by Carol Finch
Natalie screeched in surprise when he grabbed a fistful of her shirt, then yanked her so hard that she cartwheeled from the saddle. She struggled to gain her feet and make another run for it. But to her dismay, Jenson lowered his shoulder and knocked her forward. She stumbled and skidded across the ground, re-skinning her chin. Before she could draw her legs beneath her, he threw himself down on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs in a pained whoosh.
“Gotcha,” Jenson sneered at the back of her head. “When Marsh finishes with you, it’ll be my turn. I’ll hear you beg for mercy, hellion. Count on it!”
Natalie wanted to sass him, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Plus, she couldn’t reach the knife or boot pistol to launch another attack. She decided to bide her time until she could breathe again and come up with another plan. She only hoped her captors didn’t check her for concealed weapons. Otherwise, she didn’t have a chance in hell of escaping. For certain, her captors wouldn’t underestimate her again.
“Lord have mercy,” Bart hooted, owl-eyed, while he and Van halted on the rise of ground above the creek to watch Natalie take on the three men. “Did I just see what I thought I saw? What daring! Whoever she is, she is magnificent.”
“She is amazingly adroit, damn the little daredevil,” Van muttered. “She could have gotten herself killed!” Though why he should care he couldn’t say. Or rather, he was in no mood to delve into the reasons why he had been holding his breath while he witnessed his crazed wife mount a brazen charge against the men who attacked her.
Van had been beside himself with fear and concern since gunshots had shattered the peaceful silence of dawn. He had pushed Durango to his limits and raced up the road, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t find Natalie lying in a pool of her own blood. Furious though he was with her, he didn’t want anyone else to lay a hand on her.
He reserved that privilege for himself.
He intended to shake her until her pearly white teeth rattled and her eyes rolled back in her head, first chance he got. It was what she deserved for tying him up and leaving him in an embarrassing predicament…before she killed the dandy Van found lying motionless in the livery. Now she was taking on three armed men, as if she were bulletproof.
The woman was insane. There was no other explanation.
Van snatched his rifle from the scabbard on the saddle to take aim at the men who shot at Natalie. But she had engaged in hand-to-hand combat and he couldn’t risk hitting her by mistake. When the gunmen knocked her to the ground and held her in place, Van raised his rifle to stare down the sight.
He swore under his breath when Natalie’s captor bolted to his feet and yanked her up in front of him. He hooked his arm around her neck, making her choke to catch a breath.
Scowling, Van shoved the rifle into its scabbard then dismounted. Bart followed suit.
“Do we have a plan of action?” Bart whispered.
“Yes, sneak up and eavesdrop on the conversation to learn the extent of Sunshine’s involvement with these cutthroats.”
Tethering the horses in the trees, Van led the way through the underbrush while he listened to the fancy-dressed gent with the muddy-blond hair, mustache and goatee who cursed Natalie for shooting him. Van wondered if this was the man named Marsh and if he deserved a good shooting. He wanted to believe Natalie’s version of the story, but he vowed to reserve judgment until he gathered more facts.
The stork-legged gent, who had ripped off the hem of his shirt to stem his bleeding wound, stormed up to Natalie and backhanded her while the man called Jenson held her in place.
Van gnashed his teeth and told himself to hold position.
“What did you do with the money and jewels, bitch?” Marsh demanded hatefully.
Despite her bloody lip, she tilted her skinned chin upward and said, “I already told you I buried it for safekeeping, Marsh.”
Which Van knew was a lie—and he wondered how much of what she had told him was a lie, too.
“Buried it where?” Marsh snarled at her while Jenson lashed her to a tree to make sure she didn’t elude them again.
“It’s downstream a mile…or three,” she replied flippantly. “I forget. Confusion and severe headaches apparently run in my family. No doubt, I’m suffering from the same terminal malady that killed my mother.”
Van saw how Natalie was baiting Marsh with her suspicions about poisoning her mother. Which led Van to believe that she had told him the truth—part of it, anyway. Her comment lifted the heavy weight bearing down on his chest and reassured him that he wasn’t such a bad judge of his wife’s character after all.
Thus far, Marsh hadn’t accused her of double-crossing him by running off with the jewels and money. However, that still didn’t excuse her for tethering Van like a horse, leaving him naked and maybe even stabbing Kimball with his bowie knife! Perhaps it had been self-defense, if Kimball had seen her making her escape from town, Van mused. Hopefully, eavesdropping on the conversation by the creek would answer his troubling questions.
“I knew I should have disposed of you first, you sassy little firebrand,” Marsh spat at her. “But you won’t be around to point an accusing finger after you sign over the Blair fortune to me.”
“You’ve wasted your time and effort tracking me down,” she told her scowling stepfather. “My new husband is entitled to half the Blair fortune. If you dispose of me, he will inherit all of it. Hell will freeze over long before he signs it over to you. He knows exactly who and what you are.”
Bart and Van stared somberly at each other. He was tremendously relieved to know his wife wasn’t the practiced liar, cheater and thief he was afraid she might be. But the jury was still out about her involvement in Kimball’s death.
“We’ll see about that,” Marsh growled. “I have him slated for execution. I might even use you for bargaining power to demand his cooperation.”
Van noticed Natalie didn’t blink an eyelash while she stared Marsh down. “You are sorely mistaken if you think there is any love lost between us. Donovan Crow has no sentimental attachment whatsoever for me. I made a business arrangement with him and that is as far as his feelings go.”
Bart glanced speculatively at Van, who refused to react to her comments. He was in the middle of the most crucial assignment in his life and he was determined to remain professional and detached. Natalie’s life depended on it.
Besides, how could he jump down her throat for embarrassing him beyond words for that tied-to-the-bed stunt if she were dead? He had to rescue her—somehow.
“We’ll see what Crow has to say after he bears witness to the results of your torture,” Marsh sneered then massaged his injured arm. “A few brands burned on your legs and arms should convince him that I mean business. Start a fire, Green,” he ordered the barrel-bellied goon who had regained consciousness after Natalie had knocked him senseless earlier.
“My pleasure,” Green said, and smiled vindictively.
Bart surveyed the scene unfolding before them for another anxious moment then he cast Van a how-much-longer-are-we-going-to-let-this-go-on stare.
Van decided he had all the information he needed. He picked up a fallen limb and hurled it sideways to bounce off a tree trunk. All three men jumped back a step, then wheeled around to point their weapons toward the unidentified sound.
“What the hell was that?” Marsh grumbled. “Jenson, go find out.”
Jenson didn’t look thrilled with his orders but he skulked off in the direction of the noise.
Van pitched another limb in the opposite direction and Green lurched toward the new sound.
“Maybe it’s the renegade Indians I managed to avoid last night,” Natalie supplied helpfully. “My husband told me a war party of Indians escaped the reservation to raid and plunder. Crow even admitted that he had lifted a few scalps in his time. I hope we don’t lose our scalps because I still have use for mine. Yours, I could care less about, however.”
Van managed a faint grin, as did Bart. The three
green-horns from Louisiana looked concerned when Natalie laid it on thick. She used every possible weapon in her arsenal. My, but the little minx was imaginative, Van mused.
His thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when Marsh knocked the cap off her head. He grabbed a fistful of her long auburn hair and yanked hard, forcing her head to an awkward angle that made her yelp in discomfort.
“You listen to me, you smart-mouthed bitch,” he jeered viciously. “No matter what else happens, you are going to die for the trouble you’ve caused—”
His voice transformed into a pained howl when Natalie raised her knee and drove it into his groin. Marsh involuntarily released his fierce grip on her hair to cover his crotch. He choked for breath as he dropped to his knees, gasping and groaning.
While Natalie struck out to clip Marsh in the head and jaw with two well-aimed blows from the toe of her boot, Van sprang into action. He went in low and fast, signaling Bart to stay put for necessary backup. By the time the three captors realized he was charging at them, Van had already fired off shots with the six-shooters clutched in each fist.
Jenson went down with a yelp of pain and grabbed his wounded thigh. Green screeched when Van’s bullet plowed into his gun hand. Marsh tried to bolt to his feet to use Natalie as his protective shield but she kicked him in the chest with both feet before he could put his pistol to her head.
Van headed straight for Marsh when Bart stood up, pointed both peacemakers at the downed men and yelled, “Stop where you are or you’ll be as dead as a man can get!”
Natalie stared in disbelief when Crow swooped down on Marsh like an avenging angel of doom. He lifted Marsh off the ground by the nape of his shirt and shook him until his head whiplashed twice. She was enormously relieved to know that Crow and Bart had survived whatever attack Kimball and his three mercenaries might have launched on them. At least she wasn’t responsible for their deaths.
She wasn’t sure she could have lived with that.
If Crow hadn’t showed up when he did, she would have been disfigured with burns. She had exhausted every attempt to counter Marsh and his vicious henchmen and she had been operating on nothing but resentment, sarcasm and bluff for the past half hour.
Her thoughts trailed off when Crow stuck his snarling face in Marsh’s and said, “You’ll pay dearly for hitting my wife. You’ll lose the hand you used to strike her.”
Natalie lifted her left knee and gestured her disheveled head toward her boot. “Want to use the knife I borrowed?”
“Have you used it already, sunshine?”
She gave him a bemused look. “No, I was saving it as my last resort.”
She didn’t know why he looked so relieved, but she didn’t question him while he loomed over Marsh’s five-foot-ten-inch frame like a spitting cobra. Crow grabbed Marsh’s right wrist and drew blood with one swipe of the sharp blade.
Marsh screamed like a stuck pig. “Stop! I’ll give you half the Blair fortune if you let me go,” Marsh bartered frantically. “The jewels, the money, the shipping business. You’ll be wealthy and never have to work again.”
Crow smiled nastily, much to Natalie’s delight. The expression caused Marsh to quake in his boots, especially when Crow grabbed a handful of his dingy-blond hair and laid the blade of the bowie knife against his scalp.
“No!” Marsh screeched, his tombstone-gray eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“Why did you kill your wife?” Crow demanded as he yanked Marsh’s head back at an unnatural angle. When Marsh didn’t reply, Crow drew beads of blood along his hairline. “Answer me or I’ll lift your scalp.”
When Crow leveled his trademark stare on Marsh, he practically swallowed his Adam’s apple. “I wanted control of the Blair fortune,” he chirped. His face turned a lighter shade of pale while blood dribbled across his forehead, then ran down the length of his nose.
“Which one of you stabbed Kimball and left him in the livery stable?” Crow growled, turning to stare at Natalie.
She blinked in surprise at this news. Then she puffed up with offended dignity. How could he think she was responsible? Would he ever take her at her word or would he always insist on hearing the truth from someone else first?
“Jenson did it,” Marsh blurted out.
“Under Marsh’s orders,” Jenson insisted as he pressed leaves over his wound to stem the flow of blood.
“You are both under arrest for murder and conspiracy to commit murder.” Crow stared directly at Jenson. “You stabbed Kimball in the back and didn’t give him a fighting chance.”
Natalie regretted Kimball’s senseless death at Marsh’s orders. He had been a philanderer, a lush and compulsive gambler, but he hadn’t been as bloodthirsty as Marsh.
“I suppose Kimball served his purpose in your scheme of fraud, murder and greed,” Natalie hissed at Marsh. “Just as you used Mother for your purposes, then disposed of her.”
Sweet mercy, the urge to wrest loose from the ropes that held her to the tree so she could choke the life out of this selfish, ruthless bastard nearly overwhelmed her. “Cut me loose, Crow,” she growled. “Marsh is mine. You had your turn with him already.”
Crow smiled faintly, then shook his raven head. “He’s all mine, sunshine. I’ll have a complete, detailed account of his crimes when I’m through with him.” He glanced over his shoulder at Bart who still held the other two men at gunpoint. “Tie up the henchmen, Bartholomew. You can turn Sunshine loose after Marsh and I stroll off for our private chat.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know right where we stand,” Marsh insisted frantically.
Natalie smiled wryly. “Apparently you’ve heard about Crow’s thorough tactics of acquiring confessions. I’m glad I’m not in your shiny boots, Marsh. Having brands burned on your skin is mere child’s play for Crow. He might start there but he will finish elsewhere. In case you don’t survive, I wish you well while you roast in hell.”
“Come along, Marsh, let’s see how much pain you can endure before you pass out or die…whichever comes first,” Crow said as he quick-marched his captive upstream.
Natalie listened with satisfaction while Marsh begged, pleaded and bargained for mercy. She hoped he found none forthcoming from Crow.
Bart picked up Jenson’s discarded pistol, then walked over to cut the rope that held Natalie to the tree. Then he strode off to retrieve Green’s weapon. She knew Bart needed her assistance tying up the prisoners because he was still nursing a mending arm. She secured Green and Jenson for safekeeping while Bart kept his pistols trained on them.
While she treated the henchmen’s injuries, she heard Marsh screaming bloody murder in the near distance.
“I recommend that you two give me your statements about your involvement with Marsh,” Bart advised the prisoners. “Unless you want to take your private turn with Crow.”
“I hired on with Marsh in New Orleans,” Jenson said readily, and then cast an anxious glance in the direction of Marsh’s high-pitched howls. “He paid me to track down his runaway stepdaughter. I found out that she’d dressed in widow’s digs and took the train to Fort Worth and beyond.” He glanced down to watch Natalie cut open the front of his breeches’ leg to inspect his wound. “We were hired to capture Natalie in Wolf Ridge, but she left town before we arrived. The hotel clerk said she got married, so we followed her.”
Bart glanced at Green who cradled his injured arm against his ribs. “What about you? Do you have anything to add to Jenson’s statement?”
Green bobbed his frizzy brown head. “I heard Marsh tell Jenson that we only needed three horses to chase down Natalie when she rode out of Taloga Springs—”
“Shut up!” Jenson snapped tersely.
“Hey, I’m not taking the blame for Kimball’s death,” he protested hotly.
Both men clammed up when another agonized shriek erupted from the underbrush.
Natalie glanced up at Bart then her gaze drifted to the place where Crow and Marsh disappeared from sight. “Do you think I sh
ould—?”
“No,” Bart interrupted. “Some things are best not to watch, Nat. There are reasons why Donovan Crow has an exceptionally high rate of success in acquiring information that leads to convictions in court. I’m not questioning his methods in extreme cases like this one. Are you?”
She shook her head somberly. Bart was right. Whatever Marsh received as incentive to tell the truth could never adequately compare to what he deserved for committing his vicious crimes.
Chapter Fourteen
Another half hour passed and Marsh’s howls of excruciating pain dwindled to whimpers. Finally, Crow appeared from the shadows of the trees, his expression grim. “Arsenic,” he murmured as he halted in front of Natalie. “Delivered in increasing doses in the meals Marsh personally served to your mother, while pretending to be a devoted, pampering husband. He has been embezzling money from your shipping company for the past few years, using the pretense of promoting the business and luring in new clients. Anything else you want to know right now or can we wait—ooofff…”
His breath gushed out when Natalie, so overwhelmed with anger, grief and relief leaped into his arms, causing him to stumble back a few steps before he regained his balance.
She locked her legs around his lean hips and hugged the stuffing out of him while blood-pumping tension, anger and fear that had sustained her swooshed out. Tears poured down her cheeks like falling rain. She wasn’t sure how long she held on to him for dear life, letting the jumble of bubbling emotion inside her erupt like Mount Vesuvius.
Crow wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the crown of her head. “It’s okay now, sunshine.”
“I’m-m s-sorry,” she blubbered then hiccupped. “I d-didn’t want you t-to have to b-be the place I fell apart…”