by Liliana Hart
“Fine,” Karl said. “If that’s how you both feel then I’ll do it. I won’t be long behind you. But be careful and keep your guard up.”
“Always,” James said.
Agatha was quick to check the hitching on the wagon, and she followed behind James as he took the lead on horseback. She glanced over her shoulder one last time to see Karl leading Bacon into the wooded area.
“I sure hope those outlaws don’t find him,” she said. “They won’t deal kindly with him.”
“They won’t deal kindly with any of us. I can’t believe they killed Cornbread,” James said. “Their own man. Vicious.”
“We’ll keep our eyes and ears open,” she said. “How far ahead do you think Coil might be?”
“Hard to say. Cornbread was killed before he had a chance to tell us anything useful. He could be anywhere over the next hundred miles.”
“Whatever it takes to find him and bring him home,” she said. “I know he’d do the same for one of us.”
Agatha wasn’t sure what to look for, and she figured calling out Coil’s name wouldn’t be safe. The truth was, she was out of her element. She could ride and shoot and do all the things men did, but she had no experience when it came to this kind of work. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. She didn’t know how they lived with those extremes.
“You know,” she said, “Worst case scenario, we’d reach the military outpost near Austin and have to turn back and retrace our steps.”
“How far you figure we’ve come since leaving Karl?” James asked.
“Not sure,” Agatha said, looking at the angle of the shadows cast from the scattered trees. “It’s been almost an hour.”
“I thought he would’ve caught up by now. Ain’t like we’re moving fast.”
“You think we should head back a ways?” she asked.
“Maybe we can hold up when we reach those rocks up there,” he said. “It’ll give us the high ground so we can see.”
“How about we hold up before that,” she said. “To get to the peak, we have to go through the valley. And I have a bad feeling.”
James nodded in agreement. They continued to ride for a spell in silence, and her thoughts went back to Hank. He hadn’t answered her proposal. Maybe he wasn’t interested after all. Maybe she’d gotten the wrong impression and her feelings for him ran deeper than his for her.
She was saved from her worry by a rustling in the forest in the distance. At first, she thought Karl had finally caught up with them, but before she could search for him she heard the thunderous trampling of hooves shaking the ground beneath them.
“Trouble,” she said, clicking her tongue and snapping the reins of the wagon to move faster.
“I hear it,” James said. “We need to take cover.”
Agatha followed James to the edge of a wooded area. There weren’t many spots with thickets of brush and trees, but they didn’t have time to shop around. The rickety wagon’s wooden seat jarred her body and rattled her teeth. She maneuvered with her left hand as she reached for her rifle.
“Aggie, wedge the wagon as deep into these trees as you can,” James instructed.
“Don’t call me Aggie.”
“Hank calls you Aggie,” James said.
“Yes, but I love him so he can get away with it.”
Agatha eased the wagon as deep as she could in between two giant live oak trees. She knew there’d be no getting it out unless they dismantled it, but at the moment, her concern was to stay alive.
“Think it might be Hank and the crew?” James whispered.
Agatha shook her head. She knew it was the Copper Cove Boys. Somehow, she always knew she’d end up on the short end of the stick where they were concerned. She was willing to take on the fight to get them though. Good people had to start taking a stand against thugs like them.
“Should we move deeper into the brush?” Agatha asked.
The horses slowed, and she heard voices in the distance. Agatha and James weren’t visible from the plains, but a decent tracker would have no problem finding them. Just the broken foliage from the wagon was enough to alert anyone.
“You ready?” James asked her.
She hesitated. Agatha had shot at a few people but she’d never actually shot anyone. “Yeah.”
“I’d suggest we open fire as soon as they turn toward this direction. Otherwise, we’ll give them time to split up.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“We can’t hesitate on this,” he insisted. “They’ll adjust once they know we’ve hunkered down instead of running to hide.”
“Think they know it’s just us two?” Agatha asked.
“I’m sure of it,” James replied.
She slid the rifle up and braced herself between the massive tree roots coming out of the ground.
“If we’ve gotta make a run for it, head straight back,” James said. “That’s the river behind us. Who knows? Maybe they can’t swim.”
She blinked and strained for any sign of movement. The Copper Cove Boys were coming in with the sun to their backs, so most of what she was seeing was mired in glare from the light.
She heard James moving further away from her. What was he doing? She’d never felt so alone as mysterious black silhouettes emerged in the dim spaces of shadow and light. They moved quickly and without sound. Like ghosts, each man would move and then disappear again.
It didn’t take long to figure out their pattern, and she sucked in a breath and held it.
One…Two…Three...
Agatha pulled the trigger just as a man popped out from behind a tree, and he dropped to the ground. There was a shriek and a war cry before gunfire erupted all around her. She pressed tighter against the tree. It was obvious they didn’t know where the shot came from. They were wasting ammunition trying to flush her out.
In the lull of rampage, she heard a single shot ring out. She knew it was James. A tree stump moved to her left and she realized it was a man, so she leveled the rifle and pulled the trigger.
“Got him,” she muttered.
She tried to hurry up and reload, but her hands were shaking. She fought to hold them steady, but it was as though they had a life of their own.
“Calm down,” she whispered over and over again. It hit her like a bolder that she had just killed two human beings. But this was no time to fall apart. They would surely find and kill her.
She flinched at the sound of more gunfire, and she fell backward when the sharp shards of the tree she’d been using for cover exploded around her. She scanned the area, but blood or sweat was dripping into her eyes, so she used her shirt to wipe it away.
Blood.
Agatha shivered as another shot was fired. This time from James. Suddenly, a volley of shots echoed through the woods and she heard James yell and then collapse.
“No,” she said, crawling on all fours to get to him. “Agatha Christie Harley, pull yourself together right now.”
The crack of a fallen tree branch behind her had her freezing in place and fear snaking up her spine. She rolled to the right, but he was standing almost on top of her. Too close to point her rifle. He moved in quick, and she saw the knife lifted over his head, ready to strike.
Agatha shoved her hand inside of her coat pocket and yanked out a small .22 revolver that Hank had given her. Without looking or aiming, she pulled the trigger over and over again until it clicked empty. The man didn’t stop coming.
She rolled just before the man’s body collapsed next to her. He looked dead. Whether he was or not, she still had to survive. She fumbled with the revolver and tried to open the cylinder to reload it. She heard a rustle and realized the man was trying to push himself up. His face and torso were smeared with blood, but he still held the knife.
“No!” she screamed.
She closed her eyes and prayed, and then heard a mighty whack. And when she opened her eyes again she saw Karl standing over the man’s body. He’d hit him with the butt of his ri
fle.
“You’re okay,” Karl said, crouching down beside her.
“James,” she said. “He’s shot.”
Karl nodded. “Hold tight and keep your eyes open.” And then he began to belly-crawl across an open area to look for James.
She had to keep an eye out while Karl attended to James. In all the commotion, she’d lost any perspective on where the killers might be. Still, she hunkered down and scanned back and forth.
“I think they’re gone,” Karl called out. “I heard the horses while you were trying to catch your breath.”
She nodded and let herself relax a little. And then she heard the sound of horses again and the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
“Agatha!” Hank called out.
The outlaws must’ve heard them coming. She collapsed against the tree. McIrish couldn’t run forever.
Chapter Eight
Hank heaved himself against the wagon, but it didn’t budge. It was wedged between two giant trees, and what had been a good strategy for keeping Agatha, James, and the horses safe during the Copper Cove Boys’ ambush, had quickly become a challenge.
“Boss, you need help?” Springer asked.
Hank waved him off, though he could’ve used the help. But he didn’t want anyone to see him so broken up with emotion over what could’ve happened to Agatha. He’d almost lost her, and the threat of the job was precisely why he hadn’t asked her to marry him. Except now it wasn’t a threat. It was real. Very real.
He knew she was safe now, and that Jason and James were attending to her. She’d gone into shock once her adrenaline had spiked and then bottomed out. Hank thought it was best to give her some space because he wasn’t sure if he could hold his emotions in check. His gut told him to take off after McIrish and kill him. His head told him to stick with the team and rescue Coil.
He grunted as his boots slipped across the leaves, but he was determined to get the wagon out and back on the trail to find his friend. It wouldn’t be long before sundown, and they’d either have to bunk out in the open or press on into the darkness.
“Hey, Hank. Got a second?” Will asked.
“Not now.”
“I think you’re going to want to hear this.”
Hank’s heart pounded and he felt a surge of frustration. It wasn’t really about the wagon. It was about his guilt over not being there to protect Agatha. He pulled the tattered leather gloves off finger by finger and tried his best to get himself under control before he turned to face his friend.
“Hear what?”
“That bandit that Karl knocked out is blabbering like a baby,” Will said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “You might want to hear this.”
“Where’d all the blood come from?” Hank asked.
“Agatha shot him with the little .22 revolver you gave her. Put a couple of holes in him, but didn’t do any real damage.”
Hank hadn’t taken any time to look at the man they’d taken prisoner, but as soon as he walked over to him, recognition hit.
“Jackson?” Hank asked.
“Yeah? So?” the big man asked.
“It’s me. Marshal Hank Davidson.”
“Hank?” Jackson asked. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Hank said.
“I followed McIrish here to make a fresh start.”
“You call this a fresh start?” Hank asked, incredulous. “Robbing and killing?”
“I had to get out of Philly,” he said. “The military and the marshals were on my trail.”
“You know this guy?” Karl asked.
“I arrested him after he went AWOL from military duty. He didn’t want to serve time in the brig, so he gave me some information that led to solving a series of crimes just outside of New York.”
“He’s a cooperator,” Will said.
“No, he’s a snitch,” Hank corrected.
“What’s a snitch?” Karl asked.
“It’s someone who helps law enforcement by giving information,” Hank explained.
“Like I said,” Will insisted. “A cooperator.”
“Right,” Hank said.
“Can you help an old pal out?” Jackson asked.
It took a minute for it to sink in before the reality of what Jackson had just tried to do slammed into him.
“You just tried to kill my fiancée,” he said with a growl, clasping both hands around Jackson’s thick neck.
“Hank,” everyone seemed to say at once, and then they were pulling him away.
Hank stumbled backward. He was furious, and someone was going to pay. McIrish had destroyed so many lives in Hank’s future, and was continuing to do so in his past. It was time to end the violence.
“Sorry, Hank,” Jackson offered. “I didn’t know she was yours.”
Hank stared at the big man and wanted to hate him, but just like the times before, he saw a naivety in Jackson. Hank wasn’t sure if it was because he knew of the horrors Jackson survived as an orphan, or that he wanted to see the good in people, but Jackson was one of those folks who made it hard to hate. He’d still be held accountable, but now wasn’t the time. They needed to find Coil.
“Where’s Coil?” Hank asked. “The Ranger McIrish shot the other day.”
“Last time I saw him was after he got shot,” Jackson said, wrinkling his nose. “That was probably a good ten miles west toward the army outpost.”
“Did anyone try to find him after he was dismounted?”
“Naw, Dillon’s a good shot,” Jackson said. “If that Ranger fell, then he’s dead.”
“Even so, he still deserves to be recovered,” Hank said. “Let’s get this one up and into the wagon.”
“You taking me with you?” Jackson asked.
“We sure aren’t leaving you to run free,” Hank said. “Of course, you know what they did to Cornbread when we captured him.”
Jackson paled, and Hank hauled him to his feet.
“Pick better friends,” Hank whispered to him. “And stay close. We might be the only chance you have.”
James and Springer secured Jackson into the back of the wagon. It wasn’t like McIrish to take a beating and retreat without preparing for a counterpunch. Hank knew it’d only be a matter of time before the gang was back. And with a prisoner in tow, they’d be at a disadvantage.
“Jackson said the last time he saw Coil was about ten miles west of the military outpost,” Hank said. “As I figure it, that puts him closer to where we are now. I’d suggest we keep moving in the same direction in hopes of running into him.”
“Coil is horseless,” Whitehorse said. “He won’t be caught walking along this trail. If it were me, I’d head to the river or to the train tracks. He’s safer there, and it keeps him mostly hidden from the main routes back to San Antonio.”
“You think he’s heading back to San Antonio?” Will asked.
“It’s home,” Whitehorse said. “Coil would expect us to look for him, but at this point, he’s not technically late. If it wasn’t for his horse showing up without him, we’d have never known he was in trouble.”
“Good thinking,” Will said.
“How far are we from the train tracks?” Hank asked.
“We can be there before nightfall, but we gotta go east and cross the river. It gets narrow at the crossing up ahead.”
“Okay,” Hank agreed. “As soon as we free the wagon, we’ll move out.”
“It’s already free, Boss,” James said.
“What?” Hank asked. “How?”
“Jackson pushed it out for us. The man’s a beast. No wonder those bullets didn’t take him down.”
“Don’t forget that beast almost killed Agatha and is a ruthless outlaw,” Karl warned. “Don’t let your guard down.”
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they looked beneath a patch of trees where Jackson sat humming in the sun. It had been an insane few hours, but the team was back together, and other than both Agatha and Jame
s taking superficial injuries from the gunfight, they were ready to find Coil.
Hank told Agatha to swap places with James, so he rode in the wagon and she was on horseback. James and Springer would fare better as wagon tenders while they kept an eye on Jackson. He put Agatha in between himself and Jason, who was at the lead. That left Will back in the rear guard post, but there was no one better at protecting against sudden ambush attacks.
Hank moved closer so he could see Agatha’s profile. She was stunning in the setting sunlight. She’d taken a few licks in the gun battle, but the core of who she was shined though the blood smeared across her forehead and the mud caked in her hair. He couldn’t wait for the right moment to pop the question.
“You okay?” she asked, noticing he’d been watching her.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“One of the boys mentioned they saw you crying in the woods.”
“What?” Hank said, jerking back on the reins. “That’s crazy.” He quickly patted Beemer to apologize for the abrupt reaction.
“I’m just telling you what they said.” She grinned mischievously.
“Who said it?” he asked.
“I ain’t tell’n. I ain’t no snitch,” she said, using the word he’d introduced them to earlier.
“Nobody would say that about me.”
“Suit yourself, tough guy,” she said, chuckling. Agatha trotted up to where Jason was leading the convoy, so Hank eased back and rode next to Will.
“Did you say something to Aggie about me?”
“Oh no, partner,” he said. “I ain’t getting in in the middle of you two again.”
“I said I was sorry the last time,” Hank said.
“My friend, the fact that there was a last time is enough times to tell me to stay out of your affairs,” Will said.
“I guess that’s fair,” Hank said. “But I figure you should know I’m going to pop the question as soon as I can.”
“Out here?” Will asked, his brows raising in surprise.
“Why wait?” Hank asked. “And I thought you said you weren’t interested.”