Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1

by Misty M. Beller

  Now he needed to find out what the men were up to in the abandoned mine. Was it merely free lodging? Surely the nights were too cold for that to be the case. He would wait for a little while and see if anyone came or went. As long as he could see the wagon, they wouldn’t be leaving without his notice.

  The wait was driving him mad. But about ten minutes later, his heartbeat kicked up a notch when Walters appeared at the opening carrying two wood crates, which he loaded into the back of the wagon. The other man wasn’t far behind, carrying another two boxes. The containers weren’t identical in size, but all were the kind used to package canned goods and other supplies.

  Both men went back in the cave, and Gideon crept closer to get a look in the crates. He’d only moved about ten feet, when he heard voices from the opening. Walters appeared again carrying a wooden barrel. The man he assumed was Ashe came right behind with another crate. Again they placed the items in the wagon, and disappeared back in the cave.

  What were they loading? Were they packing up their hideout to leave? Or did the containers have stolen objects? He needed to get a look in them, but with all the activity around the wagon, it was going to be hard to get close without being seen.

  Then Jenson emerged from the mine carrying a woman over his shoulder. Gideon’s blood ran cold. He’d recognize that elegant body anywhere, even hanging almost upside down from an oaf like Jenson. The man tossed her into the wagon like a bag of sugar. Anger coursed through his veins.

  Leah wiggled around until she sat upright. She was gagged and her arms bound. Likely her feet, too, since Jenson had been carrying her. The dirty dogs thought they had to tie up a woman like a calf at branding. Her hair was wild and had mostly fallen from its tie, and she looked worn out. What had they done to her?

  Every muscle in him wanted to attack. Shoot every one of ‘em and ride with Leah straight back to the ranch.

  He took a breath and released it. He had to be smart about this. He had the six-shooter on his hip he usually wore while in town, his hunting knife, and a smaller knife in his boot. Too bad he’d not thought to bring his rifle, or a horse, for that matter.

  If only he weren’t alone. An ache hit his chest like he hadn’t experienced in months. If Abel were here, they could take on the men together. With his sidekick, he could handle anything. Why, God? Why did you take him away?

  Jenson’s sharp command pulled Gideon’s focus back to the scene in front of him, but he was too far away to understand the words. Walter climbed in the back of the wagon next to Leah, and the other men took seats in the front. Jenson sat with a Sharps Carbine in his lap, and was a much more imposing figure than the smaller Ashe who held the reins. The little man snapped the leather hard, though, and the horses lurched forward.

  Gideon’s heart galloped through his chest. The men were leaving and he still didn’t have a plan.

  He moved from rock to tree to bush, staying inside the line of foliage. The wagon followed the driveway, then turned left on the road toward Helena. Away from Butte City.

  Were they taking her all the way to Fort Benton, then on to Richmond? Panic pulled his muscles tighter than a deer hide on a stretcher. No denying it. These men were taking her back to that louse. The man who planned to kill her.

  Through the trees, he saw Jenson turn in the wagon seat and speak. Then Walters reached up to jerk the gag from Leah’s mouth. Were they setting her free? But no, Walters raised a pistol from his lap so Leah—and Gideon—had a clear view of it. So help him, if any one of them hurt a hair on her head…

  The horses pulling the wagon settled into a steady gait, and the landmarks became more familiar as they went. This was the main trail between Butte and Helena, the Mullan Road they called it. At one point it traveled through the edge of a property that neighbored the Bryant Ranch.

  Should he take the time to find his old friend John Stands-alone and recruit help? With only himself against three men, he could deal with but one person at a time, while the others would have ample opportunity to hurt Leah. He couldn’t risk attacking without more manpower or a smart strategy.

  But it could take an hour to hike up to John’s cabin, then the time to ride back. And what if Jenson and his men didn’t stay on the road? What if they had another hideout somewhere close? Or what if they did something to Leah while he was gone? He swore under his breath. He would never forgive himself.

  Through the trees ahead, Gideon glimpsed a wooden structure. Another wagon? But it was the opposite direction from the road. On the defensive, Gideon crept through the woods toward the building, still keeping the wagon in sight between the trees.

  It was an old cabin, not more than a shack, really. There was no sign of inhabitants. Should he ignore it to keep the wagon in his sights? But what if there was something or someone inside that could help him? He couldn’t risk the chance for reinforcements, and he could easily make up ground after a quick search.

  The old wood door stuck at first, then the hinges released a shrill complaint as he tugged it open. There was no movement inside, just a dank odor and a mostly barren room.

  Gideon stepped in, scanning the space. A pile of furs lay in a corner near the fireplace. A table, bowl, and pipe sat against the opposite wall. But his gaze zeroed in on what hung on the wall beside the door—a bow and quiver of arrows. It must be Sioux, from the decorative paint on the bow and the beadwork on the quiver. Matching feathers hung from the ends of both pieces.

  And then his eyes drifted to something he hadn’t noticed before. A rattlesnake skin, complete with the head and rattles. Not the almost translucent kind a snake sheds naturally, but the kind of hide that was killed, skinned, and cured.

  Urgency gripped him again, and Gideon tore his eyes from the hide. He grabbed the bow and arrows, and headed out the door. Hopefully, they hadn’t rotted from age. They needed to be strong and sharp enough to find their mark—quickly and silently.

  He now had a plan, and lost no time in weaving through the woods to catch up to the wagon. All those days he’d spent as a boy with John Stands-alone came back to him in an exhilarating rush. With the native weapons slung over his shoulder, he melted into the land, each step landing on the balls of his feet so his boots were silent against the damp ground.

  Soon, he found his target—the wagon—and slunk past it until he found a thick tree with a fork in the branches at eye-level. He touched his Colt revolver to make sure it was loose in the holster. Good.

  Then examined the arrows and selected the straightest. Placing it against the string, he drew it back and forced his mind to filter through long-ago memories. String between thumb and forefinger, chin tucked, nose almost touching the string. He closed his eye farthest from the string, and focused on the wagon in front of him.

  For a moment, he followed the wagon with the bow, gauging its speed and how far ahead of his target he would need to aim. Then he centered the wide flint tip of the arrow about a foot in front of Walter, just above the man’s chest. Without allowing the bow to move even a fraction, he released the arrow and watched it fly toward its mark.

  He didn’t have time to waste, but drew his Colt and dodged to a closer tree. Taking aim on Jenson, he saw from the corner of his eye that Walters was doubled over in the wagon. Looked like the arrow hit its target. A surge of pride washed through him, but he didn’t have time to glory.

  He refocused his aim on the big man in the front of the wagon and squeezed the trigger.

  Time slowed before him. He heard the report, smelled the acrid smoke, watched Jenson jerk, then reach for his left shoulder and turn in Gideon’s direction.

  Time regained its speed in a fury, as Jenson and Ashe both began shooting at him. He used his shots sparingly, only when he had clear aim. He just had five bullets left. A scream pierced the gun fire, but Gideon didn’t have time to lose his focus from the three men. They had ducked low in the wagon now, using the wood as cover. Did Jenson jerk after Gideon’s next shot? Maybe, but the man kept sending fire in his direction
.

  They seemed to have an unlimited supply of bullets, unlike his situation. He was down to one shot, if he’d counted correctly, and still had three bad guys to deal with. Surely he’d wounded Walters and Jenson, but the men continued to open fire on him

  What else could he do? Where could he turn? God, I need some help here! His gaze moved to where Leah had been sitting, but she had sunk low in the wagon, too, and he could only see the top of her brown hair. God, please!

  He sank back out of sight, fully covered by the tree. Panic choked out his breath, but he was powerless to stop it. What now?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The sound of gunfire continued on the other side of his tree, but Gideon squeezed his eyes against the noise. Then he heard a cry, the sound of a man in pain. Had they turned the guns on each other? He peaked around the rough bark to get a look.

  Walters had turned in the wagon so he faced toward the front, but his firearm was nowhere in sight. Jenson was curled almost in a fetal position, arms wrapped around his stomach. And strangest of all, Ashe had set down his rifle and raised both hands over his head.

  Gideon’s gaze moved forward to a vision he’d never imagined. Ol’ Mose stood in the road, a short, stubby gun in his hand. He fired a last round over the heads of those in the wagon, then lowered the firearm.

  “There, ye varmints. Keep yer hands out where I kin see ‘em. You, too, Goliath.”

  Jenson groaned as he unwrapped his hands from around his abdomen and raised them toward the sky. Pain twisted his already ugly face.

  A movement in the back of the wagon caught Gideon’s attention. Walters had one hand raised in obedience to Ol’ Mose’s command, but the other was stretching toward a rifle just a few feet away.

  “Don’t move.” Gideon barked the command as he left the woods and sprinted toward the back of the wagon. He kept his gun loosely pointed in Walters’ direction, until he could move far enough over so Leah wouldn’t be in front of his bullet. He hadn’t let himself look at her yet. He would lose all the focus he needed to keep on these criminals.

  Walters must have thought his loose aim was an open door, because in a quick movement, he jerked forward to grab the rifle. Gideon shot without allowing himself to think. Walters dropped the rifle and screamed as he reached for his right shoulder.

  “There’s more where that came from if you can’t follow directions.” Gideon ground out the words while he kept the Colt focused on the man. The scoundrel didn’t need to know there wasn’t any more where that had come from. He was out of bullets.

  Walters moaned as he leaned back against the side of the wagon, gripping his shoulder still.

  “I think they’re understandin’ things a mite better now,” said Ol’ Mose, still holding a gun on the two men in the front of the wagon. “Why don’t ya see if ya can find some rope to tie ‘em up? If ya don’t find it in their wagon, I’ve got some in mine just over yonder hill.” He nodded behind him where the road disappeared over a knoll.

  Still keeping his empty revolver on the moaning Walters, Gideon finally turned to look at Leah. “You okay?” He hated the quaver in his voice, but he couldn’t control the reaction that flooded him at the sight of her.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice flowed out like music, a little breathless, but the perfect melody. She was disheveled, but appeared to be blessedly whole. His chest might just explode from emotion that he couldn’t have explained. Then he noticed her hands and feet still bound, and it pushed him into action.

  With his left hand, he removed his hunting knife and moved toward Leah, keeping a wary eye on the wounded man beside her. “Let me cut your ropes.” He kept his voice soft, his words meant only for her. He took his gaze from Walters long enough to slice the rope around Leah’s wrists. Raw, red flesh glared at him before she flipped her sleeves down. It was enough to release a flood of anger through his veins.

  “I can cut the rope at my ankles, just let me hold your knife.”

  Leah must have seen his expression, or else she wanted him to focus on pointing the gun at the men. Either way, he relinquished the antler handle of his hunting knife and reached forward to grab Walter’s rifle. He holstered his own pistol and aimed the Winchester at the man.

  As soon as Leah cut the rope around her ankles, she stretched her legs forward and rubbed her wrists.

  “Leah, get out of the wagon and come over here.”

  He stepped back ten feet, and waited for her to hobble to him. “I want you to hold this gun on Walters while I tie him up. Hold it just like I showed you, and don’t be afraid to shoot him if he moves. Just pretend you’re hunting, and he’s a deer.” Gideon said the last part loud enough for all the men to hear, even though Leah had never actually shot a deer. What the men didn’t know could only help him.

  As Leah took the rifle from him, her hands shook. He glanced at her face, and saw a mixture of fear and uncertainty there, but also a fierce determination. He gave her an encouraging smile and brushed her upper arm with his hand. “You’ll be fine.” And she would. She was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

  It took a few minutes to get all three men tied securely and loaded in the bed of the wagon. Ol’ Mose and Leah both kept their respective guns aimed until he had the ruffians settled. The minute that was done, Gideon strode to Leah and took the gun from her hands.

  For a moment, he drank her in. There were so many things he wanted to do and say, but what first? She made the decision for him when she flew into his arms, wrapping herself around him like a leaf blown against a tree trunk. It was what he’d wanted her to do, and he clutched her with all of his might.

  He breathed in the sweet scent of her, savoring the feel of her wrapped in the shelter of his body. Moisture burned his eyes, but he closed them against the sensation. They stood there for several moments, and he would have gladly stayed like that all day, holding Leah, gently stroking her shoulders. But she finally leaned back in his arms, turning her beautiful face up to him.

  “I’m so glad you saved me.” She spoke the words softly, as if handing him a gift.

  Gideon swallowed the knot in his chest. “Me, too.”

  A throat cleared not too far away from them. Gideon hated to, but he turned away from Leah to face Ol’ Mose, keeping an arm around her waist. There was no way he was letting her get away again, whether his friend was standing there or not.

  “Wooo-wee!” The old man’s face split into a toothy grin. “Weren’t it somethin’ the way God took care o’ that little mess?”

  The words caught Gideon off guard. “God?”

  “Yessiree. Jest when you was outnumbered three to one, I got to be the army of angels to fight off the Midianites.”

  What in the world was he rambling about? Poor ol’ fellow must finally be losing it. “Been out in the sun too long, have ya, old man?”

  Ol’ Mose gave him a look full of mystery, like he knew a secret. “I’m talkin’ about yer namesake from the Bible, son.”

  Then the man’s gaze drifted to Leah and a fatherly smile touched his face. “What say you two young folks drive this wagon o’ vermin into town, and I’ll follow in my rig with me ol’ Blunderbuss trained on ‘em.”

  Gideon nodded. “Is that what that thing is? I’ve never seen a gun quite like it.”

  Mose held the squatty gun out like a royal crown. “Yep, my pa passed it down to me, and it’s served me well all these years. It sprays lead so it’s not so good fer huntin’ dinner, but awful good fer huntin’ vermin like these.” He gestured toward the three men tied in the wagon.

  “Let’s get ‘em back to the sheriff, then.” Gideon kept his arm around Leah’s tiny waist as he moved her forward to the front seat of the wagon. She fit so perfectly next to him. He lifted her up, then climbed beside her while she scrambled over to make room. She didn’t move very far, though. Good thing.

  He gathered the reins in one hand, flicked them to move the horses forward, then slipped his arm back around Leah.

  ~

&
nbsp; Leah would have been content to ride nestled under Gideon’s arm until the wagon drove off the face of the earth. Her hands had finally stopped shaking, but her muscles still hadn’t regained their strength.

  “You up to tellin’ me what happened?”

  The vibrato of Gideon’s voice rumbled against her ear, sending a purr of contentment through her. Leah drew in a deep breath, then released it in an unsteady whoosh. A little of the tension left her chest with the spent air. At last, her mind drifted back to the beginning of the terror.

  “I was on my way to inquire about a job, but Mr. Jenson gave me bad directions.” She told about the run-down part of town she’d been sent to, and Gideon asked several questions about the specific location.

  “When I woke up, I was already in the cave. It was so dark and cold, and they kept me tied and gagged the whole time.”

  Gideon’s shoulder tensed under her cheek. “They didn’t…hurt you or…anything else, did they?”

  She knew what he was asking. She pushed the memories back. “No, they didn’t touch me like that. The other men wanted to, but Jenson kept saying the boss wanted me clean.” She snuggled deeper into Gideon, and he wrapped his arm tighter.

  “Did they say who the boss was?” His voice held a touch of steel, like he was trying to keep it corralled.

  “Simon.” If the man had been there, she would have spat in his face.

  “The man you were going to marry?”

  “Yes.” Was that bitter voice really hers?

  Gideon’s thumb stroked her side, and the coarse stubble on his chin brushed her forehead as his lips touched her skin. “I’m sorry, love. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  Snuggled under his protective arm, Leah could almost believe him.

  They rode that way for several minutes while her nerves loosened. Then they began to pass a few buildings, and the town filled in around them. Gideon seemed to know where he was going, though, and the wagon soon pulled to a stop in front of a single-story block building. It had bars on the windows, and a hand-painted sign overhead proclaiming it as the sheriff’s office.