by Carol Arens
A dog ran back and forth along a front yard fence, barking a greeting—or warning. A curtain from the window moved aside then fell instantly back into place.
When he approached the saloon, Boone decided it would be best to circle around it a time or two to determine whether the Kings were even inside.
If they were, he wouldn’t risk walking into a trap. While the outlaws had demanded the meeting, he would determine the location.
Three passes in front of the open door and there was still no movement within the dim interior.
On the fourth pass, he reined the horse to a stop and waited. A chill skittered across his scalp. Could be a trap, after all—but for the folks back at the ranch.
He whirled the horse around, ready for a hell-bent race toward home.
Boot steps slammed the boardwalk. Buck King stepped out of the saloon.
“His Fartin’ Majesty says you can approach his exalted presence now.” Buck spewed a glob of spit over his shoulder, back through the door he had just come out of. “Says to dust off your boots first.”
“If your brother wants a get-together, he can meet me at the spring. Not alone. I want you all there. Bring the butcher.”
“You’ve got yourself some balls, I’ll say that for you.”
“My town, my rules.”
Dismounting the horse, Boone led it toward the spring. He made sure not to look behind him even though it felt as though half a dozen stares were crawling on his back.
Wasn’t sure whose they were. Outlaws after his blood or folks hiding behind curtains wondering what unholy mess was coming upon them next.
Sitting on a boulder at the spring, he dipped his Stetson in the cold water then let the horse drink from it. He was in the middle of his own refreshment when he heard footsteps crossing the dirt, coming from the direction of the saloon. Finishing his drink leisurely—deliberately—he guessed there were at least three men.
It wasn’t until the boot falls stopped that he glanced up, water dribbling from his fingers and chin. He wiped his sleeve across his face.
“Where’s Lump?”
Efrin led the procession. If the man had tail feathers they’d be splayed like a strutting peacock’s. To the left of His Highness stood Buck. Boone wondered if a scowl was his singular expression. Flanking Efrin on the right was a man who could only be Leland.
“You’ll kneel in the presence of your king,” announced his royal idiocy.
“You always been crazy?” Boone asked, settling more comfortably on the rock.
“Just since puberty,” Buck explained. “Before that he was just a mean cuss.”
“Shut your disrespecting face!” Efrin roared, his royal dignity slipping.
What the sovereign didn’t seem to notice was Buck’s gun hand inching toward his holster then clenching in a tight fist.
“Please, Mr. Walker, ignore my brothers.” Leland strode forward, his hand extended in greeting. “They’ve always been a contentious lot.”
Deliberately, Boone folded his arms across his chest. “You accosted my wife.”
“Just a bit of friendly banter.”
“Left a bruise.”
“Such fair skin.” Leland shrugged, withdrew his hand. “I beg the pardon of you both.”
He didn’t. Even though he spoke the words, the snicker in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Where’s the butcher? If his hand isn’t on the end of his arm I’ll shoot you all where you stand.”
“Fetch him, Buck,” ordered Efrin.
Buck, his face flushing vivid red, spun on his older brother. “I’m done with you ordering me around!”
“Better fetch him.” Boone arched a brow. “I reckon you’ve heard I’m a man of little patience.”
Damned if Buck didn’t growl like a cornered cougar while he stomped across the road to the saloon.
“I reckon there’s a good reason you dragged me from my lunch?”
“I don’t like your insolent tone. I insist that you stand while I speak.”
Boone wondered how a lunatic could be the leader of this group, unless, as he suspected, they were all lunatics.
“That so?” He stood, paced off the distance between them. Efrin had to look up to make eye contact—way up. “Here’s what I insist. Give back the food you took from my store.”
“Who made it yours?”
Boone grabbed King by the shirtfront, lifted him to the toes of his glimmering boots.
“I did.” He held the criminal, glowering gaze to glowering gaze.
The standoff ended only when the villain glanced away.
Boone set King back on his feet and yanked the lapels of the fancy coat back into place.
“Brought the butcher,” Buck announced, shoving the man forward.
Any fool could see that his hands were bound too tight. His face was chalk white. No wonder he was trembling.
“Cut his bonds.” Boone ground his teeth, felt the tick in his jaw. Boone Walker, the legend, surged within him. “Then bring the lecher.”
“Maybe you got the balls to disturb him while he’s—”
Boone drew his gun. It slid from his holster, a deadly hiss of metal across leather. He was every bit the fast draw that his reputation painted him to be.
“Go get him. When we’re all together, tight and cozy, you’ll tell me why you brought me here.”
Power was the only law the Kings respected. If his wasn’t more threatening than theirs, he might not ride out of here.
“Go home, sir,” he said to the butcher in a kinder tone. “You’ll keep your hand.”
A moment later, after a long, tense silence, Buck came out of the saloon dragging his brother by the ear.
“We’ll talk now,” Boone said, his voice cold, in command. “I’ve already wasted the day on the four of you.”
He assumed it was Bird’s release that they wanted to discuss. It would be springtime in hell when that happened. He had one outlaw in custody and there he would stay.
“We’d like to allow you to join us,” Efrin said. “Last time, you refused. This time you will not. You may sit while we discuss it.”
Hell’s curses.
Boone returned to his boulder because it was close to his horse. He jammed his gun back into the holster but kept his hand at the ready.
“We respect you, Mr. Walker,” Leland said with a single nod of his head. “We’re as alike as snakes twined in a pit.”
He knew he ought to say something. There must be an intelligent thought still in his mind. Couldn’t quite summon it, though.
“There’s no need for us to be at odds.” This from Efrin. “Rule this town with us.”
“Already do.” He picked up the horse’s dangling reins, pretended to casually stroke the leather. Things here were not going to end well. He needed to be quick away. “Why would I share it with you?”
“For protection—why else?” This from Leland. “We offer safety—freedom of a sort.”
“We’d be allies. With your talents, you’d have our backs, the same as we’d have yours. Safety in numbers,” said Leland. “No more life on the run. We’ve got a fine, high life here.”
Leland’s smile looked as genuine as fool’s gold.
Unless he missed his guess, Fancy Pants was counting on Boone’s bounty to give him that high life.
But the reality was they hadn’t said anything that wasn’t the truth.
In many ways, he was like them. By hitching up, he would know what they were doing at all times. And he would gain a sort of freedom without having to risk his life or anyone else’s.
Looked at in a certain way, the offer made sense because he would live a life he was accustomed to, a life of corruption.
No standards to live up to. No more
struggle trying to be good enough, fearing that he didn’t have it in him.
What the hell did he know about being respectable? About as much as the dung beetle crawling across his boot.
Mathers had given him a tweaked and tarnished badge. Went to show how much confidence he actually had in him doing the right thing.
A damaged symbol for a damaged soul.
Respect for law and order would not keep him from hitching up with the Kings. But there was something that would—or rather someone.
In this moment of temptation her lovely smile flashed in his mind. He would take a bullet in the brain before he would betray Melinda’s trust.
Never once had she wavered in her belief of him.
If she was so dang certain that he had a future obeying the law, maybe he did. He’d never met a more clever person in his life, nor one more spirited.
The truth was he’d rather die on this very spot than see disappointment in her eyes. Disappointment that he put there.
Boone kicked the insect off his boot.
“You all haven’t asked about your brother. I find it odd, being that alliances mean so all-fired much to you.”
“Figured you had him,” Buck said, finally letting go of Lump, who stared blankly around before lumbering single-mindedly toward the saloon and his interrupted pleasure.
“That being the case, we figured you’d already killed him.” Leland folded his arms over his fancy coat. “Decided we’d forgive you for it when you become one of us. A life for a death, so to speak.”
Boone calmly mounted his horse. In the guise of a casual attitude, he didn’t draw his gun even though he figured he was going to need it.
He nodded in what would appear to be a friendly parting gesture. As though he meant to agree to the unholy merger.
A hundred feet down the road, he turned, rifle drawn from the saddle pack, cocked and ready to fire.
He settled his aim on Efrin’s chest. It gave him pause to think of actually pulling the trigger, but folks lived with regrets. They were a part of life.
“Last I saw your brother he was alive,” he called. “What you boys need to know is that I’m going to clear you out of Jasper Springs, hand you over to the law. This is my town. Surrender now or I’m taking you down, one by one or all together.”
With that, he spun the horse around then double-timed it down Main Street. The buzz of a bullet zinged past his ear.
What got his attention more than that was seeing the butcher standing in the doorway of his shop, a hesitant grin on his face, his hand raised in salute.
Chapter Twelve
The fact that he hadn’t been followed didn’t make Boone feel any easier.
Figuring that the Kings were doing the same thing that he was—planning an attack—made him feel twitchy in his gut.
When he galloped into the yard, Stanley was standing watch at the homestead door. He’d passed by Doc Brown and Edward doing the same a hundred yards back.
The lawyer waived, sauntered down the steps.
“There was trouble while you were gone. The women are upset—all of us are, but your wife was—”
Melinda and trouble? Boone didn’t take the time to hear about it from Smythe, but took off running across the yard toward home—the barn, that is.
The lawyer had called Melinda Boone’s wife. What the blazes?
Bursting through the door, he found her staring blankly at her reflection in the small square mirror.
She was pale, distress haunted her gaze.
“Melinda?” he called softly.
At the sound of his voice she suddenly turned.
“Boone!”
In a flurry of ruffles and lace, she flew into his arms.
Wrapping her up, he breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the silkiness of the strands fondle his cheek.
She clung to him, but no more than he did to her.
Somehow his sweet, spunky wife had become his sanctuary. When the ground was shifting at his feet, she was constant.
In the moment of his greatest weakness, of nearly irresistible temptation, she had called him back from a decision that would have damned his soul forever.
And all because she trusted him.
For a fact, his days of walking the outlaw road were over. He wouldn’t take the easy way. Her confidence in him had made him a new man.
Didn’t understand it, but it was real nonetheless.
Boone Walker, the depraved one, had surrendered—to a woman. A virtuous woman, no less.
He owed her everything—more than his life. That’s why, when this ordeal was over, he would deliver her to Lantree and then go his way. It didn’t matter how deeply he had come to care for her, that with his dying breath, whether it be tomorrow or when he was an old man, he would think of her. It only mattered that she lived a happy life.
To his shame, that is something he could not offer. Hell, he couldn’t even offer financial support. The only way he knew of to make a living he’d just sworn off.
But all that was a problem for another time.
“Honey, you look shaken to the core.”
When she nodded, her hair tickled his nose.
“Why?”
She glanced up, her blue eyes wide, shining with unshed tears.
“Well... I...” He’d never known her to be at a loss for words. Something about that broke his heart.
“Hold on.” He swept her off her feet, carried her up the loft ladder.
It seemed right to go there because that is the spot where he had been comforted, his strength renewed. That small space was the closest thing he’d had to a home since he was a kid.
Didn’t take much to know why. Melinda made it so.
Lowering her to her feet, he stepped away from the floral scent of her.
He sat against the wall where he had a view of the surrounding land.
Even though his wife needed him now, retribution was on the way and he needed to be on the watch for it.
He opened his arms. She came to him, sitting on his lap and nuzzling her head against his shoulder.
“What happened, honey? It’s really got you on edge.”
“Bird almost killed Giselle.” She gripped his jacket with her small hands. They trembled.
“Is she injured?”
Bird would answer for the wicked thing he’d done, whatever it turned out to be.
Covering her hand with his, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles. Her fingers relaxed.
“Poor Giselle,” Melinda said quietly. “All she wanted was justice for her husband, but she didn’t take into account that Bird would be quicker and stronger than she was, even though she had a gun and he was tethered. I was on my way to feed him. If I hadn’t been—”
She glanced up at him then quickly away, but not so quickly that he didn’t see the moisture welling in her eyes or feel the tremor that passed through her shoulders.
“Well, in the end I was going, wasn’t I? Alone, though, since the men were on watch.”
“You ought to have let him go hungry.”
“Yes, but I hadn’t planned on going inside the shed, not until I heard Giselle scream.”
“I’m not trying to reprimand you.”
“Good because—” She gave him half a smile and shrugged.
That smile was reassuring. It was a relief to see the color rising in her cheeks, the twinkle of blue mischief returning her eyes.
Anyone who dimmed Melinda Walker’s fire deserved to be hanged by the toes and he reckoned Bird King had been the one to do it.
“You will be glad to know that I did have a gun in my pocket, just like you said I should. Of course, it was useless.”
And, just like that, his sparkling, courageous wif
e was fully back. She sat straight but remained squarely on his lap. It seemed so natural to have her there; as though that’s the place she was meant to be.
“Why was the gun useless?”
“Since Bird had already taken the one from Giselle, and the space was so small, I thought it would be best if he didn’t know I had one. I didn’t think I’d come out the winner if we started shooting at each other.”
“I’m afraid to ask. What weapon did you use?”
“Oh, well... I suppose you’ll find out, anyway.” She shrugged. The sweet gesture made her look so damned appealing. If he didn’t need to know what had happened he might—no, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “I made up lies about you. You might be happy to know that it was your reputation that scared Bird into letting us go.”
“I’m beginning to think it has its uses. What did you tell him?”
“Just that you killed a boy and his dog, blew a man’s head off before dinner one night...oh, and there was the bit about the time you drowned a man and used him for fishing bait.”
He stared at her, stunned.
“No need to look so stricken, Boone. The cad deserved it for accidentally killing our cat. I believe that the mental picture of me wading into the water naked to retrieve the feeding fish unnerved Bird enough that when Giselle told him that you were devoted to me and would have revenge, he believed it. And I told him you were going to cut off his fingers.”
“Well done.”
“But, Boone, I did have to draw the gun. He was so enjoying the anticipation of killing Giselle that there was the moment of hesitation you told me about. I used it to surprise him.”
“Is he dead?”
“He wishes he was since I told him that you were also going to cut off his tender part and send it to his brothers wrapped in a pink bow.”
“Tender part?”
She glanced at his crotch, arched a brow and nodded.
“Lord have mercy. Honey, you have a rare talent.”
“I do?”
“How many people could face a killer armed mainly with her brain and come out unharmed? Melinda, I am in awe of you.”