.
Tightening his grip, Luke took advantage of the rifle’s momentum, whipping the stock against the side of Alec’s face. The crack of bone sounded loud in the small room. Screaming, Alec staggered back, then charged him again.
Desperate to reach Georgie, Luke hit him once more with the rifle’s butt, putting his weight behind the blow. Alec crumbled to the ground.
Snapping a handcuff on his brother’s wrist, he hauled him to the stove, locked the other cuff to it, then sprinted out the door and into the brush, weaving his way under its cover and toward the place he’d left Georgie and the hack.
Chapter Forty-Four
Even with her hands propped on the pillows, the pistol’s weight tested Georgie’s strength. As its five pounds grew heavier and heavier, so did her eyes. The warmth of the morning sun wrapped her in its blanket. She’d slept very little and the men’s quiet conversations against a backdrop of birdsong beckoned to her like a soft feather bed.
A gunshot exploded from the direction of Ragston’s place, jerking her to attention. The men exchanged glances, speculation in their eyes.
“Who ya think it was?” Duane asked. “Luke or Ragston?”
“Sounded like a rifle.” Blesinger shifted in the seat, his chains rattling. “But that could mean anything.”
Georgie’s heart took up a rapid beat. What would she do if something had happened to Luke? Should she try to intervene? Or should she go for help while the men were still shackled?
But who would help? The entire town had already refused to become involved. What if she drove these men all the way to town only to have the sheriff release them? What if Luke was lying on Ragston’s floor bleeding to death?
Before she could decide what to do, Finkel whipped his head around. “Some-von is coming.”
Her grip on the gun tightened.
Blesinger held up his hands. “Easy, Miss Georgie. Relax your shoulders. You don’t want that thing going off by accident, now.”
All attention swerved back to her.
After a lifetime of priding herself on doing anything a man could, she suddenly felt very inadequate. Seeing Luke’s mastery with guns and horses, hearing the men whisper of his escapades, and watching him single-handedly round up the Comer Gang had been eye-opening. But the thought of finishing this job without him brought everything into immediate perspective.
She couldn’t sit a horse the way he did. Couldn’t command men the way he did. Couldn’t shoot like he did. Couldn’t garner the respect he did.
That wasn’t to say all women couldn’t. Annie Oakley was said to have hit coins flipped into the air, broken marbles on the fly, and shot a cigarette right out of her husband’s mouth. But all of a sudden, Georgie was tired of trying to be a man. There were an awful lot of things she liked about being a woman.
She liked garden clubs, reading circles, and being around children. She liked pretty dresses, fancy shoes, even frilly undergarments. Spitting, chewing, cursing, wrestling, and holding men at gunpoint held no appeal whatsoever.
“Bettina-hyena,” Duane said. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Georgie whipped her head around, the gun barrel swinging with her. The men ducked and shoved trying to get out of the line of fire.
“Bettina. What on earth? You’re supposed to be on your way to Industry.” She glanced in the direction of Ragston’s place. “Do you know what happened? Who shot the gun? Is Luke all right?”
The girl ground to a halt, just as stunned to see Georgie. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Do you know if Luke is all right?”
“Sure. Last I seen him.”
“What was that gunshot?”
“Mr. Luke shot Comer’s pistol clean off the table.”
The men groaned.
Georgie frowned. “Comer? Frank Comer’s in there with Luke?”
“Yes’m.”
“And no one is hurt?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And Luke still has his rifle?”
“Yes’m.”
Relief slammed into her so swiftly, she began to tremble.
“Miss Georgie!”
Blesinger barked. “Quit shaking.”
She gripped the pistol with two hands, but the tremors wouldn’t stop.
The men scrambled for cover, limited by their chains.
She scowled. “Would you stop that? I’m being careful.”
Duane peeked out from under his arm. “Would ya mind releasing the hammer, at least? We’re all chained up. None of us are goin’ nowhere.” He pointed toward the north. “Point it that’a way when ya do, though.”
After a slight hesitation, she pulled back on the hammer, returning it to its normal position. The men visibly relaxed.
She turned her attention back to Bettina. “What are you doing here? Where’s your disguise? Did you get lost?”
The girl twirled her finger round and round her braid. “I ain’t lost and I didn’t go to Industry.”
“Why not?”
She looked down, toeing the dirt.
Duane peered around Finkel’s shoulder. “What were ya goin’ ta Industry fer?”
She shrugged. “I’s supposed to call Ranger headquarters and tell him ’bout today’s job.”
The men exchanged glances.
Clearing his throat, Duane turned to Georgie. “Hyena sorta looks out fer us. Ya know, is one of us.”
“One of you!” She pulled back.
“She doesn’t go on die Jobs vith us,” Finkel clarified. “She just delivers messages. Like she does for you.”
Blesinger frowned at the girl. “How come ya didn’t warn us Landrum was coming?”
“I didn’t know he was. Miss Georgie tol’ me ’bout the train. She didn’t say nothing about Lucious Landrum.”
Georgie touched a hand to her forehead. “Wait one minute. Wait just one minute. Do you mean to tell me, Bettina von Schiller, all this time you’ve known who was in Frank Comer’s gang?”
The girl slowly nodded.
Georgie’s eyes widened. “And you’ve known who Frank Comer was, too?”
She nodded again.
“Good heavens.”
“Vhat’s going on in das Haus?” Finkel asked the girl.