Betina Krahn

  Bear shouted orders for the men to round up every horse and every rifle in the camp. If they left now, they could reach Beecher’s ranch by dusk. Diamond listened to what he said, then headed for their car.

  Bear found her there collecting her hat and putting on her leather vest, clearly preparing to ride. He braced.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Going with you,” she declared, her eyes once again that lightning-blue. “He’s my cousin … my family … my charge. And I’m going to help you get him back from Beecher or die trying.”

  “Now, Diamond …”

  “Now, Bear,” she responded, turning that lightning-blue gaze on him.

  Bear expelled a tall breath. “Okay.” Before he could add conditions or caveats, she was out the door and down the steps, headed for the center of camp. When he caught up, she was already mounted with the men and waiting.

  She focused the attention of thirty determined faces with her question.

  “What’s our plan?”

  • • •

  “Miserable little cockroach,” Beecher spat, pressing a pristine handkerchief to the outer corner of his eye and inspecting the crimson stain it collected. “I ought to start killing him right now. Something very slow and deliciously painful.” He slammed the bedroom door and thrust the oil lamp he held into the hands of the man closest to him. “Watch him,” he ordered. “If he so much as twitches, cut something off. A finger. An ear. A leg.”

  When he reached the front room of the ranch house, the main door opened and a grizzled gunman stuck his head inside. “Rider comin’,” he announced. “A woman.”

  Beecher consulted the tarnished mirror hanging over the washstand in the corner, while he mentally went over the list of possible callers. He was totally unprepared for the sight of Diamond Wingate sitting atop a bay gelding, her hair loose about her shoulders and glinting golden in the torchlight.

  “Well, well,” he said, strolling out onto the aged wooden porch with his hands in his vest pockets. “If it isn’t Mrs. McQuaid. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “To sanity and reason, sir,” she said calmly, surveying the low wooden buildings that formed the bulk of the ranch structures. “I believe there has been enough violence and bloodshed. I have come to negotiate a truce.”

  “Things have indeed come to a pass,” Beecher said, scanning the road behind her and the horizon, “for the illustrious Bear McQuaid to send his wife to do his dealing for him.”

  “My husband doesn’t know I’ve come, sir.” She lifted her chin. “I daresay if he knew I were here he would soon be gunning for both of us.”

  “Then he is even more stupid than I suspected … to place his hatred of me above his regard for you.” He stepped off the porch, eyeing her. “How is it that you can negotiate for him?”

  “I didn’t say I intend to negotiate for him. I negotiate for myself, Mr. Beecher. I am a woman of considerable means. I want my young cousin back. And I can make it very worth your while to deliver him to me safe and sound.” She looked around the weathered buildings. “Where is he?”

  “Safe,” Beecher said with a malicious smile. “I might ask you the same question. Where is McQuaid?”

  Diamond hesitated, bristling visibly. “Following his own best interests, as usual. With Robbie missing, he rode out to determine the damage caused by a mysterious blast at his forward construction camp. I was left to take the matter of my missing cousin into my own hands.”

  Beecher smiled. “Not especially chivalrous of him.”

  “I confess, he has proved something of a disappointment to me in that regard,” she responded with compressed anger in every word.

  “And in other regards as well, I take it.” Beecher’s smile grew. “Won’t you come inside and let me show you some true Western hospitality?”

  As Diamond held Beecher’s attention at the front of the house, dark figures slithered from shadow to shadow across the moonlit yard at the rear of the house. It had taken some time for Bear and Halt to flank the house and barn and bunkhouse and make their way on foot across the open range behind the ranch structures. Clearly, Beecher expected them; he had posted men on the roofs of every building.

  Since they knew nothing of the layout of the ranch or of the number of men Beecher had employed, their only course was to move as quietly as possible. But in choosing stealth, they sacrificed speed. Bear had faith in Diamond’s ability to hold a man’s attention, but would Beecher believe her story about Bear choosing to deal with the sabotaged forward camp over helping her retrieve her cousin? Would it be enough to distract him into not detecting Bear’s presence?

  From corral fence to shed to barn, the men slipped steadily forward, encouraged by the uninterrupted peace of the yard. With hand signals, he sent two of the men who accompanied them to check the barn and two to check the sheds, while he and Halt headed for the rear of the house. There they encountered their first guard, leaning in a chair against the rear wall, his hat pulled low over his face and his rifle lying across his knees. Quickly a second man appeared, up on the roof, walking back and forth … both awake and alert, scanning the moonlit landscape. The only reason they hadn’t been detected was the sentry’s interest in what was happening between Diamond and Beecher.

  “ ’At a girl. Keep him talking,” Bear muttered as he saw the lookout give the rear yard a perfunctory visual sweep and then head back to the saga unfolding on the front side.

  They waited for a signal from the men checking the barn and sheds. All clear, came the signal. No Robbie. Beecher was probably keeping him in the house. Bear and Halt darted across the moonlit yard and crept to the corners of the house. There was no way to entirely surprise the rear guard. However they approached, he would have time to make noise or sound an alarm. They would have to strike fast, get inside, and count on the confusion created by the men stationed on horses outside the ranch buildings to provide them cover for a getaway.

  Taking a deep breath and praying Diamond didn’t take it into her head to try something stupid, he peered around the corner, gave Halt the nod, and the plan was in motion.

  They rushed the guard from both sides, the sound of their footsteps alerting him at the last minute. He staggered up … only to be sent back to finish his nap by the butt of Halt’s gun connecting with the back of his head. They caught him and set him back on his chair, propping his hat over his eyes and his gun across his knees.

  When the sentry came to investigate the slight noise, all looked just as it had, so the sentry called out to see if all was well. Not wanting to alert Beecher that his hired guns were sleeping on duty, the sentry called down quietly: “Lefty—wake up! Everything all right?”

  By the time the sentry realized something was amiss, Bear and Halt were well inside and tiptoeing down the darkened hall, checking doors.

  They found Robbie tied to an old iron bed in a dark, musty little room. Bear pressed his finger to his lips, then cut the rags and ropes binding Robbie’s hands and feet. It looked as if they might be in for a stroke of luck … when Halt impulsively removed the gag from Robbie’s mouth.

  “I knew you’d come!” the boy croaked out.

  A second later, two of Beecher’s men were barging into the room, drawing their guns. Bear hardly had time to jerk Robbie off the bed and behind him before his revolver cleared its holster and the crack of gunfire split the stillness.

  From that moment, everything happened in curiously distorted time.

  Beecher spat out an oath, retreated into the house, and began shouting for his men. Half a dozen men came pouring out of the bunkhouse, brandishing guns and trying to figure out what was happening. The men from Bear and Halt’s crew, who were stationed just over the first rise, headed in, firing at the men stationed on the roofs.

  At the first shot, Beecher sprang at Diamond—“Treacherous little bitch!”—and managed to prevent her from reining off. After a brief struggle, he pulled her off her horse, clamped his arm around h
er neck and dragged her into the house. There they stopped dead, confronted by Bear and Halt and Robbie. Beecher tightened his grip on Diamond and shifted slightly so that she shielded him from their line of fire. Then he ripped his revolver from its holster and jammed it into her ribs.

  “Well, well, McQuaid.” Beecher smiled humorlessly. “Rather clever, all in all. Your wife’s plan, no doubt.”

  “I believe … it was a joint plan,” Bear said, shoving Robbie behind him and cocking his gun.

  “Oh, that is a disappointment.” He gave Diamond a punishing jerk, but produced no groan or whimper. “She showed such promise. Now her only possible use is absorbing lead.” He backed toward the window, dragging Diamond with him, and looked out. Occasional cracks of gunfire and the sound of horses and men shouting told him that Bear and Halt hadn’t come alone.

  “Yeah. I brought a few friends,” Bear said, moving forward, his eyes riveted on Beecher’s face.

  “You’re just full of surprises, McQuaid. I wasn’t aware you had any friends.” Beecher’s features hardened as he glanced at the door. “Come any closer and I’ll reduce your friends and family by one.”

  “Let her go, Beecher.” Bear continued to inch forward.

  “I’m not feeling particularly suicidal,” Beecher said, moving toward the open door, mentally measuring the distance to Diamond’s horse, still standing outside. “Besides … I rather like the feel of her. One can always tell quality.”

  “Just as one can always tell coward—” she gritted out before he choked her tighter and cut her off.

  Halt, gun drawn, began moving up on Beecher’s right and Robbie, eager for a clearer view, crept out from behind Bear and scrambled toward his left.

  “Bite him, Diamond,” Robbie blurted out. “He hates that.”

  “Bloodthirsty little savage you’re raising there,” Beecher muttered through clenched teeth as he reached the door and glanced over his shoulder. Robbie growled and lunged straight for Diamond, startling them all and loosening Beecher’s grip on her.

  She dove toward Robbie and they hit the floor together—just as Beecher’s gun went off.

  Bear had no time to think, only to fire. Once, twice, three times. Twice Beecher jerked with the impact of bullet tearing flesh.

  Beecher’s gun dropped from his hand and he stumbled backward through the door. He made it to the edge of the porch before he collapsed. There was a moment of utter silence. Nothing moved. Not a breath was taken or expelled. The acrid scent of spent gunpowder filled the dingy room.

  Bear rushed to Diamond and pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, I think.” She stood up shakily and her knees weakened with the realization that she had escaped … narrowly. Frantically, she ran her hands over Bear and then Robbie. “Are you hit? Did he hit you?”

  “We’re fine,” Bear said, pulling her tight against him, even as she engulfed Robbie. He held them both in a fiercely protective embrace until her tears came and her trembling began to subside. Then he loosened his grip and turned to Halt, who was standing there with a trickle of blood running down his sleeve and a broad smile on his face.

  • • •

  It was their number that had won the day for them. The MCM’s men had ridden in en masse, outnumbering and outgunning Beecher’s men by three to one. Halts injury was a neat flesh wound that he joked would garner him plenty of sympathy from Silky and her girls. Two more of Bear’s men had been wounded, neither seriously. By the time Beecher went down, some of his gunmen had already headed for the corral and a quick escape. It wasn’t hard to round up the others; several were wounded slightly and the others had no stake in keeping up Beecher’s fight. They were just in it for the cash.

  Bear’s men loaded Beecher and the other wounded into a wagon and headed for Great Falls. Diamond, Bear, Halt, and Robbie followed, arriving in time to pull the sheriff from his nightly rounds of the local saloons. After some prodding, he placed Beecher’s men under arrest and posted a deputy at the doctor’s office to guard Beecher.

  The doctor examined Beecher and announced that the poor wretch would most likely live—and regret doing so. Then he and his wife patched up Halt and the rest of Bear’s wounded.

  Dawn was well on the way by the time they returned to their main camp, but nobody was ready for sleep. The men were busy celebrating Robbie’s return, tousling his hair and hoisting him onto their shoulders, and recounting stories of their great rescue raid to those who had stayed behind. Silky came rushing out in her nightclothes to learn what had happened. At the sight of Halt’s bandaged arm, she shamelessly threw her arms around him and declared that if he didn’t stop being reckless with his neck she was going to have to wring it herself. Above their embrace Halt gave Diamond and Bear a wicked wink.

  Silky insisted on starting breakfast and soon had coffee brewing and biscuits baking. The mood was almost festive as everyone pitched in to help with the tables and serving. All present vowed that they’d never tasted better fare.

  It was only as the men were finishing their food that fatigue settled over them. Bear decreed that they would start work again tomorrow morning, saying that the work wasn’t going anywhere. His words stuck in Diamond’s mind as she watched him moving among his men and then checking the camp to make certain all was secure. The work wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’m sorry, Bear,” she said, joining him at the edge of the picket line and slipping her arm through his as he looked off toward the forward camp. “I know how much it means to you. We’ll get it done.”

  “We’ll have to make seven to ten miles a day to reach Billings by snowfall.” He smiled ruefully. “Now that Beecher’s going to jail, maybe we can persuade the land office to give us additional time.”

  “Or maybe we’ll get late snows this year,” she said.

  “Or … maybe that dry riverbed will change course,” he said, waggling his brows. “Or maybe the track will just start laying itself …”

  “See there,” she said with insufferable optimism. “There are all sorts of possibilities.” She pulled him down and planted a kiss on his cheek. “We can do anything together, Bear McQuaid. We make a darn good team.” He turned and put both arms around her, gazing raptly into her eyes. She felt the strength and warmth of his chest beneath her hands and her heart skipped a beat. “I know something else we’re good at.”

  “Oh?”

  “Come back to the car with me and I’ll show you,” she said, wriggling out of his embrace and snagging his hand to pull him along.

  “Something we can do in front of Schultz and Silky and Robbie?” he said, holding his ground and giving her a chiding look.

  “Oh.” She stopped pulling.

  “That’s what you get for inviting half of Montana into our private car.”

  “Oh.” Into that one syllable was compressed a world of longing. “It will be two or three more weeks before Schultz is ready to move. And Silky is here for the duration …” She ran her hand down his chest and sank her fingertips just inside his belt buckle, wiggling them. “Got any ideas?”

  An hour later, Diamond stood in the doorway of a boxcar staring at Bear’s solution. He’d had the full-sized brass bed in the sleeping compartment dismantled and reassembled in the middle of an empty boxcar.

  “Welcome to your home away from home,” Bear said, pulling her inside and closing the sliding door behind her. It was almost pitch-black.

  “I can’t see a thing,” she said, feeling ahead of her in the darkness and running into Bear’s chest. He chuckled and pulled her into his arms.

  “You don’t have to.”

  EPILOGUE

  It was well past supper that evening when Halt came banging on the door of Bear and Diamond’s makeshift honeymoon bower. Diamond lay curled in the sheets, glowing with satisfaction, reluctant to move, while Bear slipped on his trousers and headed for the door. Bear was back in a moment, giving her a brisk kiss on the lips and suggesting that she rise and dress … somet
hing about Nigel Ellsworth.

  “Oh, my heaven—I forgot all about him,” she said, hurrying to don her stockings, petticoat, and skirt. “The blast—is he all right?”

  “I think so. Halt says he’s got news and wants to see us.” Bear jerked on his second boot and jammed his arms into a shirt on his way to the door. He paused near the slice of light coming through the narrow opening of the boxcar door. She could see he was bracing for yet another calamity. “Hurry, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Hand in hand, they hurried along the tracks and headed for the center of camp. It was already dusk; the sky was a paint box of extravagant colors and the evening fires were already burning. The men were gathered around the central campfire, where Nigel Ellsworth and his recently appointed assistant sat on a wooden bench, holding them spellbound with unusually animated talk.

  They looked as though they’d been dragged through every gulch and gully in Montana: their trousers and coats were dusty and torn, Ellsworth’s bowler hat was squashed into an odd mushroom shape, and the pair both had scrapes on their faces and hands. Diamond squeezed Bear’s hand and they traded looks of dismay.

  “Ellsworth!” Bear extended a hand to the inventor-cum-engineer. “Are you all right?”

  “I—I believe so,” Nigel said, looking down at his lanky frame with an air of befuddlement. “There was an explosion … a big explosion …”

  “We heard,” Bear said, a bit dryly. “The camp … how bad is it?”

  “I’m afraid it’s pretty much demolished.” Ellsworth winced. “We’d have been demolished with it if we hadn’t been off on the far range finishing some survey work.”

  Bear took a deep breath, bracing, trying not to overreact, when Ellsworth astonished him by breaking into a quizzical smile.

  “It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw,” the engineer declared. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miz McQuaid.” He doffed the felt mushroom on his head. “The blast took down half of the buttes on the north range of the right-of-way … carved chunks out of those buttes like a knife going through butter. It seems there was a soft layer of rock running through the entire set of cliffs, and everything blew out down to that soft layer and then just stopped. It’s flat as a fritter. Looks like a damned macadam road. Must be twenty feet across in most places. Won’t even have to do any grading … just lay down the track!”