She backed away a single step, but kept her eyes on his, nodding slowly. “Si, I understand it now. One brother is the swindling banker, and the other is the sheriff. Two are outlaws, free to run wild without any fear of the law. What are the youngest two Brands doing, Garrison? Do they serve as judge and jury of Quinn?”
Garrison smiled slowly. He would have been a handsome man, if not for the evil in his eyes. “Why did you come here, Esmeralda?”
“I think you know why. I come here to charge your brothers with murder. My father’s murder.”
He lifted a brow. “Ol’ Montoya died, did he? About time, I’d say.”
“I do not care what you think! My father is dead, my land is stolen, and your brothers belong in jail. If you think you can frighten me into giving up, you are wrong, Garrison Brand.”
“If you don’t give up, little lady, the only person landing behind bars is gonna be you. An’ if you think one person in this town will take your part against a Brand—any Brand—you’re dead wrong.”
She clenched her teeth, drew a breath through her nose, and felt her nostrils flare as she blew it out again. “Quinn is not the only town in Texas with a lawman. Believe me, Garrison Brand, I will find one—an honest one—and see you all in prison for what you’ve done.”
Garrison lowered his head, shook it slowly. “Get out of my town, Esmeralda. By sundown.”
“And if I don’t?”
He glared at her, but said nothing. Esmeralda turned and walked away.
She went back to the boarding house where she’d rented a room last night—for, only hours after she and Pedro had buried her father, an army of thugs in the employ of Allen Brand had arrived with guns drawn to order her off the property. Pedro had apologized, but then he’d fled in fear. She had been given no choice but to comply.
It galled her that her father lay buried on the land those Brands now claimed as their own. She hadn’t told them where he rested, though, for fear they would desecrate his grave out of sheer meanness.
At the boarding house, Esmeralda found her satchel sitting on the front step, her belongings packed inside. Frowning, she pounded on the door.
Mrs. Tremont opened it, saw her and scowled. “I’m sorry, Miss Montoya, but I cannot tolerate your kind here. This is a decent establishment. Had I known you were runnin’ about town casting aspersions on its finest residents, I’d never have let you through the door.”
Esmeralda eyed the woman without blinking. “Tell me the truth, Señorita Tremont. Do not stand here and lie to my face.”
The older woman blinked, averting her eyes.
“You fear them. Everyone in Quinn fears them. Yet you let them continue to run roughshod over you, over the law, over the entire town.”
“Hush!” The woman glanced up and down the street nervously. Her voice lower, she said, “Allen Brand holds the mortgage on this place, young lady. If I cross him, I could lose everything.”
“I see.”
The older woman looked ashamed. “I wish I could help you. It’s a shame what happened to your father, but it wasn’t my fault. Why should I risk everything I have for…” Her voice trailed off.
“For a Mexican?” Esmeralda asked. “My father used to say the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who see injustice and do nothing. You are a coward, Mrs. Tremont. Quinn has become a town of cowards.”
“How dare you!”
“Kindly return my money. I paid you for a full week in advance.”
The woman sniffed. “Really? Do you think the sheriff would believe you?” She slammed the door in Esmeralda’s face.
Her father also used to say one could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Perhaps she should try to remember that phrase.
Clutching her satchel, Esmeralda battled tears of outrage. To hell with them all. She would go to El Paso. She still had a gold eagle in her pouch. She would find a judge there, or a lawyer, or perhaps even a U.S. Marshal. And then she would come back, and she would bring the Brands to ruin. Every last one of them.
Slogging tiredly along the boardwalk, she knew it would be a full hour before the next stage came through, and she had yet to eat today. She started to go into the town’s only eatery, but the owner closed the door before she could even step through, and she heard the bolt being slid home. So the Brands had made the rounds, it seemed. They’d warned the entire town not to dare associate with her. A small chill raced up her spine. The sooner she could shake the dust of Quinn from her pinching, button-up boots, the better. She had not intended to put herself completely at the mercy of a band of outlaws, but that was precisely what she had done. She was not safe here. No wonder her father had refused to let her come back home, even when she’d begged. No wonder.
She kept walking, no longer as confident. As she passed the bat-wing doors of the saloon, the raucous laughter from inside billowed out. Someone let loose a lewd whistle as she passed, and she went cold inside, quickening her steps.
Then the doors slammed open, and boot heels slapped the boardwalk behind her. She whirled in time to see the youngest of the Brands, Eldon, tall and lanky, hat tipped at a cocky angle, bearing down on her. “Goin’ somewhere, Esmeralda?”
She said nothing, just backed away. He used to be so different. Funny, but always mean. Always. He was as handsome as ever. Dark eyes like velvet, a strong jaw, hair the color of russet. Yes, she saw through it all now. She saw the evil inside.
He smiled and kept coming. “Oh, come on now. You can’t come to town, run all over spreading lies about my family, and then leave without even saying hello. Can you?”
“Leave me alone, Eldon. Your family has won. I am leaving.”
“Oh, I don’t think I should let you go just yet. Not until you’ve learned to respect your betters, at least.” He lunged forward. She backed away, but he caught her all the same. Dropping her satchel, Esmeralda pounded his chest, but Eldon Brand was strong, and in no time at all he had her slung over his broad shoulder and was striding away with her toward his waiting horse. Her bonnet fell from her head, and her hair spilled free.
“Let me go!” She beat his back with her fists, infuriated to hear drunken laughter coming from the saloon. “Help me! Help me, someone!”
Jenny Brand stood in the bat-wing doors, shaking her head. She wore a glittering, scandalously low-cut dress of brightest red, and had painted her face. “When you finish, little brother, don’t forget you still owe me for that bottle!” she called.
“Yeah, yeah.” He slapped Esmeralda’s rump hard. “Don’t worry, Jen. This won’t take long.”
“See she don’t give you the clap,” Jenny called, and her patrons in the saloon roared with renewed laughter as Eldon slung Esmeralda over his saddle, mounted his horse and kicked it into a full gallop.
He didn’t take her far. Just beyond the edge of town, riding into a cluster of boulders and tumbleweed. He drew the mount to a halt, turned, and shoved her off. She landed on her back on the sunbaked ground. Hair in her eyes, she pushed herself up, hands behind her, and when he dismounted and came closer, she spat at him.
He only smiled. “I like a little fight in my women,” he said. “So you just give me a good struggle, Esmeralda. I’ll enjoy it all the more.”
“Stay away from me, Eldon Brand!”
He kept coming forward, unfastening his belt as he did. “I’ll know it’s all make-believe, though. You want me. You’ve always wanted me.”
“Keep your hands off me!”
Esmeralda had taken all she was going to from this family. Her hand slid beneath her skirts to the blade she kept there. It was inside her garter, cool against her thigh.
Eldon straddled her, dropped to his knees, and reached up to part her cropped jacket and grip the neck of her white, frilly blouse. He tore it open, popping its buttons. Her hand closed around the hilt of her blade. “Don’t make me hurt you, Eldon. Stop this now.”
He grinned at her and gripped the front of the chemise she wore underneath. She
pulled the blade, drove it upward and into his chest. For a moment he just froze there, staring down at her with wide, surprised eyes. Blood bubbled from his chest when she yanked the knife out. Then from his mouth when he tried to say something. He fell sideways even as his eyes glazed over.
She jumped to her feet and stood there, staring down at him. Dead. He was dead. “Dios, what have I done!” She backed away, staring down at the knife that gleamed scarlet, at the blood on her hands, and on her once white blouse and chemise, and she began to tremble.
“Hold it right there!” a voice shouted. “Dammit, what the hell have you done to my brother!”
She couldn’t turn, couldn’t move. Shock seemed to have paralyzed her. She was still standing there when Waylon Brand, the famous outlaw, slid off his horse and raced toward his fallen brother, while Blake, the quiet giant, walked up behind her and pressed his gun barrel to her spine.
“Eldon?” Waylon rolled his brother over, shook him. “Eldon, come on!” But Esmeralda knew it was no use. She’d knifed the man right through his black heart.
“He…he hurt me. He was going to…to rape me. I had no choice—”
“Shut up, whore!” Blake’s pistol barrel drove into the small of her back. “I oughtta shoot you right here.” He looked past her. “Waylon?”
“Dead,” Waylon said softly, his head hanging low. “She killed him, Blake. She killed our baby brother.”
Blake swore loud and long. Waylon’s eyes looked damp. He lifted his head, looked her right in the eye. “Get a rope,” he told Blake.
There was a long moment of strained silence then, as she stood there between them. Waylon, whipcord-lean, with a legendary temper and looks as dark as her own. And Blake, as big as Garrison, but blond rather than brown-haired. Quiet, for the most part, but a Brand through and through, and just mean enough to prove it.
“No.” It was Blake who spoke.
Waylon’s gaze snapped to his brother’s then. “Why the hell not? She killed Eldon in cold blood. I say we string her up here and now.”
Blake shook his head. “The whole family deserves to see her hang. Hell, the whole town. Be good for ‘em. A nice reminder of what happens when someone dares to mess with the Brands. Besides, it’s the way Garrison would want it.”
Esmeralda’s blood ran cold. She wasn’t frozen anymore. In fact, she was suddenly struggling without even thinking about it. Fighting for her life while the hulking Blake held her firmly and almost effortlessly. They were going to hang her! Kill her! Take her life!
Waylon got to his feet and backhanded her. She went still, first with shock and pain, and then, slowly, she slipped into darkness.
The next time she opened her eyes, she was in a jail cell, facing a barred window, beyond which men scurried to construct what would obviously be a gallows. And it wasn’t going to take long, either, at the rate they were going.
“Don’t you worry, Esmeralda.” The sheriff’s voice drifted lazily into her cell. “We’re gonna hang you with a brand-new rope. And that’s way better than you deserve.”
Lowering her head, Esmeralda automatically closed her hand around the cool, glasslike stone she wore around her neck. In his final moments, her father had asked her to get it from the small wooden box he kept under his bed, and he’d pushed it into her hands, saying it would protect her and set her on the right path.
She closed her eyes and held it tight. “Father, if this crystal skull of yours truly has any magic in it, I need it now. I need it as I have never needed it before.”
Look for The Outlaw Bride, coming soon!
The Texas Brands
The Littlest Cowboy
The Baddest Virgin in Texas
Badlands Bad Boy
Long Gone Lonesome Blues
The Lone Cowboy
Lone Star Lonely
The Outlaw Bride
Texas Angel
Texas Homecoming
The Oklahoma All-Girl Brands
The Brands Who Came for Christmas
Brand-New Heartache
Secrets and Lies
A Mommy For Christmas
One Magic Summer
Sweet Vidalia Brand
Also Available
Annie’s Hero
Witch Moon
Dr. Duffy’s Close Encounter
Miranda’s Viking
Forgotten
Musketeer By Moonlight
The Bride Wore A Forty-Four
Fairytale
Forever Enchanted
Once Upon A Time
Everything She Does is Magick
The Fairy’s Wish
The Bad Ass Brides Collection
The Witch Collection
Gingerbread Man
Eternity
Infinity
Destiny
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series
Zombies! A Love Story
And MAGGIE’S NON-FICTION
Shayne On You
Magick and the Law of Attraction: A User’s Guide
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Maggie Shayne has published more than 50 novels and 23 novellas. She has written for 7 publishers and 2 soap operas, has racked up 15 Rita Award nominations and actually, finally, won the damn thing in 2005.
Maggie lives in a beautiful, century old, happily haunted farmhouse named “Serenity” in the wildest wilds of Cortland County, NY, with her soul-mate, Lance. They share a pair of English Mastiffs, Dozer & Daisy, and a little English Bulldog, Niblet, and the wise guardian and guru of them all, the feline Glory, who keeps the dogs firmly in their places. Maggie’s a Wiccan high priestess (legal clergy even) and an avid follower of the Law of Attraction
Connect with Maggie
Maggie’s Website
Maggie’s Bliss Blog
Maggie’s Coffee House Blog
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