He took a last cleansing breath and crept a bit further down the ledge. Maybe he could overhear some of their conversation. Maybe they’d let everything slip, and then he could shoot them.
His desire to do so only increased as he lay very still and listened.
“What a chump. Let’s just knock him in the head and let the cattle trample him, like they did with Rudy,” Jeremy said in a nasty tone.
Hawk came alert. So they did have Fitz. But where was he?
“We’ll do no such thing,” the older man said. “Rudy’s death was an accident. I’ll have no part of murder.”
Hawk snorted silently and watched as the three younger men exchanged looks.
“I don’t know how you can say that after everything he’s done to you, Dad,” Jeremy said in a petulant whine.
So the old man was the jerk’s father. The Lloyd patriarch. Hawk felt sorry for him with such a sniveling rodent for a son.
“The only mistake Fitz O’Brannoch made was not selling Irish Heaven back to me after I got back on my feet,” Lloyd said sternly. “I warned him. But he wouldn’t listen. We had no choice but to bankrupt him same way we were. But I’ve gotten no pleasure from doing it.”
“The land is more important than some dumb old man,” Jeremy ground out. “He’s senile. Nobody’ll miss him when he’s gone.”
Hawk almost didn’t see the swift cuff on the head Jeremy received from his father, he was so stunned by the news that the escalating bad luck on Irish Heaven had been due to years of deliberate, systematic sabotage. He thought of the countless accidents and seemingly random disasters that had befallen the ranch and men over the past half decade. They all took on a different light now.
This had started long before the rustling ever began.
Deep breaths weren’t helping. Hawk was about to leap over the ledge and pummel the bastards to bits when Fitz came wandering up to the assembled men at the fire. Hawk halted in midmovement.
“How long does it take you to piss, pops?” one of the young men said with a snicker. “Thought you’d passed out somewhere.”
“A lot o’ brew in the bladder,” Fitz answered with a grin, an exaggerated sway and a slur to his words. He plopped down on a tree stump close to the fire. “Ah, it feels lovely.”
Hawk clamped down on his outrage as one of the cowboys handed Fitz a can—obviously another beer. They were getting him drunk! Hawk could only imagine what they planned to do next. One way or another, Jeremy would see Fitz didn’t survive long enough to be found alive. Of that, Hawk had no doubt.
Trusting and guileless, Fitz was sitting there with the very men who had caused his downfall, half-frozen and oblivious to the fact they were taking his cattle and plotting to steal his ranch right under his nose.
No. This wasn’t going on another minute.
“What’ll we do about the niece, Rhiannon?” Jeremy asked, freezing Hawk in his tracks as he began to crawl backward. “Everything would have been so much easier if she’d just fallen for me. But that no-account half-breed foreman has her scared to look twice at any decent man,” Jeremy said disgustedly. “She even told Burton Grant to take a hike.”
The father’s head shot up. “Grant? What the hell is he doing hanging around her? I told him to keep a low profile!”
The two other young men chortled. “Seems his profile had a mind of its own.”
“Yeah, it kept getting bigger!” They laughed uproariously.
“That’s enough,” the older Lloyd snapped. “She won’t be a problem. With the herd gone and no income, she’ll have no choice but to sell out. She knows squat about ranching. Grant’s idea of forcing that conservatorship was a stroke of genius.”
Heartsick, Hawk glanced at Fitz, who was ignoring the conversation, tipping his beer back to drain it. The old guy didn’t have his heavy winter coat on, just a hip-length jacket over his blue jeans. He must be freezing. Except the doctor had told them that eventually, even if he felt things, he’d immediately forget feeling them so he wouldn’t realize he was cold, hungry, hurt or whatever.
Maybe the physical stress of the raw cold had shocked Fitz’s illness into further decline.
“God damn it!” Hawk muttered.
He’d meant to keep his voice low, but apparently he’d put more oomph into it than he’d intended because the four men below twisted their heads toward him as one.
“Hey!” Jeremy yelled, jumping to his feet.
But the older Lloyd was cooler and grabbed the shotgun at his side before calmly standing—and pointing the muzzle right at Fitz’s temple.
“Whoever you are, get your ass down here right now,” he shouted. “Or I’ll blow Fitz O’Brannoch’s brains out.”
A loud shout rent the winter stillness.
Voices! And they didn’t sound happy.
A startled flock of birds took flight from the cliffs just ahead of Rhiannon. Anxiously she reined in Jasper. The tracks she’d been following led straight to where the sounds of a scuffle were coming from.
Were Hawk and Fitz in danger?
Spurring Jasper to a gallop, she closed the short distance to the cliffs, and suddenly came upon Tonopah standing at alert among some trees. He nickered and shook his head at seeing them, but didn’t leave his spot, letting them come to him.
Quickly dismounting, she examined him, finding no blood or anything else out of place. Except Hawk’s rifle was not in its sheath. A single set of boot tracks led from the copse up into the cliffs.
Giving Jasper the signal to stay put, she matched her steps to the boot prints and followed them as quickly as she could. If Hawk was hurt again…
No. He was fine. She hadn’t heard any shooting.
The trail was steep, rough and difficult to follow, especially in winter gear. It looked like it led to a vantage point up above a narrow canyon. Along with the shouting, she heard the unmistakable sound of restless cattle lowing, all coming from the canyon below.
Suddenly she almost stumbled over Hawk’s Winchester. It was lying on the ground, just above a ledge which overlooked—By the saints! It was the rustlers’ camp.
She swiftly ducked down so the men below wouldn’t see her, snatching up Hawk’s weapon.
Where was he? And why had he left it up in the cliffs?
Frantically she searched the ground around the gun. Again, no blood, no signs of a fight. Just boot prints leading out onto a ledge. Carrying the rifle, she followed them, and found depressions in the snow where he’d lain on his stomach observing the activity in the camp below. She did the same.
She stifled a gasp. Both Fitz and Hawk were surrounded by four arguing men—one of whom was holding a shotgun. Hawk looked wet and bedraggled, like he’d been dragged through the snow. She gripped the rifle in her hands, wishing like hell she’d learned how to use it.
All at once Hawk leapt at one of his captors, grabbed the shotgun and whacked him on the head with it. The man went down and a melee ensued. Arms flew, legs kicked, men cursed and she could hear the solid smack of fists meeting flesh. The shotgun had been thrown aside, but now one of the men rolled from the fracas and crawled toward it.
Throughout, Fitz had been left standing in confusion, but when he saw the man making for the weapon, something in his mind must have clicked.
“No, you don’t!” he shouted, and fiercely kicked the man’s outstretched hand. “I’ll take that.” Swiping up the shotgun, he yelled, “Stop! Let ’im go or I’ll blast the lot o’ youse.”
Instantly there was a pause in the fighting. Eyes darted to Fitz, who looked like he meant business. Rhiannon prayed he’d stay lucid enough to pull this off.
“How do you know that gun’s loaded, pops?” one of the rustlers challenged, panting from exertion.
“I’m feelin’ lucky,” Fitz said with a smirk. “Are you?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Hands up!” Fitz ordered.
When the rustlers hesitated, Rhiannon scrambled to her feet and raised Hawk’s rifle. �
�Do as he says!” she yelled down. “If he doesn’t shoot you, I sure as hell will.”
All heads turned toward her, stunned at her sudden appearance. Hawk’s expression was the most shocked of all.
“Tie them up, baby,” she called to him. “Before I pull the trigger by mistake. This gun’s awful heavy.”
Two minutes later they were trussed up like the pigs they were. With a sigh of relief, she lowered the shaking rifle and sent Hawk a triumphant smile before turning to rush back to the horses and join him in the canyon.
But as she hurried to grab Jasper’s reins, she ran right into Burton Grant.
“Burt!” she squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe you sent for me,” he said with a smile. But his eyes looked grim.
She glanced around and saw a big bay mare. “I didn’t think you could ride a horse.”
His brows hiked. “Sweetheart, my family’s lived here for three generations. Of course I ride. I own three horses.”
“Oh.” Suddenly she was nervous, but couldn’t think why. He was there to rescue her, after all. Well, Fitz.
“Did you find him?” he asked, casually glancing at Tonopah.
“Um. Yes. We did. Hawk’s with him.” She pointed. “In the canyon.”
“Canyon?” His eyes narrowed on the spot she indicated. “Oh, I see. Is he all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Thanks. You can call off Search and Rescue. Thank goodness.”
For some inexplicable reason, she hesitated to tell him about the rustlers. There was just something not right about the way Burt was looking at her. She started to back up.
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. As he spoke to the dispatcher, Rhiannon slid the Winchester into its sheath and mounted Jasper.
When he hung up she said, “Thanks for coming, but we’ll be fine from here.”
Burt regarded her for a brief second. “I don’t think so,” he said levelly. He caught hold of her bridle and relieved her of the rifle. As her pulse scrabbled, he tugged the reins from her hands, reached over and grabbed Tonopah’s, too. Then he walked them to his bay and swung into the saddle, settling Hawk’s rifle across his lap.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Let me go this instant!”
“Can’t do that, Rhiannon. Sorry.” He turned the bay toward the canyon. “I know who and what’s in that canyon. And we have a little something to settle first.”
Her heart sank. She’d been right. He was involved in the rustling!
Even though it had been her suggestion, she still couldn’t believe it. Not so much because he was an officer of the law, but because he’d seemed so…forthright.
As he towed her in to the rustlers’ camp, her stomach knotted. Fitz was lying on the ground and Hawk was bent over him.
“Jackson,” Burt said, lifting the rifle.
Hawk spun. “What the—”
“Step away from O’Brannoch and untie these men.” He pointed the muzzle of Hawk’s gun at Fitz, who looked like he was unconscious.
“Fitz!” she called, and leapt off Jasper to run to his side. “What’s happened?”
“He passed out,” Hawk said, eyes never leaving Burt. “I can’t get him to come to.”
A choking noise escaped her throat. “Oh, my God.” She knelt at his side, hardly paying attention to what else was happening. She was too concerned with her uncle. “He needs medical help!” she cried desperately, after trying unsuccessfully to revive him. She looked up to see Hawk untie the last of the four rustlers under the careful scrutiny of Burt, who now held the rifle aimed at her. Hawk’s expression left little doubt what he’d do to Burton if given half a chance.
“Mount up,” he told the men. “You, too,” he said to Hawk.
“I’m not leaving them,” he growled.
“You’ll do as I say,” Burt growled back. “Or I’ll shoot them both right now.”
Her jaw dropped, more in shock than panic. “You’d do that?”
He had the grace at least to look uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to,” he said. “But unless Jackson does exactly as I say, I’ll have no choice.”
“You’ll leave my horse, at least?” she managed.
He turned away. “No.” He stuck the rifle under Hawk’s chin. “Don’t make me use this.”
Hawk gave a single nod. She could see he was seething, but he obeyed and swung onto Tonopah.
The rustlers ran and fetched their horses, then rounded up the stolen steers and were ready to move out. Rhiannon quickly dragged Fitz to a place out of the path of the pounding hooves as they went by.
Cradling her uncle’s head in her lap, she couldn’t help the tears that crested as she watched the man she loved being taken away, probably forever.
There was no way any of them would get out of this alive. They knew the rustlers’ identities, and worse, that one of them was a sheriff’s deputy.
This would be the last time she’d ever see Hawk.
But before she could say a word, or even meet his gaze, Burton had forced him to ride on, galloping away under the threat of his own rifle.
A sob worked its way up her throat as she saw him disappear through the mouth of the canyon.
Oh, God.
She was alone in the bitter cold, without shelter or food, miles from home or any means of communication, with an unconscious man to care for.
And they were all going to die.
Chapter 17
T here was no way in hell he was going to die like this.
No damn way.
Redhawk banked his fury and concentrated on how he could get out of this mess and back to Fitz and Rhiannon. To hell with the cattle. They could take them, and Irish Heaven, too, for all he cared. The only thing he wanted was to save the lives of those he loved.
“Hey, Deputy!” Jeremy shouted to Grant as the men got the herd moving in the direction of the highway. “You better cuff that renegade’s hands!”
Grant snorted loudly. “He’s practically a cripple! Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this guy?”
Hawk lifted his slitted gaze to Grant. Cripple, eh? He’d show him—
“He’s a savage. Don’t matter if he’s injured or not, he’s vicious. We’re no match for that,” one of the young guys—the one he’d slammed in the face with his fist—said, touching his bruises.
The little wimp. Hawk felt a spurt of satisfaction.
“Okay, fine,” Grant said disgustedly. “But I’ll have to tie him. I didn’t bring handcuffs.”
Grant trotted his mount up to Tonopah so they rode side by side. He glanced over, his face inscrutable. “Cross your wrists,” the deputy ordered. “And let me have them.”
Oh, he’d let him have them, all right. Just as soon as he got close enough. Meanwhile, Hawk did as he was told.
To his shock, Grant looped a length of rope loosely around his wrists, letting the ends dangle. “Complain about how tight it is,” he said under his breath. “And just follow my lead.”
Momentarily stunned, Hawk could only stare after him as he galloped away. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Gee, you think you could have tied this any tighter?” he shouted sarcastically after his retreating back.
Was he supposed to believe this was some kind of undercover set-up to catch the rustlers?
“Shut up, Jackson, and I might let you live,” Grant yelled back over his shoulder.
It had to be. There was no other explanation for Grant leaving him the use of his hands and lying about it.
Well, hell.
But what about Rhiannon and Fitz? They’d been left with nothing. They’d die of exposure if they weren’t rescued before nighttime.
He glanced at the sun, estimating that it must be midafternoon. They’d be fine for a few hours. Especially if Rhiannon kept the fire going.
He clenched his teeth. Rustler trap or no, he was going to kill Burton Grant when they got these bastards in handcuffs. Endangering the li
ves of innocent bystanders was inexcusable.
It wasn’t easy playing possum, but Hawk managed to appear ornery yet appropriately defeated for the two hours it took them to slog their way through the deep snow to the highway chute. The elder Lloyd had phoned ahead as soon as his cell phone got a signal, so the truck was waiting for them.
Along with Hawk’s unknown fate.
He definitely didn’t trust Grant. He’d gone along solely on the supposition that a guilty man wouldn’t have left Hawk’s wrists untied. But that was a giant leap of faith.
One that could cost him his life, if he’d been outfoxed.
His heart beat double time as he waited with Grant for the others to load the stolen cattle onto the truck. Their horses stood side by side and his own Winchester pointed at him from where it lay across Grant’s lap. His mind worked furiously, trying to figure out how to overpower five men and live through it.
After the last steer was secured, the truck gate slammed shut and Jeremy Lloyd pulled the handle to lock it. “What do we do with him?” he asked Grant, flicking his thumb at Hawk.
“What do you want me to do with him?” Grant answered with a nasty sneer. The implication seemed obvious. Hawk’s nerves screamed. If Grant was legit, he didn’t want to mess up the plan. But if he wasn’t…Hell and damnation.
Jeremy chuckled. “You must want her real bad, man.”
Grant’s white teeth flashed. “I do.”
“Then kill the renegade.”
“Whatever you say.” With a look of triumph, he turned to Hawk. “Get off your horse, Jackson.”
“Wh-what?” Even though part of him had been expecting it, the betrayal still caught him by surprise. His mind reeled. He had to get—
“You heard me!” Grant shouted, then mouthed, Trust me. He raised the rifle and indicated the snow-covered berm between the highway shoulder and the fence. “Walk up to the top of the rise. Hurry up! We don’t have all day.”
Conflicted but all out of ideas, Hawk snowshoed up the hill. He’d have to dive over the top and—Suddenly, a loud rifle rapport rang out. A shot whizzed by his ear. Instinctively he turned and froze. Crap.
Best of Cowboys Bundle Page 119