Cold Night, Warm Stranger

by Jill Gregory

  "I was wondering if I might have a few moments of your time. I'd like to talk with you. When you're finished with your purchases, of course."

  Maura was still studying Nell and anxiety for the girl furrowed her brow. "I don't have very much time," she said distractedly, "but, yes, if you'd like. We could go to the hotel and have some tea when I'm done here. Then I could watch for my husband from the window. He's coming back for me."

  "I have a better idea. Why don't we have tea at my boardinghouse? I baked some almond butter cookies this morning. The sitting room overlooks the street so you can watch for Quinn."

  "Lovely." Maura was sure she did not want to hear anything Serena Walsh had to say, but there was no way out of it now. She sidestepped the woman and hurried to Nell, reaching for the girl's trembling hands to cradle them in her own. But suddenly the door to the back room burst open and two men charged out.

  "Howdy, ladies," the taller of the two said with a snicker.

  Maura's stomach clenched at the sight of them. Dirty gold stubble shadowed their faces—she guessed the men were brothers because they both had scraggly wheat-colored hair that fell in tangles past their narrow shoulders, and the same lidless olive eyes, beaked noses, and weak chins. The same pock-marked skin showing beneath weathered tans. The taller one had a jagged scar beneath his right eye and wore a gray hat with holes shot through it. The other man's Adam's apple stuck out like a rock.

  Behind her Serena Walsh had gone very still. Nell was staring at the men in mute fear.

  "Nell, what's going on? Who are these men?" Maura asked quickly.

  The girl tore her gaze from them and stared at Maura, both misery and terror shimmering in her lime-green eyes. "Oh, Lord forgive me, I'm sorry, Mrs. Lassiter. So terribly sorry," she choked, "but they've got my pop tied up upstairs and they said that if I didn't do what they told me—"

  "That's about enough out of you, girlie."

  The taller brother with the gray hat lunged forward and wagged his finger under Nell's nose. "Not another word," he warned.

  "Who are you?" Maura demanded, but inside she was going numb with terror. She already knew.

  "Well, we might be this little lady's country cousins— Jimbo and John," the one with the protruding Adam's apple sneered. "Only we ain't."

  "They're the Campbell brothers—Lee and Ned. The only ones left," Serena murmured behind Maura.

  The taller one peered at her and snickered. "Right you are, ma'am. I'm Lee and this here is Ned. Real glad to make your acquaintance."

  Suddenly they had guns in their hands. And they were pointing them at Maura.

  "Let's go, little lady."

  "What do you mean?" Maura stepped back. Instinctively her hand had swept toward her belly, as if to somehow protect the baby within, but she forced herself to lower her trembling fingers to her side. "What do you want with me?"

  "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Come on, we got us a long ride ahead."

  "Forgive me," Nell sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I wanted to warn you but they said the other one would kill my pop!"

  "Shut up!" Ned Campbell spun on her and knocked her backward. Then he stalked into the back room and shouted up the stairs. "Luke! We got 'er! Let's ride!"

  Maura felt as if the world were spinning crazily around her. She thought of trying to run for the door, but she knew she wouldn't make it. She also knew the Campbells wouldn't hesitate to shoot her if she tried to get away. Hadn't they nearly run Alice Tyler down in the street— and tried to drag Nell off with them against her will?

  They were ruthless men—and her husband's enemies.

  She swallowed hard and tried to think.

  "Look, boys, you don't want to rile Quinn Lassiter any more than you already have," she heard Serena saying in her soft drawl behind her. "If you take his wife—"

  "He'll come after us. And we'll have him right where we want him," Lee crowed, grinning at her. "You want to come along, honey bun?"

  Serena said nothing.

  "Hey. Answer me!"

  "No." Serena had barely breathed the word before Luke Campbell sauntered from the back stairway.

  "Well, well, well." Insolently, he surveyed Maura, taking his time. "If it ain't Lassiter's purty little bride."

  "He'll kill you," Maura whispered. "If you hurt me, he'll kill you. I'm carrying his child."

  Suddenly a slender, frantic hope sparked inside her. "You wouldn't want to hurt a baby, would you?" she asked quickly, desperately, glancing from one cruel face to another.

  Luke's hair was thinner and lighter than his cousins', a pale dirty mop that looked like it hadn't seen a washing since he was old enough to shave. He was leaner yet more muscular than the others and, if possible, even meaner-looking with his thin blistered lips and heavy brows. He'd been in prison, Maura remembered, her heart sinking. Quinn had put him there.

  "If it's Lassiter's baby, it'll be a downright pleasure to hurt it."

  Luke stepped closer and his smile would have chilled the sun. "And you, too, Mrs. Lassiter, ma'am. But mostly, I'm going to enjoy hurting your husband. I'm going to hurt him real bad—before I kill him."

  "No!" The word burst from her in an agony of despair. But all it got her was three vile smiles of satisfaction.

  "Let's go," Luke ordered his cousins.

  "Wait," Nell cried. "My pop—is he all right? You promised..."

  "Girlie, don't you ever shut up?" Lee grabbed Nell by the arm and dragged her out from behind the counter as Luke drew his gun and aimed it at Maura. "You're coming along too," he told Nell. "Last time you got lucky, but your luck just ran out."

  Nell began to struggle, but Lee snaked an arm around her throat and dragged her along with him. Serena moved quickly as Luke shoved Maura toward the door. She reached out as if to steady the other woman, but Maura felt something thunk inside her pocket. For one brief instant her wide brown eyes met Serena's before Luke seized her elbow and pulled her past.

  "Ned! Tie up our southern belle and gag her. And you," he flung over his shoulder at Serena. "When they find you, tell Lassiter that if he ever wants to see his little wife alive again, he'll come to Skull Rock at sunset tonight. Alone. If there's anyone with him, we'll put a bullet in her belly. Got that?"

  Serena had gone as pale as Nell, as pale, Maura realized, as she must be herself. When Ned seized her roughly and yanked her arms behind her back, the blond-haired woman answered Luke stonily.

  "I'll tell him, since you're too much of a coward to wait around and tell him yourself."

  Then Maura felt Luke's bony hand squeezing around her waist, dragging her close. The stench of sweat and unwashed flesh coming off him nearly made her dizzy.

  "Let's go, darlin'," he rasped in her ear. His chuckle was as low and rough as bark scraped down a blackboard. "We got us a ways to ride before the sun goes down."

  Chapter 31

  The clouds had dropped lower and darkened to a dusky gray by the time Quinn finished stacking lumber in the wagon and walked over to the livery to appraise the new horses Jethro had to sell. He'd said he'd think it over, and had headed back toward the general store, restless for some reason he couldn't fathom.

  Some instinct warned him something was off. The weather? The day had been so clear just a short while ago, but though the sun still shone, the storm seemed to be swooping in faster than he'd expected. It could be here by morning, maybe late tonight. Was it that—or something else?

  He didn't know what was twisting at his gut—he only knew that he'd learned to trust his instincts years ago and it had always served him well.

  By the time he reached the mercantile and saw Edna Weaver and Doc Perkins's wife, Mary, muttering to one another and pushing at the door, every muscle in his body had turned to lead.

  "What's going on?" he demanded, striding up to them.

  Edna whirled toward him, her face puckered with worry. "Hicks's is never closed this time of day. Grace was here just this morning, and said something about Nell being a
ll riled up—still unsettled after finding those two dead men the other night. So I came over to see if I could comfort the girl, and found Mary here—unable to get in. The closed sign is hanging right there in the window—in the middle of the afternoon!"

  "John Hicks! Nell!" Mary Perkins called loudly as she banged with her fist upon the door. "Open up now, will you?"

  "Stand back."

  The women scattered at the harshness of his tone. Quinn put a shoulder to the door and shoved it in. His chest was so tight, it hurt as he burst in and saw Serena bound and gagged on the floor in the corner beside the flour barrels.

  He felt no surprise. The moment he'd seen the two women trying to get in the door, he'd known.

  "It was the Campbells," Serena told him when he stripped the greasy yellow bandanna from her mouth. He worked at her bonds while she talked and the other women gasped and exclaimed.

  "They took Maura and Nell."

  "Where?" Waves of icy fear washed over Quinn as he waited for Serena to answer him.

  "Skull Rock."

  He sucked in his breath. Silence filled the store. They all knew the place. A lone high rock overlooking a barren canyon of scrub and sagebrush. No approach from any direction without being seen.

  He spun about and was halfway to the door by the time Serena could call out to him in a hoarse voice.

  "Wait, Quinn, that's not all!" She pushed herself to her feet and glanced at Edna. "John Hicks is upstairs. I don't know if they killed him or not, but someone should go up there and see."

  "Serena." Quinn paid no heed as Edna Weaver and Mary Perkins gasped and started toward the back stairs. His marble-gray eyes, glinting with a merciless intensity, were fixed only on Serena's face. Never, in all her years, had she seen eyes so ruthless. Or heard a voice that sounded so cold, as cold as bitter, irrefutable death.

  "Tell me exactly what the Campbells said."

  "They said you're to come to Skull Rock at sunset. Alone. They said that if you brought anyone with you, they'd kill Maura. They mean it, Quinn," she added quickly. "I've never seen men so determined before, and believe me, I've seen all kinds. But it's a trap—you know it's a trap! If you go there, they'll kill all of you!"

  "How many were they? How much head start did they have?"

  "There were three of them—Luke, Ned, and Lee. They left me here maybe half an hour ago."

  He swore, a string of epithets half under his breath, and started to swing away.

  "Wait, Quinn." She reached out a shaky hand to clasp his arm. "You should know. I gave Maura my derringer just before they dragged her out. I dropped it into her pocket—maybe it will help."

  "I'm obliged to you." His tone was soft, but so grim, so filled with deadly fury lashed under a violent control, that Serena actually trembled and dropped her hand. For a moment she almost felt sorry for the Campbells—until she remembered that they had Quinn outnumbered, that from Skull Rock they could see his approach for miles, they could pick him off at any time, and he would be virtually helpless to fight back.

  "What are you going to do?" she breathed.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. "That's not fit for a lady to know."

  He was out the door in three strides, cursing the fact that Thunder was back at the ranch and he'd have to take the piebald from the team. He'd reached the wagon, and was unhitching Nutmeg when he heard Edna Weaver rush up behind him.

  "Hold on there, Mr. Lassiter. Please."

  "No time." He led Nutmeg away from the rig as the sorrel, Pepper, nodded in the sun. "If this is about Hicks—"

  "It isn't. But he's alive, thanks be to God. Those monsters didn't shoot him before they dragged off his daughter and your wife."

  "Glad to hear it," he said between clenched teeth. Terror for Maura and their baby racked every muscle, throbbed through every inch of his tall, wide-shouldered frame. He could barely see straight as the knife blade of dread and rage and despair tore at him, but he knew as surely as he knew his name that this was not the time to panic—only cool, calm control and clear thinking could save the life of the woman he loved.

  Loved. Emotion swamped him, making his palms sweat. Why had he never told her he loved her? Why?

  Because he'd never even dared admit it to himself.

  And now it might be too late—for both of them. No, he amended in agony, thinking of the child growing within Maura, the tiny life that belonged to them both. It might be too late for them all.

  With desperate urgency pounding through him, he swung up onto the piebald, intending to stop at the livery for a saddle on his way out of town, but Edna wouldn't step out of the way.

  "You can't go yet, Mr. Lassiter! This is important. It's about Skull Rock."

  "What about it?"

  "If you ride through the canyon you'll be killed. It's a trap—you know that, don't you?"

  With the last thin shred of his patience, Quinn stared down at her, frantic to be off.

  "I know it's a trap," he snarled. "It doesn't matter."

  "What if I told you...there might be another way in?"

  He went still. "In to Skull Rock?" She nodded.

  "There isn't," he said flatly. "When we were hunting for the Campbells, the posse and I covered every inch of that canyon and the ridges behind it. We saw every rock, every trail. There's no other way in."

  "My husband knows one. And so do I. It was years ago—it was buried in a rockslide, but..." She moistened her lips. "It would take some work to get to it."

  She tilted her head up at him and her bonnet skewed to one side of her gray head.

  "Won't you come to the bank and talk to Seth? I do believe he can help."

  Help. He'd never asked anyone for help with anything. It wasn't his way. He'd learned young that you couldn't count on anyone except yourself.

  But calculating the odds, picturing Maura the prisoner of the Campbells, imagining what they might do to her, he suddenly couldn't dismiss Edna Weaver's offer out of hand.

  Help.

  Cold beads of sweat formed along his brow, sheened across his face as he looked into the woman's earnest eyes. He may never have asked anyone for help before, but this just might be a damned good time to start.

  He swung off the piebald and tethered it quickly to the post.

  Even as he did so, he heard the town start to stir and rumble as word of what had happened at Hicks's filtered down the street.

  Time was slipping away. Quinn ran toward the bank, with Edna scurrying after him, clutching onto her bonnet.

  "I think this might work," she gasped behind him. "It will take shovels, men, ropes—but maybe together we can save Maura and Nell..."

  Quinn shoved the door of the bank open and stood aside for her to rush in ahead of him. "Get your husband out here pronto. Let's hear what he has to say."

  Serena climbed her porch steps and ignored the calico cat that sauntered out from under the rocker to rub against her skirts. She managed to stumble wearily inside the door before collapsing on the maroon velvet settee in the hall.

  For a moment she took several deep breaths, willing herself to find the strength to get to the kitchen, fix herself a cup of coffee and lace it with some of the good brandy from the sideboard.

  She'd been in some tight spots before and seen her share of ornery men, but never had she seen such blackhearted evil as had shown itself today in the faces of those Campbells.

  She shuddered in sympathy for Maura Lassiter and Nell Hicks and thanked her lucky stars the outlaws hadn't taken her along too. She was immediately ashamed of her cowardice and selfishness, but shrugged it off. It was the truth. That was how she felt—but it didn't mean she wasn't worried about them, and didn't want them to get out of this alive. Hadn't she given Maura Lassiter her derringer? If they'd caught her doing it, no telling what they would have done.

  Her head ached, especially at the temples. Like an anvil beating against her skull. She was just about to get up from the settee to fetch the coffee and the brandy when her newest boarder cam
e strolling down the stairs.

  "Something wrong, dear lady?" Mr. Ellers surveyed her with concern.

  Roy Ellers was a gambler by profession. With his charming smile and enigmatic eyes, he had fascinated Serena from the day he first took a room several weeks ago. But she knew gamblers—men of that ilk liked to keep to themselves, and this Ellers was no different. She seldom saw him, except at mealtimes, and the only exceptions had been when he'd smoked an occasional cigar with her on the porch. He had participated in two or three of her nightly card games—and he'd always won. The rest of his time he seemed to spend in the saloon—gambling. And winning there as well, from the scraps she'd heard.

  But she'd watched him whenever she had the chance. A slender, debonair man with a voice like honeyed tonic, he was particular about his appearance, his food, the view from his window. She had no idea where he'd come from or where he was headed, but she liked the way every single strand of his silky dark hair was always combed immaculately into place, the way every button on his gray fashionable coat and fancy embroidered vest shone, the way his boots sparkled like polished onyx.

  And he always paid on time.

  But now she had no strength to do anything beyond meet his raised brows and polite, curious gaze with a weary shrug. "There was some trouble at the general store. The Campbell gang came back to town."

  "Oh? How unfortunate. Anyone hurt?" He didn't really appear all that interested, but he did stretch out a hand to help her as she rose, and she was grateful for the strength in those slender, beautiful fingers as they closed around her arm.

  "Not yet, but they took two women as prisoners and rode off with them—and they left me tied to a barrel on the floor," she finished ruefully. "I'm in need of a drink."

  "Indeed, I should think so." He gallantly gestured her ahead of him through the hall, then followed her into the kitchen.

  "Who were the unfortunate women, may I ask?"

  "Poor little Nell Hicks whose father owns the mercantile," she said, putting coffee on to brew. "And Maura Lassiter."