Outside, he could hear the townspeople talking, a rising note of panic in their voices. He nodded to the bartender and headed for the door where Tennessee Sue blocked his way.
“What?”
“Be careful out there.” Then she kissed him full on the mouth.
He brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll try.”
Before stepping out onto the sidewalk, he paused when a shiver of fear waltzed up and down his spine. Not for him, although that was there, too.
No, he was worried about Billy. He’d made Amanda promise to stay home and to keep the boy with her. No matter how this all turned out, he’d needed to know they were safe. That was all that mattered to him. They’d find out soon enough if he lived through this.
If he didn’t, well, neither she nor Billy needed to see that. He’d do his best for the town, but he had a bad feeling about how things were going to turn out. He could almost see it in his head, as if it were a play and they were all following the script.
For some reason, the first place he looked was across the street at the church. Why was that? Despite Amanda’s urging, he’d never set foot in the place. It was a little late for a man like him to find religion. Even so, there was something about the belfry that drew his eye. A memory danced just out of reach, something he couldn’t make sense of. Then the image of a woman’s face flashed through his mind. Who was she? She looked a bit like Amanda, but different enough to know that it wasn’t her.
Whoever she was, simply thinking about her calmed his mind. The cards were already on the table. Only time would tell if he’d been dealt a winning hand.
He took one more step forward, hoping he looked a hell of a lot more calm than he actually was. He took a deep draw off his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. Something else Amanda wouldn’t like, but a man deserved a few vices in life. Despite his brief relapse into drinking and smoking, he hoped Amanda knew he’d been a better man because of her.
Someone from down at the mercantile shouted, “They’re coming!”
The remaining few people on the street scattered like quail. Doors slammed. Windows closed. The only sounds now were the pounding of hooves in counterpoint to his heartbeat. He tossed the cigarette down and ground it out with his boot heel.
He shifted his rifle to his right hand and shoved the front edges of his duster back so he’d have easy access to his pistols.
Earl and the others were in sight now, riding hard toward Blessing. At the edge of town, they slowed to a walk. He noted that the riders checked all the doorways and windows they passed for any sign that he had backup in place. He smiled. If they were that nervous, maybe they’d make a mistake.
They slowed to a stop at the far edge of shooting distance. He stood his ground, preferring they come to him.
Evidently, Earl wasn’t only their scout but also their spokesman. “Wyatt, and here I thought we was friends, especially after all those drinks you kindly bought me last night. Hell, all these boys were jealous when I told them how generous you were.”
“That was last night. This is today.” Wyatt made sure his smile couldn’t be mistaken for friendly. “Earl, I have to admit I’m disappointed that you’ve ignored my advice to avoid Blessing. Things are about to get dangerous. I’d hate to see you get shot.”
“I ain’t too worried, Wyatt.” Earl leaned forward, resting his shotgun across the front of his saddle. “See, there’s just one of you and a whole bunch of us.”
“Well, that’s true enough. To be honest, I’d just as soon buy another round of whiskey for you boys if you’d promise to ride on out of town without causing any trouble.”
Earl exchanged a knowing grin with his friends. “We’ll take you up on that offer as soon as you turn over the gold from the mining office. Stealing is thirsty work and a few drinks will taste mighty good.”
They were already laughing. He didn’t give a damn. He’d known all along it would come to this.
“Well, Earl, that’s not going to happen, and we both know it. And you’re right about there being more of you. I’m better with guns than any of you, but I’m not good enough to take out all of you before someone gets off a lucky shot. But there’s one thing you can count on, Earl.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“That you’ll be the first I shoot.”
Then Wyatt pulled the trigger and the dying began.
Chapter 20
Past experience had made it clear that shouting a warning wouldn’t save Wyatt. Despite it being midmorning, a time when the town would normally be at its busiest, there was nothing but a heavy silence hanging over the town.
It was as if the entire world held its breath, waiting for a storm of blood and pain to be unleashed on the people of Blessing. Rayanne couldn’t stop events that had unfolded over a century before. But maybe, just maybe, she could save one person. One innocent. Billy. That’s all Wyatt had asked of her.
Neither of them knew if she could pull it off, but she would try. The selfish part of her argued that if she could rescue only one of the players in this tragedy, it should be Wyatt. Surely he’d earned a reprieve after all these decades of suffering through this alone. But in her heart, she knew the man she loved would never forgive her if she didn’t try to save the boy.
So rather than heading toward the belfry as she did the last time she’d lived through this horror, Rayanne ran to the spot where Amanda’s cabin used to stand. What would she do if the woman and her son weren’t even there?
She approached the cabin cautiously, not sure what would happen if she entered a building that didn’t really exist in her own time. The door was certainly solid enough when she rapped her knuckles on it.
“Amanda! Billy! Are you in there?”
No answer.
She pushed the door open and looked around. The interior looked much as she’d imagined it would. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, that exact same vase now sat on the mantel over the fireplace in her mother’s living room. The small connection with the great-great-grandmother she’d never had a chance to meet had Rayanne smiling. If only she could tell her mother about it.
Yeah, like that would ever happen.
She checked the second room and the loft, each as empty and silent as the next. Back outside, she ran around the house to see if there was a cellar they could be hiding in. No such luck. She passed the rick of wood that Wyatt had chopped for them. For a man who thought so little of himself, he’d done some awfully nice things for people, including sacrificing himself to keep them safe.
But right now, her fear for Amanda and her son had ramped up to new levels. She’d never forgive herself if she failed to find them in time. As long as Billy kept dying, then Wyatt would, as well.
She pelted back down the way she’d come, skittering to a halt when she reached the back of the church. Time for some caution on her part. Fifteen years ago, Wyatt’s bullet had been real enough to kill that man in the belfry. More than one of the townspeople had been hit by stray shots that day. She didn’t want to add herself to their number.
The silence was broken by panicky voices. The riders were on their way into town, the gunfight only seconds from starting now. She wouldn’t accomplish anything cowering here behind the building. Entering the church from the back door, she made her way through to the front. She dropped to all fours and scrambled across to the small window by the front door.
Rising up, she saw a scene right out of her past and a whole lot of nightmares after that. Wyatt walked out of the saloon. If memory served her right, he’d pause there to finish his cigarette. Next, he’d step out in the street and die.
She’d never seen that part, but that didn’t matter. Except for the one year when she’d interfered, he’d taken a shot in the shoulder from the guy on the belfry and seven more before it was over.
Even then, Wyatt had lived long enough to realize that he’d killed Billy. Maybe if he hadn’t been so stubborn about dying, he would never have realized what he’d done. Would he have found peace then?
A movement at the opposite end of town caught her attention. It was Billy making his way along one of the buildings that had reappeared overnight. He was moving slowly, no doubt doing his best to sneak close enough to watch without being caught. At the moment, the boy couldn’t be seen by Wyatt or any of the riders who rode right past the boy as they headed toward the center of town. She had to get to Billy before that changed.
Rayanne bolted out the back of the church at a dead run, knowing she had only a minute, maybe two before the firing started. She rounded the corner and charged toward where Billy was inching forward again. By now he was holding on to the side of the building, his feet dragging as he walked.
When she yelled his name, he froze and glanced back in her direction. At the same time, Rayanne spotted his mother across the street, looking horrified that her son had disobeyed her orders to remain at the cabin.
“Miss Rayanne, I need my ma,” Billy called as he reached out toward her, his words a harsh whisper.
Before she could answer, the bullets started flying. She charged forward and tackled Billy, dragging both of them down to the ground.
A bullet hit the wall right over their heads, showering them both with splinters. She raised her head long enough to see what was going on. Wyatt looked straight at her, recognition dawning in those pale blue eyes.
“Rayanne! Stay down!”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to watch the man she loved die. Eventually, the shots died away; the only thing left was the fog of blue smoke drifting on the summer breeze. A riderless horse wandered by, its reins dragging in the dust.
“Miss Rayanne, help me.”
Had Billy been hit, anyway? She sat up, checking him for any sign of blood. Nothing.
“What’s wrong, Billy? Are you hurt?”
“I was playing by the woodpile. Got snake bit twice.”
He held out his arm to show her twin sets of punctures. The fear in his eyes broke her heart. Without prompt treatment, the venom would likely prove fatal. The thought made her sick.
By then, Amanda had reached them.
“Who are you?”
Now wasn’t the time for introductions. Rayanne pointed toward the wound. “Your son’s been bitten by a snake.”
Amanda blanched. “Billy! I told you to stay inside!”
The boy was in obvious pain, his eyes glassy and feverish. His voice was so weak as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Ma. I’ll listen next time.”
Amanda met Rayanne’s gaze, her dawning horror painfully clear. Without a word, she stepped past Rayanne to scoop Billy up off the ground and ran toward the mercantile where so many of the townspeople had taken refuge.
There was nothing Rayanne could do for the boy, and her presence would only be a distraction. Leaving Amanda to see to her son, Rayanne whispered a prayer for them all as she ran to where Wyatt lay sprawled in the street, the surrounding dust splattered with his blood.
Oh, God, the reality was so much worse than anything she could have imagined. His breath rattled in his chest, and blood bubbled and pulsed out of too many holes to count. He blinked up at her, looking confused at first, but then clarity returned. She lifted his head onto her lap, trying not to hurt him any further even knowing nothing she did would save him.
“Billy?” Even that one word was a struggle for him.
“He’s with Amanda.”
That much was true, but there was no way to know if he’d survive. Maybe as she’d told Wyatt before, it was simply the boy’s time.
The tension in Wyatt’s face eased, and his smile was so sweet. “Thank you for that.”
Tears poured down her cheeks. “I wanted to save you, instead. God, Wyatt, I love you so much.”
“Love you, too...with you always.”
He said those last words with strength, conviction and his last breath. He shuddered slightly, then he was gone.
Literally.
A powerful wave of energy washed through Blessing and caught Rayanne up in its maelstrom. She was buffeted with dust and gravel, and even the sun overhead blinked out of sight, trapping her in total darkness. She screamed for Wyatt, and she screamed for help.
The wave was gone as quickly as it had come, but it left Rayanne dizzy and sick. Rather than fight it, she let the darkness sweep away her pain and grief and simply slept.
* * *
When consciousness returned, Rayanne had no idea how long she’d been passed out in front of the saloon, but the sun was already low in the western sky. She sat up slowly, fighting dizziness and nausea. Realizing that this was the exact spot where Wyatt had died sent her scrambling up to her feet. She took a cautious look around.
Everything was back to normal; the only buildings surrounding her were the ones that had survived the past century. The others had faded back out of existence again. The past was back where it belonged, the only question being if it would stay there this time.
She needed to get back to the cabin before nightfall, inside thick walls. Once inside, she’d take a long, hot bath and try not to think about how it had been to share that tub with Wyatt. She’d curl up in Uncle Ray’s old robe with a cup of tea laced with brandy and then cry herself sick.
In the morning, she’d...what? At this point she didn’t know. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself. For now, she had a plan of action that would get her through the next few hours. Anything to keep her moving forward.
Her bones ached as if she’d aged forty years. Who knew that grief carried so much weight? It was all she could do to stand upright. One step at a time, she made her way through the trees to the meadow that surrounded the cabin.
It was full night by the time she let herself in the cabin and locked the door. Safe at last from ghosts and family alike. What a shame she couldn’t leave her memories out on the porch to deal with later when she found the strength. With that happy thought, she headed upstairs to that bath. She sank down in the hot water up to her chin, gave up all pretense of control and let the tears come.
Chapter 21
“You look like hell, young lady. Haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”
Phil glowered at her from the other side of the counter. He added a third scoop of ice cream to the banana split he’d insisted on making for her. She watched as he smothered it with chocolate sauce, whipped cream and chopped nuts. He plopped a spoon down in front of her.
“I asked for a single scoop of chocolate, Phil. That’s more ice cream than I normally eat in a month.”
He just huffed at her. “There’s nothing normal about this week of August up here on the mountain, and you know it.”
Okay, what did he know about what went on in Blessing? How much had Uncle Ray told him over the years? Rather than respond immediately, she took a big bite of chocolaty goodness to buy herself some time.
Her friend crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the cooler behind him. Clearly, he didn’t plan on going anywhere until he got some answers. When he arched a single eyebrow, he might as well have shouted, “I’m waiting.”
“Yesterday was the twenty-third.” She set the spoon down and waited to see how he’d respond.
His shoulders slumped down, but whether it was because he was relieved or worried was impossible to tell. “Damn it, Rayanne, did you watch from the belfry again?”
Evidently, he knew quite a bit.
“No. I didn’t see the actual gunfight. I was down the street between two of the buildings.”
“And those scratches on your back and shoulders?”
She took anot
her small bite before answering. “A bullet tore into the wood right above us.”
This time both eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “Us? Who was up there with you? Tell me it wasn’t that ditzy mother of yours. Wasn’t that her car I saw go by early yesterday morning?”
She had to laugh. “It was, but I sent her and my dad packing before I headed into Blessing.”
Her smile faded as she went on. “I tried to save the boy who got hit with a stray shot. His name was Billy, and he was my great-uncle. Or would’ve been if he hadn’t died that day.”
“Did it work? Saving Billy, that is.”
She shrugged as she stared down at her ice cream. “I don’t know. Fifteen years ago, I changed one link in the chain of events when I yelled out a warning about the shooter in the church belfry. It didn’t change the ultimate outcome of the gunfight. Wyatt McCain still died that day, and so did Billy.”
She looked up at Phil. “So I don’t know if anything is different. Billy didn’t get shot this time, but he was in town looking for his mother because he’d been bitten by a snake. If he survived, wouldn’t my family already know? I mean, if he lived past that day, it would’ve been in my great-great-grandmother’s journal. By the way, that’s what was in the box you gave me from Uncle Ray.”
Phil tossed her a couple of napkins as if she’d spilled something, but then she realized they were for her tears. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying. It’s all so awful.”
“So Ray was right.”
Phil dragged another stool over to the counter and sat down beside her, his heavy hand on her shoulder. “Your uncle knew what was going on in Blessing every year. Some old-timers around here always claim they’ve heard the gunshots or maybe caught a glimpse of someone in the woods. Hell, one year Ray and I were out hiking together and we saw some riders heading in that direction.”
He smiled. “Scared the hell out of me when they rode by in absolute silence and then disappeared a second later. That’s when Ray told me the whole story.”
It was good to know that she wasn’t alone in this. “What do you think he was right about?”
Immortal Cowboy Page 21