by Erin Johnson
When they reached the door, he nudged Grace hard. “Open that there door,” he commanded, but she struggled with it. His sharp elbow connected with her ribs. “Move it!”
If he poked her any lower, he’d feel the gun. Panic rising within her, Grace jerked on the door with all her strength. It slid partway open, but not enough for all three of them to exit.
“Wider,” Wyatt barked.
“I’m trying,” Grace whimpered. “I’m not used to such heavy doors.” She hoped she sounded convincingly weak and helpless so he wouldn’t see her as a threat.
“Try harder,” Wyatt said, slamming a knee into her backside.
Grace yanked on the door again and it slid wide open so fast she stumbled and almost fell. Wyatt jerked on her arm to pull her upright and ordered her out onto the platform. He pulled Emily to the edge.
“Jump,” he snarled when she stood there trembling.
“Try, Em, please,” Grace pleaded.
But before Emily could comply, Wyatt picked her up and tossed her to the opposite side. Emily’s head banged against the door of the passenger car, and she wailed, crumpling like a rag doll.
“Quit your sniveling before I put a bullet through you.” Wyatt stepped across and grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet.
“Be brave, Em,” Grace begged. But inside, her temper was burning hot. She’d find a way to make this man pay as soon as he let go of her arm. Wyatt’s fingers dug in more deeply when they reached the passenger car. “Open it. And don’t try no funny business or I’ll throw your sister from the train.”
Abby’s face floated before Grace’s eyes in a fury-filled cloud, blocking her vision and making it hard to breathe. Only the thought of Emily, helpless, her body broken and battered on the ground below the train kept Grace silent. She pulled the door open and marched into the passenger car, with Wyatt clenching her arm and dragging Emily behind.
Wyatt called to the man who was guarding the passengers. “Sully, keep an eye on these two girls. Remember their faces, ’cus they’re gonna get the special treatment.”
Grace gulped. He wouldn’t kill them in front of witnesses, but later . . .
Caroline caught sight of her daughter and screamed. “Emily! My baby! Let her go!”
The woman beside her grasped her arm to prevent Emily’s mother from charging down the aisle. Caroline shook away the restraint desperately, and hearing her mother’s voice, Emily started screaming and wriggling frantically. She jerked loose from Wyatt’s grasp, and he shoved her hard, sending her stumbling. She fell face-down in the aisle. Wyatt glowered at both Emily and Caroline.
“Calm that brat down,” he shouted at Caroline.
An elderly man pushed himself to his feet, his face red and contorted with anger. The bowler hat on his lap tumbled to the floor. He leaned on his cane and strode toward Wyatt. “You can’t treat children this way. Let that girl go at once or I’ll —”
When the old man lifted his cane to strike, Wyatt shoved Grace aside roughly. She lost her balance and tumbled into a woman’s lap, her gun arm trapped underneath her, her boot heels tangled in her skirt layers. With a roar, Wyatt ducked the feeble blow from the man’s cane and came in low, knocking him to the ground. The old man lay on his back like an overturned beetle, his arms and legs jerking uselessly in the air, but he still tried to whack Wyatt’s legs with the cane.
Wyatt stood, whipped out his gun, and took aim.
“No, no, don’t shoot.” The old man’s words were high and squeaky with fear.
The Andersen twin didn’t even blink. He pulled the trigger and the report threw the man back hard against the floor. Blood splattered the front of his waistcoat and air gurgled out of the man’s lungs. A dull look appeared in his eyes before they closed.
Everyone went deathly silent. Even Emily.
Sicker than she’d ever been, Grace stared at the old man’s chest, willing him to breathe. A tiny shudder went through him.
The door to the compartment banged open and Joe burst through, one hand on his holster.
“Grace?” he called, his voice tight. He scanned the carriage until his eyes fell on her. “Are you all right?”
No, she wasn’t all right, but Joe needed reassurance, not her fears. “I-I’m fine,” she choked out.
“Stay where you are,” Wyatt barked at Joe. “Hands in the air.” He yanked Grace up from the seat and dragged her in front of him like a shield. “Or I’ll kill her.”
When Joe hesitated, Wyatt put his pistol to Grace’s head. Joe slowly raised his hands.
With the cold metal pressed against her temple, Grace went into a deeper, darker place than she’d ever gone before. Wyatt could kill her, but she’d never let him kill Joe, Emily, or Caroline. None of these innocent people. She gritted her teeth as rage built inside her. She’d do whatever she had to do to take him down. Snaking her hand under the decorative panel of fabric at her hips, her fingers closed around the gun.
“Sully, get over there and take his weapon,” Wyatt ordered, indicating to Joe. “And nobody else get any bright ideas of being a hero.”
As he spoke, Emily caught Grace’s eye. The small girl was moving toward Sully.
No! Grace wanted to scream, but she couldn’t call Wyatt’s attention to the little girl or he’d surely shoot her too.
Suddenly Emily shrieked and threw herself on the floor in front of Sully’s feet, kicking and screaming as if she were having a full-blown temper tantrum. Sully tripped over her and fell, his gun skittering across the floor.
Wyatt’s gun hand wavered.
That second was all Grace needed.
“Get down,” she screamed at the passengers as she twisted out of Wyatt’s grip and drew her gun. Afraid her shot might go wild while they struggled, she slammed the revolver’s butt against Wyatt’s temple. His head snapped to the side and he collapsed in a heap.
At the same time, Joe rushed over to the struggling Sully, his gun pointed. He jerked the man off Emily and wrenched his hands behind his back. “Someone toss me a rope,” he yelled.
But before anyone could respond, the door to the compartment slammed open again and the outlaw guarding the other passenger car burst through the doorway, gun drawn. Grace whipped her gun up and pulled the trigger. Her shot caught him in the shoulder of his gun arm, and the outlaw crumpled to the floor.
A man sitting nearby tackled the sprawling man and snatched the gun from his hand. Then he picked up Sully’s gun and pointed both weapons at the struggling outlaw. “I’ll keep him covered until someone ties him up.”
Grace bent to pull the pistol from Wyatt Andersen’s limp hand. Her stomach churned as her fingers brushed the hand of that murderer, but at last he lay helpless at her feet. She could put a bullet through his heart. He deserved it . . .
With his gun in her left hand, Grace stood and pointed her own revolver at Wyatt’s chest. The revolver that had belonged to her father.
A short distance away, Emily struggled to her feet, dusted herself off, and gave Grace a triumphant smile. “You got him. He’s one of the men from the poster, isn’t he? What are you going to do now?”
Grace swallowed hard. Here was her chance. But Emily was watching her, supposedly learning how to be a bounty hunter. If she shot Wyatt, what would she teach Emily about justice and revenge?
She tightened her finger on the trigger.
CHAPTER 25
Through the tears misting her eyes, Grace loosened her trigger finger and returned a tremulous smile. “I-I’m going to turn him in,” she answered the young girl, lowering her gun.
“I need rope,” Joe yelled again.
A cowboy near the back of the car hopped up. “I got some in the luggage car. I can get it.”
“No.” Grace’s voice cracked through the air. Nat and Clarence were back there. “I have rope in my bag.” She handed Wyatt’s gun to the
cowboy, and he tipped his hat and took it. “Make sure he doesn’t move,” she said, indicating the Andersen twin.
The cowboy trained his gun on Wyatt but said, “Don’t think I’ll be needing to use this. You did a right good job of knocking him out.”
That had been due to Joe’s training. When he’d taught her tracking, he’d demonstrated several ways of overpowering enemies with blows to the head or neck. She’d been lucky to hit the right spot.
Grace strode over, ruffled Emily’s hair, and whispered, “Fast thinking.” Then she opened her saddlebag and tossed rope to Joe and the man who was guarding the other outlaw.
The passengers stared in shock as Grace strapped a knife around her waist, tossed another coil of rope over her shoulder, and strode off, gun drawn.
Wyatt had left all the doors open, making her passage through the cars easier, but she hid behind each doorway and glanced around inside before entering the carriages. Nat or Clarence might come to find out why Wyatt hadn’t returned.
When Grace reached the second combine car, she stood outside and listened. The carriage rocked from side to side — someone was either exiting or boarding. The sounds of cursing grew fainter and so she deduced they must be leaving.
She slipped behind the stack of boxes. The piles had grown much shorter, and they barely hid her when she crouched. Nat and Clarence must have carried most of them out. When she didn’t hear a sound, except for groaning, Grace ventured a quick look. Wade Watkins was thrashing, but his eyes were still closed. Frank’s forehead rested on the floor. Had he passed out from pain? Or was it too hard for him to watch the fugitive he’d been guarding make off with the loot? She waved to catch Asa’s attention. The startled, wary look in his eyes turned to shock when he caught sight of her — no doubt surprised she’d made it back there.
The cursing outside the train grew louder and Grace signaled Asa to wait. She had no idea how long the outlaws took transporting each load. She’d stay hidden and watch and wait as they carried out the next load to give her an idea of timing. The train carriage tipped to one side and the cursing grew louder. Grace ducked behind the boxes.
“Where’s your damned brother?” Clarence growled as they re-entered. “He planning to help at all?”
Nat’s tone was bitter. “Like I said, guess he don’t feel the need to do any of the dirty work.”
Clarence stomped across the floor close to Grace’s hiding spot. “No telling how soon the engineer might come around. Maybe we should move that next.” He gestured toward the metal safe just a few feet away from her.
She scuttled around the boxes so she’d be hidden from view.
“Looks like it’ll take both of us to move it,” said Nat.
The two men grunted as they heaved the box. A loud clunk shook the floor, and Clarence cursed up a storm. Thumps and more curses were followed by a loud scraping sound.
“If you keep being so clumsy we might not need to dynamite this safe.” The sarcastic edge to Clarence’s voice had an angry bite.
“It slipped.” Nat’s tone was a mix of anger and frustration. “We shoulda waited for Wyatt. What’s keeping him, anyway?”
“All he had to do was take two little girls to the passenger car.”
“What if the engineer woke up?”
“Then he’d likely start this train, not chase after Wyatt.”
“I’m telling you, this ain’t like Wyatt . . .”
“Quit yer jawing and grab your end again.”
Nat heaved a sigh. Then, with a moan louder than the ones coming from Wade, he heaved the safe. “What’s in this thing?”
“Supposed to be filled with gold bars.” Clarence huffed between words.
“You go out the door first,” Nat commanded.
“Yeah, so’s I have to go down the steps backward?”
Nat’s answer was muffled.
Grace waited until the carriage tilted under their weight, then she raced over, yanked out her knife, and cut the ropes binding Asa.
“We don’t have much time,” she whispered as she undid his gag. “If one of us stands at each side of the door, we can surprise them when they’re coming through.”
“What about untying Frank?” Asa rubbed his wrists and ankles, which had turned blue. He tottered to his feet, shaking his arms.
“We don’t have time. I don’t know how long we have before they return. Once we’ve captured them, we’ll take care of Frank. His arm is useless for shooting.”
Frank lifted his head and his eyes bored into hers. The rage in them didn’t bode well for when he was untied, and Grace was grateful he was gagged.
“Get your gun,” she ordered, ignoring him, “and pick up Frank’s so they can’t use it.”
Asa glared at her mutinously. “I don’t take orders from women.”
“Fine, suit yourself,” Grace said as she bent to scoop up Frank’s gun.
Asa elbowed her out of the way. “I got it.” With a snort, he stood. “You take that side of the door. I’ll take this one.”
Grace didn’t take kindly to being ordered around either, but she wasn’t going to let Asa’s ego jeopardize this capture. He took up the position with the best vantage point, and she took the other.
“Wait until they both get through the door,” Grace said. “If we shoot too soon, the other one will get away.”
The carriage tilted.
“They’re coming,” Asa mouthed.
Grace nodded. She’d already figured that out. But rather than waiting as planned, Asa charged out and fired immediately. Grace was on the wrong side of the door to see around the corner, and she ducked as another shot rang out. Asa flew off the narrow platform and onto the train tracks below. His gun discharged when he landed, and the bullet pinged into the metal under the train.
He screamed, “They’re going up the ladder to the top of the train! Stop them!”
Grace rushed out of the door in time to see Nat’s foot disappear onto the roof of the train. Clarence was nowhere in sight. He must have gone up first. In her dress and high-button boots, she knew climbing would be treacherous. Grace tucked her gun into the holster and bunched the skirt fabric into one hand so she could move up the ladder. Asa would glimpse her ankles and maybe even her calves, but that couldn’t be helped — she had to catch the outlaws. Grasping a metal rung overhead, she pulled herself from one rung to the next. Mid-step, one shoe slipped off the rung and she dangled by one arm. Kicking frantically, she felt for a foothold. When she touched another rung, she slid her foot onto it and hugged the ladder with both arms until the thudding of her heart slowed. Gathering up her skirt, she started again, one slow step after another, until she could see over the top of the train.
Half crouching, Nat was moving along the roof of the next carriage. Clarence was one car ahead of him.
“I’ll go and get Wyatt,” she heard Clarence call. “No sense taking chances.”
Grace struggled up another rung. Clinging tightly to the top of the ladder with one hand, she eased her gun out of the holster, then twisted until she could rest her arm on the roof. The hot metal burned through the dress sleeve, but she didn’t want to miss. She aimed for Nat’s leg, but he took a flying leap onto the roof of the next carriage and her shot went wild. Nat glanced back at the sound of her bullet and whipped out his own pistol.
Grace ducked, and the shot whizzed past overhead. The sudden movement made her foot slip on the rung again, and she wobbled and fought to keep her balance. By the time she was steady and peeking over the top edge once more, Nat was scrambling down the ladder on the side of the passenger car.
But Clarence shouted, “Go back up! They got Sully and Wyatt. We got to get out of here.”
Nat clambered back up to the top of the train, but he was bobbing around too much for Grace to get a shot at him.
Then, all of a sudden, the engine rumble
d and a huge puff of smoke enveloped them.
She could only make out their forms dimly, but it looked as if they were crawling toward the ladder. With their bodies so low, she couldn’t fire accurately. She’d have to wait until they were climbing down the ladder again or until they reached the platform between the carriages below, and she knew getting herself back down the ladder would take longer than continuing forward on top of the train.
Grace tucked her gun into her holster and picked up her skirts. Pulse racing, she crawled onto the train roof. The ground below looked so far away. If she fell . . .
With a sudden jerk, the train started to move.
CHAPTER 26
Grace fell forward, hands outstretched, body flat against the metal. She hugged the roof and prayed she wouldn’t slide.
“Grace!” Joe shouted from several carriages down. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m up on the roof! Get them to stop the train!” she yelled back, but her words were blown away by the wind. She tried again, screaming louder this time. Below her was a figure poised on the platform between the cars, ready to jump. Grace feared letting go of her tentative hold on the speeding train, but she snaked a hand back for her gun. In one swift move, she drew and fired as he jumped. The man groaned as he dropped from the train. It was Clarence. One down, one to go.
Nat was right behind his associate, but before Grace could aim, he ducked back. A few seconds later, just before they passed an area filled with boulders, scrub, and brush, Nat took a flying leap from the train. Grace fired another shot just as the train swayed. Nat cried out and landed hard, clutching his arm. She must have at least nicked him.
Joe called out Grace’s name again. “Where are you?”
She screamed. “Up here! Nat jumped from the train. Go after him.” By the time she got down the ladder, the other Andersen twin would be long gone.
“What?” Joe cried, shocked.