Ethan could size up folks pretty good and didn’t much like the idea of being hornswoggled, but Dakota had done a good job of it. No doubt he’d survive just fine by bamboozling other truly caring people like Anna.
Whether Ethan was willing to accept that he’d been fooled by Dakota or not, his real problem would be convincing Anna.
As he tended to Yellow Jacket’s hoofs, his mind wandered back to the day of the bank robbery.
He’d left Galveston almost immediately after being hired by Anna’s father to find her and wasn’t armed with all the facts he would liked to have had. He was lucky that his captain was a comrade of Anna’s father and was willing to give him time off to do the job for his friend. The sheriff, frankly, acted like he was glad he didn’t have to assign a posse to chase down the Texas Flame Gang. It’d be just one less thing he’d have to take care of.
Maybe Ethan should have stuck around until they had pulled together all of the investigation, but to him it was pretty straight and to the point.
Finding Anna and getting her back to her family for protection was the job he’d been hired to do, not track down the outlaws and bring them to justice. But if they worked hand in hand that was okay too.
Ethan had set out on his own dime and time because he didn’t want to be owing to anybody. He’d done it another way once with an outcome nobody wanted. Too many lives were destroyed and hearts broken. He’d never fall into that trap again.
But, at the same time, he had no reason to believe the Texas Flame Gang, whom nobody had ever heard of until Galveston, would go on a rampage up and down the Brazos River.
He shuddered at even the name . . . Texas Flame.
Going back over what was known about the bank heists, he sorted out fact from theory.
Most bank robberies were crimes of opportunity. Typically, it took at least four outlaws to carry it off. In a big operation such as the Galveston Merchant’s Bank, it’d take that many or more.
Since Ethan couldn’t afford to receive or send telegraphs along the way keeping him informed of the investigation, he had had to nose around from town to town to find out what he could. Although his captain allowed him to go off on his own as a favor to his friend, he’d made it clear that Ethan was not on official Texas Ranger business. As luck would have it, he was fairly well known around Texas, so without him presenting himself officially as a lawman, rumors flowed in his direction about as fast as the Red River after heavy rains.
Carefully, Ethan sorted out what he knew as truths.
In the Galveston robbery, Anna went to the bank at closing time flanked by shotgun-toting Gator Graves and Shorty Duncan. Without acknowledging anyone and acting like she wasn’t afraid in the least, she strolled straight to the vault. She opened a big valise and cleaned out the safe, while the two outlaws held the lone teller and her father, Alexander Parker, at gunpoint.
Anna had confirmed what he’d been told that Arlis was the lookout who stayed outside to handle the horses, so they’d be ready for a quick escape. He was also assigned the job of alerting the inside men of any trouble brewing.
At this point, if Ethan’s calculations were right, everyone was accounted for. Anna’s mother was at the millinery shop, and Anna had already confirmed that her brother was being held at gunpoint at the Fillmore Opera House.
Ethan didn’t recall being told who the teller was; however, he presumed him to be Bradford Jackson III, the same man who had witnessed Anna having dinner with Gator Graves. Ethan recoiled at the thought of even handling the same money touched by the slimy weasel bank teller, but apparently, Anna’s father trusted him.
So, if everyone was accounted for, why didn’t it feel right? Ethan went back over the information again and again as he finished grooming Yellow Jacket and moved to Troubadour.
Graves and Duncan were in jail, and as many angry citizens seeking revenge as there were, a hemp committee might have already made them see the light.
Arlis Buckley was dead.
And Anna was with Ethan, but there was still something out of kilter with the whole picture.
Like a bolt of lightning the answer came to him.
Ethan hadn’t been able to see the yucca for the prairie. If all of the gang was accounted for, who had stayed behind at the opera house to watch over their insurance—Anna’s little brother, Charlie?
Anna had even mentioned that she thought there was another person involved, although in the past Ethan had discounted the theory.
Ethan released Troubadour into the corral and hurried to the dugout, eager to share his thoughts with Anna.
Maybe she could shed some light on who had stayed behind with her little brother—the fourth man.
Someone whom Gator owed a big favor . . . a favor worthy of a valuable diamond-encrusted pocket watch.
Just like the one Abigail Parker wore.
Chapter 12
Eager to learn Anna’s thoughts on the identity of the fourth outlaw who kept her brother hostage during the robbery, Ethan reached the dugout just ahead of a late afternoon rain shower. Between the two of them, he was confident they could pare the list of possibilities down to a handful of suspects.
After washing up, he entered the dugout dodging Bones as he raced outside.
Anna stood in front of the dishpan staring at the pan in her hands. She didn’t react when he closed the door with its customary bang.
“Smells good.” He hung his Stetson by the door. “How long until supper?”
Only the distant rumble of thunder answered.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, then set the pan on the cabinet top.
Her physical reaction, coupled with her ignoring a simple question, took Ethan aback. What could have happened in such a short period of time to distract her so?
No doubt Dakota’s disappearance would cause her worry. It hurt Ethan to think how she would react when he’d tell her he didn’t expect Dakota to return. How could he explain that there were no tracks whatsoever in any direction, and that the outlaw, who it was obvious to Ethan had snicker doodled everyone into thinking he was a young man with limited skills, had hobbled Ethan’s palomino before riding up to the rim of the canyon on Troubadour? Not likely she would accept his theory that someone had provided Dakota with another horse nobody would recognize before he turned the Appaloosa loose to find his way back to the dugout. That was the best scenario Ethan could deduce from what he knew.
“What’s wrong, Anna?”
She slung the dish towel aside indifferently and turned to face him. Although she was inches shorter than he, they came eye to eye. In a cold, cutting tone, she said, “You have a son!”
Ethan wasn’t sure whether it was a question or a statement, but she hurled the accusation at him in such a manner that he knew she meant to rip out his heart. He’d gladly do it himself if it’d wipe away the anger in her voice and the tears in her eyes.
“What makes you think I have a child?” He took a step toward her, attempted to take her into his arms. “I’m not even married.”
Rebuffing his advances, she moved away and returned to her sentry post at the window. “You don’t have to be married to have a son,” she snapped.
“Well, I do!” Ethan spat.
The sound of the door stopped the conversation.
Dakota entered wearing a scruffy, unkempt look. His disheveled dark hair was greasy and he exhibited the facial hair of a man, making him look much older than when he left days before. His black hat shadowed his forehead and eyes.
Without saying a word, Dakota walked over to the bed and dragged off the folded quilt. Settling in the corner, he pulled out the cards from the pouch hung around his neck.
As much as Ethan wanted to yell and ask him where he had been and didn’t he understand how worried Anna had been about him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Something in Dakota’s actions mesmerized Ethan. It was as if he didn’t realize anyone else was in the room, not too unlike how Anna had been a
cting when Ethan showed up.
Removing one card from the deck, Dakota placed it to the side before saying, “Bad jack. Bad jack. Bad jack.”
Dakota stared up at Ethan and Anna with a vacancy in his eyes that Ethan had never seen before, and he guessed from Anna’s perplexed expression, she hadn’t either.
Ethan took a step forward, and Anna caught him by the arm, stopping him. She shook her head and stepped around him.
Squatting down in front of Dakota, she asked, “Where have you been, Dakota?”
He returned the deck to the pouch and in measured strokes tore the remaining card into tiny pieces. He walked to the cold fireplace, threw in the pieces, and repeated three times, “No more bad jack.”
Anna pulled to her feet, and before either of them spoke, Dakota cupped his hands over his ears and shuffled rapidly out the door, muttering the phrase over and over.
Ethan stepped forward, but again, Anna caught him by the arm. “Leave him be.”
Without saying another word, Anna moved to the stove, stirred the beans, then began to set the table.
Standing near the fireplace, Ethan felt as though he’d just been dropped into the middle of someone else’s dream. Shifting his gaze between Anna and the door, his thoughts darted around as he tried to figure out what in the hell had just happened. Confusion and frustration circled his head.
How could one Dakota leave and a different one return?
Thinking back to the maze of questions he had, suddenly the answer was as clear as the Texas sky on a calm day. He specifically recalled Anna’s words as she’d asked the whereabouts of the other members of the gang: you’re positive they’re still locked up and you’ve seen proof that Arlis is dead? He recalled how pale she had become, almost acting as though she’d misspoken.
Savannah hadn’t asked if he had proof, but if he’d seen the proof. But why did she even use the word proof? Evidence of the death of a fugitive to collect a reward had just recently become accepted. So how did she know to ask?
Grabbing his saddlebags, Ethan found the reward poster for Arlis Buckley. He stared at the picture for a long time before he slipped it in his shirt pocket.
Ethan hadn’t gotten that good of a look at Arlis Buckley during the bank robbery, but the resemblance between Arlis and Dakota was uncanny. Why would someone want to send a photograph of Dakota to collect Arlis Buckley’s reward money?
There was only one logical explanation: to make sure the law stopped searching for Buckley.
And the one person who knew the difference between the two men? Someone in the Texas Flame Gang.
Ethan wanted to slam his fist into the adobe wall. How stupid could he be?
The shadowed face.
The age discrepancy.
The stubble.
Ethan was too angry and confused to confront Anna about his accusations, but her words that Dakota did nothing without a reason ate at him. If that was the case, then why the obsession with his playing cards? The significance of the jack of hearts he had found?
Silently he gathered the discarded card pieces from the fireplace, sat down at the table, and like a jigsaw puzzle put them back together.
He studied the jagged pieces intently. “Anna, didn’t you tell me that Dakota doesn’t like the jacks for some reason?”
“Yes. Why?” she said curtly.
“It’s the jack of spades,” he said out loud.
Anna looked up at him, then down at the card. “He generally puts two back in the deck. You’ve already found the heart, so what does it mean?”
He took out the jack of hearts he’d found earlier and placed it alongside the jack of spades. “So, what’s the difference in these jacks over the others?”
They locked gazes, and their voices blended into one as they said, “One-eyed jacks.”
“He hasn’t been saying bad jack, Ethan, but Brad Jack.” They looked at one another, knowing they had the answer to the identity of the fourth gang member: a man who wore a black patch over one eye.
Softly she said, “Bradford Jackson,” then stopped, apparently to organize her thoughts. “He wasn’t at the bank the day of the robbery.” She slid down in the kitchen chair opposite him. “Father fired Bradford the week before and had just hired a new teller to replace him.”
“The sorry sonofabitch,” Ethan lashed out. “He’s the one Graves gave the watch to for your mother. Bradford was the brains behind the heists. If Dakota knew who the fourth man was, why has it just now started to bother him?”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Something bad happened while he was gone, Ethan.” Anna’s voice was stifled and unnatural. She bombarded him with questions. “Do you think Bradford has found us? Threatened him? Or was holding Dakota against his will?”
“That’d answer why the horses were gone so long.” Ethan grabbed his shotgun. “And if that’s the case, there’s only one witness and Bradford is out there ready to ambush him.” He checked to make sure the gun was loaded. “You stay here, Savannah, and after I find him, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“I don’t know how I can ever explain it to you where you’ll understand. But, Ethan, please don’t blame Dakota for my mistakes. Be angry with me, not him.”
“You can rest assured, Savannah, that I’m damn well beyond angry with you right now.” He crammed his Stetson on. “And when I get back I’m expecting a lot of answers from you.”
Ethan pulled the paper from his pocket and tossed it in the middle of the table, then said, “Beginning with this.”
Anna’s heart plunged as she unfolded the reward poster for Arlis Buckley.
Chapter 13
After ripping off her apron, Anna grabbed the Winchester from above the fireplace and followed Ethan out the door, stopping long enough to fetch the canteen still sitting on top of Dakota’s saddlebags. “Wait, Ethan.”
Kneeling down to examine tracks near the bridge, he looked up when he heard her. “What in the hell are you going to do with that?” He stared at the shotgun.
“I’m going to help you find Bradford Jackson,” she said, settling the gun in the crook of her arm, like she’d seen her father do when he hunted.
“If you don’t intend to use the damn thing, leave it behind, because all it’ll do is get you killed, Savannah.” His tone left no room for argument.
“I can use it when I need to, and will on Bradford Jackson, if I get the chance.”
“There are tracks leading both across the footbridge and back up the trail, and it’s hard to say which ones are the fresher.” His profile was somber, and he nodded dubiously before standing. “With the rain and our comin’s and goin’s, I can’t tell which prints are Dakota’s, except that Bones stayed with whoever went past the lean-to up to higher ground.”
“Then I know where he’s headed.” She tried to depict a confidence she didn’t necessarily feel. “Let’s go.”
Ethan caught her eye. “Savannah, this is going to be a rough climb up those rocks in this weather.”
“I’m going, Ethan.” She meant business and wanted to make certain he understood. “So don’t try to stop me.”
“For the record, I don’t like it, but—”
“For the record, I don’t give a damn what you like.” She boldly met his disapproving look without flinching.
“Just walk behind me, so I can stay focused on tracking. This is not a game, Anna.” And with conviction he added, “Bradford means business.”
“And I do too.” She squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she owed Dakota a lot. Without him, she’d be dead or worse, still imprisoned by the power-crazed Cajun.
Anna hadn’t had to pick up the reward poster from the table to know that Arlis Buckley’s face was on it. Knowing that Ethan had no reason to trust her because she’d betrayed him by not divulging Dakota’s true identity caused her heart to sink down into her stomach. But to save Dakota, she’d do it all over again if necessary.
Hopefully, this time it’d be
with Ethan’s blessings.
“Tracks can be pretty confusing,” she said.
“I’ll do the tracking, and keep that damn gun pointed far away from me,” he replied sharply. “And give me the canteen. I’m not sure you’re big enough to carry that and a weapon.”
Courage and determination coursed through every vein in her body. She’d show him! He might be a strong lawman, but she was a strong-willed woman . . . and never the twain shall meet.
Anna had no idea how long they’d been climbing, but judging by the spasms across her shoulders and trembling limbs, she figured it’d been longer than even she realized. From where she stood, the worse was yet to come, as the incline was becoming steeper the higher they went.
Soon the rocky, dirt-packed trail widened and forked, giving way to overgrown grasses and brush.
They stopped to rest.
Droplets of perspiration mixed with rain danced across Anna’s forehead. Stray tendrils of hair plastered against her face and neck. Anna pushed the hair away from her face. “See where the rock overhang is shaded by trees? That’s where I’m fairly certain you’ll find Dakota’s favorite hideout.” She took a deep breath.
“This is the only place up this high where it’d be safe enough for the horses to roam freely.” Ethan opened the canteen and handed it off to her.
“Thanks.”
“I’m going over to check it out, so stay put.” He headed in that direction.
The rain had lightened up somewhat, but Anna couldn’t tell whether she was wet from humidity or perspiration. Hell, today it was nothing but purdee ol’ unladylike sweat.
An unexpected roar of thunder startled her.
Ethan returned shortly. “He’s been there, but isn’t now. There are signs of a campfire a few days old and hoofprints that aren’t very fresh, so he hasn’t been there today.”
Anna stood up and handed the canteen back to him. “Were you able to follow the tracks?”
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