Storm didn’t want to call the man her husband. He didn’t know the reason he shied from the term. That mystery bothered him. She was a widow he barely knew. He had no right noticing her fine shape or how enticing she appeared in those britches. Or how beautiful she was even in strange clothing and battered hat.
“I’ll look for stones.” She appeared to scan the area.
“Stay close and keep your gun ready. One mistake could get us killed, same as these people.”
Her eyes widened and fear showed in her expression. “You think the men watch now?” She peered around and moved closer to him. “That they are still nearby?”
He didn’t stop digging. “No, I think they’re riding away fast, but we can’t take a chance. We barely missed arriving while they were still here.”
“I wish we had. We could have killed them and perhaps saved this baby’s life. Maybe the parents, too.”
“Or we’d have died with these people.” He no longer sought to keep the edge from his voice as he stabbed at the earth. “Why can’t you understand that wanting something to happen doesn’t mean it will? We could easily die chasing these men.” Angrily, he pointed at the bodies. “This could be us lying in the sun.”
She didn’t answer, merely sent him a stubborn, teary-eyed stare.
His anger and frustration forced him to keep talking. “You have to understand the severity of taking a life. The burden is one you carry for the rest of your life. When you kill a person, you destroy a human created by God. You never overcome the guilt, Rena. Never.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You have killed a man.”
Bitter memories flashed through his mind. “I have, though I’m not proud of it. But I know what I’m talking about.”
“Those who did this are not human. They are monsters. Have your forgotten I saw them torture Abram?”
He softened his voice. “How could I forget you had to endure that pain? But do not think to compound your sorrow with the guilt of killing a man. That won’t bring back Abram.”
“Those men are from the Devil and should be killed. Do not think you can make me feel guilty for wanting them as dead as Abram. As dead as these poor people who were only in their home bothering no one.” She clenched her fists in front of her and yelled, “They killed a baby. They tortured this mother. I saw them persecute a man to death!”
She turned and stomped away.
He had no answer. After he’d dug a space wide enough for three, he lowered the wrapped bodies and placed them together. Rena helped push dirt over the victims and heaped rocks to protect the grave. She’d found sticks to fashion three crosses.
When he’d staked the markers, they washed their hands. The dust he’d created combined with her tears left muddy streaks on her smooth, satiny cheeks. He regretted his harshness toward her, even though he meant it to spare her trouble.
He took his bandana and dipped it in the water barrel. Gently he cleaned the tears from her ivory face. After he’d finished, he slid his arm around her shoulders.
She clung to him and sobbed against his chest. “There is no joy in this world. We struggle each day and then we die without ever being happy.”
He cradled her against him, and his body reacted. “I’m sorry you feel life is so harsh. You’ll see you’re wrong. My family has faced terrible struggles but now we’re happy. After these men are caught and sent for justice, I’ll return home and be content once more.”
She gulped away her sobs. “Content? How can anyone be content when the world is so evil?”
He wished they had the luxury of resting so that he could hold her longer and comfort her. “Not the world, Rena. Only a few in it are bad. Most men and women are good people who help one another.”
Rena shook her head against his chest. “No, only my parents and Abram have been kind to me.” She shrugged one shoulder slightly but kept his vest clenched in her fingers and her cheek on his chest. “You are kind a little, but you wish to rid yourself of me.”
He stroked her back gently. “You misunderstand. I want you safe. If you wait in a town for my return, then I know you won’t be slaughtered like this woman.”
“I will destroy at least one of the men who did this. I know which one I will shoot first. The big one with the knife who enjoyed tormenting poor Abram. I’ll bet he is the one who…who….” Her sobs broke out again.
He tightened his embrace. Her hair against his cheek reminded him of silk. “You see why I wish to protect you?”
“Of course, but you can do only so much. There are four of them. I will kill at least one.”
He exhaled his frustration. Arguing here was pointless. He released her and stepped away. “Then we’d better finish here and get on our way.”
“You will say the prayer now?”
“The Twenty-third Psalm used to be my favorite, but I’m tired of saying it for this reason.”
Storm recited the prayer, and they trudged toward their waiting horses.
“We must catch up to these men quickly. Now I have more reason to kill them.”
Anger shot through him at her stubbornness. “We have more reason for me to arrest them, Rena.” He pointed to the three crosses. “They would brutalize you in the same way as that woman we buried. Are you willing to take that chance?”
She glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I am. They must pay.”
He aimed a thumb at his badge. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Without looking back, they mounted and rode north.
He hated arguing with this beautiful, stubborn woman. If they were near enough, he’d take her to his family. They’d guide and protect her while he tracked down the killers.
After a half hour, he peered over his shoulder behind them. “Looks as if rain is on the way. Let’s pick up the pace and head for San Saba. We could use a good night’s rest under a roof. I need to talk to the sheriff there.” Rain would wipe out the prints, but Storm knew the killers would continue toward Indian Territory.
“You will tell the sheriff of these people?”
“Yes. Perhaps he knows their names and how to contact any relatives.”
They arrived in San Saba in early afternoon. Storm dreaded the problem their appearance here created. He knew many people in this town. Exhaling in frustration, he braced himself to carry out their charade.
At the hotel, the desk clerk raised his head and smiled. “Hello, Kincaid. Nice to see you.”
He signed the register and saw the man’s eyes widen. “My wife and I had a bit of trouble on the trail.”
“Sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” He nodded. “Miz Kincaid, nice to have you with us. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
In their room, Rena sat on the bed and unfastened her boots. “They know you here and respect you. Not like the other place.”
“Members of my family have stayed here before. They don’t respect me so much as my family’s bank account.”
Surprise flicked across her face. “Och, I see. I wondered why always you have cash. Lawmen do not make much money, do they? Honest lawmen I mean.”
He shrugged. “I don’t suppose I’ll make any. Mine is a temporary appointment to capture these men we’re chasing. When that’s done, I’ll go home to my ranch in Kincaid Springs.”
She stared at him. “Kincaid Springs? The same as in your name?”
“Named for my adopted grandfather. You’ll like him. He’s a great man. Even though I’m adopted, he treats me as his own.”
“And why should he not? Och, I forgot, because you are part Cherokee, right?” She rubbed her foot as she looked up. “What do you mean, I’ll like him?”
“You have to settle somewhere. I’ll take you with me to Kincaid Springs. You’ll be safe there and it’s a great community.”
“You’ll take me there?” She released her foot and glared at him. She gestured broadly. “Why do you think you can order me here or there? I will get my dowry and go where I please.”
“You’re a frustrating woman. The more I’m around you, the more Abram grows in my esteem.”
She resumed massaging her foot but shot him a haughty glare. “I don’t know this word esteem, but I think you insulted me.”
He hit his hat against his leg and dust flew. “I’m going to see the sheriff. You can rest here or come with me. Which is it?”
“Wait. I must wear my shoes again.” She stuffed her feet into her half boots and fastened the laces. “Should I put on a dress?”
“Whatever you wish, but please hurry. I have quite a bit of business to take care of before everything closes for the night.”
Storm waited while Rena washed her face and hands then dug clothes from her saddlebags. After she’d changed into them behind the screen, she insisted on brushing her hair and arranging it in curls on top of her head with a few falling to her shoulders. Thinking about the people who knew him in this town, her choice pleased him. At least his “wife” looked somewhat presentable.
Ah, but—even though it wasn’t true—what would his family think if they heard he’d married? Perhaps he could take care of these murderers and return home before word reached Kincaid Springs.
What were the chances?
Chapter Five
Sheriff Bert Yancey slapped his palms against his desk. “Dagnab those killers.” He glanced at Rena. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Kincaid, but the Witherspoon family were good folks. His brother has a place nearby. I’ll have to let them know.”
To Rena’s surprise, Storm said, “My wife can describe the men. She hid when they attacked her…grandfather.”
Her eyes widened then she sent him her most heated glare. Not only did she have to lie about being married to him, now she had to lie about Abram. And she knew once she’d described the men, Storm would attempt to leave her behind.
Well, let him try. She would show him she would not be abandoned and meant her vow to avenge Abram.
“The devil you say?” Sheriff Yancey grabbed paper and a pen. “Start talking, ma’am. I’ll get the descriptions and wire them to the other counties around.” He sat poised ready to record her account.
She sighed. “All right, I will tell you about the men. There were four. The first man was not as tall as…my husband, but tall. He had a red birthmark—in Bavaria we call them port wine stains—on his face that covered his right cheek and part of his neck. His dark hair came to his ears. I don’t know what color are his eyes.”
Talking about the man set her insides shaking. How she wished she could forget these men and what they’d done, but she knew they’d haunt her as long as she lived. And she wouldn’t rest until she’d killed them and recovered her money.
As if he sensed her turmoil, Storm scooted a chair near hers and took her hand in his. “Doesn’t that sound like Charlie Wilson? I thought he went to jail.”
“Had word he escaped the prison cart on the way to Huntsville. Killed a guard. Some of his friends helped him.” Sheriff Yancey peered at Rena. “The others?”
Storm squeezed her hand gently and she saw compassion in his beautiful purple-blue eyes. But she hadn’t forgiven him for tricking her. And he thought arresting the men would mean justice, but the sheriff just told them this man had escaped punishment.
Nevertheless, she gave in to the sheriff’s request. “One limped and had two fingers missing from his right hand.” She indicated her forefinger and middle finger. “He had a high voice. Not like a woman, but like a squeaky man.”
Yancey glanced up from his notes. “Sounds like Pig Vann. Squeals like a pig when he’s excited.”
“Ja, that describes his voice. Another, a short, pudgy man, never spoke. He had reddish hair—too dirty for me to be sure. The leader called him Lon. He had a scar on his left cheek and his left ear was gone.” She touched her earlobe. “Not where the hole is, but the part that sticks out.”
“Don’t recall that man.” The sheriff gestured. “Go on.”
“The last man was an Indian. Not handsome like…my husband here, but with a hatchet nose and narrow-set brown eyes. The squeaky man called him something like Youp.” She shuddered. “Biggest and the scariest of those men, he waved around a big knife.”
And she couldn’t suppress the sob that escaped. “The Youp person threatened to cut Abram’s skin from his body while he still lived if he did not tell them where his money was hidden. The man with the birthmark wanted to know where was his woman, as if they knew I was somewhere nearby. But then the limping man found the cache.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “They killed Abram and left.”
Storm slid his arm around her. “This is hard on my wife, Sheriff Yancey. Her grandfather hid her, but she saw all they did to him.”
The sheriff sent her a sympathetic smile. “You’re a brave lady, Mrs. Kincaid, and I appreciate you giving me this information. This is the first real lead anyone’s had on this gang. As far as the men you’ve described, I believe that last one is called Ute. He’s from Colorado. Likes to use that Bowie knife he carries.”
“Ja, that man sliced at…at my grandfather Abram. I believe he enjoyed seeing pain. My…grandfather endured terrible suffering but showed great courage.” She hated lying about Abram, poor man, and she wanted others to know his valor.
The sheriff stopped writing and gazed from Storm to Rena. “Lucky for you they didn’t find you, ma’am. The three whose descriptions I recognize are ruthless.”
She wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “Don’t you think we know, sheriff? Who else would kill a baby?”
Storm kept his arm around her shoulders while he handed her a handkerchief. “The sights were horrific, especially the last one with a woman and a child. My wife helped me give some dignity to their burial.”
The sheriff rubbed at his jaw. “Guess I’ll have to ride out and tell the Witherspoons’ family. Sure hate that part of my job. First, I’ll wire these descriptions.”
Storm stood and helped her rise. “We have other errands while we’re in town. We’ll head out in the morning.”
The liar, acting as if he didn’t plan to desert her here while he went on. Oh, she knew he’d leave her money, but she had no intention of being left behind. She wanted to stomp on his foot or kick his shin in retaliation for his falsehood.
“Ride careful and stay safe.” The sheriff raised his head briefly, and then went back to his scribbles.
“That’s our plan, sheriff.” Storm opened the door and guided her outside. He steered her across the dusty street. “Better head for the bank before they close.”
A breeze sent swirls of dust around them. Dark clouds gathered in the southwest. They hurried into the building he’d indicated.
Fear and anger warred inside her while she waited for him to conduct his business. Even with Abram, she had been lonely. Her elderly husband had done his best. If she’d known her grandfather, she suspected he would have been like Abram.
But she longed for people her age she could laugh and talk with. How she yearned for a family who cared for her and accepted her odd ways. People she had known in Bavaria accused her of being strange for being so solemn and shied away from her. How could she not be somber when she had so much responsibility?
Had she ever played as a child? She didn’t remember doing so. Always there were chores to help her mother, and then she had all the chores. After her mother’s death, she cared for her ailing father. Never had she had close friends to talk with or family to visit. Did Storm know how lucky he was to have sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews?
She glanced at the handsome man who’d taken charge of her welfare. What would life be like with such a man? She hugged her arms, thinking of nights spent by his side. Although she didn’t understand all that occurred in a real marriage, she knew there would be no separate cots as that man’s wife.
Longing consumed her for more than the life she’d known. How could she yearn for things she didn’t understand? What a fool to wish for a man like Storm as her true husband.
Stop daydreaming, you foolish woman.
More, she wondered about the happy family he mentioned. Pah! She thought that another lie. There were no happy families. Perhaps brief moments of joy at a marriage or the birth of a child, but then the pleasure died to be replaced by drudgery and pain.
Hadn’t she witnessed that in their tiny Bavarian neighborhood? None of their neighbors had money either. She heard the fights, the crying, the bitterness. And since then as she traveled with Abram she had seen the same sights time after time. No, there were no happy families in this world.
Storm turned from the teller’s window and smiled. His beautiful, oddly-colored eyes appeared delighted to see her as he rejoined her. “That’s taken care of. Now I need to wire my family.”
“They know what you are doing?”
“Think I told you Grandpa’s a District Judge and arranged for me to have this temporary appointment as a Federal Marshall. I wanted legal authority to go after the men who killed my friend and his wife. Well, she was a friend, too.” He stopped and leaned over to peer into her face.
“What? Are my cheeks dirty?”
“Wondered if you’re too tired and I need to take you back to the hotel before I take care of a few more matters.”
She looked around. “No, I should stay with you.” No one knew her here except Storm. The thought of being without him in this strange place panicked her.
“Look, there’s the newspaper office. The San Saba County News might mention other places those men hit.” He led her into a building and bought a newspaper.
She inhaled the heavy scents of ink and what was probably cleaner for the type. She would have enjoyed staying to see the press work, but Storm led her back outside.
“Do you read English as well as you speak?”
She smiled at him. “You think I speak okay? I read from books Abram traded for and from anything English he could find, like this newspaper.”
After he sent a telegram to his family, they walked back toward the hotel.
“Is there anything you need from the mercantile?”
Most Unsuitable Courtship Page 4