by Linda Broday
The boy glared at the men. “We don’t know where he is.”
“That true?” The deputy marshal yanked him away from Nora and put his face into the boy’s. “You know what we do to little boys who lie, don’t you?”
Sawyer bravely shook his head, but he was shaking. Nora could do nothing but watch. And wait. Oh, if only she had a gun. She’d put a bullet in both Belew and Darius.
“We throw ’em in jail and let the rats gnaw on them. And this ma of yours we’ll put in leg shackles and make her work from sunup to sundown.”
“That’s enough!” Nora yelled. “Leave the boy alone.”
“What are we going to do?” Guthrie asked. “He has us pinned down.”
Belew put a hand to his head. “I’m thinking!”
Time crept by. The baby began to cry. Nora rocked her, crooning soothing words.
Finally, the marshal appeared to reach a conclusion. Yanking Nora, Willow, and Sawyer in front of him, he went to the door and flung it open. “We’re coming out, Bowdre! Give yourself up or the woman and brats are gonna die!”
Darius Guthrie limped behind, and once they were a yard from the house, stuck his gun under Nora’s chin. The tracker’s cold, dead eyes glared into hers. “How much do you value your woman, Bowdre? I’ll give you ’til the count of three.”
The early morning shadows slid around them. Nora said a silent prayer, begging Jack to stay hidden.
Guthrie shouted. “One!”
Willow’s cries became insistent and Nora could do nothing. Both men’s cruel grips on her brought tears to her eyes. She glanced around, praying to see the kind marshal returning. If only someone would come to their aid.
A second later, she jumped when Guthrie yelled out, “Two!”
“I don’t think he’s going to save you,” Belew growled next to her ear.
Oh God! She was going to die. If he killed her, what would they do to the children? Had they saved Willow only to watch her die?
A chilling grin formed on Guthrie’s mouth. “Three! Time’s up.”
“Wait.” Sweat trickled down Nora’s spine. “I’ll give you the ledger.”
“That’s more like it.” Darius’s rank breath, his face so close to hers, the gun pressing into the soft flesh under her chin—it all made her ill. She would give up the book to save Sawyer and Willow.
Willow’s loud cries shredded her attempt to remain calm.
“But you have to let the children go. It’s the only way.”
“You stupid fool!” Belew shouted at Guthrie. “I want Bowdre, not some damn book.”
Before anyone could move, a gun cocked, and the dark barrel of a .45 poked into Guthrie’s neck. A woman grated out, “I wouldn’t do that, mister. Lower your weapon and be quick about it—if you care about living.”
Seventeen
Nora stared at her ally, whose face was hidden by the brim of her hat. She wore a long, dark duster, and tendrils of red hair hung to her waist. She didn’t know who the woman was or where she’d come from, but Nora could’ve hugged her. She jiggled Willow and the baby’s cries hushed.
Darius didn’t move. Belew’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
The two rough men in buffalo robes inched toward their horses. “Go on. Get out of here.” The woman issued the order without taking her eyes from Guthrie.
They stumbled to their mounts, leaped into the saddles, and raced away.
“You gentlemen enjoy pain, I suppose. Entirely your choice. I dearly love showing a rotten, no-good bottom-feeder the error of his ways.” The woman’s voice was as soft as satin, but underneath lay pure granite and a whole lot of anger.
Frustration went through Nora at being unable to see her savior’s face, but she imagined a sly smile accompanied the threat.
“Sweetheart, I do think they need to be convinced,” drawled a tall, lean man. He walked toward them, leading two horses. He held a long-barreled gun in his other hand, pointed at Guthrie and Belew. “I tell you, gentlemen, you don’t want to mess with my wife. Tally’s got deadly aim, and I’ve never known her to miss a target.” He jammed his gun into Belew’s stomach, and the angry marshal let out a whoosh of air. “And if that’s not enough to convince you to toss your guns, I would feel terrible if I didn’t warn you—you won’t be the first she put in a grave.”
“I am Deputy U.S. Marshal Seamus Belew.” The man was still defiant. “You’re interrupting a lawman in the performance of his duty.”
The tall, dark-haired cowboy pointed to Sawyer. “Is that boy under arrest? How about the woman?”
“Not exactly. Though Guthrie here claims she stole a book from his boss.”
The rugged man grinned and winked at his wife. Nora liked this couple. “He’s all yours, sweetheart. I’ll take care of the slimy one.”
“Go ahead and fire. The rest of the posse will come running,” Belew snarled and dropped his pistol. “You won’t get far.”
Tally’s husband leaned close. “Sorry to ruin your plans, but I’ve taken care of them already. They’re too far away to hear gunshots. They think they’re hot on Bowdre’s heels.”
His wife gave the men a cold smile. “Now which is it?” She seemed to enjoy striking terror into Guthrie. Nora had no doubt if he moved a muscle, she’d kill him. “Take your grimy hands off the lady or I’ll blow you into hell faster than you can spit.”
With a growl, Guthrie released Nora and threw his gun at Tally’s feet. She kicked it well out of reach. Nora pulled Sawyer close and backed up. Darius Guthrie stared a hole in her, his message clear. No matter what happened here, she hadn’t seen the last of him.
A shudder raced through her. Would she survive their next meeting?
Fresh blood had soaked the bandana Guthrie had tied around his wound. Nora motioned to his thigh. “You’ll need to get that wound seen to or you might lose your leg.”
“Save your concern.” The sullen man jerked away.
Nora’s smile lacked warmth. “I believe I will.”
“You will live to regret this,” snarled Belew, gripping his bloody arm where Jack’s bullet had found the mark.
While Tally held a gun on them, her husband removed the men’s gun belts, none too gently, and shoved the pair toward a mount. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you one horse to share. Start riding and don’t stop until you reach Saint’s Roost. I see you again, you’re dead.” He winked at Tally. “Or on second thought, I’ll let my wife do it. She loves killing jackasses and reprobates.”
“Nothing brings greater pleasure,” Tally replied with a pout. “Are you sure I can’t shoot them?”
“Not this time, darlin’. I’m sure it won’t be long though.”
Belew swung into the saddle, then pulled Guthrie up behind him. Giving them all a look that could kill, the surly deputy marshal set the horse in motion.
Tally put a comforting arm around Nora’s shoulders. “I’m Tally Shannon, and over there is my husband Clay Colby. I’m glad you’re safe. I take it you’re Nora Kane?”
“Yes, but how did you know?”
“Clay and I are Jack’s friends from Hope’s Crossing. We knew you were on the stage when it wrecked. We’d been expecting you. Then Dr. Mary told us that a marshal had arrested Jack.” As the woman put her gun away, the hat slid back a little over her flaming curls and Nora finally saw her face. Although age was difficult to judge, Nora guessed her to be near her own twenty-eight. Regardless, Tally was a stunning, fascinating lady.
“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone. You showed up in the nick of time.” Nora shifted the baby. “But how did you know to intervene just now?”
“We were watching the house, sure you and Jack were here, but we stayed hidden until we saw that no-good marshal and his friend hurting you.”
Sawyer raised his head, his eyes hard. “They were gonna
kill us.”
“Then I’m glad we stopped them.” Tally draped an arm across the boy’s thin shoulders. “You’re a handsome young man, and I’ll bet you help your mother out a lot.”
The gangly kid pulled his coat tighter. “My ma’s dead. Nora’s my friend and I love her. Jack and Nora saved me from Bittercreek. He was real mean. Then we found baby Willow.”
Tally turned to Nora. “Neither of the children are yours?”
“No, but they can be if they want. Jack and I would welcome them in our lives.”
Clay took his attention from the horse carrying Belew and Guthrie and chuckled softly. “You know, that sounds exactly like Jack. Get himself in a desperate situation and take time to rescue two children.”
“And me,” Nora added.
Satisfied that Belew and Guthrie weren’t doubling back, Clay holstered his gun. “Ma’am, we should be going. The posse might return. Do you have any idea where Jack is?”
If only she did. Nora wiped a weary hand over her eyes. “He left while I was asleep. I haven’t seen him since we went to bed, but he was expecting trouble. We both were.” Jack couldn’t have gone far, and he was certainly close enough to shoot Belew in the arm and the arrow into Guthrie.
Clay narrowed his gaze in the direction the rest of the lawmen had gone and spoke to Tally. “Sweetheart, do you think you can get Miss Nora and the children to Hope’s Crossing? I’m going to find Jack. He might need help.”
“We’ll be fine.” Tally lifted her face for a kiss, then Clay reached for his gelding’s reins.
“Please keep Jack safe.” Nora could hardly speak past the painful lump.
Clay nodded. “I’ll try.”
“I can’t—” Nora’s helpless gaze stared into the sunrise. “Jack—”
Clay patted her back. “I’ll find him. Try not to worry.” Then he disappeared around the soddy.
Tally motioned to a horse calmly munching on winter grass. Nora thought it probably belonged to Marshal Belew. “Let’s get you and the babe up. The boy and I will ride double.”
Panic filled Nora. “I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“The reins will tell the animal which way you want him to go. Pull back and he’ll stop. I’ll help you. Just don’t be afraid.”
She held the baby while Nora settled in the saddle. She felt wobbly and that she might tumble off any moment. And it was a long way to the ground.
“Find your balance.” Tally was patient and waited until she became more confident before she handed Willow to her. Nora pulled the baby bottle from a burlap sack. Unlike her, Sawyer appeared right at home in the saddle. A minute later, she cradled Willow and the little caravan moved slowly toward the safety of the town they’d been trying to reach for days.
With each clop of the hooves, her heart ripped apart. How could she leave Jack behind? She might never see him again.
Her husband. Her love. Her future.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She swung around in the saddle to stare at the little house where she’d married Jack under a cold, starlit sky.
They were joined at the heart and nothing could sever that. But would she be a widow before she ever got the chance to be a wife?
“I’m Mrs. Jack Bowdre,” she whispered brokenly into the wind. “My feelings for you will never die, not even when I take my final breath. Please stay safe.”
* * *
Jack limped away from the woman he’d sworn to protect and care for. Pain pierced his heart. He drew in deep, ragged breaths and gripped his Colt with trembling fingers.
Dear God, what kind of man was he?
The posse had ridden up too fast. He’d felt them close in but thought he had time enough to get Nora and the kids away. He should’ve left yesterday—should’ve listened to Nora and his damn gut. His weakness for her had dulled his senses.
But then, he’d had the newborn to consider. One more day to let the baby gather strength hadn’t seemed that risky.
Stupid.
When the posse had surrounded Nora and the kids, it had taken all his strength not to charge down the hill right into the middle of them. It had been easy to recognize the two men in buffalo robes. They must’ve followed Sawyer and him from the trading post, then gone after the posse. He’d seen—and heard—Guthrie slap Nora and hadn’t wasted a moment in putting an arrow through the tracker’s leg. At least he’d done that much, little though it was. He rubbed his stubbled jaw. A better-placed arrow would’ve gone through the man’s heart.
Shot Belew as well, before the chicken-livered bastard had run into the house, although the sound was sure to draw the other lawmen back.
Rage still burned. No one hit his wife and lived. One day they’d both pay. Jack closed his eyes. His beautiful Nora. He’d brought her so much pain.
His hand curled around his Colt, the need for revenge burning like the fire of a smithy’s forge.
If he could’ve gotten to Belew and Guthrie without getting his family killed…
If… He turned all the possible scenarios over in his mind and found nothing he could’ve done different.
He’d started back down the hill to give himself up, when Tally and Clay arrived. Thank God. His old friends would make sure Nora and the kids got to Hope’s Crossing—to a warm bed and food. Nora could have her hot bath.
And him?
He’d get there somehow, even if he had to shoot every last person in his way. Hidden in the tall grass, he watched Nora’s proud figure fade in the distance. A sudden mist blurred his vision. A bullet slamming into him would hurt less than this kind of pain that clawed at his insides.
I, Jack Bowdre, vow to provide, to protect, to cherish you, Nora Kane.
Like hell he had.
For a moment, he fought to swallow. The first line of his vow echoed in his head and agony doubled him over. He hadn’t protected or provided for her any more than he had his Rachel. Fine husband he’d turned out to be. Again.
The lump hung in his throat as he wiped his eyes. Gathering himself, he cautiously slithered through the tall, dead grass like a snake looking to sink his fangs into an enemy.
He had a special venom reserved for Seamus Belew and Darius Guthrie.
When he reached Hope’s Crossing, he prayed Nora would forgive him. He hadn’t meant to leave her to face the posse alone. It was no way to repay her for taking a chance on a sorry-assed outlaw.
He removed his hat and pinned the U.S. marshal badge to the lining. It’d be safer there.
He fought with everything he had not to go down and join her and his friends. But that would only draw the posse to them, put them in danger. He had no idea how close they were, but he knew they wouldn’t leave the area without him. No, Nora and the kids were safer if he stayed away.
Pain swept through him like a raging prairie fire as he moved toward the one place where he’d be safe for a little while. There, he’d try to think of a way to make things right with Nora.
Until he did, he couldn’t live with himself.
* * *
Nora rode silently, each clop of the horse’s hooves taking her farther from the man she loved. The ache in her heart consumed her and breathing took effort. The sun was about two hours old when they stopped to rest. Every bone ached as she climbed from the horse.
Tally pulled some jerky from her saddlebag. “You must be hungry. I’m sorry we can’t stop to hunt for game.”
“This will do. Thank you.” Nora took the food and handed a piece to Sawyer. They sat on a fallen log, except for Tally, who stood watch. Nora held Willow. There were trees here, and she welcomed the relief from the barren, desolate plains.
A gust of wind blew Tally’s long duster open, and her bulging stomach came as a surprise.
“When is your baby due?” Nora asked.
“A few more weeks, Dr. Mary says.” A smile curved Tally
’s mouth and she laid her hand on her stomach. “I can’t wait to see it, hold it, love it. Clay and I are very happy.”
Nora could certainly see that. She’d always heard a baby brought indescribable joy. Would she and Jack get a chance to fulfil this longing inside so strong that it sometimes woke her from a sound sleep? Pain shot to her heart, taking her breath. To not know if he was safe, cold, hungry—even alive—was horrible agony. If the posse did capture him, she prayed Marshal Hays would be the one to take him in. He was kind and he’d see that Jack made it to jail.
The thought of him locked up, called a wild animal, shredded her composure.
She swallowed hard and shook herself. “Congratulations. Forgive me, but what are you doing out here? Isn’t that dangerous?”
Tally laughed. “I’m as healthy as a horse, and Dr. Mary said riding is good for me.”
Maybe, but still it seemed very risky. “Do you want a girl or a boy?”
“We don’t care. Either will be loved.” Tally pulled off a bite of jerky with her teeth. “We have a daughter already who is blind. Violet came to us as yours did.” She put her jerky in a pocket and straightened. “Do you mind if I hold Willow? I’ve been itching to cuddle her.”
“Be my guest.” Nora handed her over.
“How old is that little girl of yours?” Sawyer asked.
Tally cradled Willow in her arms, a smile gracing her face. “Violet just turned nine.”
“She’s the same old as me,” Sawyer said. “Maybe we can be friends.”
“You can count on it. Violet loves meeting new people. I swear, that girl is afraid of very little.” The baby whimpered. Tally moved Willow to her shoulder and patted her small back. “There aren’t many kids in town so far. You and Willow’ll make five, Sawyer.”
The boy’s face darkened. “What happened to the rest?”
“Honey, we just started the town and there aren’t that many people yet. And some are old.” She swayed back and forth, rocking Willow, and turned to Nora. “We’re glad for the help in settling Hope’s Crossing. Right now, the population is around thirty, so we’re growing.”