Shit, shit, shit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Sophie’s heart was beating so loudly she was afraid it would drown out their words ’til she couldn’t hear.
“You would probably kill me,” Garrett said matter-of-factly. “But I’ll kill her first. Any time you’re willing to risk it, go right ahead.” He used his thumb to cock the hammer, and Sophie could almost feel the air leave the room as the men all drew a breath. The thought of dying flitted through her mind, and she wondered if death would be quick or if she’d linger in pain.
Clay’s eyes never left Garrett’s face. A trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek. “Just put down the gun, and nobody gets hurt.”
Garrett chuckled. “And you’re the big hero, and I swing from a rope. Not an option for me, get it?”
They would hang him for murder. Maybe her, too. He would never give himself up, Sophie realized.
“Risk it.” Sophie’s words hung in the humid night air. “Shoot him, Clay. If he hits me, I might live. If not, it’s okay. If he’s a bad shot, don’t let me suffer.”
“Now, isn’t that touching?” Garrett said. “When did you become so brave, Gabriella? You’ve always been stupid and ungrateful.”
“Shoot him, Clay,” she ordered. “Don’t let him get away with it. With any of it.”
Clay understood what she was saying. She was begging him not to let Garrett get away with what he’d done to her. She knew how livid Clay had been when he’d learned Garrett had taken advantage of her as a young girl. The stories Sophie’d told him were vivid images in his mind. I submitted, she’d told him. I survived.
The man before him had used her body and soul for his own gain. He’d manipulated and demeaned and controlled—but he hadn’t broken her. She’d waited for the time and the place to escape him. She’d planned this whole fiasco to trap him and make him pay. Sophie needed to show Garrett he hadn’t gotten the best of her.
“Her name’s Sophia,” Clay said. “Not Gabriella, not any of the dozen other names you’ve given her. Sophia.”
“What the hell do you know?” Garrett asked. “You’re one of the pawns she’s using to get what she wants. I should know. I taught her how.”
Garrett was a master at using people’s weaknesses—some sixth sense had alerted him to Clay’s internal struggle.
“Guess we’ll just have to see who has the last laugh,” Clay said. “After all, she set you up on this one.”
Garrett’s nostrils flared. He glared daggers at Sophie.
She figured poor Frank had probably peed himself and the sheet by now if he hadn’t already jumped out the window. She didn’t dare look.
“You’re a revoltin’ excuse for a human bein’,” Clay told him. “You bought a young girl and used her for illegal gain. Used her just like you use everybody. But you couldn’t turn her into you. And you couldn’t break her spirit. She waited for the right time and place and she hightailed it away from you.”
“I found her, though, didn’t I? She didn’t want to hide that badly.”
“You didn’t win, Garrett. She set you up. You thought you had her under your thumb, that you were settin’ up this night, when all along, she was the one with the reins. She told me exactly what you’d do and exactly how to catch you. She used your own bait and trapped you.”
The air in the room was static with tension.
Garrett’s face was beet-red above his white shirt. “Guess I just have to kill her then.”
This was it. Clay had no choice. If he told his men to stand down and let Garrett go, Garrett would take Sophie with him. Clay should have planned for something like this.
Sophie’s words played in his head. Risk it. Risk it.
He’d told her once she was a risk he was willing to take. But not like this. Not risking her life.
Either way was a risk. This entire setup had been dangerous. A chance Sophie had been willing to take.
Clay wasn’t sure who moved first. With a flurry of green satin, Sophie flung her wrapper over Garrett’s gun hand. A burst of gunfire exploded and she was thrown back on the floor. Clay fired. More gunfire erupted. Clay squatted and the men on either side of him ducked and rolled.
Garrett’s body bucked from the force of the bullets pounding into it. He fell to his knees and his gun hand, encased in green fabric, fell to his side. With eyes wide open, his upper body swayed. The cigar he’d been holding fell. He collapsed forward with a slam.
Clay looked at both the other lawmen who immediately jumped toward Garrett’s prone body. He scrambled to Sophie where she lay on the wooden floor and rolled her to her back. She clutched at her side, curling her body protectively. Blood pooled in the cracks between the floorboards and ran in a rivulet away from her body. The entire side of her white corset was soaked in crimson.
Chapter Twenty-One
He’d seen dozens of men shot. The sight had never affected him like this—as though the world spun out of control and his own life hung in the balance. He grabbed a towel from the washstand and pressed it against the wound in her side. “Go get the doc!”
Sophie was staring up at him, her dark eyes glistening. “Is he…did he?”
Clay glanced at Hershel who shook his head.
“He’s dead,” Clay told her.
She tried to turn to see for herself, but Clay held her down with a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t move. You’ll bleed more.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. Her breath was coming short and fast. “We did it.”
“You did it, Sophie.”
“Thanks,” she managed. “For those things you said to him.”
“Don’t talk now. Dr. Chaney will be coming.” He glanced at the doorway in panic. “You hurtin’ bad, Sophie? Course you are. Damn.”
“Get me a sheet or something. I’m in my underwear.”
Clay stood and turned to Frank Wick, forgotten in the chaos. “Hand over the sheet and get your clothes on before anyone sees you here.”
Frank just looked at him.
Clay jerked the sheet away. “Get the hell out!”
Clay covered Sophie while the man fumbled with his pants and shirt, then edged toward the door. No one stopped him.
Clay plucked away the pins that had held Sophie’s hair in place under the wig and ran his fingers through the dark tresses. “You were brave.”
She bit her lower lip against the pain. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her.
It would be his fault for not foreseeing that Garrett wouldn’t docilely be arrested and led off to trial. The man had no scruples; Clay should have known he wouldn’t hesitate to turn a gun on Sophie to save his hide.
“Sorry,” he said. “Should’ve known he’d do somethin’ like that.”
“Thank you for taking the risk,” she said with a weak smile.
“I didn’t. You moved first.”
“I was mad.” She closed her eyes.
“Stay awake until the doc gets here.”
She blew out a couple of harsh breaths. “It hurts like the very devil.”
He grasped her hand and held it to his lips. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. “The doc’s comin’.”
There was a commotion on the stairs and Caleb Chaney entered the room, carrying his bag. He paused over Garrett’s body.
“He’s dead,” Clay said. “She’s the one needs a doctor.”
Caleb knelt over her. “They said she was shot?”
Clay edged over so the doctor could move in. Caleb pulled the sheet aside and raised the blood-soaked towel.
“Is it…is it bad?” Clay asked.
“There’s so much blood, it’s hard to tell.” He looked at Sophie’s face. He checked her pupils. “I think the corset is helping staunch the blood flow. Let’s move her to my office before I take it off to examine her.”
Dr. Chaney motioned to the men just inside the doorway. “Bring in the stretcher.”
Clay lifted her upper body by grasping her under the arms.
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“Shit!” she shouted.
They maneuvered her onto the canvas sling, Clay taking one end as Owen got the other, and carried her down the stairs.
By the time they put her in a wagon and arrived at the doctor’s office, Sophie was unconscious.
“It’s okay,” Caleb assured him. “I don’t think she’s in shock. It’s probably just her body’s way of dealing with the pain.”
“What can I do?”
“Go take care of things, make your report. I’ll take good care of her.”
“She might wake up and call for me.”
“I’m going to make sure she’s out, Marshal. She won’t be in any pain once I give her an injection. I have to see how much damage the bullet did and whether or not it’s still in there. You won’t be any help to me.”
Clay pursed his mouth in a hard line, hating the helplessness.
“Let me do my job,” the doctor said finally.
Entrusting Sophie to the man’s capable hands was the most difficult thing he’d ever done. He backed out of the building and stared sightlessly at the lights in the windows before turning away.
Sophie came to consciousness in a dizzying wave of pain that radiated from her left side. The sun coming in the window of the room where she lay was blinding.
Caleb Chaney looked into her eyes one at a time. “I’m going to give you something to let you sleep a while longer.”
Thank God. She nodded.
“Before I do, the marshal would like to say something to you.”
Clay was there.
“Sophie?” His hand was warm and large as he enveloped hers. “I have something for you.”
“What?”
He held up a shining gold ring—a wedding band. Was he proposing? What an odd time to think about marriage. She didn’t know if she was going to live or die, and if she did live, she wouldn’t be free to be a wife.
“Garrett had it on him. It’s yours, Sophie.”
She blinked at him.
“Your mother’s ring. It has your parents’ names inside.” Clay slipped the ring on her finger. It was warm from his skin. The weight was solid and satisfying. Tears formed in the outer corners of her eyes and rolled back into her hair. Clay wiped them with his thumbs.
She grasped his hand. “Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse.
He kissed the backs of her fingers.
“He’s dead then?”
“He’s dead.”
Somehow she didn’t feel this was over, couldn’t shake the feeling that Garrett might appear at any moment. He’d controlled every second of her life for so many years, she couldn’t shake the sensation that he was hovering just out of sight.
Her side throbbed.
“That corset saved your life,” he told her.
She listened.
“Doc says the bullet glanced off a bone stay and tore a groove along the flesh. It’s all stitched up, but it will heal.”
“I’m not going to die.”
She thought she saw a glimmer of moisture in his eyes before he closed them and whispered, “No, thank God.”
Jail then…or a noose.
“You’ll get well and there will be a hearing. I’m doin’ everything I can,” he promised. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”
What could he do? He couldn’t turn back time. He couldn’t change the things she’d done.
“Clay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not holding out much hope.”
“I’ll hope for the both of us, then.”
Oh, she loved this man. Loved him with all her being. If he was another casualty in her long line of victims, she would never forgive herself. It took a great deal of strength to raise her arm, but she wanted to touch him. She grazed her fingertips over his brow, along his cheek, pressed them against his lips.
He tasted her fingers with a kiss. “I love you, Sophie.”
“You deserve better,” she assured him.
“No. I deserve you.”
“I want to sleep now.”
He took her hand and tucked it under the sheet, then turned to where Caleb Chaney had been waiting. “Give her somethin’ for the pain now.”
The doctor swabbed Sophie’s arm and she felt the prick of the needle. Delicious mind-numbing warmth flooded through her veins and she slept.
Sophie’s identity had been revealed, and Clay’s relationship to her was now common knowledge. He had a responsibility to uphold the law, maybe even more so to make certain there was never any question about his integrity. She wasn’t going anywhere, but he still had to follow procedures. He assigned a deputy to stand watch outside the room.
Two days later, Dr. Chaney couldn’t keep her in bed any longer. She was on her feet and had insisted on using the outhouse and sitting at a table for breakfast. “My side hurts, but I don’t want any more of those shots. Thank you very much, I wanted them when I first got here…but I’m getting better.”
“You have to let that flesh heal,” he told her.
“I’m going to dress, and then I’m leaving,” she told him for the hundredth time.
“All right, Sophie. I can’t tie you up. Ellie went to your hotel room and brought you loose-fitting clothing. It’s in the cabinet right there. If you need help dressing, I’ll send for her.”
“No, I can do it.”
“Don’t do any bending or stretching that pulls on those stitches. Come back tomorrow, so I can look at them. If you see any bleeding, send for me.”
“Yes, Doctor. I promise.”
“I’m ordering a buggy brought around.”
She consented. Walking was too much for her today.
After he left the room, it took her a good fifteen minutes to get into her clothing. Ellie had thoughtfully picked out a loose chemise and shirtwaist. Sophie worked up a sweat bending over to put on her stockings and shoes, and almost quit twice, but resolved to be self-sufficient.
With her clothing in place and her hair in reasonable order, she exited the room.
John Doyle jumped up from the chair where he’d been sitting. “You can’t go anywhere!”
“I’m not escaping, Deputy,” she told him. “No need for handcuffs. I’m heading for the jail right now.”
He fell into step behind her.
Dr. Chaney was sitting at the small desk in the next room.
“How much is my bill?” she asked.
He told her, and she promised to send the money the following day. He ushered her through the waiting room to the door.
Ellie’s brother Benjamin was waiting for her with a buggy at the curb. “Miss.”
He assisted her to the seat, and she sat with her hand protectively over her sore side.
“Where you headin’?” he asked.
“The jailhouse,” she said.
“Which one?”
“Wherever Marshal Connor is.”
“He’s workin’ in the new building,” the deputy said from where he stood beside the rig.
Benjamin guided the shiny black horse to pull the buggy along the streets, and John Doyle followed on horseback.
“Bet you’ve never delivered a prisoner to the jailhouse before,” she said.
“Ellie said some bad stuff happened to you,” he answered. “Me’n Ellie, we know all about takin’ care of yourself. Don’t any of us Chaneys think less of you.”
His compassion touched her deeply. “Thank you, Benjamin.”
“Talk around town is you’re a hero.”
She waved that comment away.
They turned right from Main onto Eighth. The new jail did indeed look finished. “I’ll check an’ make sure he’s here before you bother t’ get down,” Benjamin offered.
He tied the reins, climbed down, and disappeared inside the brick building.
Clay appeared a second later, his dark hair shining in the sun, a frown on his face. He took in Deputy Doyle where he’d tethered his horse and stood watching. Clay turned his face up to where she sat. “
What’re you doin’?”
“Help me down.”
He and Benjamin both hurried to assist her from the buggy to the ground.
“Wait here, will ya?” Clay asked Benjamin.
The young man agreed with a nod.
Sophie walked toward the door and Clay followed. The inside was much larger than their old building; their desks were new, and the whole place smelled like freshly cut wood and varnish.
Hershel Vidlak sat with his feet propped on a desk, reading the Newton Kansan. “Afternoon, Miss Hollis,” he said, sliding his feet to the floor.
A deputy she didn’t recognize was screwing a rack of some kind to the back wall. At Marshal Vidlak’s greeting he turned and nodded.
“Why are you out of bed?” Clay asked. He rolled a new chair with a brown leather seat and backrest toward her. “Here.”
She ignored it. “I want to see him.”
He got a crease between his dark brows. “Who?”
“Garrett.”
Clay paused. “He’s dead.”
“I want to see the body.”
“Why? Why put yourself through that? You’ve been through too much.”
“I have to see for myself. I have to know. You’ve told me, and I believe you. My head acknowledges that he died that day. But I can’t shake this feeling hanging over me. It’s like he’s still there, waiting…shadowing everything.” Sophie searched his eyes for understanding. “I can’t go the rest of my life, however long or short that is, without knowing for certain, for once and for all, proof positive, that he’s gone.”
Clay stared at her for a long moment. The familiar sound of a train whistle echoed in the distance.
“I’ll be takin’ Miss Hollis to the undertaker’s,” he said finally, speaking to the other men. Clay grabbed his hat and led her to the door.
“Reckon I don’t need to follow,” John Doyle said.
“Got it covered,” Clay told him and led her out. “Mind givin’ us a ride to George Monday’s place on Main?” he said to Benjamin.
“Ain’t he the dentist?”
“Yup.” Clay was careful not to touch Sophie’s side as he helped her back into the buggy, but she gasped and placed her hand over the spot anyway. Her face was too pale.
The Lawman's Bride (Harlequin Historical Series) Page 21