My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2)

by Lori Copeland

  Creed frowned.

  “She told me she was going to pick mushrooms. I should have known she was up to something.” He started for the door. “I’ll have to go after her.”

  “We’d better get started. It’ll be dark soon.” Quincy reached for his coat.

  “You stay with the gold.” Creed’s eyes met Quincy’s and a look of understanding passed between them. “She’s my responsibility.”

  Nodding, Quincy stepped aside. “Feels like she’s gettin’ to be a whole lot more than a responsibility.”

  “For the last time, I’m not telling you anything.” Anne-Marie stared straight ahead, determined to die before she told Cortes where the gold was hidden. The streets remained empty and she wasn’t sure if the store clerk had noticed the encounter. Should she scream, or quietly bluff her way out of the situation?

  “Señorita, you are most unwise.” Cortes paced before her, hands clasped behind his back, looking pensive. Sunlight caught the dented badge on his chest. “And most stubborn, but Cortes has yet to meet his match.” His voice dropped menacingly. “Move her to the alley, men.”

  Anne-Marie squirmed when Ollie stepped up and shoved her to the alleyway. Not a soul stirred there.

  “Now.” Cortes’s squat frame pinned her to the building. “You will tell Cortes where that gold is.”

  Her insides quaked, but she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She set her jaw. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lord, please don’t let him hurt me. I can’t tell him where that gold is—I won’t betray Creed.

  “Ohhhh, the woman has an obstinate disposición! Cortes, he appreciates a sense of humor, but I’m afraid he must resist the urge to laugh.” The strange man’s eyes turned steely. “You will tell Cortes, señorita. Where is the gold?”

  “I will not.”

  “You will tell Cortes!”

  She stared straight ahead.

  Ollie and Rodrigo exchanged anxious looks.

  “The black man and the indio—where are they?”

  “They don’t tell me where they go.”

  “You lie!”

  She fixed her eyes on the alley entryway. Not one man had rushed to her rescue.

  Anne-Marie shook her head. “I mind my own buisness. You should too.”

  Ollie pointed out the obvious. “She ain’t gonna tell us.”

  “Yeah, but leastways we caught up with ’em again,” Rodrigo noted. “It was a sure stroke of luck that we were still in town this morning.”

  Ollie shifted his stance. “If she refuses to talk, boss, there ain’t much we can do about it.”

  “Oh, no, you are wrong, señor.” Cortes spat, and then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “There are ways to make her tell us what it is we wish to know.”

  Rodrigo stirred uneasily. “I don’t know, boss—”

  “Do we not know of ways to loosen her tongue?” Cortes prodded. “The well?”

  Rodrigo shifted. “Are you talking about that old shaft we came across a few months back? The one with all those creepy slimy things crawling around? We gonna throw her down there?”

  “Can you think of a better way to make her tell us what she knows? We put her there and when she is ready to talk we bring her up. If she still isn’t persuaded to say where the gold is, then we leave her there.”

  Ollie shook his head. “Those iguanas would loosen about anything in a body.”

  The men turned pensive.

  Rodrigo finally broke the silence. “I don’t think we oughta. After all, she is a woman. I ain’t a religious man, but it does seem downright mean mistreating a woman.”

  Anne-Marie blinked. At the mention of iguanas her pulse threatened to thump out of her neck. Her heart was throbbing so painfully against her ribs that she could barely breathe. Stay calm. Stay calm. No matter what they said or did to her, she would never tell them where Creed and the gold were. Nothing they could do—including throwing her down some old well—would make her further endanger Creed’s mission. She refused to cause him another ounce of trouble.

  Cortes spat on the ground. “I will know where she has hidden the gold. Put her on the horse and we will take her away—somewhere no one will hear her screams.”

  Anne-Marie dropped the music box and supplies when Rodrigo grasped her by the arm and dragged her to a waiting horse. Squirming, she bit into his hand and fought until he stuffed a dirty rag in her mouth.

  Manhandling her into the saddle, he mounted up behind her.

  “What about the Indian?” Ollie called. “Are you figuring he’ll come after her?”

  “He will come. Then Cortes will have the gold.”

  The three riders thundered out of town to the deafening sound of hooves.

  Sixteen

  It was nearing dark when Creed entered Brittlebranch on foot. The storefronts were dark, the shops closed for the day.

  Piano music filtered from the saloon when he slipped through the shadows on the sidewalk. When he saw that the clerk in the mercantile was just locking up, his pace quickened.

  The clerk glanced up when confronted by a pair of hard black eyes. For a moment he couldn’t find his voice as he stared eyeball to eyeball with the Crow.

  Nodding solemnly, the Indian spoke. “I am looking for a woman.”

  “Good heavens, man. I can’t help you. You’ll have to find your own women.”

  “No, a particular woman. Small, pretty, red hair, dressed in a worn blouse and skirt. Have you seen her?”

  “Yes, she was in earlier in the day. Bought some staples and a music box,” the grocer said.

  Creed stared at the storekeeper. “A music box?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, a right pretty one, porcelain—real dainty like—”

  The Crow interrupted. “Did you see where she went after she made her purchases?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “To the millinery.”

  A muscle tightened in Creed’s jaw. Where was she getting the money for this burst of frivolous shopping?

  “She came out later carryin’ a big box. Must’ve bought a real nice hat,” the clerk said.

  A hat and a music box? “And then?” Creed probed.

  “Then I don’t know where she went,” the clerk said. “Mrs. Bigelow needed some kerosene, and I had to go to the back room to get it for her. When I looked out later, the lady’s horse was still there.”

  Thanking him, Creed slipped back into the shadows. A music box and a hat. He was going to wring her neck. Having that kind of money meant only one thing. She had gone against his orders and had dipped into the stash of gold. She had done exactly what he had told her not to do.

  At the edge of town Creed quickly located horse tracks and the footprints of three riders. The trail was easy to read—too easy. It appeared that whoever had taken her wanted to make certain Creed followed. His hand settled around the handle of his knife. He knew who had her.

  His temper darkened with fury when he thought about the consequences she would face because of her reckless actions. But his fury was tempered with fear—a fear that he wouldn’t reach her in time. Something stirred within him, an emotion deep and disturbing.

  Slipping back into town, he untied Anne-Marie’s horse from the railing in front of the saloon and walked it quietly out of town.

  “Where is the oro?”

  “He didn’t say where he was going.” The words barely escaped Anne-Marie’s parched throat now. For hours she had been sitting beside a pit, her hands bound. Pain wracked her body, and she was faint with hunger.

  But Cortes refused to concede defeat. “Señorita,” he cajoled, “you have only to answer my simple question. Once you have spoken the truth, Cortes will give you some nice warm tortillas, beans, and something to quench your most terrible thirst.”

  The crazy man’s swarthy features wavered above Anne-Marie, but she was barely conscious of him.

  “See the pit?” he said. “See, it is filled with lizards. Many large lizards.
Iguanas, señorita. Do you know the word iguana?”

  Bile rose to Anne-Marie’s throat at the mention of lizards. She hated lizards.

  “If you do not tell Cortes what he wishes to know, he will have no choice but to throw you into the pit of iguanas. This would not be so nice. This would spoil the señorita’s whole day, sí?”

  Anne-Marie felt herself growing dizzy. His threats seemed to be coming at her through a fog. Somehow it no longer mattered what he was saying. She was paralyzed with terror.

  Cortes grasped her by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. “The gold. Where is it? Speak!”

  Anne-Marie reeled when his hand cracked across her cheek. Shaking her head she dropped back to the ground, welcoming the blackness about to consume her.

  The Mexican’s voice lowered. “You are most stubborn, fine lady. Now you have pushed Cortes’s patience to the limit.” He straightened, his eyes focused on the pit. “Perhaps if Cortes gives you time to reconsider your ill-advised ways, you will have a change of heart.”

  Barely hearing his voice, Anne-Marie swam in and out of consciousness. Nothing mattered anymore. She was going to die. She was going to be thrown into a pit full of lizards and be eaten alive. Creed. Where are you, Creed? He would know she was gone by now, but would he look for her? Her heart ached with the realization that he might not. He had no reason to further jeopardize his mission in order to save her from the consequences of her own willful ways. The gold was safely hidden in the mission cellar, and she would die before she would let this evil man know where it was—but oh, how she prayed Creed would search for her.

  Ollie sat on his haunches. “Boss, don’t you think she’s had enough? She ain’t gonna say where that gold is.”

  Rodrigo focused on the comatose woman lying on the ground. “You really gonna throw her down that well?”

  The outlaw’s eyes returned to Anne-Marie. “Sí,” he announced dispassionately. “I have been kind for too long.”

  Creed lay on his belly outside the perimeter of Cortes’s camp, his gaze alert for any sign of Anne-Marie. Cortes had left a track as evident as a locomotive. A broken horseshoe. Small bushes uprooted and stacked in the middle of the road. Creed wouldn’t have been surprised to see a large red arrow pointing the way.

  The moon slid low, casting yellow light on the rough patch of ground. A small fire dwindled to glowing red embers.

  With catlike stealth, he inched toward the camp, his hearing alert for any unusual sounds. Two mounds lay beside the fire in sleeping blankets. There had been four men last time he looked. Had Anne-Marie managed to break free?

  Or had he miscalculated? Maybe she wasn’t with the outlaws—and all this time he had been wasting hours on a wild goose chase. Panic gripped his chest. Where was she?

  Three unsaddled horses stood in a thick grove of cottonwoods to the right of the camp. Pulling himself slowly along on his elbows, he inched closer, his body silently skimming over the hard ground.

  His gaze traced the large hole dominating the clearing, and he frowned. An abandoned well? The opening was large enough to shove a person down. A stake and the dusty footprints beside the site spoke of recent activity.

  Rage welled deep inside him when he thought about Anne-Marie’s fate. Her foolish nature might well have gotten her killed this time.

  Focusing on the nearest sleeping bag, Creed elbowed closer. A mockingbird called as he slithered closer. There—ahead. Sounds were coming from the bush. A man’s low tone, laughing.

  He strained to hear, searching for a woman’s voice. Nothing came to him.

  Pulling himself forward on his elbows he approached the bush, the blade of his knife between his teeth.

  A woman’s high-pitched screams rent the night, and he recognized Anne-Marie’s voice. He sprang toward the sound, knife in hand, and in one long leap, the Indian charged.

  Shouts rang out and fists flew as Creed lunged at Cortes. Bare knuckles met flesh.

  The Crow was strong—very strong for an injured man. Cortes’s head rang when fist after fist slammed his head.

  “Ollie! Rodrigo!”

  Another fist and Cortes tasted blood. Bunching his paws, he swung through the air, hoping to strike his aggressor. Around and around they went, both men swinging and connecting.

  “Rodrigo!”

  The Indian dove and Cortes’s feet flew out from under him. His head hit the ground and his teeth rattled. Stars exploded.

  “Ollie!”

  The two outlaws appeared, waving pistols in the air. More scuffles. The men’s grunts reached a high-pitched frenzy. Ollie and Rodrigo manhandled Creed to the ground and Ollie swung the butt of his pistol. The sharp crack put an end to the fight.

  Panting hard, the two outlaws faced Cortes, who had conveniently stepped aside. He now stepped up. “Cortes will show this insolent Indian who is boss.”

  Ollie held him down while Rodrigo wrapped a thick cord around his hands and ankles. “What do you want to do with him, boss?”

  Cortes’s eyes narrowed as he deliberated. “Perhaps the woman will no longer be necessary, Señor Ollie. Perhaps if the indio is willing, he will keep the woman from further harm.” He laughed, showing a mouthful of horse-like teeth in the flickering firelight.

  Creed was starting to come around. “Let the woman go.”

  “I shall, my good friend, I shall, but Cortes’s plans have changed.”

  Creed struggled to sit up, but Ollie slammed him back to the ground.

  Squatting, Cortes bent over Creed. “You can save yourself and the woman if you tell Cortes where to find this gold.”

  “Release the woman and I will take you to it,” Creed said.

  “No. I do not trust you. You must tell Cortes where it is. He will go and get it himself.”

  “That’s not possible.” Creed sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll have to show you where the shipment is hidden, but I won’t unless you release the woman.”

  Cortes spat on the ground. “You are a stubborn man, as stubborn as the female.” He straightened. “Cortes grows weary of the games.”

  “Let the woman go, and I will take you to the gold,” Creed repeated.

  “Silencio!” Cortes started to pace. “It would seem that I cannot do this in a reasonable manner. Very well, Cortes wants the gold, and he is willing to play rough. Bring the woman here,” he said to Ollie and Rodrigo.

  Ollie grimaced. “We’ve got the Indian now. He knows where the gold is. Why get her all upset again?”

  “Upset?” Cortes roared. “Why should Cortes care if the woman is upset? Bring her to me.”

  “That’s not necessary.” From a short distance away, Anne-Marie struggled to her feet. “I’m right here.”

  The men turned at the sound of her voice, and Creed breathed deeply. Thank You, God, for keeping her alive. He shook his head at her. “Stay out of this.”

  “I am here,” she repeated. “I will take you to the gold.”

  The outlaw motioned with his head. “Get her and the Indian on the horses. Now Cortes will find the gold.” The bandit paused. “Wait. Cortes thinks this is another trick.” His eyes squinted and then he glanced at Ollie. “Throw the indio down the well.”

  “But boss, we don’t how deep that hole goes—”

  “Throw him down the well. We do not have to worry about him.”

  “You gonna just leave him there?”

  Anne-Marie stepped up to take Creed’s arm. “You do that and I’ll never tell you where that gold is hidden.”

  Cortes turned to Ollie. “You stay here. If Cortes has not returned by dawn you will abandon the site. If she takes us to the gold I will permit her to return and save the Indian.”

  Anne-Marie pounced to stop the outrage, but Cortes restrained her while Ollie and Rodrigo dragged Creed toward the shaft. Her eyes searched Creed’s.

  “Give them the gold,” he said calmly.

  “Creed—”

  “Give them the gold. When they ride off, yo
u know where I am.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to find my way back!”

  Oblivious to the woman’s desperate pleas, the two outlaws dragged Creed toward the well. Rolling him onto his side, Ollie grinned when he placed his boot in the middle of Creed’s back and shoved hard.

  Seizing Anne-Marie by the arm, Cortes dragged her to the horses. “Now, my lovely, you will show Cortes where the gold is.” Swinging her into the saddle, he grabbed the reins and quickly mounted his own animal.

  “Ollie, you make sure that our indio friend”—he chuckled—“is comfortable.”

  “Sí, boss.”

  “If we have not returned in a reasonable time,” Cortes ordered, “we meet in High Bluff at sunrise. The indio is to be left in the well.”

  Ollie nodded. “Comprendo, boss.”

  Wheeling their horses, the riders departed with the sound of thundering hooves.

  Seventeen

  Quincy paced the kitchen floor of the mission, beside himself with worry. Creed had left hours ago, and he wasn’t back yet. That could mean only one thing. Trouble with a capital T.

  If he had found Anne-Marie, he would have been back by now. No one, not even Anne-Marie, picked mushrooms in the dark. Maybe Creed had located her and they had run into problems, possibly in the outlaws’ camp. Muttering under his breath, he pulled on his jacket and exited the mission through a side entrance.

  If he lived through this, it would be a miracle.

  Two riders pushed their animals hard through the fading light. Anne-Marie clung to Cortes’s back, her mind reliving the shocking image of Creed being shoved into the well. Biting back a sob, she closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. She would be glad to get rid of the gold; the shipment had brought them nothing but heartache.

  When the mission came into sight Anne-Marie’s thoughts turned to what she would tell Quincy. She was heartsick that once again her carelessness had not only endangered the men’s purpose but their lives. Quincy’s concern for Creed would override his instinct to protect the gold, but Anne-Marie now began to fear for Quincy’s life. What if Cortes decided to shoot Quincy once the gold was in his hands?