“You okay Marston?” Jeremiah asked, breaking through Marston’s daydream. He shook his head and realized that both men were watching him closely.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbled, shoving the paper back into his brother’s hands.
‘No, you’re not. You need to go back to them.’
Marston growled and threw his cigarette on the frozen mud. He squished it beneath his boot and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. It had been three months since he’d left Rose and Langley and in that time he’d done a fairly good job at forgetting them. But every now and then their memory would sneak up on him and when it did the pain and longing in Marston’s chest were nearly enough to kill him.
“You don’t act okay, Marston,” Duke countered. “And you haven’t for a long time. You seem downright melancholy.”
Marston shook his head and pulled his hat lower. “Are we going to stand around talking about feelings all day or are we gonna ride?”
Jeremiah frowned. “Do you want the homestead, Marston? I’d be willing to work out some kind of trade with you.”
“What the hell would I do with a homestead?!” Marston demanded. “I sure as hell ain’t got a use for one!” With that, he strode away toward Buck.
“What the hell is the matter with him?” Jeremiah grumbled as he folded up his new deed and stuck it deep in his pocket.
Duke shivered. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was wanting to settle down. He hasn’t talked to you about being in love, has he?”
Jeremiah let out a bark of laughter. “Marston in love? Come on Duke! You taught us better than that. Hell, Marston don’t care about anybody. You know as well as I do that if a posse of demons got after us, he’d trip us in a heartbeat to save his own skin.”
Duke nodded and tossed his cigarette down. “And we’d do the same to him.”
“That right,” Jeremiah nodded, glad to have things the way they’d always been.
“It still seems like something has gotten under his skin. He’s lost his edge, Jeremiah. He seems…softer.. somehow.”
The men shared a look of horror. Falling in love was against the rules of survival in the life they lived. If you loved someone then it meant you cared and if you cared then you grew soft. Soft men died.
Chapter Twelve
It was nearing dark when the group of ten men came upon the quiet homestead. Marston drew up on his reins and came to a stop beside Jeremiah and Duke.
“Well that sure looks like home for the night to me,” Duke noted.
Marston felt unease settle into his gut. The tiny house was barely standing. There were cracks in the wall to let in the bitter cold. A thin line of smoke rose from the chimney and a skinny horse meandered about the corral.
Déjà vu washed over Marston and he was frozen in place as the rest of the men rode closer.
“Wait!” he called.
“What?” Duke called back with irritation. “I’m cold and….”
Just then the door to the house opened and two small boys ran out, taking turns hitting one another.
“Mama!” One of them hollered. “Jacob hit me!”
“He hit me first!” the other boy exclaimed.
A thin, tired blond stepped out the door wearing a worn brown dress. She leaned her broom against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “You wait until your pa gets home tomorrow,” she warned. The boys instantly stopped poking at one another. “Now get back in this house before you catch your death out in this cold.”
The three disappeared back into the ramshackle house without ever seeing the ten men in the distance. “Hot damn, Duke! Did you see that?” Hinkley demanded with a hungry grin.
Duke nodded. “Yep. That poor woman looked awful lonely, boys. Why don’t we ride on down there and keep her company while her husband’s away?” All of the men chuckled and nodded in agreement.
All of them except Marston.
Marston’s thoughts were in Louisiana with a red head with tear-filled blue eyes wearing a thin white nightdress, the shadows of her full body revealed in the lantern light. His mind was on a bright-eyed ten-year-old boy with nails between his lips to keep him from speaking and awe in his eyes as he stared up at Marston.
“Duke, why don’t we just move on?” Marston suddenly spoke up.
Several of the men grumbled while Duke stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Why?” he demanded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m cold and could use a good night of rest.”
“Yeah me too!” someone in the group agreed.
“Rest ain’t what you have in mind,” Marston practically snarled at Duke and the man raised his brow. Marston sighed. “These people don’t have anything to spare, Duke. Look at that place? What do we stand to gain?”
“Since when do we care if they have it to spare, Marston?” Jeremiah inquired.
Duke was staring hard at Marston. “You aren’t getting soft are you?”
Marston tensed as Duke dealt him one of the biggest insults a man in their life could be dealt. Marston’s hand twitched toward his gun. “No, I ain’t soft.”
The air around the men crackled as the gang circled around much like a pack of predators. Marston knew they’d side with Duke if it came to it. If Marston challenged Duke’s authority, Duke would respond with deadly force and even if Marston managed to kill Duke, he’d quickly be gunned down by the others.
This life, this world was deadly and dangerous and Marston wasn’t willing to die to save this woman’s well-being. These men wouldn’t kill her, but they would probably leave her wishing she was dead.
“Do what you gotta do, Duke,” Marston backed down but kept his hand near his gun.
Duke appeared to want to speak and Marston saw questions in his dark eyes but whatever he wanted to say remained unspoken as Duke moved away and motioned for his men. “Let’s go boys.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jeremiah demanded when the brothers were alone.
“Not a damn thing,” Marston snapped.
Jeremiah shoved him. “Well snap the hell out of it.”
Marston simply glared and followed after Jeremiah when the man went after the gang. “Hello, the house!” Duke called.
Marston felt his uneasiness grow. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one damn bit.
“Can I help you….” The woman’s voice trailed off when she stepped out her door and took in the sight of all the trail worn men on horseback.
“We need something to eat,” Duke replied.
“And some company,” Hinkley added with a leer.
“I don’t have anything for you,” the woman insisted, wringing her hands on her apron and backing away.
Jeremiah leaped from his horse and was in the doorway before she could get away. “I think you do,” he countered with a wink.
“Get away from my mama!” the oldest of the two boys exclaimed as he came leaping from the house, swinging an iron skillet. Jeremiah was laughing as he caught the boy by the arm and tossed him off the porch. The boy landed in a heap on the frozen ground.
“Don’t hurt my babies!” the woman pleaded.
Slowly the men dismounted and Marston remained on Buck. “Well, then why don’t you just cooperate with us and we won’t have to,” Duke offered.
The woman’s eyes were wide with fear and her chin trembled. The oldest boy was still on the ground trying to regain the breath that his fall had knocked out of him and the youngest boy was watching with wide-eyed from just inside the door.
Marston saw the pain and turmoil on her face and then he recognized the resolve in her eyes as she squared her shoulders. “Fine.” She motioned to her boys. “Boys, go to the barn.”
“But mama!” the oldest exclaimed, leaping to his feet.
She fixed her son with a sharp look and gestured toward the barn. “Gregory, take him now.”
Gregory tossed the pan aside as his younger brother ran to him. Marston saw the tears in the boy’s eyes and something inside of
him snapped.
He couldn’t just let this happen.
“Stop,” he growled as he slid slowly from his horse and walked to the porch. The woman was trembling and terrified as Marston turned his back to her and stood facing the gang. “That’s enough.”
“Marston?” Jeremiah was clearly confused. “What are you doing?”
Marston met the oldest boy’s gaze. “Why don’t you get on in the house with your mama now?”
“Don’t do this, Marston,” Duke urged.
Marston knew that he very well might die. The only chance he stood was to make sure he didn’t pull his gun. He would do everything in his power to change these men’s minds but even if he failed at least he could say he tried.
“Duke, this ain’t right. Let’s just ride on.”
“There won’t be any riding on, Marston,” Duke countered and the other men nodded heartily in agreement. “We need food and we need warm company and both are waiting right in that house for us.”
Marston glanced at the boys who hadn’t yet made a move toward their mama. “No,” Marston repeated. “Boys get on inside.”
The oldest boy, Gregory, made a move toward the house and Hinkley jumped forward and shoved the boy hard, slamming him back into the dirt. Marston saw red. “You no good son of a bitch!” he bellowed before leaping from the porch and tackling Hinkley to the ground.
Marston was good in a fight and he was big enough to hold his own but when six more bodies leaped at him, he knew he was in for it. He tucked his head under her his arms and curled up his legs as boots connected with every inch of his body. The pain was intense and he couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.
“Alright, he’s had enough,” Duke announced, his voice tight.
Marston wondered why the man called the gang off. Usually, he killed any who opposed him, or let his gang do the dirty work for him. Marston realized that Duke and Jeremiah hadn’t taken part in his beating. His brother appeared mad enough to bite the heads of nails though whether he was mad at the gang or at him, Marston couldn’t say.
“Ma’am, send your kids to the barn,” Duke growled.
The woman did and Marston heard their tiny footsteps run off. He wanted to save that woman what he knew was coming, but he couldn’t. Hell, he was bleeding from his nose and mouth. His head was pounding and he was fairly sure that his ribs were bruised if his difficulty breathing was any indication.
Marston lay there on the cold ground and heard the men lock themselves into the cabin. The din of their voices, the only sound in the silence of the evening.
It was a long while before Marston found the strength to push himself to his feet. His chest was aching and he spit out a long stream of blood before wiping his face off the best he could on his shirtsleeve.
He tried to forget what he knew was happening in that house and instead he limped toward the barn. He barely managed to duck in time to avoid the horseshoe that came flying toward his head. “Stop that!” he scolded.
Gregory glared at him. “What are they doing to my mama?”
Marston shook his head. “Nothing you need to know about. How old are you boys?”
“I’m twelve and Jacob is eight. My pa will be back tomorrow and he’ll kill every one of you that hurts my mama.”
“We all gotta die somehow and, boy, I wish your pa the best of luck in his vengeance.” Marston rubbed at his swollen nose. “Now, you boys stay in this barn and keep quiet until either your ma or your pa fetches you out. If it’s your mama then she’s gonna need your help and comfort until your pa makes it home so be strong men for her.”
Two pairs of wide brown eyes stared at him and the boys nodded. Marston reached into his boot and pulled out the derringer he kept inside. He laid it in Gregory’s hand. “You know how to use this?”
“Yes, sir.”
Marston nodded. “It’s only got one shot so don’t go blazing in that house after those men unless you want to make sure that you, your brother and your mama all die. Lock this door from the inside and hopefully you’ll be alright but blast anyone that tries to come in and get you if it ain’t your ma or pa.”
Gregory nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you…. Those men beat you bad…”
Marston chuckled, the sound void of any real emotion. “I’ve had worse, kid.”
Marston stepped back outside and closed the barn door behind him. He stared up at the star dotted sky as his frozen breath swirled around his head. The peaceful illusion around him was shattered by the sound of the woman whimpering and crying out with pain in the house.
Her quiet sobs might as well have been gunshots they echoed so loudly in Marston’s ears.
Suddenly an image of Rose crying in her kitchen flashed through his mind. Marston’s blood froze in his veins. What if men like these found Rose and Langley? What if men like these, men like him, found that cabin and there was no one around to protect them? The thought of anyone laying hands on that boy or his mother caused a rage unlike any Marston had ever felt to flood his senses.
There wasn’t anything else he could do to protect the woman in that house or the boys in that barn. Sure he could try to play hero again and end up dead but then he wouldn’t be able to get back to Rose and Langley. These men wouldn’t kill this family—that was the only comfort that Marston was able to find with the situation. Marston couldn’t leave Rose and Langley to the same fate as this family.. he had to be with them and keep them safe.
‘Bout time you came to your senses.’
Marston rolled his eyes at the voice and headed toward the horses. He removed Jeremiah’s saddlebags from the gray and tossed them onto the ground before securing the horse to Buck. Rose and Langley needed this horse a hell of a lot more than Jeremiah’s skinny ass.
Marston jumped on Buck and headed out into the night as fast as the horses and his battered body would allow. It would take three weeks to reach Harper Louisiana and Marston could only hope he’d find Rose and Langley alive and well.
***
“Where the hell is Marston?” Duke asked aloud as the men made their way back outside several hours after dawn.
“That stupid son of a bitch took off and took my horse with him!” Jeremiah exclaimed as he kicked at his saddlebags on the ground.
Duke sighed. “We better be riding out, boys. Jeremiah, you can ride with me.”
Jeremiah was cursing with every breath as he hopped up on Duke’s horse. Duke paused a moment to watch the thin blond woman stumble from the house and run toward the barn. After everything she’d endured during the night, her first thought this morning was about her children.
It amazed Duke the lengths some women would go to in order to protect their offspring. Duke hadn’t had a mother like that. His mama had tossed him into a ditch as a baby and it had just so happened that an old outlaw found him before the coyotes had.
“Why’d that bastard take off?” Jeremiah asked quietly for only Duke to hear as the men rode out.
“I already told you why,” Duke stated with despair. “Marston has made the biggest mistake a man can make and it’s liable to get him killed. He has started to care.”
Chapter Thirteen
Langley was scared. It was morning, but his mama wouldn’t wake up. She had been okay the night before other than her real bad cough, but now she was terrible sick.
She kept mumbling as she tossed and turned under her covers and when Langley laid his palm on her forehead, her skin had burned him. He knew he should go for the doc, but they’d gotten snowfall in the night so he couldn’t walk to town and he couldn’t saddle the mare on his own.
“Mama, what can I do to help you?” he whispered, his voice echoing in the quiet of the cabin.
He pushed a bit of the sweaty hair from her brow when she didn’t answer and he pulled the covers up to her chin.
Langley stood and walked from the room. Never in his life had he felt so helpless and terrified. He wished Marston would come back. His mama had told him that the man would, but Langley was b
eginning to think she had lied to him to spare his feelings.
Langley kicked the table leg. Why hadn’t he gone to the doctor sooner! He’d known his mama was sick, but she had kept insisting for weeks that it was simply a cold and she would get better. He should never have listened to her.
What if that banker showed up while mama was in the bed like she was? He had heard the man demand payment anyway he could get it last time and while Langley didn’t know exactly what that meant, he knew it was a threat to his mama.
Just to assure himself that he could protect her, Langley grabbed the rifle from beside the door and tested the weight of it in his hands. Then he went to the counter, grabbed a stale biscuit and tore off a chunk with his teeth.
Langley went to the fireplace and began to stoke the fire, poking at it and becoming lost in his thoughts and worries. Pounding hooves approaching the cabin yanked Langley from his thoughts.
He tossed down the poker and raced toward the gun. Langley scooted a kitchen chair to the door and climbed on so he could stick the rifle barrel out of the hole. Without thinking about what he was doing, and simply wanting to protect his mama, Langley pulled the trigger.
The recoil of the rifle sent him stumbling backward and tumbling off the chair. Langley was sent sprawling on the floor and the rifle went sliding away.
“Dammit!” a man’s voice bellowed. “Rose? Langley? Whichever one of you just shot me is going to have the favor returned! I swear on all that is holy, I will put a bullet in your damned ass!”
“Marston?!” Langley exclaimed as he leaped to his feet and threw open the door. “I didn’t kill you, did I?”
Give My Love to Rose Page 10