Prisoners fled past him through the shattered wall, escaping into the street. George scrambled out from under his cot, coughing, grabbing Aaron by the arm. “Where’s Elmer?”
“Outside. Go!”
Running with his brother and the rest of the former inmates, Aaron found Elmer just outside the blasted jail.
“The blast attracted their attention,” he gasped, grabbing George’s arm. “It’s chaos, but we got to get to the horses now. We don’t want too many eyes on us.”
Retreating back down the alleys, Aaron led his brothers to the half-fallen barn, shoving the door open. Their horses blinked at the sudden bright daylight beaming into their eyes but didn’t fuss as Aaron awkwardly tossed Elmer into his saddle. George mounted up and grabbed the fourth animal by the reins. “They took mine,” he groused. “Don’t know where he is.”
“Don’t matter,” Aaron hissed. “We ride.”
Keeping to the back alleys and streets, Aaron led the way westward out of town, passing behind the old Alamo mission and the open-air markets in front of it. Behind them, he could still hear the shouts and yells of the near riot going on in the center of town. “Those marshals are having a time of it,” he said over his shoulder, grinning. “Without gear, they can’t chase us.”
As Elmer quickly told George how they sabotaged the tack and distracted the lawmen, George laughed out loud. “You boys are geniuses,” he crowed.
“We’re not clear yet,” Aaron warned, cautiously leading them across side streets until they crossed the town line and hit a hard gallop west. With constant glances back over his shoulder, Aaron saw no signs of a pursuit. He slowed their pace, sparing the horses in the rising heat.
“We need a place to hole up for a while,” he said, gazing around at the dark green hills around the region, west of San Antonio.
“I heard of a town,” George said. “It’s not far from here. Quiet little place, mostly ranchers. It’s in the hills, so there are plenty of places to hide.”
“That sounds like a good place to go while we figure out our next move,” Elmer said, rubbing his shoulder. “I know I still need to rest up a bit.”
“What’s the name of this place?” Aaron asked.
“Bandera.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
By morning Olivia’s weeping fit had passed, and she emerged from her bedroom pale but with a smile. She cooked breakfast with Charlene’s help without explanation or apology, insisted Tyler eat with them, and shoved more food on Tosahwi than he could possibly eat in one sitting. Tyler’s head ached where Johnson’s gun had split it open, yet he could not find it in him to complain.
After breakfast, Olivia insisted on clearing the dishes while chatting with Tosahwi, so Tyler and Charlene had a few minutes before she needed to go to work. Taking her by the hand, he led her onto the front porch. “I don’t think I said thank you,” he said, his voice low.
Charlene grinned up at him. “You didn’t.”
“I intend to rectify that right now.”
Bending, Tyler kissed her, parting her lips, pouring all his feelings into that single gesture of tenderness and love. Her arms climbed up to clasp his neck as his own held her tiny waist within them, holding her close. Of her own volition, Charlene stepped into his embrace, her own emotions flooding into him as though from a broken dam.
Breaking from her, Tyler gazed down into her wide hazel eyes, smiling a little. He rubbed his nose against hers. “You know, I discovered something lately,” he said.
Her arms still around his neck, Charlene gazed back, slightly puzzled. “What would that be?”
“That I have fallen in love with you.”
At first, he thought he had made a mistake, had spoken too soon, for he felt her stiffen in his arms, her expression growing still. He cursed himself for not waiting until a more romantic moment presented itself and braced himself for her denial.
She didn’t love him in return.
An instant later, her heart-shaped face lit with love and joy and happiness. “It’s about time you said so,” she declared, trying to hide her grin. “I was starting to think you really liked that awful Marsha Taylor.”
Tyler rubbed the side of his nose, his brows furrowed. “Well,” he drawled, “she is awful pretty.”
Charlene’s smile faded. Her drawl matched his. “Well, sir, if your taste runs to an empty-headed, conceited, flashy hussy, then by all means, court her.”
Tyler grinned, bending to gaze into her eyes. “Fortunately, mine runs to smart-mouthed redheads who run toward danger instead of away from it.”
Her eyes widened. “You actually know someone like that?”
Rubbing her nose with his own, he kissed her briefly. “I do. And I’d like to walk her to her job at the general store, if she’d let me.”
“She will.”
Charlene opened the door and called, “I’m going to work, Mother.”
Tyler heard Olivia’s fainter voice reply, “Do try to behave yourself, Charlene.”
Charlene rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”
As they walked down the steps and through the yard gate, Charlene asked, “How’s your head?”
“Sore,” Tyler admitted. “I can’t seem to avoid getting my noggin busted open these days.”
“Will you start the hunt for Johnson now?”
“Perhaps. I’ll have to fetch Dennis Miller out of the old jail first, put him in with his brothers, then consult with Victor on running him down. Consider places where he might hide.”
“Don’t go alone,” Charlene said, taking his hand to squeeze it. “That man is crazy, he might do anything.”
Tyler nodded. “I won’t.”
Opening the door to the Apple Tree, Tyler walked her in, finding Harold and Mrs. Maple inside, already beginning preparations for receiving customers. Mrs. Maple came around the counter at the sight of the stark bruise and slash over his eye, her lips pursed in consternation.
“Harold told me what happened,” she exclaimed, peering up at his forehead. “That awful Harvey Johnson nearly killed you.”
Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Tyler fidgeted, his hat in his hand. He observed Charlene’s amused smirk as she took her bonnet to the back room, and Harold’s shaken head. “I’m fine, ma’am, really,” he said, taking a step back. “Uh, Harold, would you come with me to fetch Dennis from the old jail?”
“Happy to,” he replied with a small grin. “I’ll start saddling the horses, as I know you need to check on the others we caught last night.”
“That I do,” Tyler said, inching away from Mrs. Maple with a respectful nod in her direction. “Ma’am.”
With relief, Tyler left the general store and headed down the street. The mud created by the storm had begun to dry, and he easily avoided the puddles that remained. Stepping into the sheriff’s office, he found, not Josiah as he expected, but Victor sitting behind the desk. Someone had done some sweeping and cleaned up the shattered wood, but the place still looked as though a gunfight had taken place there.
“What are you doing here?” Tyler asked.
Victor gazed around, his eyes wide. “This is my office, ain’t it?”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“You mean like them boys in there?” Victor’s grin was feral. “Old Josiah just walked in there and took the kid’s rifle, easy as plucking an apple from a tree. They be sleeping like lil angels.”
Grinning, Tyler walked back through the bullet-riddled door and observed Kevin and Ian Miller sound asleep on the narrow cot. Kevin lay on his back, snoring, while Ian curled up at one end with his head pillowed on his brother’s shoulder. He returned to the front, pulling the cell keys from his pocket.
Placing them on the desk, he said, “I’m headed up to get Dennis from the old jail. He’ll need to be fed, along with those two.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Victor replied. “You taking someone with you?”
“Harold.”
Victor nodded. “Good ma
n. See you when you get back.”
Tyler found Harold awaiting in front of the store, his pinto and Tyler’s bay saddled and waiting. His rifle lay in its scabbard, and he checked his ammunition before mounting up. “Have any idea where Johnson might hide?” he asked as Harold also swung into his saddle.
“No idea,” he replied. “There are so many places, old mines, abandoned houses around these hills.”
“Then I expect it’ll be tough smoking him out.”
“Sure will.”
Nearly an hour later, the heat not yet as fierce as it soon would be, Tyler and Harold rode into the tiny canyon where they had put Dennis in the old jail. Fishing out the key Victor had given him, Tyler hoped it would open the heavy steel gate. He saw the kid inside, leaning against the bars, watching them come. Harold suddenly drew rein.
“Wait,” he said, raising his hand.
Tyler found him staring at the ground and followed his eyes. Then he saw them. Hoof prints in the still damp earth. The storm had arrived after they put Dennis in the cell. “Johnson,” Tyler muttered. “He’s been here.”
“Those are fresh.” Harold pulled his gun from its scabbard, gazing around at the ridgeline above them. “Not more than an hour old.”
Tyler yanked his rifle out, the hair on his neck standing at attention. “He’s here, watching us. Move, don’t make a sitting target.”
Wheeling their horses, Tyler and Harold loped toward the entrance to the canyon and the cover of rocks and trees. Instantly, gunfire echoed through it, bullets ricocheting off the granite stones with shrill screams, burying themselves in mesquite trunks.
Under cover of the huge blocks, Tyler reined in, dismounting. “Did you see where he is?”
Harold swung down as well, tying his horse to a thick branch. “No. Let’s hope he sticks his head up.”
Creeping back into the canyon, listening to Dennis’s yells to shoot them dead, Harvey, Tyler and Harold kept rocks and trees between them and Johnson, who no doubt fired upon them from above. “He knew we’d come for him,” Tyler said, peering out. “Waited. Kill us, then use the key to spring the boy.”
“But where the hell is he?”
“He’ll show himself.”
Sure enough, long minutes later, Tyler saw Johnson peek around a tree above them, sighting down the barrel of a rifle. Unable to see his target, Johnson came out a little further, seeking Tyler and Harold. His gun turned this way and that, searching. Steeling himself, Tyler waited, holding his breath, hoping Johnson was foolish enough to expose a little more of his body.
Keeping himself hidden behind the trunk of a thick mesquite, its branches concealing his rifle, Tyler aimed carefully up. Johnson, still trying to see them, took a tiny step out from behind his cover.
Tyler fired.
With a short cry, Johnson tumbled down from his perch to land with a dull thud on the ground in the canyon. Dennis screamed from inside the cell, yelling no, no, no, no. Tyler swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he had killed a man. He never liked it but knew it sometimes had to happen in order to save others.
Harold stood up, his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Nice shot,” he said, his tone wondering.
Tyler also stood. “Yeah.”
They found the horse Johnson had stolen hidden atop the canyon and brought it down to load Johnson’s body over the saddle. After tying it down securely, Tyler and Harold walked to the cell and the defiant, yet silent Dennis. Tyler gazed in at him with sorrow. “Your brothers are caught, kid, your friend there is dead. It’s over.”
Dennis spat at Tyler’s feet and didn’t answer. With a sigh, Tyler unlocked the gate, feeling glad the key actually worked. He didn’t want to go back to town to fetch the dynamite it would take to get the kid out. Dennis offered little fight, his hands still shackled, as Tyler put him onto his bay. Mounting up behind him, Harold leading the stolen horse, they rode back to town.
* * *
Daydreaming about Tyler as she walked back to the store after her midday meal with Olivia and Tosahwi, Charlene half smiled to herself. His declaration that morning that he was falling in love with her warmed her through and through. Though she had yet to speak the words aloud to Tyler, she knew she had fallen in love with him, too.
“I am so in love,” she said under her breath as she reached the door to the Apple Tree.
A horse snorting behind her caused her to turn. Tyler and Harold rode at a quiet walk toward the store, Harold leading a horse with a man’s body draped across the saddle. Dennis sat in Tyler’s saddle, with Tyler mounted on his bay’s rump. Relief and joy filled her as the two men reined in beside her. “It’s over then,” she breathed.
“Johnson set an ambush,” Tyler replied, his tone weary. “He didn’t make it.”
“As long as you’re both all right,” Charlene said, her eyes roving to Johnson’s body. She ignored Dennis’s malicious glare down at her, unperturbed. “With the boys in custody, we can have peace once again.”
Dennis snarled a curse at her. Charlene set her hands on her hips, staring at him without any obvious reaction. After a long moment, Dennis dropped his eyes and turned his sullen face away.
“I’ll take this fellow to the undertaker,” Harold said, clicking his tongue at his horse.
Tyler slid down from the bay, his reins in his hand and stepped toward her. He smiled sadly. “I had to shoot him,” he said softly. “I had no choice.”
“If you think I’m going to blame you or judge you,” Charlene replied, her voice just as quiet, “then you’re wrong. You acted with the town’s best interests in mind, and to save lives. You’re the deputy. Johnson made his choices. And died by them.”
Tyler cupped her cheek in his hand. “I love you,” he whispered.
Charlene reached up on her toes to kiss him lightly on his mouth. “And I love you.”
“Now that all this excitement is over,” he said, smiling, “maybe I can step out with you proper.”
“I think I might just let you.”
“Good. Now I need to get my prisoner into a proper jail cell. I’ll be back soon.”
Tyler tipped her a wink and a grin as he turned to lead the horse down the street toward the jail. Charlene watched them go, breathing in a deep sigh of happiness and contentment. Before heading into the store and returning to work, she observed three riders and four horses approaching from the east end of town, from the same direction Tyler and Harold had just ridden in from.
Though strangers in town were rare enough to be a novelty, they did wander in from time to time. Suspecting they may need to stop in for supplies, Charlene went into the store and joined Jean behind the counter. Jean eyed her sidelong, a faint smile on her thin face.
“I saw that,” she said. “Kissing Tyler Price in front of everybody in town.”
Charlene grinned as she began folding shirts to place on the shelf. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You all but pushed me into the man’s arms.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” Jean gave her a quick hug. “I am so happy for you, dear. He’s a good man and will stand by you through anything.”
“We’re not exactly engaged to be married,” Charlene informed her. “We’re just –”
“In love.”
Charlene stopped folding to gaze happily at Jean. “Yes. We’re in love. I can’t believe it happened so fast.”
“Because it was meant to be, dear.”
The bell over the door jingled as it opened, bringing Charlene’s attention from Jean’s smile to the customers walking in. Her pleasant greeting died in her throat at the sight of the three men entering the store. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jean’s smile fade. Though the men merely gazed around curiously, Charlene’s instincts screamed a warning.
Though she had never met an outlaw in her life, she had no doubt at all that these three were just that.
They looked tired and dirty, guns at their hips, all with mops of reddish hair that made her suspect they were related. The man
in the rear of the trio had his right arm in a makeshift sling, all but rendering the revolver at his hip useless. The man in front approached the counter, making Charlene want to step back, away from him and put distance between them. He had the coldest eyes she had ever seen.
He tipped his hat to her and Jean. “Afternoon, ladies.”
“Good afternoon,” Jean replied, her voice steady. “How can we help you, gentlemen?”
Though he spoke to Jean, the man’s gaze stayed on Charlene. The other two stepped up to flank him, also looking at her with appraisal and admiration. Standing her ground, Charlene kept her expression impassive, neutral, not letting them see how much she feared them and how much she wanted Tyler back in the store.
An Unconventional Bride For The Rancher (Historical Western Romance) Page 27