Survivor Pass

by Davies, Shirleen

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her aside, opening the latch on the satchel with his other hand and reaching inside.

  “Do you always travel with a Colt .45, Allie?” Not loosening his hold around her waist, he held up the gun. “Fully loaded, I see. What were your plans for this?”

  With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Alison wrenched herself free, taking several steps away. “I know you won’t believe me, but I brought it for protection.”

  “Protection?” His voice oozed with sarcasm. “From who?”

  “You.” She took another step away, seeing his cocky smile slip.

  He placed the gun on the bed, then turned to face her. “Why would you need protection from me?”

  Grasping her hands in front of her, she licked her lips. “You shot Bobby. I thought…”

  The fear on her face hit Cash for the first time as he realized what she was telling him. He stepped toward her, only to watch her back up against the wall.

  “I’d never hurt you, Allie.”

  A grim laugh escaped her lips. “You already did when you refused to listen to my explanation. I knew you were angry at the way you discovered I wasn’t a widow, but I thought you’d at least give me a chance to explain.” She placed a hand on her heart, as if the gesture would still its pounding.

  “You’re right. I should have given you a chance to explain. It was my mistake pushing you away.” He glanced at the bed behind him. “That still doesn’t explain the gun.”

  She pushed away from the wall. “I didn’t know what to expect from you today…riding out of town to a cabin no one but you visits.”

  “You didn’t come here to kill me?”

  “What? No. I lov…” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing what she’d almost admitted.

  Closing his eyes, he mumbled a curse, scrubbing a hand down his face before looking at her. Taking a step toward her, he held up his hands, palms out, when she looked as if she wanted to run.

  “Come here, Allie.”

  She shook her head, refusing to move.

  “Allie, please. Come here.”

  Lifting her chin, she walked forward, stopping a couple feet away. “What?”

  “Closer.”

  “I don’t need to be closer to hear what you have to say.”

  “Allie, come closer.”

  Letting out a frustrated breath, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “Why?”

  The smile spreading across his face caught her by surprise. Moving to within inches of her, he rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “Because I don’t want to tell you I love you from across the room.”

  Her jaw dropped, her eyes flying open. Recovering, she stared at him. “You love me?”

  “I do. Please tell me I’m not alone.”

  Her head spun. She’d never expected to hear those words from him, never thought she’d ever be alone with him again after today.

  “Allie?”

  Her mind clearing, she looked into his eyes. “I love you, too, Cash.”

  Wrapping her in his arms, he drew her close, lowering his mouth to hers.

  “Well, now. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard, Harry?”

  Breaking the kiss, Cash pulled Alison behind him, recognizing the two men from the wanted posters.

  “Milton and Harrison Penderville. What a surprise.” Cash backed up toward the bed. Alison backed up with him, as if she knew he wanted her closer to the gun.

  “He knows us, Harry,” Milt sneered. “Guess our reputation is getting around.”

  “Let me be clear, Penderville. It’s not a good reputation.” Cash let his arms hang loose at his sides.

  Harry’s gaze narrowed. “Take out your gun and lay it on the floor.”

  “No.” Cash ignored Alison’s gasp at his refusal.

  “We’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  “You’re going to kill us whether I remove my gun or not, Milton.”

  “It’s Milt. Now, get rid of the gun.”

  “Not going to happen.” Cash knew he could take one of them, even with guns already in their hands. He didn’t know if he could keep Alison out of the crossfire. “I’m surprised you came all this way up the mountain. I’d have thought you’d take the opportunity to rob the bank while I’m out of town.”

  “We care nothing about the small amount of money in your bank. We’re here because you killed one of our men. A good friend of our brother.” Milt stepped aside, letting Monty move next to him.

  “Hello, Deputy Coulter.”

  Cash’s eyes narrowed. “Brother?”

  “Thought you’d be surprised.” Monty drew his gun and walked forward. “I asked a lot of questions while working for Silas. I needed to know who killed my best friend, Bobby McGrath. Imagine how I felt when I learned it was you.”

  Leaving the safety of Cash’s body, Alison glared at Monty. “Bobby would never have been friends with a group of killers.”

  All three brothers laughed before Monty responded. “We were friends all right. Real good friends.”

  “I don’t believe you. Bobby wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t like you.” Alison’s voice trembled as she tried to deny the truth about her brother.

  Monty’s face hardened, the smile he always wore disappearing. “I’ll tell you what Bobby was. He rode with us for months. Robbed banks and used his gun. He did everything my brothers asked, never flinching. You may believe your baby brother was a saint, but he wasn’t.” He shot a hateful look at Cash. “He still didn’t deserve to be executed by a lawman.”

  “There was no execution, Monty. I gave Bobby several chances to lower his gun. It didn’t matter what I said, he still refused to toss it aside. He gave me no choice.” Cash stepped in front of Alison, attempting to shield her from the gunmen. “Your friend didn’t have to die that day. He chose to die.”

  “Shut up, Coulter. Bobby didn’t choose anything. You shot him in cold blood.” Monty raised his gun. Like Bobby, his hand shook, but he didn’t fire.

  “Shoot him, Monty.” Milt stood beside him, his voice cold and unemotional.

  “Do it, kid. It’s what he deserves.” Harry watched Monty’s gun shake as sweat formed on his brow. “You know it’s what Bobby would’ve wanted.”

  “That’s. Not. True.” Alison’s shout echoed in the cabin as she took a step away from Cash.

  “Alison, get back,” he ordered, praying she’d listen.

  Before either could say another word, a shot slammed into Harry, sending him sprawling. Cash drew his gun, firing a shot at Milt, hitting him in the chest. Before he had a chance to fire at Monty, Alison moved in front of him, aiming her Colt at Monty.

  “Drop the gun, Monty,” Cash warned, trying to nudge Alison aside.

  “You killed my brothers.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion as he stared at Milt and Harry, both dead at his feet. Whipping his head up, he aimed the gun at Cash. “It’s your turn, Coulter.”

  Cash pointed his gun, but before he could fire, a shot rang out. Monty staggered backward, looking down at the red stain growing on his chest. Eyes wide, he sent an unbelieving look at Alison.

  “But…he killed your brother…” Whatever else he wanted to say died on his lips. His knees buckled, his body convulsed, then Monty Penderville joined his brothers.

  Turning to Alison, Cash saw tears streaming down her face, her arm shaking from holding the heavy weapon in front of her. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he reached out to her with the other.

  “Give me the gun, Allie.”

  She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the men in front of her.

  “I killed him.” Her trembling voice cut through him.

  “I know, sweetheart, but it’s over now. Give me the gun.”

  She blinked several times, her entire body shuddering as her knees started to give way.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he tightened his hold, grasping the gun a moment before her grip gave way. Turning her to him, he tucke
d her head under his chin, listening as quiet sobs wracked her body. Looking up, his gaze landed on Beau standing in the doorway.

  “I had a feeling you’d follow me.”

  Beau kicked each of the bodies, making sure the job was complete.

  “Couldn’t let you leave me as the only deputy in Splendor.” He nodded toward Alison. “She going to be all right?”

  Cash stroked her hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes. She’s going to be fine.”

  ~~~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “How long do we wait, Louis?” Clem and the rest of the gang waited at the agreed upon location. Milt, Harry, and Monty were to join them long before now.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t wait much longer.” Slapping his hat against his leg, watching as the dust drifted in the breeze, he let out a string of curses. “There weren’t supposed to be two men riding up the trail.”

  “Wish we’d known which one was Brandt.”

  “They looked like brothers. We had no choice but to shoot them both.” Louis had accepted his role in the gang a long time ago. Milt or Harry told him who to kill and why, and the job was done. Brandt deserved to die for killing Chet. The other man happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Looking at the sun’s descent into mid-afternoon, Louis made a decision.

  “We know where Milt wants to camp outside Big Pine. I say we ride there and wait for them to join us. Staying so close to Splendor isn’t safe.”

  “What if they never show up, Louis?” Clem took another glance behind them, hoping to see a cloud of dust signaling the Pendervilles were close.

  “We’ll give them two days. After that, we’ve got to assume they’ve been arrested…or are dead.”

  Doc Worthington hadn’t taken a break since Noah and Bull had been rushed into the clinic, grateful Rachel hurried inside not long after their arrival. She’d come as quickly as possible, along with Dax, Luke, and Ginny, who kept watch on young Patrick.

  What Doc and Rachel hadn’t expected was Clay McCord staying to work alongside them. His quick, efficient movements had them glancing at each other more than once, brows raised. By silent agreement, they decided to save their questions until later.

  The three worked in quiet unison, saying little, letting their experience guide them. Neither Noah nor Bull had woken, delaying the need for chloroform.

  “Rachel, I need more hot water and morphine.” Since her friends had been brought in, she’d kept a nearby table stocked with bandages, laudanum, opium pills, morphine, chloroform, whiskey, and brandy. A few precious bottles of a new antiseptic, carbolic acid, had arrived weeks before, which they used to sanitize Noah’s and Bull’s wounds and soak the dressings before applying.

  “Got it,” Clay mumbled as he pulled out a bullet from Noah’s chest, depositing it in a bowl on the table. “Rachel?” He didn’t have to say more before she helped clean the opening with carbolic acid, then prepared the bandages and suture thread, soaking them in the same liquid. In a matter of minutes, they’d become a team.

  “Uncle Charles, are you all right?” Rachel hurried around the table toward him when he stumbled backward, catching himself against the counter. Putting an arm around him, she noticed his shaking hands and sweat-laden brow. “You need to rest for a bit.”

  “I can’t. Noah and Bull need me, Rachel.”

  “You aren’t any good to them if you collapse.”

  “She’s right, Doc. Rachel and I can handle this for a while.” Clay stepped away from the table after finishing stitching Noah’s third wound. “I can’t quite grasp how none of the bullets hit a critical organ or artery on either man. The odds are remarkable.”

  Doc Worthington lowered himself into a chair, letting out a tired breath. “They are a long way from being out of danger, Mr. McCord. Or should I call you Doctor McCord?”

  Clay didn’t respond, although his hands stilled at his sides.

  “Where did you learn to perform surgery? Or am I wrong in believing you have considerable experience?” Doc leaned back in the chair, his weary gaze focused on him.

  Rachel continued to clean Bull’s chest, then applied another bandage to a wound which bled profusely, listening to her uncle’s questions. Clay’s quiet chuckle had her glancing at him.

  “I worked in Union field hospitals during the war.” A sheepish smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “In truth, I worked with you at several battle sites.”

  “That can’t be true. I’m certain I’d remember a man of your talent.”

  “It would be a miracle if you recognized me from the war. I had a mustache and thick beard, and wore spectacles most of the time. Not to see, but to keep the blood out of my eyes.”

  Doc Worthington’s jaw dropped. “Your eyes…I should’ve figured it out hours ago. The blue-gray color lined with deep brown always struck me as intense, belonging to a man of high intellect.”

  Clay laughed at the description. “Not sure about high intellect, but I’ve been accused many tines of being too intense.”

  A painful moan drew their attention to Noah in time to see his eyes flutter open. He blinked several times as he attempted to focus before he tried to roll to his side.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Rachel dashed to his side as Clay gently pushed him back down on the table.

  Noah’s gaze latched onto Rachel’s, his eyes reflecting fear and confusion.

  “You were shot—more than once.”

  He blinked, his hand coming up to rub across his forehead. “When?”

  “A few hours ago. You and Bull were ambushed, left for dead.” Rachel had to hold him still as a look of panic crossed his face.

  “Bull…is he…” Noah tried to sit up again.

  “Noah, you must stay down.” Doc’s stern words caused him to lie back. “Bull is right here.” He nodded to the table next to Noah. “He’s in a little better condition than you, but not much.”

  Noah licked his lips. “I need water.”

  Rachel picked up a glass while Clay lifted Noah’s head.

  “A small amount, Noah.” Rachel held the glass to his lips, letting him swallow little more than a tablespoon before moving it away.

  Lowering Noah’s head to the table, Clay watched as his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

  “Good. He needs as much rest as he can get. Clay, are you able to stay?”

  “For as long as you need me, Doctor.”

  Worthington placed a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Charles.”

  “All right…Charles.”

  “Good. Now I think it’s time to let everybody know what’s going on in here.”

  “I’ll stay in here while you and Rachel talk to them.” Clay put a hand to Bull’s forehead, noticing the fever subsiding. “He’s cooling some.”

  “Come on, Rachel. Let’s go talk to them.”

  Worthington opened the door, letting Rachel precede him to face a room full of her friends and family. No one spoke as Doc stepped next to her. Taking a deep breath, he looked at each face, understanding the pain he saw in their eyes.

  “We removed three bullets from Noah. He’s sleeping now. If there’s no infection, he has a good chance of making it.” He looked at Abby, reaching out to take her hand in his. “Noah was quite fortunate. None of the bullets hit a vital organ, but there is one problem.”

  Gabe walked up next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Abby swallowed, her eyes damp as she waited.

  “There was considerable damage to his right arm. He may not regain full use of it.”

  She glanced at Gabe.

  “He’s alive, Abby. We could’ve lost him,” Gabe whispered. “I’ll do whatever I can to help him with his arm.”

  “We’ll all help, Abby. Whatever he needs.” Dax stepped next to them, sending a quick glance at Rachel, who responded with a grateful smile.

  “Can I see him, Doc?”

  “Not yet. We’ll see about you visit
ing him for a few minutes when he wakes up.” The room quieted before he heard a soft voice.

  “What about Bull? Is he…”

  Doc’s gaze landed on Lydia. Her pale face and trembling lips cut through him. “He’s alive, Lydia.”

  “Oh God.” She brought her hands up to cover her face, trying to muffle deep sobs.

  Luke, Bull’s closest friend, put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, then looked at Doc. “Will he recover?” he asked.

  “We removed one bullet and the wound is clean, so yes, he should recover as long as he avoids infection. If all goes well, he can probably go home in a couple days.”

  “He’ll stay with us, Doc.” Abby looked at Lydia, who nodded as she swiped away the dampness on her face.

  “Who is in with them now?” Gabe dropped his arm from Abby’s shoulders.

  “Well now, it seems Splendor has another doctor in town.” Doc glanced over his shoulder toward the patient room. “Clay McCord was a surgeon for the North during the war.”

  “What?” Dax and Luke said together.

  “He never said a word.” Lena’s brows lifted. She’d never considered him to be more than a quiet drifter.

  “We may never have known if Noah and Bull hadn’t been shot. Clay’s good. Real good.” Doc directed his comment at Rachel, knowing she’d get his meaning.

  “Charles, Bull is awake.” Everyone turned when Clay stuck his head out the door to make the announcement. Gabe made the first move, extending his hand.

  “Thanks for helping save them, Doctor McCord. I can’t tell you how grateful we all are.”

  Clay felt his cheeks flush as he accepted Gabe’s hand. He’d never been comfortable with praise. In his mind, he’d done what anyone trained in medicine would have under the circumstances.

  “I just followed Doctor Worthington’s lead.”

  “Now, Clay, you’re being too modest.” Worthington walked past him to check on Bull. Seeing him trying to sit up, he put a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, Bull. You have some healing to do before I can let you leave.”