by Linda Broday
Dallas rubbed his wild, sandy-colored beard. He looked more like a mountain man than anything else, but he sure could squeeze out the sweetest music from his fiddle. “Except for Dutch, Abel Fargo, and Rex Thompkins, I’ve known everyone for years.”
“I noticed Fargo coming and going a lot,” Ridge said. “What do we really know about Dutch? He doesn’t appear to have any skill or do any work. Where’s he getting his money?”
Jack agreed. “All three are suspect.” An ominous silence fell between them as they split up.
“Wait.” Rebel hurried to catch up as the group broke apart. “Have you heard anything about Travis? I’m going out of my mind with worry.”
“No, Skeet Malloy hasn’t made it back.” Jack studied her face and red-rimmed eyes. She was a pretty woman but had lost the sparkle in her eyes and seemed to have no interest in her appearance since Travis had been captured. “When did you last eat?”
She pushed her uncombed hair back from her haunted eyes. “How can I eat when Travis could be lying in a cold cell?”
“You have to keep your strength up, Rebel. Are you taking care of the kids? Jenny and Ely need you. They don’t have anyone else.”
“They’re not going without. And me—I’m not important. Without Travis, I’m nothing.”
She was dead wrong, but Jack refused to argue. “Come and let my Nora feed you,” he said gently.
* * *
Nora took one look and put her arms around the woman. “Let’s have some hot tea.”
Those seemed to be magic words. Rebel stumbled to the table and stared straight ahead while Nora heated water and put tea in to steep.
“I know you’re worried, Rebel. Anyone would be, but you can’t stop living.”
“Travis and me were going to be married. We’ve been planning on it ever since I took in Jenny and Ely. God, I love those children.”
“They need you, Rebel, as much as you need them. You can’t worry them like this. You look like death warmed over.” One look at Rebel would frighten any child. Nora put an arm around the former saloon girl. “After we drink our tea and have a bite to eat, let’s clean you up. You’ll feel lots better.”
From the looks of Rebel, she hadn’t eaten since Travis disappeared with the bounty hunter. Her clothes were hanging on her.
“I don’t know.” Rebel’s chin quivered, and she burst into fresh tears.
“There, have yourself a good cry.” Nora gave her a hug.
“I’m sorry, Nora. I’m a wreck.”
“I’d be the same way if it were Jack. Do you know how we actually met?” Nora got two teacups from the cabinet. Over the next hour and several cups of tea, she regaled Rebel with her and Jack’s adventures. Soon her new friend was laughing and eating lunch.
“That’s hilarious. I don’t know the last time I felt like laughing.” Rebel sobered. “Thank you, Nora. You made me see that I need to be a better mother.”
“Glad to help. How about plastering on a big smile and going to play some games with those kids? Let them know how much you love them.”
Rebel’s mouth tilted up a bit at the corners. “You’re right. I have to stop worrying and do something to take my mind off Travis.”
“That’s the spirit. He’s going to be all right and so are you. You can’t give up hope. Not ever. The minute you do, you’re sunk.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a godsend?”
“Not lately.” Nora put her arm around Rebel and walked her out the door.
She didn’t know a lot about this part of the country, but people were the same everywhere. Trouble and disappointment lay around every corner. For a few days, she’d embrace the calm in Jack’s arms. Together, they could face anything.
Jack came in a little past noon with Sawyer, and while she fed them, he told her about Tait Trinity.
“What’s going to happen to him once he heals?” Part of her wanted the man to ride on. They had too much trouble already. But she’d noticed the sound in Jack’s voice when he spoke of Tait. The connection between the two went deeper than friends.
“He can stay if he wants, but I have a feeling he’ll move on. A man like Tait doesn’t remain in one place long. Too many demons hiding in the shadows.”
Sawyer focused on his plate but kept stealing worried glances at Jack. They should’ve waited until they were alone to talk about Tait. The boy probably feared Jack would leave with Tait, and that would kill him. Jack was his whole world and like a father.
Nora laid her hand over Jack’s. “Tait will do whatever he feels best. I’m glad you offered him a place here.”
Every person in the town had demons trailing them. She knew a lot about that subject. When were hers going to jump out and steal her happiness?
Thirty
That night, Jack stood at the community fire with the men. It was the gathering spot for most of the town—the place they shared talk of the day, where they often cooked meals.
Jack tossed a stick into the flames. Tait Trinity was on his mind. And Travis. There were too many problems to solve. All day, he’d watched three men who’d arrived about a month ago—Dutch, Abel Fargo, and Rex Tompkins—and was no closer to arriving at an answer. Dutch was like a loveable bear, helpful and smiling. Fargo kept to himself, a bit too surly for Jack, with never a kind word. And Tompkins seemed committed to the town, caring for the horses while Skeet Malloy was away.
No, it had to be Fargo. That surly smirk and the man’s sharp gaze told Jack he wasn’t to be trusted.
The darkness had put everyone in a strange mood. Clay seemed lost in thought too. Scout wandered up and lay down next to Bullet.
“The town is having growing pains. We’ll soon have to spread out beyond the entrance to find more land,” Clay announced out of the blue.
“Yeah, I reckon so. I’m glad to see people coming to settle here.”
“A town can’t survive without new blood.” Clay lapsed into silence while he rolled a cigarette and lit it. Smoke wafted around his head. “We named our son today,” he said quietly.
“About damn time. I wondered if the little thing would have to grow up answering to ‘boy.’” Jack grinned. “What did you decide on?”
“Dillon. Dillon Colby.”
“That’s a strong name.” Jack crossed his arms. “I’ve always thought if I have another chance at a boy, I’d name him Charles for my grandfather.”
“Dillon was my grandfather’s name. He was a strapping man, quick to cuss and just as quick to hug. I learned soldiers burned his house and farm during the war. Shot him and my grandmother. Her name was Amelia.” Clay heaved a deep sigh. “Too many memories circling. When was the last time you visited your mother?”
“Been too long. I need to take Nora to meet her and will as soon as I’m able. She’s told me that lawmen ride by occasionally, hoping to catch me.”
“Best to stay clear.”
“You’re right. For now, anyway.” Jack paused and lowered his voice. “Are we any closer to finding out who the traitor is?”
“Fargo rode out for a while today. I followed him.”
“And?”
“He went to where the road branches off to Tascosa. He sat there for about fifteen minutes, then turned around and came back.”
“Waiting for someone who didn’t show?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Clay’s attention went to Abel Fargo, across the fire from them. Jack followed his gaze to the moody man passing around a bottle.
Fargo claimed to be a surveyor and map maker, but no one ever saw him working. The man’s gaze swung to Jack, and his sharp eyes narrowed to slits as though taking Jack’s measure. Fargo’s pockmarked cheeks and stone-cold face hardened.
He was a man to avoid. But Jack wasn’t intimidated. He returned the hard stare, forcing Fargo to look away.
“Do you think maybe Fargo caught wind of you behind him?” Jack asked, although he couldn’t imagine that. Clay could trail a catfish through a winding river.
Clay snorted. “Who knows?”
“We’ll keep watching. He’s bound to tip his hand.”
Dutch, the jovial rambler, wandered over from the saloon. The man towered well over six feet five and was built like a bull. But Jack found him easygoing and likeable. Dutch whistled a tune as he joined them, sitting down with Rex Thompkins. Thompkins appeared a little too anxious to please in Jack’s opinion. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the man seemed off.
Nora stepped from their house with Willow, and Jack’s attention automatically riveted on her. She strolled toward him, her hips swaying like a graceful ship upon the waves. Heat stirred in his blood.
Jack shifted. “Clay, do you know how a man can wait and wait for the right woman to come along and share his life, and then one day she just falls in his lap?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s how it was with me and Tally.”
“It’s like me and Nora were made for each other. The heart knows what it knows.”
“That it does, my friend.”
“Think Ridge will ever find a wife?”
Clay snorted. “Not until he loosens up. That man is wound tighter than an eight-day clock.”
When Nora reached them, Jack took the baby and held Willow close, savoring the sweetness. “Clay and Tally named their boy Dillon.”
She grinned. “What a cute name. It fits with his red hair.”
“Yep. The spitting image of his mother.” Clay took a draw on his cigarette.
Never one to miss ribbing his friend, Jack punched his arm. “Thank God!”
“Hey, I’m not that bad looking. At least I don’t have hair like mustard.”
The back and forth was still going when Ridge joined them, then Jack switched the tone. “Nora and I have to leave soon.” He put the baby to his shoulder and told them about the book—about Nora taking it from O’Brien, and the hiding place at the sheepherder’s house. “We have to beat Guthrie to it.”
“Think that’s wise?” Clay squinted and threw a cigarette into the fire.
“No, but we don’t have much choice.”
Nora slipped her arm through Jack’s. “If we’re going, we have to do it now.”
Ridge met Jack’s gaze. “The stakes are awful high with the posse roaming about.”
“Seems like I’ve had high stakes my whole life. No different now.”
He felt a shiver run through Nora and suspected the direction of her thoughts. “Making Flynn O’Brien pay for his crimes is all Nora’s thought about since escaping Buffalo.”
“Then I’m going with you.” Ridge’s amber eyes glittered in the flickering firelight.
Jack knew of no better man to have near in a fight.
“You’ll be welcome, brother.” Jack held Willow secure and clasped Ridge’s hand. “We’ll ride out day after tomorrow. It’s only a day’s ride, but I don’t want to get there after dark, so I suggest we camp out somewhere and arrive at dawn.”
“Sounds good,” Ridge answered.
“A quick trip there and back, then we start the ball rolling against O’Brien.”
“I’d go with you, but I can’t leave Tally. She’ll need someone to look after Violet.” Clay inhaled deep and grinned. “And I have a son to get acquainted with.”
“Don’t give it another thought.” Nora glanced toward their house. “I need to get the children to bed. I’ll be over to see Tally again in the morning.”
They said their goodbyes and walked quietly toward their house. Jack’s attention fixed on the restless horses in the corral. Something had them stirred up. Maybe a cougar on the prowl.
Inside the house, he handed Willow to Nora and got his rifle. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Be careful, Jack.”
He nodded and slipped into the darkness, silently making his way to the horses. The thin fingernail of light in the midnight sky was often referred to as a rustler’s moon, a positive thing tonight. Jack stopped in the deep shadows of the livery and blacksmith shop.
Cocking his head, he listened to every sound. To trouble whispering on the wind. To his inner voice that warned of danger.
His eyes were in constant motion, seeking the threat. Clay appeared at his side, and they began a search of the perimeter. Ridge joined them. They were silent ghosts drifting through the night, a thick, foggy mist settling over them and the town.
Watching for any movement, not moving a muscle, Jack stood next to the sheer rock wall of the small canyon that protected the town.
The horses were running around the corral in a frenzy.
Was this threat human? Or animal?
He didn’t see his fellow searchers. Maybe they’d caught a scent and moved on to a different area. Jack stayed put.
The thin moon ducked behind a cloud, and that’s when a shot sounded. A bullet barely missed his ear. Jack dropped low and raised his rifle, scanning left and right.
Dammit, he couldn’t see anyone.
Another shot went wide and told him the shooter was merely guessing at his location. If he could only see a target.
As the moon emerged from behind the cloud, a figure flew at him. Jack barely had time to sidestep the bulk, but something sharp caught his arm. A burning, stinging sensation ripped through him. His rifle landed a short distance away.
He grabbed the assailant by the arm and flipped him over his head. He was a little shorter than Jack, but that was all he had time to see before the bastard came at him again.
His brain was a mass of confusion. Who? Why? How many?
The thin moonlight reflected on the blade of a knife upraised in the man’s hand. Jack grabbed his arm and twisted, slinging him around, fighting for leverage. He dropped the arm and delivered two blows to the stomach.
The man grunted, his voice raspy. “I’ll kill you, Bowdre. You didn’t fool me for a second. The ivory grip of your Colt gave you away.”
Just then the thin moonlight shone across the assailant’s face.
Seamus Belew.
“You’d better have a damn army with you. That’s the only way you’ll kill me.” Spinning, Jack reached for his Colt and pulled it from his holster. As he came around, he fired.
Belew dropped to the ground. Jack knelt beside his enemy, listening to the sickening gurgle coming from Belew’s throat.
“Why?” Jack asked. “Was Max worth all this?”
“He was my”—blood gushed from Belew’s mouth—“my brother. Always looked after…him. Promised.”
Seamus worked his tongue, struggling to say something else. Jack put his ear near the man’s mouth. “Flynn O’Brien…coming.” Seamus smiled, his teeth bloody, and took his final breath.
Clay and Ridge raced up, guns drawn. Behind them stood at least a dozen others in a line, guns drawn, their faces grim.
And off to the side where shadows met the light stood Fargo, his face a chunk of granite.
Jack rose, staring at Fargo, and put his Colt away. “He’s dead. It’s Belew.”
“How did he get past the guard?” Clay asked.
Jack glanced around for Belew’s pistol and picked it up from the dirt, examining it. “I’m thinking he scaled down the wall of the canyon. That would be my way. He tried to shoot me first, then attacked with a knife. Now I see why. His gun jammed.”
When he swung to where Fargo had been, he found him gone. Had the man been working with Belew and helped him get into the town? Seemed rather likely.
Nora arrived out of breath, her focus immediately on the body. “What happened?”
“Belew.” Jack pulled her against him with his good arm. “I killed him.”
She must’ve felt wetness and stepped back, alarm on h
er face. “Jack, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” He glanced down at blood dripping from his hand. “Just a scratch.”
Nora threw up her hands. “Why do you always say that? Dr. Mary will determine the severity, but if it’s too deep, you’ll need stitches.” She got that mulish set to her mouth. Good Lord, he didn’t need this now. “We should get it seen to right away.”
“Not now, Nora!” The danger, the fight, Belew’s last words had set Jack’s nerves on edge, but he instantly regretted his sharp tone. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard to not count but working to tamp down his anger. After a moment, he softened his voice. “We have the body to deal with. Animals will get to it lying here. We have to figure out how he got in and if anyone came with him. Why would he come alone? Nothing makes sense.”
Clay gave him a little push. “Go, Jack. She’s right. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.” He waved toward the men who’d gathered. “We have plenty of help.”
“In that case, I guess…I’ll be back later.” He aimed his feet toward Dr. Mary, who stood at the edge of the pool of light made by the community fire. Nora walked silently beside him. He knew he’d have to apologize, but he’d need to figure out the right words first.
Dr. Mary took one look at him. “Come into my office. Were you shot or cut?”
“Sliced open a bit. Got into a scuffle.” Jack sat in a chair at a small table.
If Nora stood any straighter, her spine would snap. “I’ll get back to the children,” she managed through stiff lips.
Jack reached for her hand. “Stay. Please. Willow must be asleep, and even so, Sawyer can look after her for a minute.”
Tension left her body. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I want you here.”
A smile broke across her face. “No place I’d rather be.” She pulled up a chair.
The wound was about three inches long but not too deep.
“This cut isn’t serious, just nasty. I’ll have to stitch you up.” Dr. Mary rose and came back with bottles, salves, and gauze. She wet a piece of cotton with liquid from one of the bottles. “This is going to sting like the dickens. Better take a big breath and hold on.”