GUNSMOKE AND LACE

by Linda Broday

  It took all her strength to pull herself to her feet. Her fingers trembled so badly she had trouble getting the small buttons through the holes. With no weapons within reach, she steeled herself for what was to come.

  “Quit stalling, woman. Ain’t no one gonna save you. Make no mistake about it, I’ll take what’s mine come hell or high water.”

  The door suddenly burst open and slammed back against the wall. Cade stood with his Colt drawn in the opening, his feet braced widely apart. The lines of his face had hardened into a mask.

  Dunston whirled, his tongue working in his mouth. “What do you want, mister?”

  Without answering, Cade moved from the doorway, positioning himself between the attacker and his gun. Skye could see his steely calm despite the rage that darkened his eyes.

  “Who are you, mister?”

  “I am your hell and high water,” Cade thundered. “One twitch and you’re dead.”

  All color drained from Dunston’s face, leaving it ashen. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “I ain’t done nothing. No crime agin visitin’ the widow. Who did you say you are?”

  “A man you don’t want to mess with. I promise you won’t like the result.” Cade’s blue eyes swept to Skye where she clutched her partially unbuttoned dress. The muscles worked in his jaw. She knew Dunston lived on borrowed time.

  “I’ll share the woman if that’s what you want. Even let you go first.” As Dunston spoke, he made a sudden move to his boot and jerked out a derringer.

  Cade pulled the trigger of his Colt. Orange flame and smoke shot from the barrel. The bullet slammed into Dunston’s chest, propelling him backward where he sank to the floor in a pool of blood.

  Trembling, Skye rose and threw her arms around Cade. “I was afraid you wouldn’t return before he …”

  * * *

  “Shhhh.” He held her tight, burying his face in her pretty red hair. “I’m here now, darlin’, and he’s dead. He’ll never bother you again.”

  “I was terrified.”

  “So was I,” he admitted.

  “Now what? What are we going to do with him? They’ll hang you.” Her stricken gaze met his. “Run. Get far away from here. I’ll cover for you.”

  “One thing you should know about me. I don’t run.” Cade smoothed her hair. “I’m not leaving you again. If I go, you’re coming.”

  Skye glanced around the dwelling. “There’s nothing here for me.”

  “Gather whatever belongings you want that’ll fit on a horse. I’m taking you far away from here. I love you, Skye.”

  She laid a hand on his jaw. “There was never a time when I didn’t love you. I won’t lie and say you didn’t hurt me, but I can forgive you. You have my heart.”

  “I’ll protect it with my life this time.” He kissed her fingers.

  An hour later, Cade set fire to the house and the monster inside. He watched the flames glowing in the window, saw the roof catch.

  Strolling up from behind, he slid his arms around Skye’s waist. “Any regrets?”

  “None. I expected sadness, but it didn’t come. Instead, I realized that this is the finality of one part of my life and I’ve just begun a new chapter. I can’t wait to see how this book reads.”

  “I intend to spend the rest of my life showing you all the ways I love you. Where do you want to go, Mrs. Coltrain?”

  “Anywhere you are. We’ve waited a long time to be together. This is a wild untamed land with plenty of places to dream and work and raise a family.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple, his chest swelling in gratitude for the woman who held his heart. “I know of an old trapper’s cabin hidden way back in the Colorado Rockies. I wintered there quite a bit. No one will bother us. The land is good and fertile and there’s a beautiful stream filled with trout next to the cabin. We can go there.”

  Laying her palm on the side of his face, she met his gaze. “It sounds like pure heaven, sweetheart.”

  “Nothing will ever come between us again. I won’t give you one reason for regret. The love I saved for you is the lasting kind.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “I’m taking off my gun and picking up a plow.”

  Skye’s gray eyes darkened. “I’ll never ask you to change, not for me.”

  “I know.”

  “To work, it has to be because you want to and no other.” She leaned against him and plucked a loose string from his shirt. Her stern voice held a warning. “When I marry you, it’ll be for the rest of my life so don’t go thinking it’s only temporary. It’s not.”

  Cade grinned. “All right then. I guess it’s settled. We’d best get moving.”

  With love bursting from his heart, he made a step with his hands and helped her onto her horse. Without a backward glance, they set out with hope toward a bright future. No longer would his beautiful Skye be sad and alone. He’d see to that.

  Love could build a bridge between yesterday and tomorrow.

  Sometimes a man did get a second chance. This time he wouldn’t squander it.

  Hard Luck

  ~Part One~

  Texas Panhandle 1880

  The plan sounded moderately safe—for the most part—yet unease gnawed in his stomach with sharp, tiny rat-teeth, looking for a way out.

  Logan Bartee jumped from his chair and strode to look out the window at the Texas landscape. The panhandle held the type of stark beauty that had to grow on a man, but once it did he couldn’t leave. He loved it here so why was he trying to mess that up?

  Friendship for one. And a life debt for another.

  “It’ll be as easy as taking candy from a baby.” Wade ‘Catfish’ George, a man three years younger than Logan’s twenty-eight, glanced up from his crude sketch of Hard Luck, Texas. He scratched his ear with a pinky finger and forced a grin. “There’s no law, no one to worry about. Shoot, half the people don’t even wear a gun.”

  “Wade, whenever something looks too good to be true, it’s best to run.” Logan released a worried sigh, wishing like hell he could walk away.

  Only he was bound tight. He wouldn’t be alive if not for Wade after he was bitten by a deadly copperhead a year ago. As it was, Logan had come near to losing his damn hand and still wore a painful reminder. Wade found him near death and hauled him forty miles in a blinding sandstorm to the nearest doctor. But all that aside, they’d been best friends since kids. Yep, he owed the man whose parents added Catfish to Wade’s name and made him the butt of jokes.

  Logan turned from the window. “Maybe you could beg the bank president for mercy and ask for more time. I’ll help you raise the money to keep your farm—the right way.”

  “I already tried that, Logan. That stuffed scarecrow Snodgrass set the deadline a week from today, no exceptions. And you’ve already given me all you can spare. I can’t lose the only thing my daddy ever gave me. We’re in a drought and nothing will grow in this dry, godforsaken dirt without rain.” Wade’s voice dropped as though ashamed to say the words. “You owe me, Logan.”

  Hell, it wasn’t as if Logan had forgotten. Although he pondered the fact he must have manure for brains, he hadn’t become senile. He went back to the table and sat down, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

  “I’ve already been and watched their routine,” Wade went on, giving his unkept sandy hair an impatient shove. “It’s the same every dadgum day. The best time to rob the bank is right before closing. No customers will be there and the teller won’t pay us any mind ’cause he’ll be getting’ ready to go home. Hard Luck is a sleepy little town.” Wade rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll ride in and out before they even know we’re there.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed. “And what if things turn sideways?”

  “Heck, if there was some other way, don’t you think I’d take it?” A nervous tic developed in Wade’s left eye.

  A million things could go wrong. At least Wade had sense enough to realize what they faced—jail being one of them. Hell! Th
e chewing in Logan’s gut got worse.

  Just let him get through this in one piece and he’d never break the law again. That’s all he asked.

  * * *

  Late the next afternoon, they reined up on a hill above Hard Luck. Even from a distance, Logan could tell they’d given it the right name. The town had nothing to recommend it. The buildings that still stood sagged and in bad need of whitewash and the few citizens moved about as though in a daze.

  Hard luck was beyond sleepy, it was snoring painfully loud.

  “Well?” Wade asked.

  “It doesn’t appear to pose too many problems. But let’s get this clear. I help you and we’re done being outlaws.” Logan leaned his elbow on the pommel and fixed Wade with a hard stare. “No matter how much there is, you take what you need and leave the rest. Understood?”

  “Of course. It’s not like I want to make this my life’s profession. You know what drove me here. The blame lies with old man Snodgrass.”

  No, the blame was two-fold—the weather and Wade’s shortsightedness. He didn’t follow Logan’s example and sell off most of his herd when the drought hit or dig a water well. It would be tough but Logan would survive until the rains came. Wade wouldn’t.

  “Stop blaming Snodgrass,” Logan snapped. The hot sun bore down making him grouchier than usual. “And he’s not that old.”

  “It wouldn’t be any skin off his nose to give me a few extra months,” Wade said a mite defensive.

  Resigned, Logan asked, “What’s your brilliant plan? Do we cover our faces?”

  Wade snorted. “Now that would be plumb stupid to stroll into the bank that way. The teller would know right away we’re there to rob the place and go for his gun before we even get through the door. We walk in like normal people.”

  “Thought you said we didn’t have to worry about guns.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’s safe to assume a teller would have one. How else would he guard the money—stick out his finger and threaten to shoot?”

  “Whatever you say. I’m just here to keep you from getting your head blown off.” Logan tugged on the reins and pointed the horse toward town. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Halfway down the hill, Wade’s flea-bitten piebald stepped into a hole and developed a bad limp which called for walking into Hard Luck afoot, leading the horses down the main street. The town’s curse appeared to have already struck. A sign they shouldn’t ignore.

  Logan pushed back his worn hat, scanning the sorry-looking buildings. “Look, Wade, we don’t have to go through with this. You won’t even be able to make a quick getaway. We can get us a cold beer at the saloon and go back home.”

  “What’s got into you?” Wade stared at Logan like he’d just called his mother a nasty name. “Rooster will be fine. He just needs to rest that leg a bit.”

  “Whatever you say.” And who named his horse Rooster?

  Wade huffed. “Well, he’s my damn horse and if I say he’s fine, he’s good.”

  They meandered past the row of leaning, unpainted establishments. It boggled Logan’s mind how they even had a bank to begin with. The thing couldn’t have much money in it.

  As they moved toward a saloon that didn’t even have a name, Wade said, “As long as we’re here, we might as well have a beer. We have some time to kill before we go to the bank.”

  One more chance to talk him out of it. Logan glanced at the hitching rail laying on the ground. Wade acted as if that was normal. Without a word, he bent and poked the reins underneath the post. Logan shook his head and followed suit.

  The barkeep was sound asleep, his head on the bar. Logan pounded on the splintered wooden plank.

  The man jerked awake. “Uh ….what can I get you?”

  “Two beers.” Logan fished two bits from his pocket and pitched it on the bar. He glanced at the cracked mirror in front of him. He and Wade appeared two ordinary, reasonably smart cowboys. Not simple at all. Hardworking too with their lives in front of them. Logan’s dark hair and square jaw that sported two days’ worth of whiskers had been known to turn a woman’s head. Too bad he wasn’t much in the brain department or he wouldn’t be there.

  The barkeep filled two chipped mugs and set them down. Grabbing the quarter, he put the edge in his mouth and bit down. Satisfied it was real, he dropped it in the till.

  The beer was hot. Logan hated hot beer. At the sound of sobs, he glanced around and noticed a man in a dark corner, weeping his heart out. Logan met Wade’s glance and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Hey, mister, what’s wrong with that man?” Wade asked the bartender.

  “His favorite settin’ hen up and died, horse ran off, house burned, and his wife left with the fat man in the circus.” The barkeep knocked a scorpion from the plank. “Ain’t nothin’ but bad luck in this town. If’n I was you, I’d get on my horse, if he’s still alive, and ride like hell.”

  “See what I told you, Wade? Let’s go.” Logan downed his beer and stood, plunking down the empty mug.

  Wade hurried after him. “Now hold up there, Logan. I ain’t done.”

  Outside, Logan confronted him, towering over his friend by two inches. “I am.”

  “You owe me,” Wade said in a hoarse whisper. “Just help me this once. That’s all and we’ll call it even.”

  Logan stood there for a minute. “Dammit!” Leaning, he yanked the horse’s reins from under the hitching rail. “Come on.”

  They walked to the bank and secured the horses, then sauntered inside.

  The teller, a balding man around forty or so, was scribbling something in a ledger. He didn’t glance up.

  Wade stood there in silence, shifting his weight back and forth. Logan was happy to note that the bank was empty of customers, but through a crack in the door behind the teller, he saw a man sitting at a desk. The bank president?

  The rat-teeth gnawed through Logan’s stomach and crawled up his spine.

  “Excuse me,” Wade finally said, drawing his pistol. He stuck it through the iron bars at the teller. “This is a hold up. Give me one hundred and ninety-eight dollars and sixty-two cents.”

  The teller jerked back and barked, “No.”

  “No? Maybe you can’t see this gun.” Wade’s face flushed as he waved the pistol. “I’m making a withdrawal.”

  “No. I can’t give it to you or I’ll be fired. Do you know how impossible it is to get a job in Hard Luck?” the teller asked.

  Logan stepped forward. “Look, we’re sorry. We understand, but we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t need to be. Just hand over the money and we’ll be gone.”

  The door flew open and a woman with a rather large belly rushed inside. “Help me, I’m having my baby. I … I don’t know what to do.” She clutched Logan’s arm. “I need help.”

  What gave her the idea that Logan knew about such things was beyond him. He glanced around and spied a dusty sofa in the corner. “The first thing you need to do is get off your feet.”

  With Wade still holding the gun on the teller, Logan helped the young woman to the sofa.

  Panting and moaning and carrying on, she stretched out. “I’m so hot.”

  “Maybe you should … uh … loosen your collar,” he suggested, shooting Wade a dark scowl. “Is there a doctor in town?”

  “He left three years ago,” the teller said helpfully with his hands raised.

  The bank president rushed from his office, smoking a cigar. “What’s going on out here?”

  “We’re being robbed,” the teller provided. “And Martha Ann is having a baby.”

  “Good Lord!” The bank owner turned green, laying his cigar on a piece of wooden molding. He turned to Wade, “Put down that gun, shorty, or you’ll shoot someone. We have no money to rob.”

  Wade’s jaw jutted out. “Every bank has money.” He poked the gun into the tubby man’s belly. “Open your safe and we’ll be on our way.”

  Logan knelt beside Martha Ann and patted her hand. He watched Wade and the bank president disa
ppear into a little airless cubicle. What was he supposed to do now? On his ranch, he just hooked a rope to the calf’s legs and pulled but something said Martha Ann wouldn’t like that much. Besides, the heifers never wore a dress and fourteen thousand petticoats and other items of clothing.

  Water, he needed water.

  Before he could ask the teller where to find some, another woman rushed through the door, followed by a parade of people. The small bank quickly filled up, taking all the air.

  The woman leading the charge knelt beside Logan. She gave him a brilliant smile that lit up her blue eyes. “Thank you so much for helping Martha Ann. You must be her husband that we’ve been expecting. I’m Susan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Logan muttered in shock. “I’m not her … we’re not … she’s not …”

  Just then Martha Ann let out a bloodcurdling scream and squeezed Logan’s hand until tears came into his eyes. The woman was sure strong. Once he freed himself, he stood. “Look, folks, can you give Martha Ann some privacy here?”

  The explosion of a gunshot deafened Logan. What in the hell had Wade done? Pulling his old Colt Paterson, Logan rushed past the wide-eyed teller curled in a ball on the floor of the teller’s cage and into the cubicle. The bank president held a smoking gun and Wade clutched his foot, his face white. Through the smoke, Logan noticed the safe standing wide open and it was clearly empty. Not one single coin in it.

  Logan barked, “Put down the pistol, mister.”

  Tension crackled in the air like lightning striking a weathervane and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Indecision rippled in the man’s eyes.

  Finally, the bank owner complied, laying the weapon on the floor. “It went off accidentally. I didn’t mean to shoot him—although I was certainly within my rights.”

  Keeping his Colt on the man, Logan put an arm around Wade. “We’re getting the hell out of here and I don’t want to hear a word.”

  They rushed from the establishment to the horses. Rooster laid on the ground. The piebald lifted his head and looked at them. Wade knelt to try to cajole the animal into getting up but had no luck.