The Marshal's Mission

by Anna Zogg

  How foolish. They had been clearly visible for several seconds because of the inferno’s light. Even so, she lifted the barrel and aimed. Before she took a shot, searing pain cut her.

  She screamed.

  In an instant, Cole was beside her. “Are you shot?” Desperation ripped through his tone.

  “No, I...” She whimpered, pressing her hand to her neck. Wet warmth filled her palm.

  “Lenora, where are you hit?”

  “I’m okay. Just a graze. On my collarbone.” She wasn’t sure if a bullet or flying woodchips had struck her.

  Cole rose and slammed his body against the wall. “Hackett! If you want Lenora alive, you’d best instruct your men to stop shooting at her.”

  His furious admonition had its desired effect. Even from a distance, she could hear Jeb berate his men.

  The interior of the house lit up with an eerie orange glow as fire consumed the barn. Horses squealed in alarm while her son’s sobs echoed inside the room.

  “It’s okay, Toby.” Lenora suffocated the sobs that threatened. “The horses are all out in the pasture. None of them were in the barn.”

  Even so, the sound—like human screams—sent chills through her body.

  She looked up, clearly seeing Cole standing in the room.

  One moment, he was reaching to close the shutters and the next he spun with a cry and crumpled to the floor.

  “Cole!” She shrieked his name.

  No answer.

  She crawled across the debris-filled floor. He groaned. By the time she reached him, he rolled to his side and struggled to sit up.

  In the red glow, he appeared covered in blood. A dark stain spread across his shirt.

  “I’m all right,” he ground out. “Just...”

  Lenora grabbed a towel and thrust in on the wet spot so hard that he nearly toppled. “Where were you hit?” She heard herself babble a dozen questions, unable to stem her fear.

  “Caught a bullet...here.”

  She felt his upper arm, her fingers sticky with warmth. Another wound on the back of his arm proved the bullet had passed through.

  He cradled his elbow, groaning. “Bind it. Stop the bleeding.”

  With tears streaming down her face, she ripped the hem out of her apron. “This is my fault. My fault. I could’ve stopped this hours ago.” As she bandaged his wound, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Cole. So, so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She shook her head, unable to admit the depths of her weakness.

  Grunting in pain, he slumped back against the wall.

  I need to end this. Now.

  She bolted to the open window. “Jeb. I’m ready to make a deal. Do you hear me?”

  “Hold your fire. Hold your fire.” The phrase echoed until stillness again filled the night.

  “Lenora, no.” Cole’s voice grew stronger.

  She had to do what was necessary—what she should have done long ago. If she could save Cole’s life, she was willing to sacrifice his love for her.

  “I know where the money is, Jeb. You hear me?” She peered out the shattered window. “You were right. Amos stopped here after the robbery. I have the satchel.”

  “Don’t.” Glass scraped as Cole shifted his weight.

  “What d’ya want for it, Lenora?” came Jeb’s question.

  “I want your word that you and your men will leave and never come back.”

  “Deal.” His voice rang with excitement. “Where is it?”

  “I want your word.”

  In the darkness, she heard his low chuckle. “Okay, I promise. Soon as I know, me and the boys will ride out.”

  “All right. The money is—”

  The words died as something hit Lenora, knocking the air from her lungs. Cole rammed against her, stifling her voice. “No!” he rasped in her ear. “Don’t you understand? As soon as he gets his hands on the money, we’re all dead.”

  “If it’s the only way to save us then—”

  “It isn’t. You said it yourself. If Hackett’s talking, he’s lying.”

  She gasped, trying to catch her breath. “What if he means what he says?”

  “Listen to me.” Cole’s voice grew hard. “He wants you, but he wants the money more. They got away with over twenty thousand dollars. As soon as he gets his hands on it, he won’t need us any longer. He might still try to lure you out, but Toby and I are useless to him.”

  She gulped air. In the fading orange light, she read anger—and disappointment—on Cole’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, remorse eating at her. If only she could blot out the betrayal he must feel.

  He fumbled for her hand, fingers crushing hers. “Promise me you won’t tell him, Lenora.”

  She would do anything to gain his forgiveness. “I promise.”

  “I’m waiting.” Jeb’s voice rose outside.

  “I have an idea.” Cole breathed in her ear. “See if you can stall him.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Use the barn’s fire for us.” He shuffled over to the loft’s ladder. “Toby. Help me.”

  “What’s your decision?” Anger built in Jeb’s voice.

  “I’m trying to remember exactly where it is. Give me a moment.”

  In the reddish glow, she could see Toby take the gun. With difficulty, Cole pulled himself up the ladder.

  “Bring the rifle up here, Toby,” he whispered.

  Her son clambered up.

  “How do I know you’ll do as you say?” Lenora called.

  “You don’t.” Hard amusement laced Jeb’s voice. “I gave you my word. You have to trust me.”

  Two dull thumps sounded above in the loft as Cole apparently took off his boots.

  “Come on, Lenora. Where is it?”

  She toyed with telling him he burned half of it when he torched the barn, but discarded the idea. “Once you have it, you’ll leave this territory?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Because I want to be as far from you as possible.”

  “Then you leave.” Jeb’s voice degenerated to muttering, like he was arguing with his men. “This is your last chance. I’m done talking. Tell me now or we’ll do to your house what we did to your barn.”

  “Kill me and you’ll never find the money.”

  “Fine. You can watch your son burn to death.”

  In the distance, another flame sprang to life, the carrier staying low. Lenora stifled a shriek of fear when it moved out of her line of vision.

  They are going to start a fire at the back of the house.

  Where was Cole? She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming a warning to him.

  A crack of a rifle sounded from above. A man yelled. The torchbearer? Another shot was fired. And another.

  Cole!

  Men started yelling, apparently unable to detect where the bullets were coming from. To add to their confusion, Lenora also fired out the window. One man, who had risen for a moment, grabbed his leg and stumbled out of sight.

  “He’s on the roof,” Jeb yelled. “Get him!”

  Bullets flew at the house. But as Jeb’s men rose to zero in on Cole, Lenora got them in her sights. She took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.

  In the pandemonium, she heard Jeb cry out. “I’m hit, I’m hit!”

  Another several minutes passed while men continued to shoot at the house. Gunfire slowly died away. Finally, Lenora could hear nothing but her panting breath. She finally realized that Toby stood across from her, shotgun in his hands. Had he been firing out the window too?

  The pounding of horse hooves followed, then faded away. Were the men leaving?

  She took care, peeri
ng out the window, but could see nothing, even though the smoldering barn still cast some light.

  Lenora jumped at the sound of something falling hard behind her. Cole’s rifle had crashed to the floor. A moment later, he slid down the ladder and landed heavily.

  * * *

  “Don’t move.” Lenora’s soft voice pierced the agony in Cole’s body.

  As her gentle hands smoothed a cool, wet cloth over his face, he groaned.

  He lay on the floor, head resting in her lap. Jagged glass and rubble dug into his back and thighs. “What happened?” He tried to rise.

  “Lie still.” None too gently, she pressed against his chest to keep him prone.

  He hissed as he moved his injured arm.

  “We’re safe for now.” Her voice quavered. “Please don’t move.”

  Cole obeyed. “What happened?” The last thing he remembered was shooting from the roof.

  “You fell when you climbed down from the loft.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck.”

  He remembered now. After he’d landed, his head had hit something. Cole lifted his good arm and felt the goose egg on the side of his skull. Gingerly, he moved his ankle and growled at the pain. “I’ve got to get up and—”

  “Jeb and his men are gone.”

  “We have to keep watch. Make sure they don’t come back.”

  “Toby is keeping an eye out.” She stroked Cole’s forehead. “You can rest easy.”

  He let his head fall back. Truth be told, he would rather not move. Her gentle fingers caressed his skin.

  So tender. So loving...

  If only he could stay there forever.

  Then he rallied himself. What was he thinking? They weren’t out of danger yet.

  Again, he fought the desire to remain in her arms. Again, he lost. Her touch was sweeter than any dream. Of their own accord, words escaped his parched lips. “Lenora, I...”

  “Let’s run away,” she said as her fingertips moved across his cheek. “You and me and Toby. Somewhere far from here.”

  He fought to understand. “Where?”

  “Anywhere. San Francisco. New York. Even Europe.”

  His mind had difficulty grasping what she was saying. “You mean leave your ranch?”

  “Yes. Get away from the likes of Jeb and his father.” She took a shaky breath, voice cracking. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take them anymore.”

  He didn’t know how to answer. Hackett types were everywhere. Nowhere on earth was there a place where they would be away from men like them.

  Then the absurdity of his own life struck Cole. How had he imagined he would track down all the outlaws in this country? The utter folly of his vow—spoken as a young man—reverberated through him.

  As he looked up, he realized he could see details of Lenora’s face. Was it morning already? Blackness smudged her skin. A gash ran across her collarbone, caked with dried blood. Lesser scrapes crisscrossed her face and neck. From flying shrapnel? Dried tears etched her cheeks.

  “Just say yes, Cole. Please.”

  What had she asked him? He fought to focus as he sat up with difficulty. “What are you saying, Lenora?”

  “I can’t...can’t do this anymore.” Her mouth quivered.

  This? Getting shot at?

  “After today, you won’t have to.” He reached around her shoulders, pulling her closer with his right arm and gently squeezing.

  She leaned her head against him as they sat side by side. “Say you’ll run away with me. We’ll be able to live a good life with the money. Anywhere we want. Don’t we deserve our share of happiness?”

  He stiffened, mind clearing. “What’re you...? You saying we should take the robbery money?”

  “No one’ll know.”

  “I’ll know. And you would too.” He withdrew his arm as anger flared over her continued betrayal. “Did keeping the money after Amos died bring you happiness?”

  “I was hiding it, not...” She bit her lip. Self-recrimination froze her face and dried her tears.

  “Is that so?” For a moment, he let the full import of the question sink in. “Two men died the day of the robbery. Even though returning the twenty thousand dollars won’t bring them back from the grave, it’s the right thing to do. That money’s not mine. Or yours. And certainly not Jeb Hackett’s.”

  Her face paled under the smudge of gunpowder.

  Cole went on. “The lives of their wives and children will never be the same again. I wouldn’t spend one dollar of that blood money.”

  Scorning his pain, he clutched the loft’s ladder to pull himself to his feet. He fought a moment of dizziness. As he looked around, he realized the whole room lay in shambles. All of Lenora’s bone china was smashed, pieces scattered across the floor. Dented tins and pots rested haphazardly around the room. Along with the door, the table and chairs were splintered. No doubt, not one windowpane remained intact.

  Toby slumped against one wall, fast asleep. His hand rested on a dozing Blister.

  Cole’s own hands were covered in gunpowder. His shirt was torn, his left sleeve stiff with dried blood. Without thinking, he slapped his holster to make certain his gun was still there.

  Lenora stood nearby, eyes filling with tears as she stared at him. “I’m sorry.” She wiped one dirty hand across her cheek, smearing black. “Forgive me.”

  He wanted to tell her he understood. She’d just endured more than anyone should ever have to in a lifetime, not just fearing for her own life, but for her son’s. And for the future of her ranch.

  Cole had just opened his mouth to comfort her when the air filled with the sound of pounding hooves.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A squeak of terror escaped Lenora when she heard the horses. Was Jeb back? They had next to no ammunition. Before Cole had awakened, she ascertained they wouldn’t last another hour.

  “Wait.” He held up his hand, listening. His expression relaxed. “My message got through.”

  “What message?”

  “The one I sent to Fort Laramie. These must be the soldiers.”

  “How do you...?”

  Without heeding her question, he limped to the door and yanked it open.

  Toby jerked awake. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s okay.” Lenora held up her hand to stop his questions. “Stay here.” She grabbed her rifle and followed Cole through the two-foot opening. By the time she stepped onto the porch, he was already down the steps. He favored one ankle, his wounded left arm hanging limply at his side.

  As she saw who rode up the road, her heart sank. Not Jeb Hackett. Infinitely worse.

  It was his father. Looking like an older version of his son, Eli sported the same sneer, as though other humans were somehow lesser beings. Despite the fine sheen of dirt on his coat, he appeared impeccable. His face was clean-shaved, blond-white hair curling under his pristine hat.

  Dust boiled up under the hooves of a dozen horses. Eli drew closer, the sheriff at his side with a company of men from town. She recognized Mr. Richards, the mercantile owner, as well as the blacksmith, hotel owner, telegraph man and several others. Not a rabble, but a group of respectable men from Silver Peaks.

  Lenora’s warning to Cole died in her throat as the men stopped fifteen feet before him. He would have no time to return to the safety of the house.

  After the dust died down, Eli spoke to the sheriff. “That him?”

  Leland Mackay nodded. “Yes. That’s Cole.”

  “All right, men.” Eli turned in his saddle. “You know what we’re here for.”

  Cole seemed to assess the mob’s intent in an instant. “I’m US Marshal Jesse Cole. And who’re you?”

  “Eli Hackett. And you killed
my son.” His upper teeth flashed as his lips tightened. “Around here, we string up murderers.”

  “Glad to hear it. Although you’re six months late.”

  Eli frowned. “What?” He looked around as though the answer would be found in the men with him.

  “You should’ve strung up your son six months ago after he murdered two men. Not only that, he robbed a Cheyenne bank.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Is it? I have evidence to the contrary.” Cole dug a crumpled bill from his pants pocket and held it up. “This newly minted five-dollar note had been delivered to that bank a day before the robbery. Most was taken. When Jeb was here recently, he gave this to Lenora. Proof that he was involved in the robbery. Or at least strong evidence. But I’ll let a court of law decide that.”

  Eli drew himself up on his horse. “Irrelevant. You shot my son last night. He isn’t going to make it through the day. Around here, that’s murder. We’re gonna make you pay.”

  “Since when are you the judge and executioner? Don’t I get a trial?”

  “We don’t have time for this.” Eli jerked his head in an arranged signal. “The law’s the law.”

  A couple men moved forward.

  “I’m a US marshal.” Cole yanked his badge off his vest and held it up. “I’m the law here. Jeb Hackett and his men trespassed on Lenora’s property.”

  “Don’t you mean your property?” Eli snarled.

  “They brought the fight here. Look at us. Look at Lenora and her son.” Cole waved at them on the porch. “Since when do respectable, law-abiding men war on women and children? And on their own property? I’ll tell you. They didn’t want her testimony to prove that they were guilty of robbery and murder.”

  “She’s just as guilty. Married to that lying thief Amos Pritchard.”

  Before Lenora could stop Toby, he jerked out of her hold. “My pa wasn’t a thief.”

  Eli’s lip curled. “Yes, he was.”

  Cole pinned his badge back on his shirt. “And how would you know that, Mr. Hackett, unless your son is too?”

  A startled look crossed the older man’s face.

  “Listen to me. All of you.” Cole’s voice rang in the morning light. “As long as you don’t stand up for what is right, men like Eli and Jeb Hackett will continue to steal what is most precious—starting with your souls. And when will it stop? Go ahead and lynch me. But my voice won’t be the last you hear. Other lawmen will follow. And the price they exact will be nothing compared to what you’re paying now by allowing this man to talk you into doing what is wrong. Don’t you see what’s happening? Already his brand of ‘law’ has seared your consciences.”