Heart of the Rockies Collection

by Kathleen Morgan

  He grimaced. “At the rate we’re going in this dad-blasted snow, probably another half hour before we reach the turn-off to their hideout. And then maybe another half hour before we reach their shack.”

  The snow Spence was so bitterly complaining about, Sarah thought, would likely be his undoing. It wouldn’t be long before Nick figured out something was up. Then he’d either send for Gabe Cooper or set the rest of the hands out to search for them. And men on horseback, with no cattle to herd, could cover ground a lot faster than the rate they were currently going.

  Spence would be wiser, now that his treachery would soon be discovered, to hightail it out of the area just as fast as he could. His greed, in the form of thirty head of cattle, however, was going to be his downfall.

  “Your father especially isn’t going to be very happy with you, is he?” the foreman asked slyly. “Once he finds out you married a Wainwright, I mean.”

  “He knew I was going to marry Cord. Or didn’t he tell you that?”

  “We don’t talk much these days, Jacob and I. Not since he took sick, and your yellow-bellied brother decided he didn’t want any more of helping me rustle Wainwright cattle.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Sounds like Noah finally found the sense you still seem to be lacking.”

  Spence snickered nastily. “Well, we’ll see. You’d just better hope your brother’s on your side.”

  Unease fluttered through her. “Why’s that?”

  “Last time I talked with your father, he sure seemed like he was falling deeper and deeper into that madness of his. And he swore to me, if he ever got hold of you again, he was going to kill you rather than allow you to further shame the family by consorting with the Wainwrights.”

  20

  They caught up with Spence and his two men about midmorning. With ten rifles aiming at them from an overlook, the three rustlers, trapped in a small bowl with the cattle, surrendered without a fight. And, as Cord and Gabe then headed down to disarm the three men, Cord’s anger grew apace with the closing distance.

  Sarah was nowhere to be seen. That terrified him. Though he’d never imagined Spencer Womack to be a cold-blooded killer, he’d never thought the man would steal his cattle either. If the lowlife had harmed one hair of Sarah’s head . . .

  No sooner had they pulled in their mounts than Cord leaped off his horse and stalked over to Spence, who stood with his two partners, hands in the air, their guns on the ground several feet from them. He reached out and grabbed the other man by the front of his coat.

  “Where’s Sarah?” he snarled. “You’d better tell me some good news, or I swear I’ll beat your face to a pulp and not spare a moment’s regret!”

  Abject fear flared in Spence’s eyes. “I didn’t hurt her. She’s safe enough.”

  “Cord . . .” From behind him, he heard the warning note in Gabe’s voice. He dragged in a deep breath.

  “What do you mean, ‘safe enough’?”

  Spence shrugged. “First, let go of me. Give a man some breathing room.”

  His former foreman was in no position to make any demands, and Cord almost pointed that out to him. Instead, he fought a mighty battle with his temper, finally getting it back under control. What mattered now was finding Sarah, safe and sound, not teaching Spencer Womack a much-needed lesson. That could wait until later.

  He released his stranglehold on the other man and took a step back. “Spit it out, Womack. Answer my question.”

  Spence took a moment to rearrange his jacket. “She’s with her father and brother,” he replied at last, not meeting Cord’s icy stare. “I didn’t see the point of taking her with us. Had enough on my hands with the cattle.”

  Disbelief, mixed with a fair amount of horror, filled Cord. “You took her back to that crazy old man? There’s no telling what he might do to Sarah, now that we’re . . .”

  The faintest glimmer of a smile curled one corner of Spence’s mouth. Cord saw red. He lunged at the man, slamming a fist into his jaw.

  Spence dropped like a rock, knocked unconscious. The other two ranch hands, arms still in the air, jumped away in fright. Gabe grabbed Cord’s arm and yanked him backward.

  “Okay, Spence deserved that and more,” the sheriff said, his voice dropped low for Cord’s ears only, “but he’s out cold now, and I’m not going to let you beat up on a helpless man. So cool down, Cord, and do it fast!”

  His chest heaving with fury, Cord managed to back away of his own accord. Shame filling him, he rubbed his abraded fist with his other hand. Forgive me, Lord.

  “Sorry,” he said, shooting Gabe an apologetic look. “Old habits die hard. And I lost it when I realized Spence knew exactly what the consequences to Sarah might be, and still took her to her father.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” His friend glanced dispassionately at the man now lying prone in the snow. “Still, if you kill him, you might have a very hard time finding out where Jacob Caldwell’s holed up. In case that thought didn’t enter your mind a minute or so ago.”

  “No, I’m afraid it didn’t.”

  Cord knelt beside Spence, turned him over, and began to rub snow on the man’s face in an attempt to waken him. After a time, Spence groaned, and his lids fluttered open.

  “Wh . . . what happened?” He groaned again, one hand rising to his rapidly reddening jaw.

  “I hit you.” Cord grasped him by the arm and pulled him to a sitting position. “I didn’t much like your evident malicious intent in taking Sarah to her father. I’m going to give you a chance to make up for that, though.”

  Spence eyed him warily. “How’s that?”

  “You’re going to take me there. Now.” He jerked the man to his feet, then immediately had to grab him by both arms to steady him.

  “I don’t . . . don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Spence mumbled “Once I show you the hideout, who’s to say you might not finish me off?”

  “It’s a definite consideration.” Cord’s mouth quirked wryly. “But, since I’m not currently inclined to kill you, and I won’t want you around to complicate things, the deputy will accompany us. When I’m done with you, he can bring you back to town.” He turned to Gabe. “Does that meet with your approval?”

  “All but the part of you going in to face the Caldwells on your own. That could be tricky.”

  “I think I can handle a sick, crazy old man and his son.”

  “Normally, I’d agree, but you don’t know what Jacob might try.”

  Cord sighed and shook his head. “No, I don’t. But it’s my wife he’s got, and it’s time to end this feud once and for all. And that, Sheriff Cooper, is exactly what I intend to do.”

  Later that afternoon, Sarah gazed past the tattered remnants of the flour sacks that served as a curtain and out the window of the miner’s shack. She hadn’t slept much since Spence had unceremoniously deposited her on her father’s doorstep around midnight, then rode off. At first, her father hadn’t even been inclined to take her in. Thankfully, her older brother had finally prevailed on him to give her shelter, promising they’d deal with everything in the morning.

  She’d spent the rest of the night on the hard floor before the hearth fire, her hands and feet tied so she wouldn’t escape. But at least she’d been warm, Sarah consoled herself later that day as she’d sat by the window, watching for signs of rescue she knew would surely be forthcoming. And, despite Spencer Womack’s dire predictions to the contrary, her father had yet to kill her for her transgressions.

  All that matters is staying alive. Staying alive until help comes. Staying alive for Cord. Her gaze slid protectively to her belly. And staying alive for our baby.

  The consideration of telling her father of his grandchild-to-be had briefly crossed her mind. For a fleeting moment, the hope that his knowing the Caldwells, through her and Cord’s child, might someday inherit the ranch had lured her into imagining he might find comfort—and acceptance—in her marriage. But only for a fleeting moment.

  No sooner had h
e awoken and set eyes on her than Jacob had commenced ranting at Sarah about her betrayal and slatternly ways. And, the more he talked, the angrier he became, until a murderous light glowed in his eyes. Sarah soon gave up trying to reason with him and backed as far away from him as she could get in the close confines of the little cabin.

  Only Noah’s intervention finally saved her from her father attacking her. Noah’s intervention and her father’s failing health. His strength soon dissipated, and he had to lie down or literally collapse where he stood.

  So now Sarah sat across the room from where he lay on his bed, watching him sleep, his face ashen, his chest struggling for each breath. For a fleeting moment, she wondered who might survive the other. Her heart clenched with pain and pity. Pain for the man whom she’d once cherished with all her being. Pity for the empty, angry, bitter shell that was now left of him.

  Help me, dear Lord, she prayed, her eyes filling with tears, to forgive him. To love him for Your sake, if no longer for his own. And, if it’s Your will, help me to find a way to make him see, to understand, to let go of his unhappy vendetta and find some peace before he dies.

  “You hurt him, and deeply so, you know.”

  She whirled around in her chair, unaware that Noah, his arms laden with a load of wood, had walked in the front door. She must be more tired than she thought, not to have heard her brother’s approach. Sarah sighed.

  “I never meant to. Whether you believe that or not, I never meant to.”

  “Oh, I believe you.” As he spoke, Noah strode to the hearth and, as quietly as he could, deposited the wood. “I’ve never thought it was all your fault, this estrangement between you and Pa. Far from it.”

  Sarah shot a quick glance back at their father before once more meeting her brother’s gaze. Jacob slept on.

  “Then let me go, Noah,” she said, her voice cast low. “I don’t feel safe with Papa anymore. And if he should go into another one of his rages while you happen to be gone . . .”

  Her brother held up a silencing hand. “He won’t hurt you, Sarah. No matter how he rants, how bad his madness gets at times, he still knows you’re his daughter. And, deep down, he still loves you.”

  “Do you really think so?” She sighed again and slowly shook her head. “I’m not so sure. Not anymore. These days, I don’t think anything’s more important to him than—”

  From outside, high up on the trail leading down to the cabin, a voice hailed them. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. The voice . . . it sounded like—

  She turned in her chair to look back out the window. A form, tall, broad-shouldered, and oh, so very familiar, was walking his horse toward them.

  With a foul curse, Jacob Caldwell stirred, shoved to his elbows, then motioned for Noah to help him from the bed. Together, the two men made their way to the window.

  The old man’s gaze narrowed. As he appeared finally to recognize their visitor, his face mottled in rage. “Get my rifle, son,” he rasped, leaning forward to grip the windowsill for support. “My prayers have been answered. Today, I get to kill another Wainwright. And, once he’s gone, the only one left between me and the ranch will be his useless, crippled brother.”

  Just as soon as Noah and her father exited the house, Sarah glanced frantically around the room, searching for anything to use to cut herself free. Unfortunately, no one had conveniently left a sharp knife around, and there was no glass object she could break to use as a shard to saw through her ropes. With a sigh, she hobbled to the hearth. Fire seemed her only option.

  She picked up a long stick from the pile of wood Noah had dumped nearby and stuck it into the flames. It took what seemed an eternity to heat up enough, but she was finally able to use its glowing tip to set both her wrist and then her ankle bonds afire. Her high, leather riding boots, she well knew, would protect her from much of the heat of the burning ropes about her ankles. Her wrists, however, wouldn’t be so well protected.

  The searing flames built rapidly to a painful intensity. Sarah had to grit her teeth as the ropes began to smolder then burn. She pulled hard against the wrist bonds, hoping to aid the fire. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Hold on. Hold on,” she told herself, grinding her teeth against the pain. And please, Lord, she silently added, please, don’t let Papa or Noah do anything foolish before I can get to them.

  Not that she had any idea what she was going to do to prevent them from harming Cord, she thought, finally snapping the last few rope fibers on her now singed wrists and then applying the burning brand to her ankle bonds. That, however, was just what she intended on doing. Outside, Sarah could hear her father’s voice raised in anger, but he was now far enough from the cabin that she couldn’t make out what was being said. Not that it mattered what he thought or said anymore. All that mattered was her husband.

  She finally kicked free of the burnt ropes about her feet, stood, and hurried to the door, flinging it wide. The scene that greeted her, as she had feared, filled her with horror. Cord stood there, unarmed, his hands at his sides, looking at her father, who had his rifle aimed at Cord’s heart. Beside her father, Noah eyed his sire uncertainly.

  “Jesus, help me. Please, help me.” She whispered a frantic, fervent prayer, then headed resolutely toward the men.

  Facing toward the shack, Cord was the first to see her. His eyes widened. He gave a quick, firm shake of his head.

  He doesn’t want me in the middle of this, Sarah realized. He’s warning me to stay out of it.

  The possible consequences to him, however, if she stayed out of it were life-threatening. She ignored him. Skirting her father and brother, Sarah made a beeline straight for her husband.

  Too late, Noah and her father realized she’d gotten free. By the time they did, Sarah had already broken into a run to cover the last few yards. Once she reached Cord, she stepped in front of him, then wheeled around to face her father, who had just lowered his rifle.

  “Get away from him, girl,” Jacob Caldwell snarled. “You’re not going to save him from what he’s got coming to him.”

  “And exactly what does Cord have coming to him, Papa?” she demanded as she felt Cord’s hands settle on her arms. “He wasn’t even born when you lost the ranch. How is he to blame for any of this?”

  “Sarah,” her husband softly said, leaning close, “it’s long past time anyone can reason with him. Let me handle this.”

  She turned slightly to gaze up at him, and saw his intent burning hot and resolute in his eyes. Realization flashed through her. He wasn’t as unarmed and helpless as he made himself out to be. And he intended, if need be, to kill her father before her father killed him.

  Is this how You intend for it to end, Lord? she silently asked. For either my father to kill my husband or for my husband to kill my father?

  Mind-numbing despair swamped her. For a fleeting instant, Sarah was paralyzed with the sheer futility of it all. As if in a dream, she watched her father’s gaze narrow. Watched him lift his rifle again. Does he mean to kill me then, she wondered, if I don’t move from in front of my husband?

  “I’m not going to tell you again, girl,” he said, his voice rife with menace. “Get out of the way or—”

  Cord pulled her forcibly back behind him. Suddenly, all Sarah wanted to do was hide her face and close her eyes against what she feared would come next.

  “No more,” she moaned, cowering for a brief, blessed moment behind him. “Please . . . No more . . .”

  “Or what, Caldwell?” Cord demanded as he shielded Sarah with his own body. “Are you so intent on murder these days that you’ll kill your own child?”

  “Sh-she’s no child of mine if she chooses to betray her own father.” Jacob’s hold on the rifle wavered a bit. His breathing turned shallow and fast.

  “You’re wrong if you think Sarah’s ever betrayed you. She’s always loved you. Always.”

  As he spoke, Cord cast about for how to get her out of harm’s way. If Jacob fired on him, and he was forced to draw and dis
charge the pistol he had shoved in the back of his belt, Sarah could get caught in the crossfire. And if anything should happen to her . . .

  With a fierce effort, he shoved that consideration aside. This wasn’t the time to get bogged down in emotion. He had to keep a clear head. He had to remain alert to any signal Caldwell might give indicating he was about to shoot him.

  The way the old man was shaking now, Cord thought, eyeing him closely, it’d be a wonder if he could even manage to pull the trigger. He was so sick and weak, he could barely remain upright. But Jacob stood there nonetheless, struggling with all his remaining strength to salvage some shred of his pride, of his long-held, if futile and self-destructive dream.

  A surprising compassion filled Cord. As wrong and misguided as Sarah’s father had always been, he wasn’t much different from any other man who’d lost what he’d deemed most important. True, Jacob had chosen poorly and, in the doing, had forfeited everything that really mattered in life. But hadn’t he himself almost done the very same thing? And hadn’t his own father, as well?

  He exhaled a long, weary breath. Help me, Lord. For Sarah’s sake, if not for my own, help me find some honorable way out of this. Help me finally bring some good from all these years of pain and suffering.

  “She’s always loved you,” he softly reiterated. “Always wanted the best for you. And for her sake, and the sake of your two remaining sons, it’s time we end this feud. You’re my father-in-law now, and I love my wife. I won’t press charges against you or Noah if you just give this up. Now and forever.”

  Caldwell’s face had gone ashen. He could barely hold up his rifle. “And give up the ranch. No, never!”

  “Then don’t give it up.” Inspiration struck Cord. “Come back with us, you and Noah, and live on the ranch with us. In peace. As family.”