Tracker’s Sin

by Sarah McCarty

  “We’re not killing him?”

  “No. Not until we know for sure he’s the one.”

  “It’d be easier just to go in and kill him,” Shadow said, packing his own supplies. “Stealing an unwelcome guest from under the army’s nose isn’t going to be easy.”

  Tracker cocked an eyebrow at his brother. “Since when do you worry about it being easy?”

  “Since you’ve got something to live for.”

  “I thought we agreed that my time with Ari was just for a moment.”

  “I lied.”

  “We don’t lie to each other.”

  “I slipped.” Shadow swung his saddlebags over his shoulder. “You’ve got a chance with Ari, Tracker. Why don’t you let us handle this, and you stay here with Ed, Tucker and Luke and protect that?”

  Tracker hoisted his own saddlebag to his shoulder and headed to the horses. “It’s my woman’s parents who were killed. It’s my woman who was raped and beaten.” He met Shadow’s gaze. “It’s my woman’s honor that needs to be restored.”

  “That’s our father’s way of talking.”

  “Maybe the man wasn’t all bad.”

  “He was rotten to the core.”

  “Yeah, he was. But I’m thinking lately, it doesn’t mean we have to be.”

  “Hell, Tracker, hating him keeps us going. No sense messing with it now.”

  “You’ve got a point.” He cinched the saddle tight and lowered the stirrup. Buster snorted and tossed his head.

  “You going to leave a note for Ari?”

  Tracker shook his head. He would never forget that moment when she had walked away arm in arm with Desi, glancing back only that once. Independence from him was what he wanted for her, but the moment when she’d exercised it had been a knife to the gut.

  “I’ll explain when I get back.” If he got back. He had a bad feeling about this ride.

  Shit. Since when did he worry about the return?

  He swung up into the saddle. “You ready?”

  Tracker slid his rifle in and out of the scabbard. Secure but ready. “Yes.”

  “Then let’s ride.” Shadow touched his hat and wheeled his black in a tight circle.

  Buster was fresh and ready to run. Tracker gave him his head, letting the faint moon light the trail, pushing harder than was safe. But they’d never have a better opportunity to eradicate the threat to the twins. It couldn’t be missed.

  Four hours later he could see the rise. His pulse picked up, but his brain went calm. Over that hill was the man he’d come to kill. Just as soon as he found out for sure that he was the head of the organization.

  When he got to the scrub at the foot of the rise, Caine stepped out of the shadows, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

  Tracker pulled up his horse.

  Caine pushed his brim back, revealing those green eyes that saw too much. “Going somewhere?”

  “Likely the same place as you.” Tracker nodded toward the hill. “They still there?”

  “Yup. Stage isn’t set to head out for five hours.”

  “How many men?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Twenty-five men cost a lot of money. “Just how rich is your wife?”

  “Filthy rich, to hear her tell it.”

  “And she stays with an ugly-ass son of a bitch like you? Shit.”

  Caine shrugged. “What can I say, the woman has taste.”

  “Or a hole in her brain.”

  Caine smiled. “Either way, she makes me a happy man.”

  “Good.”

  “What about you? Zach said Ari has a soft spot for you.”

  “Just a temporary thing.”

  Caine shot him a look but didn’t pry. “I’m sorry, Tracker.”

  “Water under the bridge.” He swung down off his horse.

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “What’s the plan?” Caine always had a plan. It’s what made him such a good leader.

  “Well, I was in favor of going in guns blazing, but Zach talked me out of it.”

  Caine never did anything rash. Zach, however, was another story. “We need Amboy alive.”

  “I know,” Caine agreed.

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me about this little plan?”

  “That, and Ari needed you.”

  “She and Desi made up,” Tracker said.

  “Good.”

  “So about that plan…?”

  “Zach and Shadow are going in. Zach’s found some chloroform he’s eager to experiment with.”

  Shit. Why did it have to be Shadow?

  “How are they going to get Amboy out?” Dead weight was hard to move, and depending on Amboy’s size, it could be a tough haul. Past twenty-five army soldiers? A damn impossible one. Even for Zach and Shadow.

  “We’re going to launch a frontal attack.” Caine moved back to his horse and lifted his canteen off his saddle. “Provide a bit of distraction. It’d be easier if we didn’t have to worry about killing the guards.” Caine took a drink before capping the canteen again. “But technically, the army is on our side.”

  “What good will a distraction do? The cavalry will come after us as soon as we leave. Everyone knows Hell’s Eight. It’s not hard to tell when we swoop in.”

  “Yeah, if Hell’s Eight goes in.”

  Caine pulled out a rough-looking wig made of coarse black horsehair, attached to a sombrero. “Want to play Comanchero?”

  The plan went to hell within ten minutes of inception. So fast, Tracker had to wonder if it was a trap.

  “Are you sure Amboy is even in there?” he called to Caine over the sound of gunfire.

  “He’s in there.”

  “He knew we were coming.” Tracker ducked as a soldier took aim. The bullet ricocheted off the rock beside him.

  Caine fired back. He looked ridiculous in his hat and wig. “I’d say he was counting on it.”

  “Why? To get Desi and Ari alone?”

  Caine shook his head. “Hell’s Eight is too well fortified. My guess is he plans to discredit us.”

  “Discredit?”

  “Think about it. Why get his hands dirty when he can use the law against us?”

  Tracker looked at the blue-and-gold uniforms with new understanding. “Or the army.”

  Caine spat. “No one spins a tale better than an Easterner.”

  “And the tale would only have to hold until we played into his hands.”

  “Like attacking a stage guarded by the U.S. Army.”

  This time Caine ducked. “Yeah. Like that.”

  “Any sign of Zach and Shadow?” Sam called from his position to the right.

  “Not yet,” Tracker called back. The sick feeling that had been growing in his stomach all day got worse. “Not yet” wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad, either, especially considering how many soldiers were swarming around the hut.

  “They’d better haul ass. Caden’s swinging around back to provide cover, but I’m not sure he’s going to be able to get there before they figure out we’re covering for something.”

  Tracker searched the brush and hollows, and murmured, “Move your ass, brother.”

  There was no sign of any action for a few minutes, but then to the right something moved. He raised his spyglass. “Ten o’clock, near the left corner.”

  Caine shielded his eyes. “Got them.”

  It was only a matter of moments before the soldiers would see them, too. Tracker took aim at the men most likely to spot Shadow and Zach. In a volley of bullets, he pinned them down. The rest of the Hell’s Eight took notice and soon had six guns trained on that section of terrain, pacing their efforts so a steady hail of bullets bought Zach and Shadow time.

  “Move, damn you.”

  Zach and Shadow worked their way around the house, moving into the temporary bullet-free zone, ready to sprint up the hill. A soldier stepped out from behind a rock, took aim.

  “Shadow!”

  His brother was too far away to hear. Tracker couldn�
�t get a clear shot. He watched in agony as the man leveled the gun.

  Sam’s big rifle barked. The soldier went down.

  Tracker felt weak with relief.

  “Son of a bitch, that was too damn close,” Caine muttered.

  Tracker sent another spray of bullets down the hill. The soldiers weren’t going to stay pinned for long. Zach and Shadow crouched low, watching, waiting for that one-in-a-million opportunity, that break between bullets that would enable them to get back into the ravine they’d crawled down. It would be easier to cover them then. Once they got there, they had a chance.

  “That seals it. If that Amboy character comes within range, I’m killing him. We can find out what we need to know another way,” Tracker said.

  “He’s smarter than we thought.”

  Tracker lay back against the rock and reloaded while Caine took his turn. “Shouldn’t have judged him so laxly, just because he’s Eastern.”

  “That’s a mistake we won’t be making again.”

  But it could be a costly one to have made now, with Shadow’s life on the line. Caine’s gun barked.

  The soldier at a strategic corner clutched his shoulder and spun around. He went down. It was the opportunity they’d been waiting for. Tracker let out a war cry that echoed down the valley. Zach and Shadow bolted forward. Shadow’s answering cry flowed back up the hill.

  Bullets exploded from above and below. The air was thick with the scents of gunpowder, sweat and determination.

  “Goddammit, Tracker. Duck!”

  He did. Bullets hit the dirt all around the rock he crouched behind.

  “They’ve got you marked.”

  Shit. He’d have to change position. “Moving!”

  He rolled to the left, grimacing as rocks dug into his side. A bullet splatted into the ground an inch from his head.

  The sound of a rifle report immediately drowned it out. “All taken care of, Tracker.”

  He lay on his back, drawing three deep breaths as he waited to see if there would be any more shots. “Much obliged, Ace.”

  “Get that shot off a bit faster next time, Ace,” Caine snapped.

  “Will do, boss man.”

  “Damn fool took one to the leg,” Caden announced.

  “He all right?” Caine called back, a bit less gruffly.

  “Bleeding like a stuck pig, but he’ll live.”

  Tracker sat up against a small tree.

  “Going to need more than that to cover your ass,” Caine told him over the steady volley of gunfire.

  “Working on it.” Just as soon as he saw what was happening with Shadow.

  Tracker cautiously leaned around the tree. A lot had changed in the few minutes it’d taken him to switch locations. Shadow and Zach had made it to the ravine directly below. They were climbing fast. The soldiers were catching up just as fast. There was something odd in Zach’s gait. Tracker pulled out his spyglass. Through the lens, he could see the dark stain on Zach’s side.

  “Son of a bitch, Zach’s hit.”

  “How bad?”

  “Side.”

  “Shit.”

  Shit. Tracker seconded the sentiment. A side hit could be a flesh wound or mortal. There was no telling from here. Shadow grabbed Zach’s arm, looped it around his shoulders and kept climbing.

  “Got to be bad if Zach’s letting Shadow carry him.”

  Shit again.

  They laid down another spray of bullets, providing as much cover as they could. “Come on, Shadow.”

  Tracker checked his ammunition. He was getting low. Not enough left to do much good up here. Shadow wasn’t making enough time carrying Zach. They couldn’t control the soldiers down there much longer. There were too many and they had too much cover. Reloading his rifle, he eyed the fastest path down. Zach stumbled, taking Shadow to his knees. They weren’t both going to make it. Not without help. And Shadow would never leave Zach.

  Slinging his rifle across his shoulder, Tracker leaped over the log and ran down the slope, slipping and sliding. Caine’s “Cover him!” trailed in his wake.

  Shadow and Zach looked up. So did about a half-dozen soldiers who all started running toward Tracker. Whipping the rifle off his shoulder, he gave them something to look at. The men behind Shadow and Zach dived for cover.

  As soon as he got close enough, Shadow shouted at him, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Tracker slid his arm through the rifle strap and shifted the gun over his shoulder. “Saving your ass.”

  Coming up on Zach’s other side, he took his arm. “How are you doing, Zach?”

  “Had better days.”

  That Tracker could see. The side of his pant leg was red with blood. His skin was unnaturally pale and his breathing was labored.

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about getting you out of here.”

  “Gracias.”

  Tracker exchanged a glance with Shadow behind Zach’s back. His brother shook his head. With every step Zach grew heavier. By the time they were a third of the way up, he was dead weight. Behind them, the soldiers were gaining ground.

  If it weren’t for the twist and turns of the ravine, combined with Hell’s Eight sharpshooters, all three of them would already be dead.

  “Don’t they know when to give up?”

  “U.S. Army, Tracker.” Shadow grunted. “They’re not known for their surrendering attitude.”

  “I’m thinking they should get into the habit.”

  “Would be handy tonight.”

  “Did you get Amboy?”

  “He’s a greasy son of a bitch.”

  “Slipped out of our grasp,” Zach gasped.

  “Damn snake in the grass.”

  The moon was setting. Tracker couldn’t see shit. His foot slipped off a rock, and Shadow went down behind him. Zach groaned and listlessly struggled to regain his feet.

  “He’s the one who shot Zach,” Shadow explained. “Had some fancy pistol stuck in his sleeve.”

  “Did you find out anything?”

  “No.”

  “You will have to kill him,” Zach moaned.

  “Save your strength for walking.”

  Zach’s head lolled on his chest. “He is desperate. This is why he shot me.”

  “He shot you because you broke into his room and attempted to kidnap him.”

  The path was getting steeper, narrower. It was harder to carry Zach between them.

  “No. He is a very clever man with mucho dinero. The web he builds is very complicated. If he is not stopped, Hell’s Eight may not win.”

  “No one can beat Hell’s Eight,” Shadow countered.

  “This man, he can.”

  “You really think he’s a match for Hell’s Eight?”

  “He intends to kill the women and children.”

  “He needs them.”

  Zach shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  “Why?

  “I…don’t…know.”

  “What do you know?”

  Zach didn’t answer.

  Shadow swore. Tracker joined in.

  “We can’t get to him tonight?”

  “He’s surrounded by guards. The only way to get to him is if we could find a way to draw him out.”

  Son of a bitch. Tracker reached up and grabbed Zach’s hair from behind. There was no resistance when he pulled his head back. Zach had passed out.

  Tracker’s shoulder hit a rock. When he shifted, his other shoulder bumped the other wall.

  “We’re going to have to go single file,” he said.

  “I’ll hold Zach while you get set.”

  Tracker took his rife off his shoulder and let Zach slide down. Shadow held him up with an arm around his waist. Blood spilled over his fingers in a black wash.

  “He’s in a bad way.”

  “Yes. That bullet was meant for me.”

  “He’s a hell of a good friend.”

  “Don’t let him die.”

  Tracker frowned. Shadow wasn’t usually overl
y sentimental.

  “We won’t.” Bracing his rifle against the rock, he hoisted Zach over his shoulder. The man didn’t even moan.

  Tracker could hear the soldiers scrambling over the same rock they just had. Hear them stumble over the same log. They didn’t have much time.

  “Take my rifle.”

  He let it go before he realized Shadow wasn’t there to catch it. For a moment he could only stand uncomprehendingly. Shadow was always there.

  Don’t let him die.

  “Shadow!”

  “Get him home, Tracker.”

  That came from below. His brother was heading back down.

  “What the hell are you doing, Shadow?”

  His cry of “Evening the score” was almost lost beneath a volley of shots, the sudden acceleration of violence that always happened when men finally spotted their target.

  “Shadow!”

  No response.

  Zach moaned and shifted. For a moment, Tracker was torn. He had two choices. Leave Zach and follow Shadow. Or leave Shadow and get Zach to safety.

  That bullet was meant for me.

  Shit. He didn’t have a choice. He left his gun and started up the trail, knees aching under the weight, pushing himself past the pain, climbing faster than he thought possible.

  “Damn you, don’t you die!”

  “Who are you talking to?” Ace asked, coming down the path.

  “No one, apparently, who’s listening.”

  Tracker eased Zach off his shoulder. Ace caught him.

  “He took a bullet for Shadow.”

  “He’s a tough one.”

  “He’s Hell’s Eight.” Tracker wanted that understood.

  “We’ll take care of him.”

  “Good.” Tracker spun on his heel and headed down the path, twice as fast as he’d come up it.

  “Where are you going?” Ace called.

  “To get my brother before it’s too late.”

  Tracker was too late. By the time he’d worked his way past the sentries to a small rock fall, dawn was breaking on the horizon, illuminating the yard of the stage stop in a feeble light. Fifteen soldiers surrounded Shadow. The commander stood in front, hands locked behind his back, the stripes on his sleeve catching what light there was.

  “It’s a hell of a pickle you’ve got yourself into, brother.” Tracker trained his gun sight on the colonel. His finger tightened on the trigger. Such an easy shot, but wasted. The officer was too far away from Shadow to be an immediate threat. Tracker angled the barrel an inch to the right and a quarter inch down. All he had to do was pull the trigger in quick succession and the soldiers on either side of Shadow would go down. He sighed and tipped the barrel up. For all the good it would do. Tracker eased his finger off the trigger. Bullets weren’t going to get Shadow out of this situation. They were outnumbered.