A cowboy pulled out another branding iron and, with his boot against the calf’s side, put the iron on the animal. It screamed. As the smell of burnt flesh filled her senses, she feared she would be sick.
With a flick of the rope, the man released the calf. It hurled itself out of the corral. The branding iron was placed back on the fire to be readied for its next victim.
Rutherford moved between her and the coals. Gripping her chin in his hands, he forced her to look at him. “You’ve been a witness to a crime, Mackenzie. One you won’t report in your newspaper, as you won’t report anything else I wish you to keep silent.”
“I’ll close the Bugle before I let you dictate to me what I can and cannot print.” She jerked her head out of his hand. “I let you intimidate me once with your anonymous note. Never again.”
“You need worry about no more anonymous letters.” His smile vanished as he growled, “I shall make my orders clear.”
“I shall never let you take editorial control! Never!”
“Then there isn’t much reason to continue this, is there?”
She was powerless, and they both knew it. However, he had only a limited amount of time before she and the sheriff were missed.
He snapped his fingers again. One of the cowboys near the fire bent to pick up a brand. Carefully he handed the glowing iron to his boss.
Stepping toward her, Rutherford chortled. “As I said, your loveliness makes it much more difficult to treat you as I did your husband. It’s too bad you never saw his corpse so you could understand what you are risking. I regret not having had more time to deal with Mac Smith, but his snooping was easier to stop with a single blow to the skull. What a shame to ruin your pretty face!”
The brand twisted in his hand. Hearing Douglas’s shout for him to halt, Mackenzie could not speak as she leaned away from the glowing iron. When her captor jerked on her wrists, pain whipped through her shoulders. She screamed. She was released. As she sagged to her knees in the filth, Rutherford pressed the brand into her skirt. He stamped the fire out of the wool.
Tossing the brand aside, he snarled, “Next time, it won’t be just your dress, Mackenzie. I’d hate to burn the Lazy Bar R into you, but you will listen to me.” Turning away, he ordered, “Take her back to the house. Once she has a chance to think, she’ll come to her senses.”
“Douglas! Don’t hurt …” she cried out. Then pain exploded through her head. She did not hear her wordless moan as she collapsed.
EIGHTEEN
Sunlight woke Mackenzie to agony. She put her fingers tentatively to the lump on the back of her head and cursed Rutherford.
Slowly, cautiously, she sat. Her eyes widened as she noted the chintz curtains in two windows. She slid off the bed. Somewhere in this fancy room there must be a weapon that she could use. Although her legs wobbled, she searched about. It took her only moments to realize how futile her hopes had been. Just a hairbrush and a metal pan sat on the marble washstand.
She went to the closest window. No porch roof edged her room. The tree branches were beyond her reach. Tying the bedsheets together would give her a way to scramble down the walls directly into the arms of one of the many men she could see working in the yard.
A movement near the corner of the house caught her eye. She pressed her hands over her mouth. Douglas was free! She watched him skulk across the yard. When he glanced toward the house, he raised his hand in her direction.
“Go!” she whispered.
He did not look toward her again. When she saw a man walking toward him, she wanted to call a warning. She leaned against the window frame in relief when the man was called away by one of his comrades. Her ears waited for an alarm to be sounded, but none came.
When she looked back to where Douglas had been, he was gone. Sinking to her knees, she rested her head on the sill. Her son had a chance of making it off the Lazy Bar R. She put her hands over her face and sobbed.
“Take him with you, Luke,” she whispered. “Don’t leave him alone. You’ll be all he has.” She put her hand against her abdomen. Luke would need Douglas, too. When Rutherford finished with her, she doubted if either she or her unborn child would still be alive.
A shout from the yard brought her to her feet. Gripping the window frame, Mackenzie stared at the men who were gesturing wildly. Someone had discovered Douglas’s escape.
Her door crashed open. She whirled to face a dark-haired man. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he swaggered toward her. “Thinking of jumping, Mackenzie?”
“Just enjoying the view.”
His grin became a scowl. “I bet you are. Don’t get too used to it. C’mon. Rutherford wants to see you. Now!”
“Let me get my boots.” She pointed to her filthy boots by the bed.
Mackenzie ignored his lecherous gaze as she lifted her skirts to slip her feet into the boots. She buttoned them in place and tried to steady her pounding heart.
“You sure look good all tousled like this, Mackenzie. Real good.” He stroked her tangled hair as he pushed her ahead of him out into the corridor.
She jerked her head away, and he chuckled as he took her to the room where she had spoken to Rutherford earlier. She smiled when she heard the clamor outside. Douglas must still be missing.
“Sit!” Rutherford ordered, pointing to a settee next to the fireplace.
Sitting on the same chair as before, Mackenzie was glad when Rutherford chose the one facing her without going through the farce of offering her something to drink.
Without preamble, he snapped, “Don’t think your son will be free long.”
“He’s ruined your perfect plan. He’ll find help. Then you’ll see how stupid you were to try to coerce us into being a part of your imperialistic dreams.”
“Don’t be a fool! We’ll have him before he gets back to Bentonville. I—” He glanced past her. “What is it?”
The man in the doorway twisted the brim of his hat. Mackenzie smiled. Any bad news he brought could be good news for her.
The tall man stepped into the room, then paused. “Mr. Rutherford, I—I …”
“Spit it out, Yale.”
“Sheriff Roosevelt is gone.” He cringed.
Fury gleamed in Rutherford’s eyes. He stood and put his hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder to keep her in the chair. “The sheriff is gone? How?”
“It appears the boy released him.”
“I thought you said the brat was gone!”
“We thought he was, Mr. Rutherford.” Yale gulped. “We just heard they’re both heading toward Bentonville.”
He flung out his hands. “Then stop them! Why are you wasting time here when—?”
“Ain’t no one to take. Everyone’s busy on the south end of the home ranch.”
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
Mackenzie struggled not to smile. Douglas had done it! It was only a matter of time before Horace rounded up a posse and came to rescue her.
Yale whispered, “Someone spooked mustangs through the corral. The yearlings have broken down the fence and are headed in every direction.”
“Someone?” Rutherford pointed at her. “Your brat!”
“He’s both a McCraven and a Smith after all,” Mackenzie retorted. There was no reason to hide her pride. “It’s about time you learn how dangerous it is to deal with that mixture.”
“A Smith and McCraven who will be dead by one shot from a Smith and Wesson.” He smiled as she gasped when he touched the pistol on his hip. Seizing her arm, he pulled her to her feet. He propelled her toward Yale. “Take her upstairs while I get my horse. I’ll halt Roosevelt and the kid.”
“You’ll never catch them!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “When they tell the rest of the town what you’ve done—”
“Get her out of my sight. I’ll deal with her after the kid and Roosevelt are dead.” He added in a sly tone, “Be a good girl, Mackenzie. I wouldn’t want you to die before you attend your brat’s funeral.”
Cold flushed thr
ough her. His vile laughter followed her as she was forced up the stairs and into the bedroom. The door slammed closed. A key turned in the lock. From the other side, her guard called, “Don’t think of leaving, Mackenzie. You’ve got a lifetime invitation to the Lazy Bar R.” His laugh did not move away, warning her that he was staying by the door.
She sat on the bed. Rutherford could afford no more mistakes. Somehow he had to kill her and make both Douglas and the sheriff appear to be lying. She was not sure how, but she knew her life would end if Rutherford did not recapture her son. If he did, both of them would die.
Mackenzie paced from one window to the other as she watched the preparations in the yard. Rutherford was set to defy the law with his private army of gunslingers. She watched the sun setting over the western mountains. Night would be the perfect time for Horace to bring his men to the Lazy Bar R.
Hearing voices beyond her door, Mackenzie inched nearer. She pressed her ear to the wood, but stepped back when she realized that both men were speaking loud enough so she could understand them.
“Rutherford ordered me to bring her out to the stable.” The door was too thick. She could not identify the voice. “I guess he figured one lesson wasn’t enough fer her.”
“Never thought he’d be so easy on her.”
“Why not? She’s pretty, ain’t she?”
“The only thing Rutherford likes to fondle is gold.” The two men chuckled with good humor.
“He’s a fool.”
“Yeah, I’d have taught her to obey at the same time I taught her a few other things. Maybe Rutherford’s too old.” She heard a key rattle in the door.
“Do me a favor, will ya? Go out to the stable and tell ’em to get ready. It might take me a few minutes to get her bound up good and tight so she don’t scratch out my eyes.”
“You want some help?”
“Naw,” came the muffled answer. “I can take care of her real easy all by myself. Wouldn’t mind doing that. Maybe later, huh?”
“Doubt it. Rutherford’ll never be that generous. Make sure she doesn’t get away from you.”
“I’ll be sure ’bout that.”
Mackenzie backed away. Grabbing the metal bowl in the washstand, she stood behind the door. The key turned slowly in the lock. She wondered why the man was taking so long. By this time, her guard must be halfway to the barn.
The knob turned. She murmured a silent prayer. The man stepped into the room. He wore a battered hat and a handkerchief over the lower part of his face. If Rutherford’s men were dressed like this again, Douglas might still be free. Now she must escape.
She lifted the bowl. It clanged against his shoulder. He cursed as she tried to shove past him. A hard arm halted her. He slammed the door in her face. She hit him. He swore again, but caught her hands. Trying to pull away, she tripped on her ruined skirt. Her breath exploded from her as she fell. He pinned her beneath him. With a low chuckle, he rolled her onto her back. He held her wrists to the floor in one of his broad hands and with the other reached to pull the kerchief away.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. If she screamed, no one would come to halt this man from raping her. When eager lips touched hers, she opened her eyes and gasped, “Luke!”
“That’s the second time you’ve tried to hit me over the head.” He drew her up to a sitting position. “Are you all right?”
“What are you doing here? If Rutherford finds you—”
“He won’t. I know a few tricks myself.” He picked up the hem of her skirt and fingered the burned spot. “I heard about this. I didn’t think even Rutherford was this crazy.” Grinning grimly, he murmured, “Guess I was wrong again. What else has he done to you?”
“Nothing, except a few threats.”
A tender expression wiped the rougher emotions from his face. “Mackenzie, how’s our baby?”
She drew his fingers over her abdomen. “The baby is fine.” Her smile faded. “Where’s Douglas?”
“He’s safe. So is Horace. That’s all you need to know.”
She nodded, understanding what he did not say. If she was recaptured, she could not be made to reveal what she did not know.
He tossed her a pair of trousers and a shirt. “Change.”
She nodded again. She might be able to sneak off the ranch disguised as a cowhand. She let him unhook her skirt as she undid the buttons on her shirt. As she reached for the flannel shirt, his hands encircled her waist.
“This is hardly the time for—” Her words were smothered beneath his lips as he pulled her tight to him. All fear vanished into the sweetness of his kiss. Her fingers stroked his back as she imagined the passion they would delight in when they were safe again.
“Unfortunately you’re right,” he said with a sigh as he placed a crumpled hat on her head. “Tuck up that hair and let’s get out of here.”
She buttoned the wide trousers around her and belted them in place with the rope Luke handed her. “You’re well prepared,” she said with a smile.
“Had a lot of time to plan this.” His eyes raked her as she tied the bandanna he provided around the lower half of her face. “I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things that won’t matter if we don’t get out of here. Horace told me he’d give me only until sundown. That gives us only another hour to get away before he arrives.”
“Let’s go.”
“Here.” He held out a pistol. “Douglas told me you can shoot.”
“I’m not a sharpshooter, but I can hit a can off the fence.” She slapped the brim of his hat lower. “This is going to make a great conclusion to your series on Wyoming.”
“If I live to write it.”
Luke put out his hand to keep Mackenzie from stepping from the shadow of the back porch. “Why tonight?”
She saw the movement along the ridge. There were too many riders for a posse. This was another army. The rivalry between the Terrible Trio was about to become a war.
“How will they attack?” Luke whispered.
“I don’t think they have any choice but a direct assault. They must know about what’s been happening.”
“O’Grady knows. He was at the Benton House when Douglas and Horace arrived looking for me.” He smiled grimly. “He must have heard every word Douglas told the desk clerk.”
“Giving him the excuse to do what he’s wanted to do.”
“I’m surprised he’s letting Connolly share the glory, but he may need the men. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“How?”
He crouched behind a pile of barrels and drew his gun. “That’s a good question, and I wish I had a good answer.” Putting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned her against him. “How good are you at improvising, sweetheart?”
“I think I’m going to learn how good I am at it right now.”
“Just keep that sense of humor. I think we’re going to need something to laugh about before this is over.”
Mackenzie gasped as a spurt of gunfire echoed between the buildings, then more guns were fired. And more. And more. The high ranges war had started. Luke tensed beside her, but no fear tightened his face.
She pulled her pistol and rested her thumb on the hammer. In the twilight, there was no way to tell friend from foe. She cringed when she heard a man scream.
“Are you going to be all right?” Luke whispered.
“Eventually.”
His soft laugh was out of place, but she clung to the sound. It became clear Rutherford’s men were being herded toward the barn to the side of the house.
A shot pinged off the barrels in front of them. Luke rose and fired a single shot. Even as a man screeched, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to her feet.
She ran as fast as she could after him. Bullets struck the ground by her feet. Luke dove headfirst behind a trough. He pulled her down next to him.
Lying on her stomach, she tried to breathe. Luke was peering around the far edge of the trough. A sound brought her head up. Even before she could think, she
raised her gun and fired at a man who was aiming a rifle at Luke’s back.
The man fell into the trough, spraying her with water. She stared at the unmoving form, then turned toward Luke.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Mackenzie shivered. Later she would think about the horror of killing a man. All she wanted now was to survive. “Can’t we get out here?”
“Soon. It looks like our boy Jim’s side is being whipped. I think we can make a run for it. Around the barn and toward the road. We’ll meet up with Horace and send him back here to clean up.”
Mackenzie took his hand as she scrambled to her feet. She did not look at the man facedown in the trough or at any of the other bodies littering the yard. When Luke grabbed the dead man’s rifle, he nodded toward the left. She raced toward the back of the barn, then inched through the shadows.
His hand halted her as she heard exultant voices. She recognized O’Grady’s Irish brogue. Edging past Luke, she peeked around the barn. She gasped. The sight was unmistakable. A horse, a crowd of eager men, a rope being thrown around a hefty tree branch.
A lynching!
Luke caught her hand as she stepped out of the shadows. “You can’t go out there!”
“I can’t let them hang Rutherford!”
“It’s what he deserves.”
“He must have a trial.” She walked toward where the men were gathered for the lynching.
She had not guessed she would try to save Jamison Rutherford this night. Not Rutherford, but Bentonville. If they lynched him, the law would be dead in town. She could not let that happen. Not to Bentonville.
She elbowed the men aside as she drew the handkerchief down over her chin and pulled off the hat so she could shake her hair free. They stared at her in disbelief.
“It’s Mackenzie Smith!” cried one of O’Grady’s men.
Connolly and O’Grady regarded her in astonishment. That they were allies was incredible. The truce would last only until they began to prey on each other again. She looked past them to where Rutherford was trussed up under the tree.
Just Her Type Page 19