Carole Howey - Sheik's Glory

by Carole Howey

  "Seamus, what"

  Missy broke off. There was a reason why Seamus Muldaur was there, leading Glory back into an inferno rather than out of it, and it was not to help them. Any of them.

  "Damn it," she heard him mutter again.

  Annoyance. She was inconveniencing him, she guessed. He meant for Glory to perish in the flames that he'd undoubtedly started, although it was anyone's guess as to why. If only she could see properly!

  "Where's Gideon?" she demanded, sitting up. The boy could not be far with Glory nearby, she thought,

  feeling a spark of hope. Unless Seamus had already found him and done something unspeakable . . . She staggered to her feet, blotting her stinging eyes with her sleeve. "Where's Gideon, Seamus? I don't know why you've done this, but you've been found out. You'd best just give it up, before . . ."

  She trailed off. She wished she could see the congressman's face, for it might help her know what he was thinking. His silence was not reassuring.

  "He's in there," Flynn's brother said at last, and she made out a vague gesture toward Glory's smoking stall. "With the horse."

  Missy squinted at him, but her eyes stung and watered anew and she saw him no more clearly than before.

  "No, he isn't," she argued, trying to maintain a steady tone despite her dread. "I looked already."

  His shrug was big enough for her to see. "Look again."

  She gritted her teeth and tried to glare. "Damn it, Seamus, this is no time for games!"

  "That's where I left him." He was indifferent. "Over there."

  Beyond Glory was a pile of hay in a corner, not smoldering yet, thank heaven. Glory, restive and snorting in the smoke, seemed to be standing guard over it. Missy felt her way along the wall, dropped to her knees, and pushed the hay aside. Gideon was there, all right, in a heap like so much used bedding. He did not move when she prodded, then rolled him onto his back.

  "Gideon!" She shook him. She wished she could see! As it was, all she had was her hands to try to determine how badly the boy was injured, or indeed if he was still alive. She pressed her ear to his chest. "Gideon!"

  There was a heartbeat. The boy stirred. Missy's relief was tempered by urgency.

  "Take Glory out of here," she ordered Seamus, hooking Gideon's limp right arm across her shoulder. "I'll get Gideon."

  "I think not." Seamus's refusal was crisp.

  "Damn it, Seamus, it's not up to you!" Missy lashed out fiercely. "Hurry, there isn't much time. I'm bringing Gideon out now, and you'd best get out of my way!"

  Gideon moaned. The sound was nearly drowned out by Seamus's ugly, hollow laugh. "You can't even see which way to turn," he taunted her. "You'll never make it out of here without my help."

  He was right, she realized with a shudder. Even if she could lift Gideon, and that seemed ever more unlikely, she doubted she could see to get them both out safely. "Then help us, damn it!"

  "He don't mean for us to get out." Gideon coughed weakly and tried to sit up. "I found him in here spreadin' kerosene around when I came in to say good night to Glory. I tried to get the drop on him, but he was too quick for me."

  His young voice was raw with regret. Just like the boy, she thought with a rush of tenderness: to take on a man's job and expect to prevail. She hugged him to her, brushing his lank hair with her fingers.

  "I know. But never mind that now," Missy soothed, with a quick kiss on his brow, hoping to impart reassurance that she was far from feeling. "We have to get you out of here, and I can't see. My eyes . . . Can you stand?"

  "I fell. I think my leg's broke. I"

  The rest of Gideon's reply was lost in the sound of the stall door slamming shut behind them.

  "I didn't mean for either of you to die," Seamus, his voice a rasp, said on the other side of it. "But I can't let you live as witnesses. I spent quite a bit of money insuring this place against fire, and it doesn't figure into my plans to end my days in disgrace and ruin." Missy heard the bolt drop into place.

  She and Gideon were locked in with Glory. There was the window, but it was high up and rather small. Gideon might have made it if he were unhurt, but he couldn't possibly get out with a broken leg. And she could not leave him behind, even if she could see to escape herself. She held her mounting panic in check by force of will alone.

  ''You're mad, or else you're a fool. How could you have insured the C-Bar-C?" she challenged Seamus. "Application for insurance has to be filed by the owners." She recited the words like a Bible lesson; she knew her business. Besides, she needed to keep his attention fixed on her, to play for time while she tried to think of a plan for escape. "An affidavit must be signed. Flynn and I never"

  A blade of acrid smoke stabbed deep in Missy's breast and a fit of coughing took her. Glory snorted and pawed the straw. Gideon's hands took hold of her shoulders as she sank down, seeking whatever remaining air might be found on the floor. To her left, a small flame sprouted from the straw. Gideon clumsily beat it out with his sleeve.

  "Madeleine and I played a masquerade before we came here." Seamus's voice was muffled by a kerchief, she guessed but she could nevertheless hear the crowing note of pride in it. "On our way here, we posed as you and Flynn and we purchased the policy in Pierre, along with a rider on the brood mares. I wouldn't have used it at all, except that Flynn was so damned unreasonable about everything."

  "You're lying," she pronounced, unable to conceal her disdain. "A selfish, amoral opportunist like yourself never has any compunction about his action. You sicken me." She coughed again and gained no relief.

  "Really, I'm not the monster you make me out to be. I have nothing personal against you, or Gideon, or even my brother, when it comes to it," Seamus argued genially. He sounded farther away; he was probably making for the rear door. "But Flynn made it clear to me the other day that this time it was him or me. And I damned well can't let it be me. I have too much to lose now: a wife, a position. Power. Money. Friends. Twelve years ago it was different."

  "What was different, Seamus?" A new voice cut through the thickening smoke like a diamond through glass. "Were you less greedy? Less selfish? Or was I merely more of a fool?"

  Missy's heart found new hope. "Flynn!"

  "Damn, Flynn, not you, too!" Seamus sounded disheartened. Missy prayed he would give up this madness at last. She hugged Gideon closer to her and breathed a quick prayer.

  "Let her out of there, Seamus. Missy, are you all right? Is Gideon with you?"

  Missy recognized Flynn's tone: he had not an ounce of charity left in him. Or more probably, given his weakened, injured state, not an ounce of strength. What if Seamus refused?

  "I can't see," she called in answer. "And Gideon's leg is broken." There was no need to tell him that Glory was in there with them; no doubt he could see the top of her head, and surely he could hear the mare's nervous snorting and nickering.

  "Let them out," Flynn ordered his brother again.

  Gideon fidgeted in Missy's embrace as she held her breath waiting for Seamus's answer. "I got my pocketknife here, Miss," he whispered. "If you help me, I can make it to the door and try to work the bolt myself."

  The street urchin Gideon, she was sure, was schooled in such tasks as opening locks designed to keep intruders out. If Flynn could distract Seamus long enough, they might be able to effect their own escape and Glory's, and assist Flynn in the process.

  "Damn it, Flynn, why couldn't you have stayed outside?"

  There was real anguish in Seamus's question. Missy supposed he had not counted on having to kill his brother, as well. She listened hard as she grabbed Gideon under each of his arms and dragged him across the stall. She felt maddeningly weak and clumsy, but soon Gideon was propped up by the door. She could see nothing but the dark shape of him against the ambient glow from the encroaching fire.

  "Let them out, Seamus," Flynn repeated, sounding harder still. "I don't want to kill you, but by God I will if I have to."

  Seamus responded with a small, doubtful laugh.
>
  "You're all bluff, little brother," he said with gentle, chilling malice. "Look at you. You can scarcely stand from that beating you took the other day, yet you threaten me with death. Me, your only brother. How do you mean to accomplish the murder? With words and a hard look? I don't die so easily, you'll find."

  "Look around you, Seamus." Flynn tried again. "This place is going to go any second, and if we don't suffocate first we'll all be burned to death." Missy prayed that Seamus could not hear the desperation she heard in Flynn's reasoning. "And for what? So Madeleine can buy another Worth gown? I thought you had more sense than that."

  Missy heard the quiet scrape of Gideon's knife sliding about in the crack of the door.

  "I have no intention of dying," the congressman replied softly.

  "If you think I'm going to let you just walk out of here, you're dead wrong."

  "Come on, Miss!" Gideon called her in an excited

  whisper. "I've got it! Grab Glory's lead. Let's get out of here!"

  How? Missy wondered, batting the air in an effort to locate Glory's dangling lead. She snagged it at last and crawled toward the shape that was Gideon, crouched in the corner by the door.

  There was a crash against the outside of the stall door, followed by the sound of the latch dropping into place again. Gideon swore softly and pried his knife into the crevice again. The door rattled several times more; Missy knew the men were scuffling in the corridor.

  "Hurry, Gid!" she urged. Seamus knew of Flynn's injuries; he would know where his opponent was weakest. Flynn had provided a distraction while Gideon worked the lock; now they had to provide Flynn with relief. Quickly.

  The latch gave again. Missy shoved Glory's lead into Gideon's hand and leaned into the door with all her weight. It yielded with much greater ease than she expected and she stumbled to her knees as it got away from her. But it was open. There was no barrier between them and safety.

  Except for their own infirmities.

  Two shadows fell before her, grunting and rolling in the straw. Missy blinked and made out Flynn and his brother. Neither man was throwing any punches, she realized. It was likely Flynn could not, so he seemed to be trying to keep Seamus pinned so that he couldn't either. Desperate, Missy felt around for something to strike Seamus with.

  "Go, Missy!" Flynn wheezed. "Take Gideon and get out!"

  The figures rolled again and Missy saw one more make a quick jab at the other's midsection. The ensuing groan was Flynn's. He lay still in the carpet of smoldering straw. "Damn it, Flynn." Seamus was bitter as he got to his feet. "This is your fault, you know."

  Missy knew he was addressing her, but whatever he had to say did not matter. She crawled to the immobile form on the floor that was Flynn and lifted his head to cradle it in her lap.

  "Flynn," she murmured, patting his sooty, beard-roughened cheek. "Please wake up! Please!"

  "Pray that he doesn't," she heard Seamus pant behind her. "The end 'll be much easier for him, then."

  Missy's head hurt. The smoke, she thought numbly, had finally poisoned her past endurance. She couldn't see Flynn; she could only feel his cheek and the weight of his head, unmoving, in her lap. She would not leave him now, even if she could. She could say something to Seamus, she realized through the growing darkness gathering in her brain. Curse him. But it no longer mattered to her. She drowsed, and she was in another stable, another time, a stable that was not on fire but rather was cold and dreary, a stable where she had first met Gideon and Flynn. . . .

  "Glory!" Gideon's frantic voice reached her ears. "Hie! Hie!"

  Now I'm going to feel the pain of a separated shoulder, Missy mused sleepily. And I'm going to fall to the dirty straw in my best dress.

  But she was already on her knees. And her shoulder, she realized, dazed, did not hurt her in the least.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Another beam crashed to the ground somewhere near the heart of the stable and overhead the roof creaked. Flynn opened his eyes as if God himself had exhorted him to do so.

  His side was on fire like the stable, but his two legs worked, he knew. He had to get them out of there.

  "Missy," he croaked through parched lips. "Help me up. Missy!"

  She was bowed over him. She shook her head weakly and coughed. "Flynn," she murmured. Her eyes opened, but they teared and seemed to focus on nothing. She squeezed them tightly shut again.

  "Come on, sweetheart," he urged her. "Help me get up. The roof's about to give way."

  That stirred her to action. Enduring more bayonet lances of pain, Flynn made it to his feet and helped Missy to hers, holding on to both of her hands.

  "Gideon," she rasped. "And Glory."

  Flynn looked. There was Gideon on the floor, holding the end of Glory's long lead. Seamus was on the floor, too, prone, as still as death. Flynn couldn't tell for certain, but it looked as if blood was issuing from his brother's left ear.

  "Glory took care of him," Gideon reported, wearing a cold, ancient gleam in his young, dark eyes. "I know you told me never to sucker-punch nobody, but I don't guess we had a choice. Even so, I ain't sorry. Bastard broke my leg." Gideon sent a long glare at Seamus.

  "I'm going to take Missy outside, Gid," Flynn said softly. "I'll be right back for you and Glory. Okay?"

  The boy nodded, game as a trooper.

  The stable looked even worse from the outside. The entire structure was aflame like a giant torch. It was a testament to the building's integrity, or more likely a miracle, that it was still standing. It couldn't last much longer, that was sure. Flynn led Missy a few yards away and made her sit down on the ground.

  "Don't you budge," he warned her, hoping she meant to listen this time. "No matter what. I'm going back for the others."

  Half trotting, half stumbling, he made for the doorway, making some rash bargains with the Almighty as he did so. Gideon was almost unconscious by the time he got to him; Seamus seemed not to have moved at all. Flynn wondered, detached, if he was dead. No time to speculate or even to check. Gritting his teeth, he hoisted Gideon across his shoulder. Damn, but the boy was a load! He might look skinny, but Flynn guessed it was all muscle and sinew.

  "Glory," Gideon muttered.

  Flynn realized the boy still had the mare's lead in his grip. Glory seemed strangely calm, as if she sensed that, despite their danger, she was going to be all right.

  The burning roof groaned a warning.

  "I think a few less biscuits with your breakfast, if you mean for me to do this again." Flynn tried to sound jovial, but Gideon didn't answer. "Come on, girl."

  The mare came along as docilely as a pet, but Flynn could not pause to wonder at that miracle. It had more than a little to do with Gideon himself, he guessed. There was a bond between the boy and the mare; he'd known that, but he'd never seen it more clearly exhibited than right now in the midst of this unholy conflagration. She seemed to want to go with him, not to escape from the fire and smoke, but to make certain that Gideon came to no further harm.

  Flynn set Gideon down by Missy, who was sitting up and staring blankly. The brilliance from the blaze made them both look like golden statues.

  "Hold on to that lead, boy," Flynn advised, breathing hard. "I'm going back for Seamus."

  "Flynn . . ." Missy's plea trailed off, and her chin dropped an inch.

  "I'll be all right." He tried to sound reassuring. "I made a deal with God a little while ago."

  As he turned, there was a loud cry of objection from the stable and, with a mighty, terrible roar, the entire roof collapsed inward, sending a column of sparks, smoke, and ash heavenward. God had exacted payment for his mercy. Flynn dropped to his knees, compelled by the sight. He said a brief, silent prayer for his brother's soul and could not help wondering if Seamus would have done the same for him.

  "Flynn? Flynn, what's happened?" Missy's voice was charred.

  "He's it's too late." He scarcely breathed the words. His chest throbbed with a pain that had nothing whatever to do with
the smoke he'd inhaled, or his injuries. "Bleeding saints," Gideon, on the ground somewhere behind him, intoned reverently. "The whole thing just . . . went down. I never seen nothin' like it, Miss."

  Neither had Flynn. A sob caught in his throat that was part regret, but mostly relief.

  "I'm sorry, Flynn."

  She was, he knew. He felt a rush of tenderness that was in no way painful swell his breast. She genuinely was. He wished he could be. Instead of answering her, he lay down beside her and looked up at the night sky. The light breeze was blowing the other way; there was little smoke from the burning stable to obscure the stars. He found her fingers and laced them with his.

  "The stars are fine tonight," he told her.