The Lawman's Redemption

by Pam Crooks

  “Like Grace said, we need a plan,” Mick said. “Maybe we should get the police involved again. Doesn’t make sense to go tearing off into the hills like our tails were on fire. We spent a week with the posse doing just that, with no luck.”

  “But now we know they’re close,” Jack said firmly. “It’ll be easier.”

  “My father is supposed to return today,” Allie said. “That’s why we rode into Great Falls this morning, to meet his train. Maybe he’ll have some more information. His letter said he’ll be accompanied by the private investigator he’s hired for the case.”

  “He’s been doing a fine job keeping in touch with George,” Jack said, thinking of the photograph he’d seen at the police station.

  “We stopped at Margaret’s Eatery for a hot drink after the ride in,” Mick added. “Saw Camille. She told us you were still in town and that you’d be bringing Grace out to the ranch to see Allie. Glad we got here before you did.”

  Allie lifted her fingers to her hat. “Shall we take off our coats?”

  “Feel free,” Jack growled, growing impatient. “But Mick can leave his on. He’s not staying.”

  “Neither am I,” Grace said.

  Jack swung toward her. “The hell you’re not.”

  “I’m not going to stay behind and do nothing.”

  “How many times does Boone have to come after you before you realize he means you harm?” Jack grated.

  “How many times must I tell you that I have to do everything I can to get the Society’s money back and help prove Charles’s guilt?” she shot back.

  “Charles.” Allie rolled her eyes in contempt. “I can’t wait to see the man rot in jail.”

  Grace swung toward her. “Boone can help us get him there.”

  “How?” Jack asked.

  She faced him. “When we find where he’s hiding, I want you to use me as bait to lure him out.”

  Taken aback, Jack glowered. “Are you crazy?”

  “Not at all. I’ll approach him on the pretense of trying to be his friend. He needs someone to trust. He’ll listen to me.”

  “Oh, Grace. Think of the danger,” Allie said, clearly appalled.

  “If anyone goes up there, trying to be his friend, it’ll be me,” Jack said.

  And wouldn’t the old man find that amusing? Jack, hobnobbing with an outlaw, if only on pretense.

  Grace shook her head. “He’ll never trust you, Jack.”

  “Seems to me his ‘trust’ is a moot point. We just need to find him and bring him in. The ‘how’ we do it is up to him. The trust is optional.” As far as Jack was concerned, the discussion had come to an end. Grace’s plan wasn’t feasible, bordered on ridiculous, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time on it. He headed toward his coat. “Mick, you coming with me?”

  “Sure thing, Jack.”

  “We’ll head to the livery first and get mounted up.”

  Anticipation flourished in his veins. The snow would make tracking the outlaw easier, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be much longer before the mystery of the missing library money would be solved.

  Then, once Boone was behind bars, Jack could finally lay Sam Ketchum’s request to rest. He would’ve found the man who set him up.

  Yet, as he busied himself buttoning his coat and pulling on his gloves, he delayed leaving for precious minutes, his urge to hold Grace in his arms running strong within him. To tell her goodbye and assure her he’d do all he could to make her life right again. But mostly, he’d kiss her long and hard and store all those kisses in his heart while he was gone, so they could warm his blood when he needed them most.

  But of course, he didn’t do any of those things. He didn’t have the right. Not like Mick had with Allie. Because Grace would never have a part in his life.

  He grabbed his Stetson from the hook, yanked open the door and left Lindell’s.

  And knew that Grace was watching him go.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Allie muttered over her shoulder. She pulled her scarf higher over her chin. “Mick and Jack are going to skin us alive when they find out.”

  “Don’t think of it.” Grace pushed her own trepidation aside, beat it down into submission and buried it. “What we’re taking is a terrible risk, but a necessary one.”

  She kept one eye on the horse in front of her. Allethaire—Allie, Grace mentally corrected—was a far better horsewoman, and it was up to her to lead the way up the narrow path. Grace had ridden very little since she was a child, and she had done all she could do to stay in the saddle. That the terrain was icy, steep and strewn with rocks only made the journey more treacherous, and she clung desperately to the saddle horn to keep from falling.

  “Do you still see them?” she asked to distract Allie from her complaining.

  She kept her voice as low as she could. Here in the hills, beyond the city limits, the littlest sound carried, and she tensed at every crunch of her mount’s iron hooves against the frozen ground.

  “Yes, but it’s getting harder to keep them in sight. They’re riding away from us.”

  Grace grimaced. The tree line afforded them valuable cover while they kept parallel with Jack and Mick, but if the pair veered too far away, Grace and Allie would lose them. Unless they veered toward them to stay parallel, of course, but that would only force her and Allie out into the open and ensure their detection.

  Grace had to avoid that at all costs. She liked having her skin about her.

  Allie tossed Grace another frown over her shoulder. “Need I remind you it’s going to be dark soon?”

  “No, Allie. You needn’t.”

  Grace was beginning to feel testy, too. She avoided looking at the sky again to see how far the sun had inched down to the horizon. It seemed they’d been riding forever. They hadn’t, not really, but the last time she’d checked, the structures outside Great Falls had become much too small.

  Now she couldn’t see them at all.

  Allie unexpectedly pulled up. The ground had leveled somewhat, and the profusion of evergreens had thinned enough so that Grace had room to halt beside her.

  “I’ve lost them,” Allie said, pointing to her left. “They were right over there. It looks like they’ve disappeared into a valley or something.”

  Grace strained to see signs of movement in the direction Allie indicated and failed to see anything. Tendrils of panic stirred in her stomach. She wasn’t so naïve as to think they could find Boone and Carl’s hideout on their own. They needed to piggyback on Jack and his ability to track just about anyone.

  She hid her panic from Allie. “Valley or not, we’ll have to hurry to catch up with them.”

  “No.” Her nose red from the cold, Allie regarded Grace stubbornly. “We have to head back. If we get lost out here, we’ll freeze to death trying to find our way home.”

  Grace shook her head. “We’ve come too far to give up. We’ll be wasting every minute we’ve spent getting to this point, and—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think we’ll find Boone before it gets dark? And if we don’t, then what? Do you want to ride on this stupid mountain all night? When it’s pitch-dark and bone-numbing cold?”

  Grace didn’t want to admit Allie was right. Not when her friend was no stranger to danger. By now Grace knew all about how Allie had faced it head-on when she shot Reggie, the leader of Boone and Carl’s gang, less than two weeks ago, not far from the Wells Cattle Company, while defending Mick from certain death.

  And if Allie was unwilling to face this kind of danger—trying to hunt down an outlaw under conditions like these—then Grace knew she should be unwilling, too.

  Awash in indecision, she sighed and hated to see her plan fail. She didn’t want to go back to Lindell’s empty-handed, without Boone, without information, no farther ahead in her need to convict Charles or help Carl than she was when she arrived in Montana Territory.

  Carl.

  Her thoughts latched on to him. Her half brother
. Her only kin. Worrisome thoughts of where he was now. With Boone? On this mountain? Or had he somehow seen the folly of his ways and left the area, contrite and determined to start over in a new life?

  She could only hope. Would he even appreciate that she was trying to help him? Would he ever be convinced having Boone as an accomplice was oh, so wrong for him?

  Merciful saints, she wished Jack was here. She needed his arms to warm her. The strength, too, that was so much a part of him. He helped her forget her worries about Carl and her fears of never finding the Society’s money again. He made her think of things far more exciting and wickedly forbidden….

  He’d get her home, too. As fast as they could, with unerring accuracy.

  “Grace?” Allie reached over and covered her gloved hand with her own. “Let’s go back, shall we?”

  This time, she didn’t hesitate. “All right.”

  “I do understand, you know,” Allie said. “Everything you’re going through.”

  Sincerity laced her soft-spoken words. Grace squeezed her hand and fought tears. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing for…for everyone.”

  “You are,” she said firmly. “Just not for the reasons you think.”

  If it wasn’t for the cold, Grace would’ve explored the comment. She wanted to hear more of Allie’s perspective and compare it with her own. She longed to confide how doing the “right thing” could turn all wrong.

  But the day wasn’t getting any brighter, nor the air any warmer, and they were fast running out of time.

  “I saw a stream not far from here,” Grace said instead. “It’ll take us down the mountain. Follow me this way.”

  She turned her mount in the opposite direction from where she last saw Jack and Mick heading. She hated leaving them behind as they rode farther away from Great Falls, deeper into the dark and cold, but she took consolation in that the men were far more experienced and much more prepared than she and Allie. Hadn’t they returned only yesterday from riding with the posse? They knew exactly what they were doing.

  Allie and Grace, not as much.

  “I smell wood smoke.” From behind Grace, Allie spoke suddenly. “There must be a cabin around here somewhere.”

  Grace couldn’t see one, but she smelled smoke, too. Faint, but definite. Dare they go in search in hopes the person inside might have caught a glimpse of Boone or Carl?

  Or could it be their hideout?

  “Don’t even think it,” Allie said with uncanny perception. “Just keep heading toward that stream.”

  Grace did, but with great reluctance. Her horse seemed to know their destination; perhaps he smelled water nearby, but it wasn’t long before he took them right to a narrow stream, its water glistening crisp and cold in the late afternoon sunlight.

  Yet it was the man hunkered upstream that pushed her heart right into her throat.

  Allie let out a small gasp; Grace’s quick gesture held her to silence. Boone didn’t know they were there. He stared into the water, his back to them, and though his horse nickered softly, sensing their presence, the outlaw’s thoughts seemed to consume him. He didn’t move.

  “I’m going over there,” Grace whispered.

  Looking miserable, Allie bit her lip and nodded. To leave now, when the outlaw was close and unaware, was unthinkable. It was why they’d ridden all the way out here, after all.

  So Grace could talk to Boone.

  “Wait here.” Grace fought down a strong urge to turn tail and run. “If something goes wrong, ride out of here as fast as you can.”

  It was better that way, they’d decided on the way out. Split up to save the other.

  “Remember where we are. Remember every detail. You still have the gun Mick gave you, don’t you?” Grace asked.

  Allie reached inside her coat and pulled out it out. “Yes.”

  “Warn Jack with it, if it comes to that.” Grace took solace that he was already on the mountain, somewhere fairly close with Mick. He’d come running if he heard a shot or two.

  Allie’s blue eyes shone with her worry. “Are you sure about all this, Grace?”

  “Of course, I am.” She kept her whisper confident even as she realized how much could go wrong. That Boone, no matter who he was, was a pure-blooded savage. “You want the Society’s money back, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think I care anymore.” But her fingers curled around the weapon, as if assuring herself she’d use it, no matter what.

  “Well, I do. I care a lot.”

  “Be careful, Grace. Promise me you will.”

  Grace nodded. “You know what to do, same as I do.”

  She drew in a breath and gathered the reins into her hands. Nudging her horse forward, closer to the outlaw, she prayed she wouldn’t get herself killed.

  Chapter Twelve

  A saddlebag lay on the ground, not far from the water’s edge. One flap had flung open, and from inside, the corner of a piece of gold-colored paper lifted in the breeze.

  Grace drew up alongside it and focused on Boone’s back. He didn’t seem to know she was there or that he’d even dropped the bag. His horse had wandered, too, reins dragging, to graze on a patch of brown grass not covered by snow.

  Whatever Boone was doing engrossed him. Perhaps a fish he’d caught, or something he was cleaning. His rifle remained close to his side, within reach, and Grace took great care not to startle him.

  She lingered in the saddle to collect her courage. She had to confront him. She had to. Too much time had passed. Too many people had been hurt. Too much hinged on getting the library money back—

  Lightning quick, his arm snaked out for his rifle with more speed than any man should be capable of. He whirled toward her with a feral yell and a lethal aim, and Grace cried out in terror.

  He should’ve fired. That he didn’t left her quaking in relief.

  He knelt on one knee and stared, clearly stunned to see her.

  “Don’t shoot me, Alexandre. I’m alone.”

  Her voice shook with the half-lie. He wouldn’t be able to see Allie hidden in the trees, too far back to be of much protection, but there, nevertheless.

  “You lie.” His black eyes sliced through the air around them, as if he expected a mounted posse with guns blazing to appear at any moment.

  “I’m glad I found you.” She looped the reins around the saddle horn and dismounted as gracefully as her numb muscles allowed. She kept talking to encourage his distraction. “It’s important that I see you again.”

  His gaze sliced back to her. “How did you find me?”

  “Quite by accident, I assure you.”

  “It was Carl, wasn’t it? He told you.”

  “Carl?” Taken aback, Grace shook her head. Why would he accuse her half brother of such a thing? Had they quarreled? As far as she could tell, it would be of no benefit for Carl to betray Boone. Not when each was as guilty of robbery as the other, and a host of other crimes as well. “No. I promise you. I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

  Slowly Boone rose. His grip on the rifle lightened. He faced her with his feet spread and his gaze riveted. “What do you want?”

  Despite his harsh demand, his voice sounded less antagonistic. Intense and riveting, his black eyes fastened over her, as if now that he was assured she came alone, she consumed his every thought.

  She’d seen that look from men before. Appreciation and desire. It gave her power, that look. She seized it and hung on for the strength to do what she had to do.

  “I brought you some food.” She untied a woven bag from her saddle. “A little meat, bread, a few tins of fruit.” She managed a smile. “Nut Cake.”

  His glance dropped to the bag, then lifted again. “Why?”

  “You’re hungry, Alexandre.” She hesitated, knowing she was going to offend his volatile pride. “You’ve gotten much too thin since we last met. You need nourishment.”

  His tongue slid along his chapped lips. Again, that dark gaze locked over her. Again she saw the pai
n, like she had earlier, in her room at Lindell’s. The agony he couldn’t hide.

  “Why should it matter to you about what I need?” he asked hoarsely.

  She didn’t dare move closer. Not yet. She eased the bag of food to the ground.

  “Because you must go back to being Alexandre.” Grace played her trump card and hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. “It is who you are.”

  A tremor rolled through him.

  “Admit it to me, Alexandre. You’re not really Boone, are you? Deep in your heart? You hate being forced to live as him. Anyone would.” She took courage from his tortured silence. “The man I met in Minneapolis wouldn’t have fallen so low. What happened?”

  “I do what I must.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the Cause, damn you!”

  His snarl echoed through the hills. A breeze, stronger here, out of the tree line, plucked at her hair, tossing loose strands against her cheek where they caught at the corner of her mouth. Mindlessly she pulled them away.

  “Your people.” She recalled how he’d mentioned them before, at Lindell’s.

  “Yes.” He gritted the word.

  “They’re suffering?”

  “They are oppressed, Grace. They are poor and hungry. They have no home, no hope.”

  The admission held her riveted. She felt as if he’d dragged her to the edge of something immense, more complex, than she could have imagined.

  Yet she suspected he shared this hidden part of himself with her as he’d shared with no other. Including Carl, who never gave her any indication of a cause to steal money for, except the one of his own foolish greed.

  Would Charles be in on Boone’s secret?

  Grace was convinced he was.

  Now Boone gave her an opportunity to glimpse a side of Charles he’d never before shared in the time she’d known him, or worked with him, and her heart pounded in trepidation of all she might see….

  “Who are your people, Alexandre?” she asked softly.

  His shoulders squared with the pride that drove him. “We are Métis.”

  “In America?”

  “In Canada.” His lip curled with contempt, and she knew her ignorance wasn’t lost on him.