“I wonder how Shannon is doing with the baby,” Bailey said.
“And I’m wondering where Sunrise got to. She’d be a mighty big help, I reckon.” Gage pulled his gun and checked it. “Let’s move. If Cudgel or anyone else standing guard heard that gunfire, they’re expecting us. The longer we wait, the more time they’ll have to dig in.”
“Let’s go arrest Pa.” Bailey reached her hand for his. Walking hand in hand to a fight. Gage sighed. His life had gotten really strange.
They reached the bottom of the trail and stopped, peering out of the woods.
“From the minute we step out in the open, we’re in range. We’ve got about a hundred yards to cross. I don’t see how even someone as foolish as your pa could not be waiting for us.” He turned and looked at Bailey.
With some uncertainty, she said, “I don’t think Pa is a murderer, Gage. He’s never been a man to look another in the eye and fight. I’m talking about our neighbors back home. He could complain and insult folks and be nasty, but he never even swung a fist, let alone drew a gun. The sneaky way he attacked you, with the avalanche and the spiked trap—that sounds like Pa. I don’t think he’ll shoot us.”
“It’s a long chance, Bailey. I doubt he’d gun down his own child. That might be why he hired help, to do the dirty work for him. He might hold back, hoping his sentries come to help him. But we’re risking our lives on that.” Gage shook his head.
“I think I’ll walk in there, and Pa will tell me my cows are his. He’ll think he has a right to keep them at his place. A judge might even take his word, until you tell them they’re your cows now. So I expect bluster from him, though he’ll be too sure he’s in the right to shoot.”
They looked at each other for a long minute. Gage knew she wasn’t that sure, and it was a terrible thing for a child to wonder about. “Let’s go.”
They’d walked to within twenty feet of the house when a gun blasted, and dirt kicked up a couple of yards in front of Gage’s boots.
It reminded Gage of the way Bailey used to treat him.
He kept walking regardless. Bailey moved closer to him, and he knew she was trying to protect him. He fought the instinct to shove her behind his back. He’d married a tough woman and he knew she wouldn’t put up with hiding.
Another bullet blasted. “This is how we started out, Bailey. It reminds me of our courtship.”
Bailey shook her head and kept walking.
“I think you’re right. Your pa isn’t going to shoot us.”
“He’s not as good a shot as me,” Bailey said. They closed on the house, and another bullet fired, this one off to Gage’s left and behind him. With Bailey on his right, maybe Cudgel was aiming wide to spare her.
They finally arrived to the house, close enough that Cudgel probably wouldn’t risk firing again.
“We’re coming in, Pa.” Bailey jerked on the door, a heavy, clumsily made thing that rested its weight on the ground.
“Git out. You’re not my child, not anymore. You’ve betrayed me.” Cudgel Wilde, bleating like an injured sheep.
Bailey pulled her gun. “Step back, Pa. I’m gonna shoot my way through this door, and we’re gonna talk.”
Gage thought it was wise Bailey didn’t mention they planned to arrest him.
“Don’t you bust up my door.”
“Then open it. Right now. You’ve got no call to shoot at me and Gage like that.” Bailey waited, her gun aimed at the door. If Cudgel had a heavy plank barring the door, they’d have trouble getting through it, but they would do it all the same.
At last, there was a heavy thump behind the door, and Cudgel dragged it open. Gage knew that Bailey, Shannon, and Kylie had helped get Cudgel’s cabin started, and he could see it was squarely framed and the walls solid. It was obvious when his daughters quit and Cudgel went on alone. He’d done a poor job of chinking cracks between the logs. The windows and doors were sagging, and the floor was nothing but dirt. Cudgel didn’t have the skill his daughters possessed, and they hadn’t come and finished the cabin for him.
Bailey holstered her gun and marched inside. Gage had to hurry to keep up. How was he supposed to protect her if she wouldn’t wait for him?
“Pa, you stole my cattle.” Bailey plunked her hands on her hips. “We’re taking them back.”
Cudgel glanced past Gage almost like he was expecting help. It made Gage step far enough into the room that he could keep the door covered. It was the only one in the ten-by-sixteen-foot shack. Gage had heard this was the required minimum size of a homestead cabin, and Cudgel hadn’t made his one inch bigger than that.
There was no one at the door. Gage wondered if Cudgel hoped his guards were coming. Gage looked back and saw that Cudgel still had his gun in hand, though he was pointing it toward the ground.
“We got your sentries tied up in the hills, Wilde. They won’t be coming to help you out.” Gage strode straight for Cudgel and ripped the gun out of his hand before the man could bring it up. Then he took Bailey’s arm and shifted farther into the room so that Cudgel was between him and the door. That was where Gage wanted him, in case he had men beyond the two they’d taken out of the fight.
“I wasn’t gonna shoot you. You got no call to barge in here and talk about cow thieving.” Cudgel’s eyes were yellow and sunken. The man had always been thin, but now he seemed almost skeletal. His sickly look struck Gage as more than the man not eating right. He had a strong feeling that Cudgel was a dying man. Maybe they didn’t have to arrest him. If his days were numbered, there didn’t seem to be much point.
“Pa, I built my herd by shagging unbranded strays out of the hills, feeding my cows right, and helping with a birthing when I needed to. I rounded up mustangs and broke them and sold them to raise money to buy more cows. You didn’t help me, not for one day. Those cows are mine, and now that I’m married they’re my husband’s, too. If you agree to let me ride out of here with them, this will be the end of it. But if you don’t, we’re taking you to the sheriff and having you arrested for rustling.”
No mention was made of the attempts on Gage’s life, and he didn’t aim to overlook that. But maybe they could put off talking of them for a while.
Cudgel’s head jerked back. “My own child would say such a thing to me? Threaten to have me arrested?”
“My own father would steal my cattle?” Bailey’s tone was a mocking echo of Cudgel’s.
“You married a man with thousands of cows, then complain because I want a mere fifty? It was my idea to come out here, my hard work driving a wagon all this way. After all I did, you betray me and end my hope of building something in Jimmy’s name. You owe me, and you’re lucky I was willing to settle for only a few head of cattle.”
“We’re not here to talk, Wilde,” Gage cut in. “We don’t have the time. Because one of your daughters is right now having a baby back at Bailey’s house.” Gage had a bright idea then. “What if Shannon had a son, Cudgel? A grandson of yours would be something to build on, wouldn’t it?”
“Shannon’s here? Having a baby, you say?” Cudgel’s eyes softened some, but whether because of his concern for his daughter or a new chance for a male in the family, Gage wasn’t sure. Yet for once he did appear as though he cared about someone in his family. Gage figured that would last about until he met the little one, and then Cudgel would no doubt find something else to complain about.
“She went into labor while we were riding out here,” Bailey said. “Tucker took her to my place. We need to get back in case they need help.” She gave the door a nervous glance, as if she wished she could see through the mountains to her cabin.
Cudgel looked in the direction Bailey had. “It might be a son, mightn’t it?”
As if Tucker would let Cudgel within a mile of his child. Gage smiled. “It surely might be.”
With a blustery show of anger, Cudgel said, “Fine, take the cows back.”
“Nobody move.” A metallic click brought everyone’s eyes to the open door. Rance Boyl
e stood there, his gun cocked and aimed, a huge man who had to duck to step inside.
Bailey whirled to face the door, her gun drawn. Boyle froze.
“You won’t win this gunfight, Mrs. Coulter.”
“One step more and I fire. I might die, but so will you.”
Gage saw two men behind Boyle. Neither of them were the men tied up in the hills. Gage couldn’t shoot, as Cudgel was between him and the door. But that didn’t stop him from bringing his gun up. Wilde might not be a stone-cold killer, but Boyle and the men with him had murder in their eyes.
Bailey held her fire, but she’d been to war. Gage had no doubt she had the courage to fight. And because of the way Gage had them standing, she’d die and he just might live.
Rance knew that and hesitated. He needed Bailey and Gage both dead, but he didn’t see how he’d kill them and not die himself.
If he managed to kill them both, Royce would move in on the C Bar. His men would make a fight of it, but how many of them would be willing to die for a boss who couldn’t pay them?
Ma was at his house. And Ma and Pa were Gage’s natural heirs, save for Bailey. Boyle would likely kill her, too. Gage stood to lose everything. His ranch and even his life were the least of it. He braced himself to shoot and keep shooting, even if a bullet struck him. He had to stop all three men before they killed Bailey.
“Boyle, what are you doing here?” Cudgel stood sideways, glancing up at Boyle, then at Bailey, then back at Boyle.
“You really didn’t know, did you, Pa?” Bailey saw death in Boyle’s eyes. She’d never seen the man before, but she’d fought shy of people and didn’t know hardly anyone.
“Know what?” Cudgel kept looking between her and Rance.
“That the men you hired worked for Rance Boyle.”
Without taking her eyes off of Boyle, Bailey could feel Pa looking hard at her, then turning to Rance. “You planned this from the minute you heard I was looking for men?”
Boyle’s eyes shifted between Cudgel, standing in the line of fire between him and Gage and Bailey. Though she probably should have fired, she’d hesitated, and Boyle was watching her again.
He didn’t give his men the order to come in, and he was so big he blocked the door so they couldn’t get their guns into the fight. It was in his eyes that he knew to step forward was to start the war. Bailey would fire. But he had his gun aimed right at her heart.
“Yep, you wanted help with your little scheme for Coulter to die so it looked like an accident, but you wanted your daughter alive to inherit. Then you’d try and move in on her and run the C Bar, even name it after your worthless son. You’d have your dynasty for the small price of Coulter’s life.”
Pa’s face took on a ruddy look as his ugly plan was laid bare before Gage and Bailey. It was enough to cause Pa shame. She’d thought he had none of that.
“The avalanche was just to scare him off, to discourage him from breeching that canyon wall.”
“A real dangerous way to scare a man, Cudgel,” Gage said.
Bailey didn’t take her eyes off Rance. Somehow she knew she was going to die. She saw no way out of it. She prayed harder than she ever had in her life, that God would forgive her for going down fighting because she wanted nothing more than to save Gage’s life.
God, please don’t condemn me if taking another life is my final act.
She tightened her hand on the gun and hoped and prayed God would answer such a prayer.
“Cudgel, you can walk out of here alive if you stay out of it,” Boyle said. The man didn’t look at him; he only watched Bailey.
Bailey remembered the war, remembered being in the heat of battle. The roaring of cannons and gunfire, so loud it was like being deaf. Men running, shooting, bleeding. Cannons exploding all around. Everything slowed down. She would see things, make decisions where to aim, where to run, when to duck down. Time stretched out, even though only fractions of seconds had passed.
This was a moment like that. Her hearing was only for Boyle. Everything else faded. She heard each breath, saw a trickle of sweat run down the side of his face. He was nervous, although it didn’t show in his rock-steady hand.
“And leave Bailey here?”
“That’s the only way you live, Wilde.”
Moments stretched long and slow, yet they passed in a twinkling. Pa didn’t move, didn’t try to save himself.
“Leave you to kill my . . . my . . .” Out of the edge of her vision, still locked on Boyle, she saw Pa turn to her and really look at her for the first time in years, maybe the first time in his life. He said firmly, “Leave you to kill my daughter?”
He’d never said that word, not in her memory. He’d never admitted she was a girl. Not because he didn’t know, but because he’d always considered it such a terrible disappointment.
Bailey saw the shift in Boyle’s eyes, the twitch of the muscles in his hand. He pulled the trigger just as Pa threw himself at Boyle, right into the blasting gun. Boyle fired again and again. He shouted in what sounded like pain. Pa’s slight weight shouldn’t have been enough, but Boyle staggered back and went down.
She aimed, expecting the other two men to charge into the room firing, yet with Boyle down, what she saw was . . . Sunrise.
Sunrise jerked Boyle’s gun out of his hand, then dragged Pa outside, leaving a trail of blood.
Gage was on Boyle in a flash and slammed a fist into his face. One blow was enough to make the man go limp. Then Gage jerked a piggin’ string off his belt and trussed Boyle up like a maverick calf. Sunrise pulled a knife out of Boyle’s gun arm.
Her knife. Bailey recognized it.
That had been what caused the shout of pain.
Bailey holstered her gun and had to wait precious seconds for Gage to finish and stand. She then climbed over Boyle, who lay unconscious in the doorway, and rushed to Pa’s side. The other two men lay unconscious on the ground. One was bleeding from his head, a bloodstained rock lying on the ground beside him. How had Sunrise gotten them both?
Bailey made a note to never underestimate the tough mountain woman.
Pa’s shirtfront was covered with blood. His eyes blinked open and locked on Bailey.
She knelt at his side and tore his shirt open. Three gunshots, high on his chest, and a fourth in the gut. Mortal wounds. Bailey knew it and didn’t even try to staunch the blood. In his few seconds remaining, Bailey wanted to look into his hazel eyes, so much like her own.
Gage was kneeling across from Bailey.
Pa coughed and whispered, “If Shannon has a boy, ask her to name him Jimmy.”
Bailey smiled as generously as she could. He’d acknowledged her as his daughter and had given his life to save her. She wouldn’t begrudge him his love for his son as his dying wish. She also wouldn’t make a promise about the name.
“I’ll ask her. I’ll tell her it is your wish. That grandchild means your family goes on, Pa. Whether boy or girl, the child is your blood and maybe the baby will build a dynasty.”
More likely the child would grow up in the mountains and maybe someday build a cabin. Not much chance of a dynasty there.
Pa looked at Gage. “The avalanche was to scare you off. I knew I could hurt you, but I was too mad to care. Then that trap I set. I overheard the proposal and rushed for town to waylay you. I never thought Bailey would marry you on the spot. I can’t swear to you I didn’t want you dead, but I’ve never killed a man, not in cold blood.”
Bailey thought that was an odd thing to say. Had Pa killed a man in his life in the sneaky way he’d tried with Gage? Bailey decided not to think about it.
“I’m mighty sorry, Coulter. I’m an old fool. You’re the son I wish I’d had.” His gaze shifted back to his daughter. “You’re a good rancher.”
He coughed again, and flecks of blood tinted his lips. Dragging in air, he forced the words out, “A better rancher than I was.” His eyes fluttered closed then, as if he couldn’t bear to look her in the eye when he said, “And a better rancher
than Jimmy would have been.”
He exhaled until his lungs held no more air. With the last breath that passed his lips, he said, “I’m proud of you, girl.”
30
Bailey looked up at Sunrise’s solemn, wrinkled face. “You took care of both men.”
“All three, honestly.” Sunrise wasn’t bragging. It was just fact. “They were paying attention to what went on in the cabin. Too busy to look behind them. Now I need to get to your cabin and see if there is time to help deliver the baby.” She turned and walked away.
Sunrise had to do everything.
Hot tears burned in Bailey’s eyes . . . again. Pa’s unexpected last words had healed a wound deep inside her. Even knowing if he’d lived, he almost certainly would have been his same cruel self, for one moment when it really mattered, he’d saved her and shown her respect.
Then she realized Sunrise and Gage and Pa had saved her. She’d stood ready to kill and die to save them, but in the end she’d done nothing. Pa had thrown himself onto a firing gun. Sunrise had taken the men out of the fight. Gage had leapt in and knocked Boyle cold.
The tears burned, yet they didn’t fall. She never cried and she didn’t see any reason to start now.
“Pa said he was proud of me.” The sentiment toward her pa then faded somewhat because of a lifetime of unkindness. “About time.”
“He saved you, Bailey.” Gage wrapped his arms around her. “He took those bullets for you.”
Nodding, she turned back to her father. “In the end he cared more about me than he did himself. I hope he had a moment to ask God for forgiveness before his last breath.”
Gage patted her shoulder. “Let’s bury your pa, Bailey. Say a few words over the grave. Then Shannon can rest up at your place while we take these five men to town.”
Bailey nodded.
“I’ll find a shovel. You stand guard over the prisoners.”
“They’re unconscious.”
“I’m in no mood to be careless, so watch them.”
The job was about the easiest thing she’d ever done.
They draped the other men over their saddles, including the sentries, and rode to her cabin. As they arrived, Tucker came out of the house and waved them in, a smile on his face that liked to dim the sun by comparison. They went inside to see Shannon cradling a bundle. A tiny arm waving as if the baby were greeting them.
Fire and Ice Page 23