Just Her Type
Page 20
“Mackenzie!” cried O’Grady. “We searched the house, but couldn’t find you.” He pointed to Rutherford. “He refused to tell us what he’d done with you.”
“That’s because he didn’t want to admit I’d gotten away.”
Connolly grumbled, “Someone take her up to the house. This is no place for a lady.”
“It wasn’t my choice to be here, but I’m staying to report on this for the Bugle.” She crossed her arms, letting her pistol catch the light of the torches several men held.
“Now, see here—” Connolly glanced past her and swore. “What’s he doing here?”
Mackenzie smiled as Luke came to stand beside her. “He’s a newspaperman. This is news. Neither of us is leaving.”
“Gentlemen,” Luke said with a terse nod. He balanced the rifle easily against his hip.
“Connolly’s right.” O’Grady jerked his thumb toward the road. “Get out of here, Bradfield.”
Putting his hand on Mackenzie’s arm, Luke said, “I think you gentlemen would be distressed to see your names in the Bugle if you don’t let Sheriff Roosevelt handle this.”
“You can’t threaten us.”
“He isn’t,” said Mackenzie. “No one wants Rutherford to get what he deserves more than I do, but it must be done legally.”
“Why?” Connolly chuckled as he poked his boot into the bound man’s side. “That’s just a waste of time.”
She motioned toward Rutherford. “Go ahead. Put him on a horse and wrap a rope around his neck. Give it thirteen turns and a loop in a proper hangman’s knot. Do all that, but think about how it feels, for you’ll be suffering the same as soon as the circuit judge reaches Bentonville.”
“No one will listen to you or—” O’Grady began.
“Maybe not. Certainly no one cares what happens to him. However, there remains the matter of other crimes. Arson. Rimrocking.” When she stared at Connolly, he looked away. “Rebranding. Rutherford isn’t the only one guilty of that, is he, Aaron?” O’Grady flinched as she glared at him. “Those crimes will be coming to trial soon. How much do you think I’ll be listened to then?”
A rumble of dismay swept through the men. Connolly and O’Grady exchanged a long look.
Connolly stepped forward. A false smile nearly cracked his tight face. “Of course, you’re correct, Mackenzie. The law must be upheld. Boys, get Rutherford up on a horse. We’ll take him to Sheriff Roosevelt.”
Not to be outdone, O’Grady ordered, “Help the Circle Seven boys!” As his men surged forward, he said, “Mackenzie, all of this doesn’t need to go in the Bugle.”
“I decide what does and does not go into the Bugle,” she said stiffly, but she smiled at Luke. In his eyes, she saw he understood the true reason why she did not want Rutherford lynched. Facing a long trial with a hanging at the end would torture him as he had Cameron.
When Connolly asked how she had gotten out of the house, her smile broadened as Luke gave her much of the credit for the rescue he had orchestrated.
A shout severed the night. A form burst out of the crowd. Mackenzie backpedaled. An arm caught her, tearing her away from Luke. Fingers stripped the pistol from her fingers. It struck the ground as she was pulled back against a hard body.
Shock and horror froze O’Grady and Connolly. Their men wore the same terrified expressions. Her heart stopped when she saw the cut ropes where Rutherford had been lying. When she started to shriek for Luke, an arm clamped around her throat, snapping her head back against Rutherford’s chest.
“Shoot him!” Connolly motioned to his men, but no one fired.
They could not, she knew, because she stood between them and their target. Luke! Where was Luke? She could not see him. Then she saw a motion from the far corner of her eye. Was that him? What was he doing?
“Get back,” growled Rutherford. “Let me go.”
“Let Mackenzie go first,” O’Grady ordered.
“Aaron, me boy,” he taunted in a parody of his rival’s Irish accent, “you’re a fool to think I’d release her so you can hang me. Back away or …”
Rutherford’s broad arm tightened around her throat. Clawing at him, she tried to escape. She had to breathe. When his arm loosened slightly, she sagged against him. Through the rush of sound in her ears, she could hear Rutherford speaking.
“… or she’ll die.” The arm constricted again, and she moaned.
A detonation sounded like a distant thunder. She was released. Collapsing to the ground, she had time to take only a single breath before a weight crushed her. Digging her ripped nails into the ground, she tried to escape. She had to breathe!
Her hands were seized. Material ripped as she was pulled free. When her face was tilted to meet Luke’s eyes, she saw his fury, which dimmed even Rutherford’s.
“What a shot, Bradfield!” gasped O’Grady.
Mackenzie looked at the gun in Luke’s hand. It oozed smoke. “You killed him?”
“Integrity has its place,” he said grimly, “but so does a Colt. I love you, Mackenzie.” Memories of pain burning in his eyes became a vengeful smile as he looked past her to Rutherford’s motionless body. “I’d be damned before I let anyone else I cared for be murdered by a two-bit thief.”
His mouth covered hers. The eager shouts of the cowhands did not intrude as she answered his passion with her own. She leaned her head against his chest, not wanting to move ever again.
“Great shooting,” said O’Grady with grudging admiration. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Bradfield.”
When Connolly chuckled and slapped him on the back companionably, Mackenzie said, “And maybe, Connolly, you’ll learn how unwise it is to burn the newspaper out.”
“You can’t accuse me of that! You’ve got no proof!”
“No?” Her eyebrows arched. “I have all the proof I need.” When she saw his fingers clench near his pistols, she smiled. “It’s about time you faced the facts. Nothing you or anyone else does will suppress the truth as long as I edit The Bentonville Bugle. Kill us. Then you’ll be facing murder charges. How quickly do you think Aaron will go to the sheriff with the truth?”
Connolly shuffled his feet.
Mackenzie knew she was pushing hard. Perhaps too hard, for if Connolly was half as smart as Rutherford had been, he would realize he could hold the same threat over Luke’s head. Saving her might not hold up in court, especially when Rutherford had been trying to keep himself from being lynched.
She hid her smile as Connolly asked, “How about if I send in some boys to help you rebuild? I’m not saying I had anything to do with the fire, but the town needs a newspaper. I’d like to help get you going again.”
“Help us rebuild, and I’ll be a character witness at your trial. That you’ve tried to make reparations will weigh heavily in your favor.”
“My trial?” he choked. “After what—”
Luke laughed. “She’s told you more than once she can’t be bought.” He gave the shocked cattle baron no chance to answer as he asked, “Shall we go home, Mackenzie?”
Leaning her head against his shoulder, she whispered, “Yes. I never thought I’d be grateful to Rutherford, but you’ve missed your train again. We have two more days before you can catch the next train east.”
He brought her to face him as Connolly and O’Grady went to help their men disguise any sign of the attempted lynching before the sheriff arrived. “I know now you can’t leave here.”
“I have an obligation to these people.”
“So I’ve seen tonight. I never realized Bentonville needs you more than you need it.”
She whispered, “If I could, I’d go with you in a moment, Luke.” Lowering her eyes shyly, she whispered, “We’d go with you.”
“I know, my love.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’ve tried to imagine you living in Albany, but it’s impossible. You’re as much a part of this land as the mountains. If those rocky crags are the heart of Wyoming, you are its soul. I can’t ask you to leave.
”
“No.”
He touched her cheek. “You’re crying, my love.” He enfolded her to him. “Let’s go back to town. Douglas is waiting for us at the Benton House. Paid for by your buddy Connolly, by the way, who was trying to quiet his conscience. Horace can talk to you there.”
“All right.” A thousand things she wanted to say, but each one would begin with her telling him how she longed never to say good-bye to him. As he led her to where the dark silhouette of a buggy waited, she saw the garish brand of the Lazy Bar R Ranch on its side. She wondered if Aaron or Connolly had planned to steal it.
Luke handed her up and climbed in beside her. Picking up the reins, he said, “I have one stop to make before we go to the Benton House.”
“All right,” she whispered again.
“Not curious where?”
“Where?”
“The telegraph office. I have a couple of things to send to Carter.”
A sad smile pulled at her taut lips as tears bubbled from her eyes. “I told you this would make a great ending to your series.”
“Probably, but I’ll be writing it for you … if you’ll hire an old printer’s devil for the Bugle.”
“You’re staying?”
He laughed. “I’m sending my resignation to Carter along with my last article.”
“But, Luke, you said you wanted to see more of the world. You said—”
He placed his finger against her lips. Pulling back on the reins, he stopped the buggy and brought her into his arms. “I said many things, and I meant them, but, after what I’ve learned in the past day, I think it’ll take me the rest of my life to explore this corner of Wyoming and fight all the battles to be won here. I’d like to spend that life with you, my love. What does one have to do to get hitched in this state?”
“Hitched? You mean, married?”
Again he laughed. “I really want my child to share our name. I think, after the print shop is rebuilt, I’d like to try my hand at painting the new sign to read The Bentonville Bugle, Luke and Mackenzie Bradfield, proprietors. How does that sound?”
“‘Mackenzie and Luke Bradfield’,” she returned saucily. “Editor in chief’s name first. Managing editor next.”
“Managing editor?”
She laughed. “I think you deserve a promotion to make up for the one you won’t be getting in Albany. Quite a jump from being the printer’s devil to managing editor.”
“You’re the most irritating woman I’ve ever met.” With a husky growl, he pressed her back against the carriage seat and seared her lips with his desire. A desire she would savor as they fought their battles at the helm of The Bentonville Bugle. It was the perfect closing to a story she had yearned to write from the moment he had entered her life.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©1999 by Jo Ann Ferguson
Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0892-1
Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution
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