Daisies In The Wind

by Jill Gregory

  Navarro whistled as he sprang into the saddle and turned his horse toward the woods. He looked back once and saw smoke shooting through the roof and out the upstairs windows, and flames sparkling against the darkening sky.

  A fine, beautiful fire.

  24

  Wolf heard hoofbeats approaching when he was half a mile from the Double B. When he saw Culley Pritchard riding hard toward him, he started to call a greeting, but the friendly words froze on his lips as he observed the flushed tension in the rancher’s face.

  “Thank the Lord you’re back, Wolf,” Culley exclaimed as he drew up alongside.

  “What’s wrong, Pritchard?”

  “It’s Billy. Sorry to tell you this, but two men grabbed him yesterday while you were chasing after Miss Rawlings.”

  The color drained from Wolf’s face. At the same time, his blood seemed to chill, the iciness seeping into his bones.

  “Go on,” he said harshly as the rancher watched him with sympathetic eyes. “Tell me all of it.”

  “We’re looking for him, Wolf, but damn it, he hasn’t been seen since. The bastards knocked down Joey Brady and they shot Sam—but Toby patched him up. Anyway, Joey went for help. Ace and me formed a posse, and we’ve been trying to follow their trail, but they lost us last night. These hombres are wily. The other boys camped out down by Squirrel Lake and hope to pick up their tracks again today, but I came back thinking I might hook up with you. Why the hell would someone grab Billy? What for? Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”

  “I just might,” Wolf muttered grimly. Damn Bear Rawlings and his phony silver mine. “Two men, you said? Any idea who they were?”

  Culley shook his head. “They were wearing masks. Joey couldn’t recognize them. Did you find Miss Rawlings?”

  “She’s home, safe for the moment.”

  Safe. Was she really safe? Was anyone in Powder Creek really safe until this silver-mine mess was cleaned up? First it was Rebeccah who was carried off by those no-good desperadoes and now Billy. Wolf felt certain that whoever took Billy had to be after the mine. Someone knew they could get to Rebeccah through him. Someone in town, listening, watching—someone who’d heard talk, or observed without being noticed.

  “Do you smell smoke?” Wolf asked suddenly, and Culley started.

  “Damn right I do. Look!”

  Wolf followed the direction of his pointed finger and saw the black plumes of smoke surging up above the trees ahead. “It looks like it’s coming from the Double B. Culley, you ride to the Moseleys’ and bring help. Leave someone to spread the word—and hurry!”

  As Culley Pritchard wheeled his horse toward the Moseley ranch, Wolf veered off the trail and straight into the woods. He knew a shortcut to the Double B. It was a rougher road, full of treacherous low-hanging branches, but it would take less time than the main trail. He was about to spur Dusty to a roaring gallop when he heard the steady thud of another horse’s hooves and the crunching of brush. Some instinct caused him to swerve behind a stand of cedar and rein Dusty to a standstill.

  A blur of a figure flashed past him, headed toward Rebeccah’s ranch. Wolf caught a glimpse of a dark duster and hat, but didn’t recognize the rider crouched low over his horse’s mane. But he knew it wasn’t one of the ranchers or cowboys from town, and sensed it wasn’t a friend who had spotted the fire and was riding for help. There was something furtive about the man who’d come tearing through the forest, something he couldn’t define or explain. Wolf hesitated. He ought to get to the Double B pronto and save what he could of whatever building was on fire. He could at least begin throwing buckets of water at the fire until help arrived to put it out. But something told him to follow the man racing away from the ranch. He felt in his bones that the rider was connected somehow, that all of this was connected somehow. Billy missing, the ranch on fire—disaster was striking everywhere he looked, and he had a feeling it all revolved around those papers certain folks thought Rebeccah held. Rebeccah ...

  Fear brushed his spine. Why had he left her alone?

  Without another glance toward the fire, Wolf urged Dusty along the wooded trail in pursuit of the rider.

  * * *

  “It’s done,” Chance announced, his gun drawn as he stepped into the barn to meet Neely Stoner’s questioning gaze. Stoner let out a grunt of approval.

  “What about her? Did she talk?”

  “First she claimed there was no mine,” Neely Stoner sneered. “Claimed Bear made the whole thing up. Said she had a letter to prove it, but Bodine is carrying the letter on him. Convenient, right? She must think I’m a damned fool.”

  “Did you threaten the kid?”

  “Yep. Then she swore there was a mine, but she wouldn’t say a word until we let Billy boy go.”

  “Let me handle her,” Chance urged.

  Stoner nodded. He smiled with anticipation. “Don’t mess her up too bad, whatever you do. I want a go at her before we hightail it out of here. And I want her still lookin’ pretty. It’s more fun that way. You savvy?”

  “You’ll have to wait your turn for her, my friend.” Chance fingered the holster of his gun. “If I get the information we need from her, I get her first. And by the way, her cabin’s on fire.”

  “Already?” His mouth dropped open. “You damn fool! Son of a bitch, Navarro! Couldn’t you wait until we were finished here?”

  “It’s more exciting this way,” Chance murmured, his eyes very bright in the dimness of the barn.

  Stoner yanked the barn door open again and saw the black ribbon of smoke streaming up toward the sky. He couldn’t see any flames yet.

  “I started it small,” Chance explained smugly. “But we don’t have too much time.” He lowered his voice so that it would not carry. “We’ll finish with them and leave the boy’s body in here. The fire’ll spread soon enough. But I say we take the girl along for fun. That way we’ll both have plenty of time to enjoy her.”

  Straining to hear the soft, muffled words, Rebeccah’s blood curdled. Her cabin was on fire! She knew then without a doubt that neither of these men intended for her or Billy to survive. Before they’d lowered their voices, she’d recognized the man who’d entered the barn, the one helping Neely Stoner. Chance Navarro! Her breath hissed out of her as he approached the entrance to the stall.

  “I should have known,” she cried contemptuously, her hands clenched so tightly, her nails dug into her palms. “You’re about as low as a worm, aren’t you, Navarro? But then, you told me, that’s not your real name, is it? Nothing about you is real. Not your name, not your fine words or pretty manners. You’re just a cheap fake.”

  “Careful, Rebeccah.” Chance regarded her soberly. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

  No, she didn’t. Furious as she was, Rebeccah decided that she’d best hold her tongue. She had Billy to protect somehow, though how she was going to keep these two animals from hurting him was a mystery to her at the moment. And how they were going to escape these men before the fire spread to the barn, she couldn’t imagine. She must manage it somehow.

  Why hadn’t she seen through Chance Navarro sooner? That day, when he’d begun asking her all those questions, she’d had a feeling about him—but nothing more than that. She hadn’t even really had time to ponder it and see where that feeling led, whether or not it formed an actual suspicion, because Russ and Homer had grabbed her before she’d had the opportunity to reflect. But now, seeing him here with Neely Stoner, everything fell into place. Chance, the happy-go-lucky, charming gambler who’d tried so hard to win her friendship and her trust, was in cahoots with Neely Stoner—he was part of this evil plan that put Billy’s life and her own in danger. He was no friend to anyone, only a low-down snake obsessed with his own greed.

  “Don’t worry, Billy, everything will be all right,” she whispered to the boy huddled beside her, and put an arm across his thin shoulders.

  She had convinced Neely to remove the gag at least, but the monster had not allowed her to
untie the ropes binding Billy’s wrists and ankles. The boy moistened his lips and whispered back, “I know.”

  But he sounded scared—as scared as Rebeccah felt.

  Rebeccah’s eyes narrowed as Chance, overhearing the boy’s brave words, laughed out loud.

  “Did you hear that, Stoner? These two think everything’s going to be all right.”

  Neely, coming up behind him, gave an answering grin. “Sure it will—if Reb here decides to talk.”

  “You’d better speak up real soon, too, Rebeccah, because we don’t have any more time,” Chance said. Suddenly he reached down and yanked her to her feet. “If you think that small-time sheriff is going to rescue you, you can just put that thought right out of your mind. He’s got other things to think about right now. Like his boy having disappeared—and his ranch burning down.”

  Chance’s green eyes shone with pleasure as he saw the horror transfix her face and heard Billy’s cry of despair.

  “Want to know my real name, boy?” he asked suddenly, keeping his glance pinned to Rebeccah’s paper-white countenance. “It’s Larson. Earl Larson. Maybe your pa mentioned it to you sometime.”

  Larson. Even as the first whiff of smoke reached her nostrils, a memory stirred inside Rebeccah—Earl Larson was the name of the gambler Clarissa had been with when she’d been killed, caught in cross fire.

  “There was this woman, you see, kid, and she left her weak, sniveling husband and squalling bambino and went traveling—she met up with me and brought me luck—for a while. And then one night I had an ace up my sleeve and got caught—and this hombre wanted to kill me, so I pulled this woman in front of me and used her as a shield while I drew my gun—”

  “Oh, no,” Rebeccah breathed.

  “—and she got the bullet that was meant for me, and saved my life, and I managed to shoot that dirty hombre before he could get off a second shot. Pretty clever, eh, kid? You want to know that woman’s name? It was a real pretty name. ...”

  “No!” Rebeccah cried, and struck him across the face with all her strength. “Shut up!” she shrieked.

  Chance grabbed her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms with brutal force.

  “You’re not in charge here, Reb,” Neely Stoner shouted, leering at her, his rancid breath hot in her face. “And there’s no Bear Rawlings to save you now. It’s just you, the kid, and us. So tell us what we want to know, because we’re running out of time.”

  “Let Billy go and I’ll tell you! I swear I will. But not until he’s safely away from here.”

  “I told you, girl, you’re not in charge!”

  As Chance spun her around so that she faced the other man while he still held her helpless, Stoner raised his arm, swung it back, and smacked her across the jaw. Reeling pain tugged her into blackness for a second, then the world returned, blurred, edged with agony, making her knees buckle and her eyes smart.

  The smell of smoke seemed stronger, seemed to infuse her lungs.

  “Hit her again,” Chance ordered. “That should knock some quick answers out of her.”

  “No! Let her go!” Billy shouted, twisting frantically against his ropes.

  Stoner threw him a contemptuous glance. “Who’s going to make us, kid? You?” he jeered, and lifted his booted foot to kick the boy.

  “No. I am,” Wolf snarled behind him, and with furious strength slammed the butt of his gun against the back of Neely Stoner’s head. Stoner pitched to the ground like a load of pine logs rolled down a hill.

  Chance Navarro yanked Rebeccah across him as a shield and went for his gun. But Wolf was faster, already lunging for Chance’s gun hand. As they struggled over the weapon, grunting and twisting in a deadly contest, Rebeccah wrenched free and fell to her knees beside Billy.

  “Pa!” Billy yelled, biting back tears as for a moment the gun veered toward Wolf’s face.

  Then, with a satisfied grunt, Wolf wrested the revolver away. And in the next instant he landed a staggering right hook to Navarro’s jaw.

  Chance staggered back, shook the dizziness away, and flashed his hand down for his second revolver. But a shot rang out before he or Wolf could draw.

  For a moment Navarro stood, his face blank with surprise. Then the bright stain bloomed across his chest, and he went down with a grisly thud.

  Wolf met Rebeccah’s gaze across the barn. A tiny curl of smoke rose from her derringer.

  “Nice shot.”

  “I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” she whispered.

  She wanted to rush to him, to hold him close and thank God that he was safe. But there was no time for celebrating yet—the smell of smoke now pervaded the barn, and they heard the crackling hiss of the fire. And there was Billy.

  His freckles stood out against his ashen skin, and the taut fear still stamped his face as Wolf cut the ropes with his knife.

  “It’s all right,” Rebeccah soothed him in a steady tone. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Listen to the woman,” Wolf added as he lifted the boy in his arms. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

  Then he and Rebeccah, side by side, with Billy in his arms, ran from the barn.

  The fire was rapidly engulfing the little cabin. Flames shot out the windows and the chimney, and even as they watched, chunks of the roof collapsed with a muffled roar.

  The three of them held each other.

  “It’s all over now,” Wolf said soothingly, as Billy, despite all his efforts, started to cry.

  “Yes, you’re safe now,” Rebeccah told him, stroking his hair, watching with anxious eyes as Billy fought the tide of his emotions.

  “They shot Sam,” he gasped.

  “Sam is fine.” Wolf found it was a relief to smile again in the midst of this devastation. “Toby Pritchard patched him up good as new.”

  Billy’s face lit with sudden joy, cleanly wiping away all traces of the ordeal he’d been through. He smeared a hand across his teary eyes. “Sam! Really? That’s great ... Pa, is the Double B on fire too?” he asked more steadily. “That man said it was burning down. Is it true?”

  “I think so, Billy. But Culley Pritchard and our neighbors are working to put it out. Just like we’re going to work to put this fire out.”

  Rebeccah turned back to the fiery shambles of her cabin. With a heavy heart she thought of all her belongings, of her books, her new lace curtains, the pretty paintings on the walls.

  “It’s all right,” she told herself and Wolf, as he set Billy down and swung a bracing arm around her. And she meant each word as she spoke them. “They’re only possessions. We’re all safe. That’s all that matters.”

  “This woman here is wise beyond her years,” Wolf told Billy. “Pay attention to her.” But his eyes lingered intently on Rebeccah’s drawn face. “I love you,” he told her roughly as he watched the various emotions flit across her vividly expressive countenance and saw her come to grips with each of them. His arm tightened, solid and strong, around her. “Damn it, Rebeccah, I love you. And I want to stand here and take you in my arms and make you feel better somehow, but there’s no time. I’ve got to get the horses and that varmint Stoner out of there before the barn catches fire.”

  “Stoner!” Billy’s eyes shone wildly. “No! Leave him! Can’t you just let him die, Pa? No one would care! He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “I can’t do that, Billy.” Wolf threw a measuring look at his son. “That would be murder, not justice.” He dropped a firm hand to his son’s shoulder and went on quickly. “That man in there is as bad and vicious as they come, but the law will deal with him. He’ll get his comeuppance, but it’ll be through the courts and the hangman’s noose, just like those men who killed Uncle Jimmy. Stoner’s punishment is not for you or me to say. All we can do is uphold the law. But the law will get him, son. I’ll see to that.”

  “Your father is right, Billy,” Rebeccah added softly, giving the boy an encouraging smile. Hard as it was to accept, she knew that Wolf was right. There had
been enough violence, enough hatred and death. Survival was one thing, revenge quite another. Wolf’s beliefs, his integrity, his respect for the law, were what set him apart from violent and unscrupulous men like Navarro and Stoner and, yes, even from Bear. She would always love her father, but she knew that Wolf Bodine was a fairer, wiser, stronger man than Bear Rawlings had ever been. At that moment she loved him more than ever.

  “It takes a strong man to do what is right,” she told the boy, and saw him slowly nod.

  The next few moments passed in a blur of frantic activity as Rebeccah and Wolf and Billy hurriedly led the horses from the barn and Wolf dragged Stoner’s and Navarro’s bodies away from the wooden structure. He tied up Stoner with what was left of the rope, in case the outlaw came to, though there was no sign of that happening.

  Wolf sent Billy to ride for help. But the cabin was lost, Rebeccah knew, as she and Wolf futilely tossed countless bucketfuls of stream water on the snapping, hissing flames.

  “I’m sorry,” Wolf shouted as the roof caved in. He put his bucket down to come to her and waved an arm toward the crumbling cabin. “Too little, too late.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” A tremulous smile curved her lips. She gazed into his weary, beloved face and touched the black streaks of soot filming his bronzed skin, tracing her finger lightly along his cheek. “We’ll start over, Wolf. You, me, and Billy, we’ll start over—together.”

  The past was dead—for both of them. They could leave the nightmares and the pain of past hurts behind and look ahead to the future. Buildings didn’t matter. Curtains and sofas and rugs didn’t matter. The trust and the love and the passionate, unbreakably tender bond between them did.

  What was more important than that?

  Pulling her firmly into his arms, Wolf pressed a fervent kiss against her hair. He’d never thought he’d feel this way about any woman, or expected that he’d have a chance again at this kind of happiness. Rebeccah had healed his emptiness, brought him life, love, hope. Who would have ever thought that Rebeccah Rawlings, the filthy, scrawny kid he dug out from beneath a grimy bed, would turn out to be his own personal miracle?