O’Rourke in town again. I wish I had firm proof he was behind the rustling, or just proof of his involvement, but in the six months since Stevenson saw him settling a sale of cattle at the Cheyenne train station, he’s proven more wily than I thought.
Perhaps he has help?
Reaching the end of the entry, Chas stared down at the page and let the words blur out of focus. Carpenter had suspected O’Rourke?
Chas knew lawmen weren’t above reproach—he’d taken down a marshal near Houston, Texas, who’d murdered several men in a gambling den and had almost gotten away with it.
From all he’d gathered, Danna’s first husband had excelled at his job, so if he suspected O’Rourke, chances were the sheriff was dirty.
In the distance, the train whistled. Chas was running out of time.
He flipped through the book rapidly, looking for more entries that mentioned the sheriff or suspicious activity. Several entries mentioned suspicions of a gang of rustlers, most likely very the same ones Chas was hunting. Carpenter didn’t know identities, but had found the prairie cabin. On the last page, Chas came upon an underlined entry.
O’Rourke’s involvement confirmed. Meeting tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. Will follow O’Rourke to cattle holding location then return for backup.
There were no further entries.
Fred Carpenter must have been spotted as he tried to take down the gang. Danna had said he’d been murdered in cold blood, but nothing about his suspicions.
Because he hadn’t told her, Chas realized. And she couldn’t read his journal for herself.
The train platform shook as the locomotive shuddered to a stop, chugging and hissing. Time was up.
He couldn’t go to Cheyenne. Not with O’Rourke out there and possibly thinking Danna knew too much. She needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
He turned to leave the platform, ignoring the stare from the curious ticket-taker who hung off the side of the train. As he approached the stairs down to street level, a man he recognized as the town doctor ran up to him, huffing and panting.
“I’m awful glad to see you haven’t left yet,” the older man huffed, out of breath. “She’s gone after the bank robbers.”
“What?”
The man’s words didn’t make sense, and then, all of a sudden, they did.
The doc frowned. “I have reason to believe the sheriff may be a part of the outlaw gang. He came and got the outlaw that was shot up—but hasn’t been seen around town since.”
This was new information. Was there a possibility the bank robbers and rustlers were the same group?
Chas’s heart started thumping harder, but he wasn’t ready to get too worried yet. “But she doesn’t know where they’re holed up, does she? She’ll have to head to town before the storm gets here.”
The rigid set of the older man’s mouth did not reassure him.
“I’m afraid she did have a clue about the gang’s whereabouts. I told her about a cave the shot outlaw mentioned… She seemed to know where it was….” The doc’s voice faded out.
The implications made Chas’s knees go weak, and he fell onto the bench. Panic clogged his throat and threatened to overtake his senses. He couldn’t think straight.
Danna had ridden into the face of Hank Lewis’s gang. Alone.
“So she is as good as dead.” Despair made the words a whisper when he pushed them through frozen lips. What was he thinking when he’d let her go? This was all his fault. Again.
“I wouldn’t say that.” The doc laid a hand on Chas’s shoulder, but it offered no comfort.
“Why not?” Chas rubbed his hands over his face, trying to find some hint of hope that he hadn’t thought of. There was none. “Even if she doesn’t find the outlaws, she could freeze to death or get injured. If she does find them, she’s completely outnumbered.”
“Don’t give up on the marshal so easy.” The older man sounded so confident. All Chase felt was empty.
“She’s a tough one. And clever. Why, I remember when she rounded up those three fellas that hoodwinked half the town into buyin’ them fake medicine tablets.”
Chas shook his head, helplessness drowning him.
“And an incident where she single-handedly stopped a train robbery while it was in progress.
“If you’re gonna go, you don’t have much time.”
As if to punctuate the doctor’s words, several snowflakes swirled down out of the iron-gray sky.
Chas couldn’t let it end like this. Not for Julia, and not for Danna. Urgency rising, he told the doc, “Gather every able man you can find. We’ll meet here in half an hour. Be ready to ride.”
After the allotted time had passed, Chas had drawn a curious crowd, but no one seemed to be willing to chase after Danna and the outlaw gang. Chas’s horse was the only one saddled and ready to go.
Chas was getting more and more desperate as the minutes ticked on. Finally, he could stay silent no longer.
“I know that several of you men have worked with Danna when her first husband was still alive. You know her abilities.”
The crowd murmured, but no voices rose in either agreement or disagreement.
“Danna has given years of her life serving the residents of this town. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“A woman shouldn’t be marshal.”
“She cain’t handle the job!”
That had gotten a rise out of them. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be the response Chas wanted.
A familiar voice called out, gaining volume above the noise of the gathered crowd. “The marshal can do just as good a job as any man. She caught Sam Castlerock riding out of town with your horse today. And last week she broke up two fights at the saloon before things could get out of hand and someone got hurt. This town needs the marshal.”
Chas looked over the heads of the crowd and spotted the speaker, the young man he recognized from the livery. The young man stood slightly apart from the crowd, face set.
One boy was better than nothing, but Chas’s hopes, small as they had been, began to dim.
The crowd continued to make noise, but no further voices called out with any willingness to help. Several men in front refused to meet Chas’s eyes, and his suspicions mounted.
“Is there some other reason you won’t ride with Danna?” he called out, desperate now. “Is someone paying you not to help her?”
Heads lowered, but no one said a word.
“Would you sacrifice the marshal’s life, just so you can keep your secrets?” No answer.
Well, he couldn’t give up on Danna, not yet. Not if there was a chance he could save her, no matter how small.
As Chas was turning to mount his borrowed animal, the sound of multiple horses approaching at a gallop drowned out the crowd’s murmurings, and even Chas’s own heart that beat for Danna.
A group of rough-looking men on horseback—six or eight by Chas’s count, although the ones in the rear shifted and he couldn’t get an accurate count—rode right up to the gathering.
The man out front pushed his stained Stetson off his brow, allowing Chas a good look at his face. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin, while a full mustache hid the man’s mouth. His coffee-brown eyes reminded Chas of someone, but he couldn’t place the man. Those eyes shifted across each face in the crowd, as if searching for someone in particular. He didn’t seem to find them, his dark eyes growing narrower as the moments ticked by.
Finally, he spoke in a gruff voice that sounded as if it hadn’t been used in a while. “I’m looking for the marshal.”
Chas bristled. He didn’t like the looks of these ruffians one whit. “Who’s asking?” he demanded.
The man’s dark gaze honed in on Chas, and his expression made it clear he had no intention of being the first to divulge any information. Chas refused to look away. He didn’t trust this newcomer and wasn’t going to be the first to break. Silence stretched out between them, taut and deadly.
Someone else spoke, br
eaking the tension. “Ain’t got no marshal no more.”
The man on horseback looked away from Chas to the speaker, face going white beneath his tan. “Whaddya mean?” His tone indicated that, if he didn’t like the answer he received there would be consequences.
“She resigned.”
“She was forced to resign,” corrected Chas, losing the tight rein he was holding on his temper. “After you all lost your faith in her. Fred trusted her enough to be a deputy, and I’d be willing to bet she was better than any of the men he hired.” Chas pushed his way through the edge of the crowd to his borrowed horse, preparing to ride. “You may not think much of your lady marshal—my wife—but I do. I’m going to find her and help her bring those outlaws in.”
With that, he swung up on his mount and turned the horse toward the mountains visible over the roofs of the town buildings. He didn’t make it far before the sound of hoofbeats joined those from his own horse. The stranger with dark hair came abreast of him.
“We’ll ride with you,” the stranger said, and made it sound like a command, not a request.
“Thank you, but I don’t know you—”
“I’m her brother.” The man’s terse words were offset by the jumping muscle in his jaw. “Rob Creighton. Sounds like we’re family now.”
Chas knew his expression betrayed his shock, but the kernel of hope growing inside him was making it hard to maintain his composure. So this was the brother who’d pushed Danna to marry so young? What was he doing here now?
Creighton motioned to the six men following. “These are a few of my hands. One of my men heard about Danna’s troubles while calling on a lady friend who lives in these parts. I came when I could, but it sounds like it wasn’t soon enough. So Danna’s taken off to chase a group of outlaws on her own?” Creighton didn’t sound surprised.
“It’s worse than that,” Chas told him, itching to move faster, to get out of town, but knowing it would be impossible to talk once they let the horses go. “We think the sheriff is involved. Fred wrote in his journal that he was close to being able to prove O’Rourke was guilty. I think O’Rourke was behind Fred’s murder. Danna doesn’t know about the last part, though.”
With a glance to the rapidly darkening sky and the snowflakes swirling around them, the set of the cowboy’s mouth turned even grimmer. “We don’t have much time. If they catch her before we do…”
Chas knew. He was trying not to think about what could happen to a woman alone. “Apparently, Danna knew the location of this cave in the mountains. I believe you might know it, as well?”
“She went back there? Alone?” The rising alarm in the other’s man voice was not comforting to Chas in the least.
“I know she was injured near there, years ago,” Chas said. “But she’s a good rider. We just need to catch up to her. Can you find the cave?”
“Probably. But it’s been years.”
“Or I could take you right to it,” a female voice called out. Creighton reined in to allow the young woman running down the boardwalk to catch up. Chas gritted his teeth in an effort to keep his impatience inside.
Then he recognized the girl. Katy.
She shied from Creighton when his horse sidestepped toward her. Approached Chas instead. Because he’d been kind to her before?
“I can take ya right to the cave.”
“How do you know it? Who are you?” Rob demanded.
“We can trust her,” Chas put in. She might’ve run away, but he knew she liked Danna.
When Katy spoke, it was to Chas. “My pa…used to run with that awful Jed Hester. Then a few months ago, that lyin’, no good snake shot him in the back. Tried to come after me, too, but Pa had taught me how to disappear in the woods.”
So she’d been on her own for months, probably near to starving when Chas had caught her outside the grocery. No wonder she’d eaten as if his eggs and bacon had been her last meal.
“Anyways, I want that no-account varmint dead, and I guess hangin’s the next best thing to shootin’ ’im when you lot catch up to them.”
Even though he was used to Danna and her trousers and her being marshal, the violence spewing from this girl surprised him. He supposed she was only expressing the same thing he felt about Hank Lewis.
“I’m coming, too,” a second voice rang out, this one accompanied by hoofbeats. Chas turned in the seat of his saddle to see the livery stablehand, Will, gallop right up to the girl before reining his mount in. The girl didn’t flinch away from him as she had from Creighton. “Katy and I both want to help the marshal.”
He knew Katy?
Winded, the boy must’ve run all the way across town to the livery, but he didn’t complain, just swung the girl up in the saddle behind him.
Chas didn’t particularly want the young man involved, but perhaps he could watch over the girl if they got into a troublesome situation.
Now could they get going?
Danna’s mind whirled as the three horses neared the crude campsite spilling out of the mouth of the yawning black hole that marked the cave. With her hands bound in front of her, it had been all she could do to cling to the saddle horn and not topple as her horse followed O’Rourke’s mount, traversing the difficult terrain in the foothills of the Laramie Mountains. Never mind reaching a weapon to help her escape or to overpower O’Rourke.
She looked over her shoulder again, seeing the kid who’d been shot wasn’t doing well. His complexion about matched the color of the snow now swirling around them. If she could somehow get close to him, maybe she could get his weapon loose. And if his injury was getting worse, maybe she could convince O’Rourke to let her help him.
It was a risky plan, relying on an awful lot of maybes. But it was all she had.
O’Rourke reined in outside of the camp and dismounted. He hauled her off her horse, none too gently. Her ankle jarred when she landed on the ground, but he didn’t give her time to even catch her breath before he shoved her in the direction of the cave. “O’Rourke—”
“No talking,” he ordered. “I’ve got a job for you. Now move it.”
She didn’t argue. He unholstered his gun in an obvious silent threat. She ducked through the mouth of the cave, carefully stepping over a man laid out on the ground, snoring, and had to start breathing through her mouth at the overpowering stench of unwashed flesh.
O’Rourke kicked the sleeping man, who roused with a disoriented huff.
“You’re supposed to be on watch, Wilson. If I catch you sleeping again, I’ll put a bullet in you.”
The man didn’t respond, but Danna read anger in the set of his mouth before he spit a stream of tobacco juice against the cave wall. He stood up and moved outside the cave.
O’Rourke motioned her farther inside with his pistol. She walked around the small fire in the center of the cave, noting how little warmth it exuded, and moved toward a man with a distinctive handlebar mustache squatting next to a bundle of rags. Jed Hester.
“He any worse?” O’Rourke asked, and the man looked up, his face grave. “No change.”
That’s when she realized the bundle of rags was a man. One who was seriously injured. Between the flickering firelight and shadows, his pant leg appeared nearly black with slick blood, coming from a wound in his upper thigh.
Well, that answered her question of why O’Rourke hadn’t killed her outright.
The sheriff glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Fix him up. No funny business or yore dead.”
“I can’t—I’m no doctor,” she stalled. The injured man already appeared close to death. He was so pale, she didn’t know if there was anything she could do for him.
“I know you ain’t a doctor, girl. But you saved yer Freddie-poo when he got shot up a coupla years ago, an I ’spect you to do the same for my boy here.”
She knelt next to the injured man, wobbling as her tied hands put her off balance. She pushed aside the ripped shirt used to bind the wound, and blood immediately poured from the leg. Hastily, she
re-covered the wound as best she could.
“You’re going to have to untie me. There’s a few medical supplies in my saddlebag. And we’ll need some clean cloths. How long has he been like this?”
“Stu! Get the woman’s saddlebags.” O’Rourke nodded to the other outlaw. “Take off his gun belt. Then untie her.”
He didn’t answer her question of how long the man had been injured, but she could guess. He must’ve been shot last night, during the melee in town. She didn’t want to feel the guilt surging through her, so she focused on the best way to tend his wound.
Once her hands were freed she shook them, and pinpricks like needles of ice ushered the return of feeling to her fingers. Holding her emotions in check, she rummaged in the saddlebag that was thrust in her face. It was hard to think with the gun barrel mere feet away, focused directly on her. Was there anything in her bag she could use to affect an escape?
Even if there was, could she leave the man to die?
“Hurry up,” a voice from behind her warned. She wasn’t sure who spoke, but she knew she was out of time. She would have to dig for the bullet and then stitch him up.
And then maybe she could figure out a way to get out of here.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly, as she removed the blood-soaked cloth from the wound.
He didn’t respond, instead focusing his pain-glazed eyes above her head.
“’Is name’s Hank,” grunted the man who now squatted near the fire, gun in hand. Danna glanced around the small cavern, but O’Rourke was nowhere to be seen.
Every single one of Danna’s muscles tensed as she returned her gaze to the man beneath her hands. So this was the man who’d killed Chas’s sister-in-law, the woman he loved. The outlaw’s breathing was irregular, his face translucent. He was obviously in a lot of pain, and if Danna couldn’t remove the bullet, there was a strong possibility he would bleed out.
It wouldn’t take much to let nature take his course. To let him die.
Chas thought he deserved to die. She was inclined to agree.
Marrying Miss Marshal Page 18