Divided Heart

by Sheryl Marcoux

  “I’ll rustle them up,” Clayton said. “But you’re the only one who’s handy with a rifle, Zachariah. You’ll have to hide and pick them off while the rest of us keep them busy shooting.”

  You fools don’t know what you’re up against. The fact that the gang was wanted everywhere from Kansas to Texas meant that no one had yet outgunned or outsmarted them. The leader, whoever he was, knew what he was doing.

  Nate walked away from the bars and kicked back on the bed, glad this wasn’t his problem. In fact, he’d be gone before it even happened, since he was leaving on the morning stagecoach. He folded his hands behind his head and cast a smirk at Zachariah. The man, deep in thought, looked as if he would have to earn his wages.

  “And you think they’ll not shoot back and kill some of you?” Hattie asked. “There’s a better way.”

  “And what way is that?” Zachariah asked.

  “I kept one of my old dresses,” Hattie said, tightening her shawl around her.

  Nate didn’t like the sound of that. He sat up.

  “I can distract them,” Hattie said. “They’re just men. I’m sure I’ve handled worse.”

  Nate threw himself off the bed. Using Hattie to distract this gang of killers suddenly made this his problem. “You can’t do this, Hattie. These men are killers. I saw them shoot a man.”

  “What?” Zachariah shot back at Nate. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Well, Zachariah,” Nate said sarcastically, “I know you think mighty highly of yourself, but I didn’t think you were high and mighty enough to heal a man with a gunshot wound. I brought him to the doctor that first night I was in town and let him handle it. Haven’t seen the man since. I assume he left town as soon as he was able to get away from the gang.”

  “Nate!” Hattie exclaimed.

  “Stay out of this. It’s not your responsibility.” Nate growled.

  “He’s right,” Clayton said.

  But Hattie was too bullheaded to listen. “No, Nate, you stay out of this.”

  Nate turned to Zachariah and demanded, “You’re the sheriff. You have no business putting her life on the line.”

  “He’s right,” Zachariah said to Hattie.

  For the first time since they were children, Nate and Zachariah agreed on something.

  But the two of them teaming up against Hattie only caused her to fire back at Nate. “Mind your business and let me mind mine.”

  Then she spouted the specifics of her plans to Zachariah. Plans about distracting the gang on their way into town. Plans that Zachariah didn’t seem to like.

  Nate wasn’t listening to her for another moment. “The only thing she’ll lure the Krugar Gang into doing is killing her.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Hattie said to Zachariah. “I can do this. I know I can.”

  “And I know you can’t,” Nate said.

  Hattie growled at him. “This is our business.”

  Nate pleaded with her, “It’s just money.”

  “No, Nate, it’s the town’s money,” Hattie said. “These people worked hard for every cent of it. So I’m doing this for the people I love. I’m doing this for Ramsden.”

  “You just told me that money can’t fix what hurts you, so why are you risking your life for it?” Nate said. “Zachariah, don’t listen to her. She’s crazy.”

  The room went quiet, until Hattie broke the silence. “I owe everything to this town.” She glanced from Clayton to Zachariah and then glared at Nate. “And I owe him nothing. I’ll be in front of the saloon at eleven o’clock sharp, Zachariah.” She tore her gaze off Nate and closed the door hard behind her.

  “Don’t do it, Hattie!” Nate tugged at the accursed bars. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

  27

  Monday morning brought Hattie back to her usual chores but in a hollow way. After returning from Kate’s, she succumbed to slumping in a chair and crying, knowing that with each passing minute a stagecoach was taking Nate further away. But she had to pull herself together. She had another thing to do today.

  She drew the red dress Nate had given her years ago out of her trunk and clutched it close. She could never get rid of it, not because it was such a fine and fancy dress, but because Nate had given it to her. If only you knew what love was.

  She bit her lip. What love meant for her was that Zachariah, Clayton, and the whole town could count on her. If only they fully realized what she was giving up for them.

  She couldn’t look in the mirror as she peeled off the modest calico dress of a virtuous woman and slipped into the off-the-shoulder-dress of the saloon girl she’d left behind.

  Lord, I don’t want to do this.

  She didn’t want to stand in front of the saloon. She didn’t want to be a floozy again, flirting with dirty men. She didn’t want old folks to remember what she was and new folks to learn about her past. But most of all, she didn’t want to be anywhere near Boss, who’d beat her and imprisoned her—and still scared her half to death.

  But Zachariah, her guardian angel, would take care of her. Wouldn’t he?

  She pulled her hair down from its bun. Forcing herself to face the mirror, she draped her hair over her shoulder and brushed the black tresses until they shone, and there she was once again. Hard-as-nails Hattie Brown.

  She felt fragile as glass.

  You may look it on the outside, but in your heart, you’re not that woman any more. The Lord’s voice spoke to her, assured her.

  She was a woman with a higher purpose and that purpose involved stopping a gang from hurting anyone in her town. She’d handled cantankerous men and rowdies who liked to pick fights. But could she handle outlaws? Outright killers?

  Did Nate really see them shoot a man and leave him for dead? He wasn’t exactly reliable, was he? He was so adamant about her not getting involved.

  But she had to prove to him how much this town meant to her. Or maybe she was deeply drawn into trying to prove to herself what Nate didn’t mean to her. Whatever the reason, she was now in it up to her neck, and it was time to go. Everyone was counting on her. On her way out the door, she spotted the money envelope her father had left her and snatched it up. She’d best give it to Zachariah, just in case Nate was right.

  ~*~

  Nate looked out the window of the stagecoach at the passing scrub. He was tired and sore from what had turned out to be a futile struggle with Zachariah, but most of all, he was worried about Hattie.

  Hoping to escape so he could stop her from carrying out her plan, he’d fought with all his might from boarding the stagecoach. “You’re supposed to be the sheriff,” he’d shouted at Zachariah. “You should be doing your job and not having a woman do it for you. You’ll get her killed.”

  But Zachariah had outmuscled him, bound his hands and feet, and forced him inside the stagecoach. Zachariah had even saddled his horse and escorted the stagecoach until Nate was well out of town.

  Nate was so consumed with Hattie’s role in their harebrained plan to capture the gang that he hadn’t even thought of saying good-bye to his mother, but Zachariah remembered and promised to do it for him. Was Nate supposed to be grateful to him?

  And now Nate was so far away from Ramsden that even if he could turn the stagecoach around, he’d never get back in time to stop Hattie from taking part in their crazy plan. And that took the last ounce of struggle out of him. “Hey,” he shouted to the driver. “Think you can take these ropes off me now?”

  The stagecoach stopped, and a man who wasn’t the driver came down and approached the window. “I’ll untie you on condition you promise to act like a gentleman.”

  Hattie’s father?

  Did he know what Hattie was up to? Not likely, and there was no reason to worry the man by telling him about something neither of them could stop.

  “There’s no need to fight anymore.” Nate offered his bound wrists.

  “Good,” Parker said. “Because you were, shall I say, a bit quarrelsome with the sheriff, which is
why I sat outside with the driver, until such time as you decided to settle down. Personally, I’d rather be sitting in here where the seat is softer.” He called to the driver, “I’ll keep an eye on him” and then climbed inside.

  After untying Nate, Parker sat opposite him. “As I recall, you were the man I saw at the eatery with Miss Hattie,” Parker said. “Might you be courting her?”

  “I thought I might have been, but it looks as though she has other plans that don’t include me.” Nate shook off the tingling in his hands.

  “I’m afraid I’m sitting in the same stagecoach because her plans don’t include me, either,” Parker said.

  “Seems I can’t give her what she wants.”

  “Which is?”

  “She claims I don’t love her enough, but I do, Mr. Parker.”

  “Well, Mister−”

  “Nathan Powell. Call me Nate.” They shook hands.

  “Well, Nate, if you indeed love her as much as you say you do, then you’d be a fool to leave her. So, why are you, son? What happened between you?”

  “What happened is that she’s too hardheaded.” Nate checked his chain watch and then rubbed his jaw. It was almost twelve o’clock. If he was a praying man, he’d be praying for her now. Zachariah had better take good care of her. “She wouldn’t come back with me to Massachusetts.”

  Parker frowned. “Massachusetts?”

  “That’s where I live, and I’m well-established.”

  “She seemed mighty content to live in Ramsden,” Parker said. “Everyone seemed to know her there and think well of her.”

  Well enough to put her in danger. “Perhaps you noticed,” Nate said, “that the sheriff and I don’t get along well.”

  “I did, son. But I couldn’t help thinking it was more like you not getting along well with him. He is the sheriff.”

  Nate snorted. “He’s nothing but a two-bit hired hand who happens to be taller than everyone else.”

  “So that’s why they made him sheriff?” Parker smiled.

  Had they not been talking about Zachariah, Nate might have returned the smile.

  “If I may impart upon you the hard-earned wisdom of an older man, I might say that I also heard how you spoke to him. You think you’re better than he is. No person is better than another, and our Lord proved that’s a fact because He died for us all, regardless.”

  Nate turned to the window and the view of brown grass and bushes outside. “I hope you won’t preach at me all the way to Kansas.”

  “No, I’m won’t, but if you’ll bear with a man of regret one moment longer, I will lecture you on the love of a fine woman. You see, son, sometimes there’s one special lady who graces a man’s path during his lifetime. A woman whose love is as soft as a rose petal and as solid as an oak. And if you let something else you think is more important stop you from having her, before you know it, a lifetime’s over, and you find yourself with no memories of holding her in your arms in your bed at night or saying grace at mealtimes with the children she has borne you. All you’re left with is the emptiness of what could have been.” His gray-blue eyes clouded over. “If God has offered her to you, then nothing of this world is worth giving her up for, son. Nothing.” Parker blew his nose and stayed silent for a time.

  Nate felt the emptiness suggested in Parker’s words.

  The horses ahead stirred clouds of dust as the two men looked away from each other and let the stiff stagecoach joggle and jolt their spiritless bodies.

  Then, something outside the window caught Parker’s attention, and he straightened. “If you’ll excuse me, son, but you wouldn’t happen to have a pistol on you, would you?”

  That was a ridiculous question, considering the circumstances.

  “No.”

  “Then,” Parker said, “I suspect we’re about to be robbed.”

  ~*~

  Hattie stood in front of the saloon, knowing Boss was watching her from the window.

  He had nothing to do with the plan, just the displeasure of it taking place in front of his business where a stray bullet might bust a window, or worse, his precious mirror.

  She could feel the heat of Boss’s eyes on her, coveting her body, wanting to possess her soul once again. Though she felt faint, she held her head straight, looking strong for Zachariah. She caught a glimpse of him on the rooftop of the telegraph office. Clayton’s shape was behind the curtain in the sheriff’s office. There were five other men hiding behind doors and in alleys nearby, merchants, blacksmiths, men who barely knew how to pull a trigger. The Reverend was nowhere to be found. Thank goodness for that. He’d once told her he was opposed to guns and that was a good thing, because he was so butterfingered, guns were likely even more opposed to him.

  Ramsden was as well prepared as it could be for the Krugar Gang.

  Hattie fanned herself with her hand. It wasn’t so much the heat as it was her nerves.

  Then Zachariah raised his rifle over his head. That was the signal. It was time to sway her hips.

  Though she didn’t take pride in it, strutting in a way she’d once mastered came back easily. Every man she’d encountered in her years working at the saloon had been easily diverted with that walk, and once distracted, they became dumber than dirt. She’d send them an inviting smile, breathe some sweet talk in their ears, and pickpocket their guns. Easy as pie.

  Just hopefully not the kind of pies she made.

  Hooves pounded the earth and sent the dust swirling as the gang started down Main Street. While her hips swayed, her heart thundered.

  Killers.

  But the odds were in her favor of catching their fancies, since there weren’t many women in these parts. Especially women who looked like her.

  Four riders, cocky as roosters ready for the butcher’s ax, were riding into her trap.

  She cast a glance at Zachariah. We can do this. I know we can.

  The front rider reached Hattie and came to a halt but signaled the others to keep going. She’d hoped they all would have stopped, so why hadn’t they? When the rider got down from the horse and approached Hattie, she got her answer. She was in a lot of trouble.

  This person was the last one Hattie expected to encounter.

  ~*~

  A shot rang out, and the stagecoach came to a jarring halt.

  “Hands in the air.” A masked man yelled.

  Neither Nate nor Parker had a pistol to fight back. They looked up to the driver.

  “He shot it right out of my hand,” the driver said.

  All three raised their hands.

  The outlaw unhitched a horse from the stagecoach and led it beside his own. He pointed to the driver and Parker. “You and you, back on the stagecoach.” He smacked the still hitched horse so it took off running, taking the stagecoach. He pointed at Nate. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Now listen,” Nate started, but the man interrupted him.

  “There’s no time for this.” He tugged off his cover.

  Nate’s jaw dropped. “Cadwell?”

  Cadwell tied a rope around the neck of the horse. “Since you already know about me, and no one believes you anyway, I need your help.”

  “What kind of help do you possibly think I’d want to give you?” Nate asked.

  “The kind that will benefit us both.” Cadwell mounted the horse, bareback. “Hattie’s been captured by Joe Krugar.”

  28

  The horse beneath Nate was swift. In no time he’d caught up to Cadwell, whose horse chopped up the dry grass with its hooves. Bareback riding at this speed proved Cadwell was an excellent horseman. Shooting, acting…was there anything this man couldn’t do well?

  “Who are you?” Nate asked.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters is that I’m on your side,” Cadwell answered. “For the time being, anyway.”

  “And what exactly does your alliance entail?” Nate asked.

  “I have my own agenda, but right now what I want just happens to coincide with what you wan
t. I take it you do want to get Hattie out of her present situation?” Cadwell looked toward Nate for an answer.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me fill you in on what I know, and I’d appreciate you not wasting time by asking how I know it.” It took some concentration on Cadwell’s part, but he rode impressively well bareback at a full run.

  Nate would have fallen off at this speed.

  “When I learned the gang was coming to Ramsden, I left a note warning the sheriff and recommending he evacuate everyone from the main street and let the gang go ahead and rob the bank. I was afraid it might escalate into a shootout, with no one left standing but the gang. I planned to catch up to the gang on the outskirts of town and get the money back, and that should have been the end of it.”

  Cadwell’s recommendations to the town left Nate again questioning Cadwell’s affiliation with the gang—and whether cooperating with him was a wise idea. “Interesting plan,” Nate said.

  When he’d been in the jailhouse, Zachariah had mentioned nothing about letting the gang rob the bank. Why would Zachariah leave that part out?

  Nate knew why. “Zachariah’s not one to back down,” he admitted.

  “Apparently neither is Hattie,” Cadwell added. “Good woman.” He cast a long glance at Nate, making a point.

  “I told her not to get involved in this,” Nate said.

  “What exactly was she trying to do?” Cadwell said.

  “Use her feminine wiles to outsmart the gang.” He gave a shake of his head. “She could charm her way into snatching a gun right out of a man’s hand. I’ve seen her do it back when she worked in the saloon.” The part about the saloon had slipped. But then again, the man riding beside him was no saint, either.

  “What she tried to do was courageous,” Cadwell said. “And a woman as beautiful as she is all dressed up?” He gave a smile of appreciation at the thought. “It might have distracted the men, but it wouldn’t have worked on Joe.”

  Nate eyed the man riding alongside him. No one even knew what Joe Krugar, the gang’s leader, looked like because no one could get a picture of him. Not even a sketch. But Cadwell talked about him as if he knew him personally. “You seem awfully familiar with him.”