Kevin whispered, “I don’t want to die.”
She squeezed him tighter. “Neither do I.”
“No one’s going to die.”
Jackson said that with so much conviction Mimi almost believed him. Almost. The man just inspired faith.
“How do you know?” Tony asked.
Jackson smiled and ruffled his hair. “You know how when you’re playing marbles and the big agate is on the line? And you’re wagering high because you know you can make that trick shot? Because it’s what you do?”
Tony nodded.
“Well, son, this is what I do.”
“But you’re just one man,” Mimi murmured. Her lover. Her friend.
Jackson smiled that devil’s smile, hooked his hand behind her head, drew her up on the balls of her feet, and right there, in front of the children, kissed her until her toes curled.
As he ended the kiss in a slow detangling of swirling emotion, he whispered, “Not hardly.”
Grabbing his plate from the table, he headed to the stew pot. Mimi knew she should move, but all she could do was stare after him while Tony and Kevin stared at her.
“Wow,” Kevin said.
“Yeah.”
That about summed it up.
* * *
• • •
The explanation for that “Not hardly” arrived the next morning bright and early in the form of four men, all decked out in metal. Metal guns, metal rifles, metal bullets, and metal knives. They meant business. And when Jackson came out of the barn, blond hair shining in the light, he meant business, too. He looked like an avenging angel. Wiping her hands on her apron, she greeted her guests. “Good morning, Clint and Cougar.” She nodded to the two men she didn’t recognize. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Cougar tipped his hat. “Good morning, Mimi. These two gentlemen here are Asa MacIntyre and Elijah. They volunteered to help us settle this little matter.”
Asa had the coldest gray eyes but a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Whoever said that green eyes were friendly had never met Elijah. The man was ice through and through. Beyond a nod of his head, he didn’t acknowledge her. She didn’t ask his last name.
“Why don’t you make us some coffee, Mimi?”
She couldn’t even take offense at Clint’s suggestion. These men had come to rescue Melinda Sue, ready to die if need be. They’d come because Jackson had asked them to. They’d come because she needed them.
“I’ll have it ready in a minute.”
She looked back through the window as soon as she went inside. The men were engrossed in conversation. Clearly they had just been waiting for her to go in the house to get down to work. Did they worry she’d faint if she heard their plans? Did they really think she cared what their plans involved as long as they brought Melinda Sue home?
* * *
• • •
“So how many do you think there are?” Clint asked.
“I think they’re just down to the two,” Jackson answered. “I can’t see them wanting to share the profits any more than they have to.”
“Makes sense,” Asa said. The way Jackson saw it, Asa had been a lawman long enough to know.
With a wave of his hand, Elijah pointed to the dirt. “Where’d you lose him? Draw me a map.”
Elijah knew this area like the back of his hand. He’d wandered for years after his wife died. And more, before he met her, when he lived as an outlaw. If there was a place to hide out in the vicinity, Elijah would know it. Jackson quickly sketched out the area where he’d lost all sign of the kidnappers.
Elijah took the stick and motioned to the bend in the river. “There’s a cave right here. More of a crawlspace stuck between some rocks, but it’s a good place to hide. The water covers your tracks, and it’s not visible unless you know where to look.”
Son of a bitch! Jackson ran his hand through his hair. “You mean they were right under my nose?”
Elijah didn’t smile and didn’t tease. “Likely. There’s not really any other place to hide within a mile.”
It was hard to believe that there had once been a time when Elijah was the first to smile and the longest to laugh. His wife had brought that out in him, and when she died, she had taken his joy with her. “So, that’s where they’re hiding.”
“I doubt they’re still there. The place is as buggy as all get-out. They’ll be out in the open by now. Likely here in this clearing.” He made a mark on the other side of the narrow river.
“Scratching their butts off,” Asa added with grim humor.
A smile ghosted Elijah’s lips. “Yup.”
Jackson would have smiled, too, but if they were scratching, so was Melinda Sue.
“How do you know they’ll be there?” Cougar asked.
Elijah shrugged. “It’s where I would be.”
Jackson sat back. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Do we have a plan?” Cougar asked. “Or are we just going to wing it?”
Clint looked at his cousin. “We aren’t going to do anything. You are going to escort Mimi and the children back to Cattle Crossing.”
Cougar reared back and shook his head. “The hell I am.”
Jackson loved Cougar like a brother and he understood his drive to be out in the middle of things, but this time he was going to have to sit it out. “The hell you won’t. You have a wife about to give birth. She needs you. You can’t afford to take this chance right now.”
Elijah nodded.
Jackson took Cougar’s growl as agreement. “Besides, I need someone like you to make sure they get to Cattle Crossing safely.”
Cougar cocked an eyebrow at Jackson. “Like me?”
“Tough as nails and deadly.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” It was typical Cougar that he perked up at the prospect.
“Yes.”
“Any chance these guys are working with Mac and just waiting for him to show?”
“No.” He was sure of that on a gut level. “Mac wouldn’t trust anyone with that ledger.”
Cougar smiled and fondled his knife. “A shame. I was looking forward to making his acquaintance.”
“No more eager than I am.” Every time Jackson thought of the scars on Tony’s back, his blood boiled. “I’ve a feeling he’s the person that whipped the crap out of Tony.”
“The hell you say. He beat that boy?”
“No,” Jackson corrected. “He whipped that boy.”
Clint cursed. Elijah tossed the stick in the dirt. Asa shook his head. “Some people just need a slow death.”
“Amen.”
“Anybody have any ideas of how we want to handle this?”
“I’ve got a few.”
Elijah was always the first to speak up when it came to vengeance. And fortunately, vengeance was something he was an authority on.
Jackson took a sip of his coffee. “We’re listening.”
* * *
• • •
They rode out an hour later, four strong men armed to the teeth determined to rescue a little girl. Wrapping her arms around herself, Mimi hugged her fears tight, keeping herself from screaming for Jackson to come back. Keeping herself from running after him. This uncertainty crippled her usual optimism.
What if Melinda Sue was already dead? What if she wasn’t? What if only some of them came back? What if none of them did? How could she ever face their wives?
The easy confidence with which they rode made her want to smack them. Doing the right thing wasn’t always enough. Being strong didn’t always win the day. And sometimes good didn’t always win over evil.
Cougar came out of the house carrying her satchel. As always when he got close, she took a step backward. It wasn’t that she feared him; it was just
that he was so big, so intense, so intimidating. Beyond the cock of his eyebrow, he didn’t acknowledge the distance.
“Are you ready to go?”
She supposed. “Do you have the book?”
He raised the satchel.
“Are you sure it’s safe enough in there?”
“It’s as safe there as anyplace. Bushwhackers aren’t shy about searching your person or your possessions.”
“It just makes me nervous.”
“I can understand why.”
She glanced after Jackson again. Despite her efforts to keep him in sight, the woods swallowed him up.
“Are they going to be all right?”
“They know what they’re doing.”
It wasn’t an answer. She bit her lip. “Are you really sure you don’t want to go with them?”
“I’ve got to admit the pull of a guaranteed fight is tempting, but seeing as how you’re so important to Jackson, I’m going to resist and concentrate on getting you home.”
She looked toward the awkwardly built house. “I thought this was home.”
Cougar scoffed. “That’s not home. That’s just where you went to ground.”
“I tried to make it a home.”
Shaking his head, he waved for her to precede him. The boys were coming out of the barn with the mule. “One thing Mara taught me is that home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling, and I’ve got a feeling your home just left.”
Fourteen
The kidnappers were right where Elijah predicted they’d be. Waiting for dawn to attack had left Jackson with a hair-trigger temper and a lust for blood, but now that the time had arrived, nothing but cold, calm determination ruled his actions. Jackson inched a little closer to the edge of the outcropping he was lying on and angled the spyglass to see through the leaves. He was wrong about one thing. There were more of them. Two more, to be exact. The sound of a mourning dove blended with chirps of robins and the raucous scream of blue jays. Common woodland sounds that blended with the warm sun, the light breeze, and the soft, puffy clouds. Only a few would recognize the signal that a predator was in place. Clint repeated the signal.
Looking at the crew, Jackson wondered if all these precautions were necessary. From the way they were lounging about, it was clear they weren’t expecting trouble. Did they think their position was secure? Even the guard, leaning against a tree, was paying more attention to the dirt under his fingernails than a potential attack.
There was nothing Jackson appreciated more than the enemy making his work easier.
Being careful not to dislodge any rocks, Jackson swept the area again. He didn’t see Melinda Sue anywhere. His stomach knotted. On the third sweep, an out-of-place bit of blue caught his attention. He centered in.
There she was, lying on the ground, scrunched up half under a log, her feet and hands bound. He couldn’t be sure from this far away, but he was pretty sure from her body language that she was crying. And why shouldn’t she be? The poor kid was just four years old. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d seen two men killed, watched her family terrorized, and been dragged off by the men who’d attacked her family. She had every right to cry. But not for long. Soon she’d be safe and sound.
Jackson imitated a crow cawing four times to alert the posse to how many enemies there were. He waited five seconds and followed up with one more. That was the important one. That one announced Melinda was alive. Closing his eyes for a second, he let the relief flow through him. She was alive. Asa responded with the chattering of a squirrel.
The leader, Rob, lifted his head. Did he suspect something? Signaling wasn’t all that uncommon for Indians or anyone else used to working together. An experienced outdoorsman might detect the slight difference between human imitation and the real thing. Jackson prided himself on his crow imitation, but Asa’s squirrel could use work. When this was over, he’d rib him about it. That should be worth a few beers and a couple laughs. For all his laid-back ways, Asa was the most uptight man Jackson knew when it came to getting things right.
After a couple minutes of milling about nervously, the man settled down. Another signal came through. This time a two-toned call of a bobwhite quail. Damn!
Swinging the spyglass to the left and then the right, Jackson spotted the reason for the warning. A mini army of eight was trooping through the woods led by a heavyset, ruddy-faced, dark-haired man with beefy hands. He dwarfed the horse he was riding. Rob lumbered to his feet. He was clearly nervous. If the rider was Mac, Jackson’s theory just got shot to hell.
Jackson swept the perimeter again. It took him a long, tense minute to find them, but the newcomers hadn’t arrived unprotected. The big guy’d brought at least two sharpshooters. This wasn’t a friendly visit. Those men on the perimeter were here for business. And Melinda Sue was directly in the line of fire.
Fuck. This was a complication they hadn’t anticipated.
Elijah signaled once. It wasn’t one of the predetermined signals. What the hell are you up to, Elijah? There was nothing to do but wait to find out and provide cover when needed.
Hang in there, Melinda Sue.
The big guy rode into the campsite. His entourage fanned out.
The campsite exploded into action. The guards shouted and whipped out their revolvers. It was too late. The big guy’s henchmen had the drop on them. Angry voices carried up the rise. The bandits’ leader was gesturing emphatically. Whatever he was saying, the big guy wasn’t buying it. With a gesture and an order that carried in tone, he put an end to Rob’s protestations. The clearing settled into a tense silence. Even the birds quieted.
Watching the interaction, Jackson almost missed a movement down by the log sheltering Melinda. Shifting his position so he could get a better look, he made out Elijah’s broad-shouldered silhouette belly crawling across the forest floor. Son of a bitch!
Melinda Sue stiffened, thumb stuck in her mouth. He knew Elijah was talking to her. Elijah with the cold voice and cold eyes trying to sweet-talk a terrified little girl? Jackson grabbed up his rifle and quietly cocked the hammer, setting it beside him before picking up the spyglass again. If Melinda Sue panicked and screamed, all hell was going to break loose.
Listen to him, sprout.
To his surprise, she didn’t scream and actually appeared to pay attention. With a tiny nod, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and began inching out a little from the log, her progress hindered by her bonds. Every few seconds, she stopped and slowed down, clearly following orders. God bless Elijah and his sneaky-ass ways.
Now all they needed was time. Tensions were high. He panned over to the big guy. From the way he was looking down his nose, it was clear he didn’t have any respect for Rob. In a matter of moments bullets were going to be flying. A quick check revealed the sharpshooters still had their rifles trained on the kidnappers. They weren’t paying attention to where Melinda Sue sheltered, but that wouldn’t last. Movement always drew attention. The big guy dismounted.
Come on, sprout. Keep going.
Little by little she crept toward the foot of the log, not changing her body language, just creeping along, periodically stopping when Elijah signaled.
Come on.
A holler snapped his attention around. The standstill had escalated into a pushing match. The next thing in line after insults were bullets.
Let’s go, Elijah. Get her out of there!
Signaling his intent to the rest of his crew, Jackson drew a bead on the two sharpshooters. Clint would have to handle the campsite. Marking his angle, he sighted his target, selecting the shooter whose actions were most likely to draw fire in Melinda Sue’s direction. Switching to his rifle, he braced the barrel on the rock outcropping and carefully took aim. Finger on the trigger, he again silently urged Melinda Sue to hurry.
Come on!
She was almost to the bottom of the log. The hardest thing he’
d ever done was to not pull the trigger. The urge to step in battled with the prudence of keeping his position secret. The sentry’s focus was on the men arguing.
Just a little more, sprout . . .
In the next second, all hell broke loose. Rob went for his gun. He was surprisingly fast, but the big guy was faster, kicking it out of his hand. Rob had another, but before he could fire, a red stain blossomed on his chest. The report came a split second later. From up in the hills, the sharpshooters weighed in. Screaming, men dropped or dove for cover.
The battle was on, with Melinda Sue in the middle of it.
Shit!
Before Jackson could squeeze off a shot, his target switched positions. Damn it! He checked on Melinda Sue again. He was just in time to see her reach the end of the log. Elijah grabbed her foot and hauled her around the corner.
Fuck, that man was cold. In the middle of a gunfight, he lay there on the ground, calmly sliced the little girl’s bonds, and then showed her how to belly crawl. And did it all as if bullets weren’t peppering the air and ground around them. Jackson covered their retreat, ready to take out any threat, not relaxing until they became indistinguishable from the foliage. Then he turned his attention back to the battle.
The gunfight was over. A short and sweet execution and Melinda Sue’s kidnappers were dead with the exception of one. The lone survivor knelt on the ground, fingers laced behind his neck, blood dripping from a wound on his head. Words were exchanged. The big guy approached. The prisoner waved toward where Melinda Sue had been crouched. Without looking, the big guy shook his head. Pulling his knife, the big guy grabbed the man’s hair, tilted his head back, and held the knife to his neck while the survivor sniveled and begged, before, finally, slashing his throat. Blood arced through the air and poured down the man’s shirt. The big guy smiled.
With his foot in the dying man’s chest, he pushed him over. The man lay where he’d fallen, twitching twice before finally lying still.
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