CHARMED Boxed Set 1, Hero Hearts Historical: Inspirational Western Romance

by Cambridge, Kate

  “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know,” she replied, moving toward the house to see if Claire needed assistance.

  * * *

  “I think we made progress,” Claire announced to a quiet table at dinner that night.

  “You and Colossal?” Mary asked.

  “Yes,” Claire confirmed with a half-smile.

  “You’ve lost your mind, Claire. That bull could have killed you today—nearly did in fact—and you think you made progress? Progress toward what, exactly?” her brother challenged.

  Every fiber of her body ached, but she wasn’t about to let them know that. “He could have killed me,” she agreed with a pointed look at Jim, “but he didn’t. I think he just wanted to put me in my place—let me know who’s the king of his corral. Or maybe he knew it was the first and last carrot he’d be getting in a while. I told him only good longhorns get carrots, and clearly he doesn’t fit that category.”

  She dared a glance at Lee Jamison. He was staring at her with those intense, gray eyes. Sometimes she thought they could see right through people. It made her stomach squeamish.

  She moved to Lance’s steel-blue eyes, which were equally intense but in a different way—they seemed to assess from a clinical perspective rather than a need to be inside the other person’s mind.

  Claire glanced back at Lee—that was it—he sought to understand the inner workings of the mind. Interesting, she thought as her eyes moved to Jim, who was looking at her like she’d lost her mind, but Mary smiled at her when she reached her eyes.

  “It scares me that I think I actually understand where you’re coming from, Claire.”

  Claire thanked her with a smile.

  “But when I saw you crumpled in a ball at the end of the corral—and I thought I might have lost you, too…” her voice was a mere whisper, her eyes moist with tears. “Jim’s right, it was foolhardy, and for what? Please, don’t risk that again, Claire. Longhorns are unpredictable. Whatever connection you think you have with him, is it worth risking your life and your future?” Mary pushed her chair back from the table and began collecting plates.

  Claire dropped her eyes. What had come over her? It had seemed like such a simple game between Colossal and her, in theory—but Mary was right, and Claire regretted causing her sister more heartache.

  With a sigh and a wince, she stood to help Mary.

  “I don’t want your help.” Mary looked at Claire through tear-filled eyes. “Why don’t you go rest—you look like you’re in pain.”

  “I’m fine,” she argued, picking up her plate, and Lance’s, taking them to the sink where her sister had begun to fill a pot with water.

  “I—I’m sorry, Mary. It was selfish of me, again,” she admitted.

  Mary stood still at the sink, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

  “I could have lost you,” she whispered.

  Claire put her arm on Mary’s. “But you didn’t. I’m here. I’m okay, and I’m sorry. I’ll be a thorn in your side for years to come,” she gently joked as she set the dishes down and pulled her sister into her arms.

  The men quietly backed away from the table, heading toward the porch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lee pause and give her a nod of approval before he turned and walked through the door.

  A curious man, that one, she thought, but they were on the same page about one thing—Mary needed to grieve.

  Chapter 20

  Near Kneeland’s Pass

  Sully heard steps shuffling loudly toward him. He moved quickly and quietly toward the sound. “I thought I told you men to—”

  “Look who I’ve got here, Sheriff,” Evan Dow whispered loudly as he and Joseph fought to restrain a man with a gag tight across his mouth, a bandana across his eyes and his hands tied behind his back. The man struggled harder and grunted loudly. Joseph hit him hard in the kidneys, and the man dropped to the ground on his knees.

  “Enough, Joseph,” his voice cut through the silence of the night, although barely a whisper. “Who is it?” he whispered trying to stem the thread of impatience he felt.

  “See for yourself,” Evan whispered, removing the bandana from the man’s eyes and yanking the gag down.

  Sully towered about the captive, dismay filling his gut. “Brody Cartwright.”

  Stirring from the ranks told him his whisper had been heard by everyone nearby.

  “Really?” Sully brought his face level with Brody’s. “You’re going to take on more than ten killers by yourself, and bring ’em back for bounty, singlehandedly? Did it ever occur to you that a foolish move like that would not only put your life in danger but the lives of all my men and those captives?” Sully said incredulously, stunned at the stupidity of the man.

  Brody glared back at him. “I didn’t know you was gonna be here, Sheriff, and this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken down men in numbers far beyond my own.”

  Brody’s reputation as a bounty hunter preceded him. There was no doubt that he’d had some successful captures, but there was no man alive who could deal with what they faced here today, without backup.

  The sheriff wrenched the gag back up onto Brody’s mouth, who struggled to stand. Evan slapped him back down.

  “I want a second gag over the first, make sure his hands are tied so tight they’ll never get loose until we untie him, secure his legs, and put him in a sack if needed to keep him quiet. I don’t want to hear a peep out of him.” He looked at Evan, Joseph, then back to Brody just before Evan covered his eyes.

  “I’ll deal with you—later,” he promised, “but in the meantime, you might want to consider how these outlaws will deal with you if you give yourself away, especially when they find out you were here to turn them in for profit.”

  Evan and Joseph pulled the man to his feet and two deputies moved forward to help, grabbing his feet.

  Brody protested, and Evan hit him in the head with his gun, and Brody sagged. “Sorry, Sheriff, but he wasn’t going to go without kicking and screaming, and we can’t afford that.”

  The sheriff nodded. He didn’t like hurting innocent men, but in this case it was necessary in order to protect them all. Brody was new to the area, and he’d heard stories he was a good and decent man—a good bounty hunter—but he wasn’t about to tolerate a conflict between profit and capturing these outlaws. “After he’s in the sack, tie him to one of those trees. Make sure he can’t escape.”

  “Yes, sir,” Evan whispered as the men carried a limp Brody Cartwright like he was a sack toward the farthest end of the grove.

  Fifteen minutes passed in silence. “It’s time,” Sully whispered, moving through his men. “You all know what to do. Mangus is going in first with Evan and Joseph. We’ll watch from that ridge over there. Once they’re in position and moving forward, we’ll go in hard and fast. We won’t give them time to know what hit them. Once everyone’s secure, we meet back here.”

  “Yes, Sheriff,” came a murmur of quiet agreement from the men.

  Mangus, Evan, and Joseph moved out together silently. Mangus led the way without a sound. Evan and Joseph had practiced the light step Mangus showed them. They weren’t as silent as he was, but a whole lot quieter than they’d been before his lessons. The sheriff knew there was no way for the larger group of men to be that quiet, but he hoped the bandits sleeping at the camp slept loud and sound—like most men he knew. They’d likely had drink with their dinner, so that could run in their favor as well.

  The sheriff waited five minutes, then they followed along the same path. When everyone was in position he breathed a sigh of relief. So far everything was going as planned. He heard a whistle, as though it was the wind. That was Ranger Dudley, right on time, and he watched them slowly moving toward the backside of the camp just as he saw Mangus, Evan, and Joseph with four people in tow, headed toward the wooded area off to the west.

  Then a gun fired, and all hell broke loose.

  He raced forward to reach the first sleeping area before the men kne
w what hit them.

  Sully felt a bullet whiz past him. A grunt came from the deputy on his left and Sully hesitated.

  “Keep going, Sheriff, I’ve got him,” one of the other deputies assured him.

  The outlaws were more prepared than they thought, but the element of surprise and approach from the north and south allowed them to keep the men sequestered in a central area.

  The sheriff stole a look around, looking for his men as he knelt behind a wagon. It looked like two were down and rolling on the ground. Three men approached from the east, and he realized they were rangers. A gun poked through the wagon to his left, aimed at the Rangers. He took the man out with one shot, and then a barrage of bullets whistled around him. He hit the ground, staying as low as he could.

  The Rangers reached the camp, shooting two men directly in front of him, and then Ranger Dudley called out, “You’re surrounded, and there’s only two ways out of this. Dead or alive. You choose but choose right now. You’ve lost a lot of men tonight, and we’ve lost a few too, but it doesn’t have to end like this. I’ll count to three and if you’re not moving forward with your hands in the air—you’ll have made your choice. One.” He paused. “Two.”

  Three men moved forward with their hands in the air. “Move to the wagon directly in front of you. Stand one foot in front of it with your hands raised, and legs spread, facing my voice,” he demanded.

  The men complied. “Anyone else?”

  Two more men rose from the wagon to Sully’s left, moving toward his wagon. “No, not there. Join your friends over here at this wagon,” Ranger Dudley insisted.

  The men begrudgingly moved toward their friends.

  No sooner had they begun moving than a shooter in the woods behind Sully began to take them down one by one. Sully swung around and shot into the woods where the flashes were coming from. He heard a grunt, and then all was quiet.

  Three of the men by the wagon were down and two of them had ducked behind a wheel. “Stay where you are men. Sully—you all right?” the Ranger yelled.

  Sully moved toward the opposite side of the wagon, searching the woods for any sign of further movement. “I’m good,” he yelled back.

  “I’m counting to three,” the Ranger called out. “Once I call it, any man who has not surrendered will be killed.”

  Sully felt movement behind him and turned, but not in time. Something hard and cold came down on his head, he heard a crack, felt a sharp pain, and everything went black.

  Chapter 21

  Mary’s Farm

  Claire had just gotten out of a hot bath. Mary had insisted that she take one in Epsom Salts, and Claire was glad she had. She felt better, and some of the soreness was gone. She was wiping down her hair when she heard a shout from the kitchen. It was Jim.

  Steps rapidly came down the hall—Mary’s. Her sister opened the door. “There’s horses coming,” she said with a strained voice. “Get some clothes on.”

  There was no time for undergarments. Claire grabbed a shirt dress from Mary’s closet, threw it on, tucked her wet hair back in a pull and raced to the kitchen to join the others.

  The tension in the kitchen was thick. Jim and Doc Holloway both had guns in their hands and were stationed by the door. Mary had her gun, and she was in position by the sink with Lee Jamison by her side.

  “It’s the deputies!” Jim announced. “It looks like they have some injured.”

  Mary and Claire flew into action, along with the doctors. They cleared the table and began pulling blankets out of box number one, just like Doc Holloway had told them to do. Claire moved to the stove to stoke the fire while Mary filled a pot, then a second. They would need lots of boiling water.

  Claire tried to stay focused on their tasks, but she couldn’t help wondering if the sheriff was among the injured.

  The horses stopped at the house and the deputies began bringing the injured inside. Two were unconscious and a third had blood covering his arm. They made room on the table for the two unconscious men and the man with the injured arm sat near them in a corner.

  The doctors worked side by side, barely a word needed between them, apart from terse orders to the women and Jim.

  “We need more boiling water.”

  “Sterilize these instruments.”

  “Mary, what do you have for alcohol?”

  “Claire, come help Jim hold him down.”

  An hour passed. The doctors had removed the bullets from both the unconscious men and had sterilized the wound before bandaging the arm of the deputy with the bleeding arm. Luckily for him, the bullet had passed straight through.

  No sooner had they finished, then they heard more horses approaching. This time with more deputies and more injured. They moved the recovering men to Jim’s bedroom and cleared the table for the next wave.

  Claire opened the door for the men carrying the injured into the house, and as the deputy turned to leave, she asked, “Mr. Dow—have you seen Sheriff Sully?”

  “I haven’t seen him, miss, but its pandemonium back there.”

  “Did you catch them? All the outlaws? Did you rescue the captives?”

  “We got John back, and the other people are fine. We lost a few good men,” he paused, “and more are injured. We’ll be back,” he promised as he rushed through the door and onto his horse.

  “Claire! I need you,” Lance Holloway yelled.

  Claire turned to move toward him, but what she saw nearly made her gag. Blood was spurting into the air and suddenly she felt her own blood drain from her face.

  “Claire!” he yelled, looking for her. When he turned and saw her white face, he firmly said, “Claire, sit down and put your head between your legs. Now!”

  Mary headed for her sister. “Mary, whoa—I need you over here, now—Claire will be okay.”

  Mary nodded and rushed to his side.

  “Stick this in the wound and hold it there as firmly as you can.”

  Mary did as she was told.

  “Claire, are you sitting?” Lance Holloway asked without taking his eyes off his patient.

  Lee Jamison looked up from his patient. “She’s sitting. Jim, I can handle this, go help her.”

  Jim rushed to his sister’s side. “Breathe, sis,” he encouraged, supporting her from the side.

  “I’m trying,” she insisted, starting to feel better. She lifted her head, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’m good. Go back to help Lee.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yea,” she said weakly. “I’m sure.” She took a few deep breaths and tested the waters by standing. Her body felt disconnected, and she knew from experience that wasn’t a good sign, but the last thing she was going to do was cause more work for anyone here tonight. “I’ll go check on the men in the bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

  No one answered. They were all busy saving the lives of men who had been willing to give theirs. It made her feel ashamed. She made her way to the bedroom, using the wall to steady her. Once inside, she checked on the men who were unconscious. They hadn’t regained consciousness, but their breathing was steady. She moved to the man with the injured arm. “What’s your name?” she asked softly as she handed him a glass of water.

  “Deputy Rourke, miss.”

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m better than they are, miss.”

  She smiled, “Yes, I suppose you are. Are you all right with keeping an eye on them? Just yell to me if any of you need something, or if they come around.”

  “Yes, miss. You get back to the other men.”

  She turned toward the door, then back to him. “Thank you for what you did tonight. It was very brave.”

  Deputy Rourke sat up straighter and a flush worked its way up his face. “It’s my duty, miss.”

  She nodded and walked through the door. She reached the kitchen to find that the man Doc Holloway had been working on hadn’t made it. It didn’t surprise her—he had lost more blood t
han she even knew a person had in them—but it made her sad. Jim was just covering his face when she arrived.

  Lance had joined Lee to help with his patient, who had a strong chance of making it. Mary was at Lee’s side, assisting. She looked natural there, and Claire wondered if her sister should have pursued medicine rather than philanthropy.

  The sound of more horses made her heart leap into her throat. Surely Sully would be with this group!

  “I’ve got it,” she called out as she made her way to the door.

  Chapter 22

  Kneeland’s Pass

  “We can’t find him, Ranger.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he go with you deputies to the farm, was he among the wounded?”

  “No, sir. Miss Claire was asking about him too.”

  This wasn’t good. They’d recovered all the captives, killed most of the outlaws, and captured a few for interrogation—but they’d lost the sheriff.

  Dudley rubbed his temples. “Search the grounds again. Find the last men who took injured to the farm and ask if they’ve seen him. He has to be somewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” Evan and Joseph echoed in unison.

  Evan looked at Joseph. “You know, he was behind the wagon over there. Now that the sun is coming up, let’s go have another look.”

  The men walked side by side and around the wagon. “Joseph, look, there’s blood. It also looks like someone was dragged. Ranger!” Evan called out. “Over here!”

  Taking in the situation, Dudley made a decision.

  He addressed Evan and Joseph, “Ride back to town to get Mangus. We’re going to need him to try to track the scoundrel who took the sheriff and make it fast. Tell him we’re heading east. We can’t let them get away. Take as many deputies with you as you can. The Rangers have the outlaws, and we don’t need anyone to stay behind. Let the docs and Jim at the farm know what’s going on. Tell them they need to be vigilant—just in case. Godspeed, men—let’s get the sheriff back alive.”