Suddenly, to his left, a noise scared Wade into nearly jumping out onto the trail. A swift hand grabbed his arm or he might have run forward right into the men’s path.
“It’s me. Hang on.” Red appeared by Wade’s side on foot. It took a second for the lightning to show that Red didn’t have Michael. He must have circled back, crossed the trail, and given Michael to Cassie.
Wade hated the thought of Red risking his life, but the odds had just gotten a lot better.
Their eyes met. Then Red nodded at the approaching men. “Now.” They rushed the trail.
“Stop right there or I’ll shoot.” Red cocked his gun, the sound clear and chilling in the stormy night.
The men shouted. One of their horses reared up.
Wade rushed the riders, eager to get his hands on them and beat the truth out of them, to find Abby. He caught the closest man and, from the cry of alarm, knew he’d gotten the man who’d uttered such horrible threats against Abby. Jerking the man to the ground, Wade snatched at his holster and relieved the villain of his gun.
The other horse landed four-legged, and Wade saw its back was bare. The quiet man was gone.
Wade yanked the man he held to his feet and used him for a shield, searching in the darkness for the other man. There was no sign of Red, either.
“Let go!” his prisoner shouted then began flailing his hands and feet.
To subdue him, Wade flipped his gun around and crashed the butt down on the man’s head. The fight went out of him and his legs sagged. Wade crouched low, looking for the missing outlaw and now for Red. Wade didn’t dare shoot at someone coming toward him because he couldn’t be sure who it was in the dark.
Underbrush thrashed and snapped.
Wade heard it and turned. They were on the side of the trail where Cassie was hidden with the children. Like the seasoned rancher he was, Wade snapped the fringe from his buckskin jacket and used it to hog-tie his prisoner.
A crack of gunfire split the night, followed by a flash of light deep in the woods. A man’s sudden cry of pain that Wade hoped didn’t come from Red was followed by more commotion in the trees.
Wade’s attention focused on a spot close to him. He quickly dragged his limp captive to the side of the trail and stashed him out of sight then rushed toward the oncoming noise. Slipping behind a tree, Wade bided his time, drawing his gun but knowing he didn’t dare shoot.
A dark form leapt through the last of the cover, and Wade tackled him. The second he made contact, he was sure he had the other outlaw. They tussled, Wade searching wildly for the man’s gun in the darkness. A fist slammed into Wade’s face. He stumbled backward, losing his grip.
Another gunshot split the night, then another. In the chaos, Wade knew he’d pulled the trigger. Sickened, he didn’t waver. He rushed toward the man. It wasn’t Red, Wade was sure of it. But that bullet could have gone wild.
The man, facedown on the ground, groaned in agony.
Wade knelt and rolled him onto his back.
“You got him?” Red reached Wade’s side, sounding desperate.
“Yes.” Wade bound this man’s legs and hands just as he had the other’s.
“He fired his gun too close to Cassie. I’ve got to see if she’s okay.” Red vanished.
Scared to death, Wade saw a gun within the outlaw’s reach and kicked it aside then searched the man for hidden weapons. As he frisked the attacker, he became aware of wetness soaking the man’s shoulder. Blood. Wade ripped another long fringe off his jacket and bound the man as quickly as he would have bulldogged a calf.
Seconds ticked by as Wade waited, hoping and praying Red would come back and tell him Cassie and the children were okay. The time crawled.
Finally, Red emerged from the woods.
“Everything okay, Red?”
“Yep.”
“You weren’t hurt? Your family’s okay?”
“They’re fine.”
“Did you shoot him?”
“Nope, I never even fired my gun.”
“Then this must be my bullet in his shoulder.” Wade reached for the bleeding shoulder and ripped the shirt aside. A flare of lightning revealed not one but two bullet wounds. A new one and an old one. Instantly, Wade was sure he’d put the old wound in this man near the Flathead village.
“This one was in on the massacre of Abby’s people.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I shot one of them that day near Abby’s village, and I can see the bullet wound right here.” Wade jabbed a finger at the two wounds.
“And if it’s like it sounded—” Red didn’t continue because it was too sickening.
Wade knew someone had to say it. “They’ve got Abby.” Wade stood. His foot slipped, and he accidentally kicked his prisoner.
The man howled in pain in a way that struck Wade as ridiculous for such a minor bump.
Then Wade looked closer and saw a knife sticking out of the man’s boot. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked closer. He’d seen that knife before.
“Can I have my knife back?” As polite as a schoolmarm, Cassie approached Wade’s prisoner. She had Susannah in her arms and Michael on her back, and she held the reins of all three horses.
Wade remembered that man’s cry of pain in the woods. A sound he now realized was wrung from this man when Cassie’s knife had embedded in the leather and obviously gotten some toes. Honestly, they’d made the little woman do more than her share of the work tonight, and now it looked as if she’d taken a big hand in bagging an outlaw.
Wade hoped there was a reward. “You have got yourself a handy little woman, Red.”
Red reached down and retrieved Cassie’s knife with no oversupply of gentleness. The outlaw howled in pain.
He handed the weapon to his wife and took Susannah. “You should get out of here, Cassie, but I can’t leave Wade, and I can’t let you go off alone.”
“I’m fine, Red. I’ll be careful.”
“Like you were this time?”
“I’d say stabbing that man was real careful of me.”
Wade would have laughed if he hadn’t been so scared for Abby.
“This trail doesn’t lead anywhere but to your old house, Cass. I’ll bet they’ve got Abby there.”
In a tearing hurry, Wade and Red made short work of dragging the two men well off the trail, making sure they were trussed up tight and had no concealed knives to cut themselves loose.
Red held Susannah and helped Cassie to mount with little Michael on her back. Then he and Wade swung up on horseback, and the three of them moved swiftly down the trail.
Wade kept hearing those men talk. Kept thinking of Abby in the hands of these brutes.
Wade took the lead this time, leaving the Dawsons to bring up the rear with their children. He set a dangerously fast pace. It was so dark now Wade could barely make out Cassie when he looked behind him.
One thing did bother him about that attack…. He dropped back beside her. They were far enough from the Griffin place, and the wind whipped wildly enough. He decided it was safe to talk. “Why’d you stab him in the foot, Cassie? That’s a pretty small target.”
There was no answer except Red’s laughter. A shocking sound considering what had just happened and the danger that lay ahead.
“It’s not funny, Red.” Cassie sounded huffy. It was too dark to see her face and no handy lightning bolt supplied illumination, but the little woman sounded for all the world like she was pouting.
“It’s a little bit funny,” Red said quietly from behind them.
“It is not!”
“What’s funny?” Wade asked.
“Nothing.” Cassie said no more.
“Then what’s not funny?”
But Red wasn’t done talking. “She wasn’t aiming for his foot.”
“You don’t know that for a fact. I might well have been aiming for his foot.” Cassie sounded like she was trying to threaten Red into silence.
Wade’s good friend Red apparen
tly wasn’t scared at all. “She was aiming for his…uh…his bull’s-eye.”
“You’re mine, you wildcat.” Harv sank his fingers deep into Abby’s hair. “And I’m gonna make you pay for this cut on my face.”
She slashed out with her knife and gave him a new cut to worry about.
Harv stumbled back.
Abby, her feet bound, dove at him. Her weight slammed into him, and she jerked his gun out of his holster as he fell backward. His cry of fear gave her a purely sinful surge of satisfaction. She flipped the gun so it faced away from the filthy pig and brought a clean, hard butt stroke down on his head.
His turn to hurt, his turn to be overpowered.
She felt the vicious pleasure of that blow. She really needed to talk with God more about this desire she had to hurt, or threaten to hurt, white men. It wasn’t biblical, she was nearly certain of it.
She didn’t think it was a sin to defend herself, but enjoying it was most likely not something God approved of. She decided then and there that once she was sure the stinking outlaw was knocked into a sound sleep and she’d gotten well away from here, she’d spend serious time in prayer and repentance.
He slumped to the floor unconscious on the first blow.
Infuriated that she had no excuse to keep beating on him, Abby quickly slit the bindings on her ankles and jumped to her feet. “One of your men is still around,” Abby said to the still figure in front of her. She wasn’t going to stand around waiting for him to come back.
Eyeing the gun with distaste, she decided there was no reason to leave it behind for him to use on her or another innocent. She took it and ran out the front door, dashing into the woods, hoping the second man wasn’t watching.
The trees surrounded her. She crouched down, watchful, worried about the location of the other outlaw. The first two who’d left would be on their way far down the trail by now. But the second one was close at hand, and he’d intended to return after Harv did his worst.
The fools had tied her hands behind her back and not taken her knife. The slim weapon was hard for others to find in its pouch. The stiffness of the blade was concealed by the beading, so if they searched her at all—she’d been unconscious at the time, so she wasn’t sure—they’d missed it. But she’d awakened in that room and watched them through eyes opened just a slit while she’d found her knife and cut her hands free.
Then while they plotted, she prepared to make them sorry they’d touched her. These were the men who had massacred her village. The man’s injured face was testimony to that, and his threats to make her pay for his scars were as good as a confession.
She would have to do some serious work on the state of her soul to find an ounce of regret in her that she’d hurt that dreadful, stinking man. But she’d do it. She promised God.
Not now but soon.
She expected no white lawman to exact justice for the murder of a village of Flatheads, so she didn’t consider trying to take the men to the sheriff, even if she could have figured out a way.
Staring at the house, she tried to decide what to do. These men were dangerous, and though she’d hurt this one, he’d be fine and all four men were still free. She’d heard them plotting to kill her and Wade and Mort and take Mort’s ranch. It made sense to kill her because she’d witnessed them committing murder, and Wade had seen this man’s face. But Mort? What did he have to do with this? Was he just another victim, another chance to do evil?
Crouching there in the woods like a frightened rabbit didn’t suit her. But what should she do? Where should she go? The forests weren’t safe, and she needed to warn Wade. She could have lived in the wilderness alone. Hadn’t she just proved that she was tough enough? But did she want to be this tough? Did she want to fight for her life every day?
Abby had lived through a disease that killed her white family. She’d survived a brutal massacre that finished her Salish family. She’d never been allowed time to grieve for either as she’d been torn away from both of those lives. Twice now her life had been broken into pieces. And now, with her aching head, fresh blood on her hands, and the man she now knew she loved in danger, she couldn’t make a decision.
She had to protect Wade. She had to leave the white world.
God, I belong nowhere.
Wind whipped around her and laughed as if the devil himself mocked her.
She was utterly alone. The whole wide world seemed closed to her. A moment of loneliness so profound it nearly choked her held her in place. Go forward. Go back. Every choice was hostile.
Abby knew this was the lowest moment of her life. The utter loneliness sank into her bones until she knew things could never get any worse.
A crack of thunder proved her wrong.
The heavens split open and slashing, frigid rain poured down on her head.
CHAPTER 33
Hold up.” Wade lifted one gloved hand.
The trail widened enough that Cassie and Red were able to come up beside him just as the rain began slashing his face. They stared at the dark house. Cassie and Red had both donned oilcloth ponchos, and the children, sleeping under the waterproof cloth, were still and comfortable. Red and Cassie looked okay, too.
Wade hadn’t taken the time to pack anything. He was miserable, cold, wet, and within seconds of pure panic.
The house was dark. No sign of life anywhere.
“Let me go in alone.” Wade spoke low, his voice barely audible under the sounds of the storm.
“No. Cassie, lift up your slicker and let me hand Susannah over.” Red tented his poncho and shifted around to slide Susannah off his lap and under Cassie’s rain gear without awakening the little girl or getting a single drop of water on her.
“I don’t want you hurt.” Wade’s fear for Abby and guilt at putting Red and his family in danger were making him twitchy.
Turning to Wade, Red said, “Give me a minute to scout the outbuildings. I’ll signal you when I’m ready. Then you go in the front, and I’ll go in the back.”
“No, I’m not waiting. I need to get in there. You stay back. Protect your family.”
“It’s all quiet now, Wade. If she’s in there, she’ll be no worse for a few minutes’ wait. If we go in stupid and get ourselves shot, she’ll be a lot worse off, and so will Cassie and the little ones.”
Red was right. Wade knew it. He forced himself to do the smart thing. He nodded in agreement, keeping his eyes fastened on the old house. She was in there, maybe hurt, maybe dead. And if she wasn’t in there, then where did they look?
“Cass, honey, you drop back into the woods and mind the young’uns and the horses.”
“Yes, Red.”
Wade tried to imagine Abby saying, “Yes, Wade,” in that obedient tone of voice. It would never happen, and Wade would never care. He’d let her say anything and do anything as long as she was all right. He’d never ask for more than her safety.
The drenched horses obediently followed Cassie into the dark woods as wind buffeted them and thunder rumbled overhead.
“Stay back until you hear from me, Wade.” Red vanished toward the back of the house. There was a large barn, built with Cassie’s inheritance before her first husband went broke and died, leaving her alone, pregnant, and penniless in the unsettled West. Griffin also had several smaller outbuildings erected, too, so it would take time to search them all.
It took every ounce of self-control Wade had to watch and wait. He stared at that house through the nearly blinding rain, trying to burn a hole through the wall with his eyes. Was she in there? Was she hurt or dead?
God, please let us be in time.
Suddenly Wade heard a birdcall—a bird that would never be out singing in this kind of rain. Red.
Inching forward, Wade drew his gun.
Sid stopped in his tracks.
His eyes narrowed as a shadow separated itself from the barn. Moving slowly, silently, someone slipped from building to building, searching.
Sid backed his horse well out of the man’s
line of sight, dismounted, and tied the animal securely.
A bolt of lightning lit up the yard at just the right second, and Sid got a good look at the man. But as he was swathed in oilcloth, he couldn’t identify him. Not Harv, that was for sure.
The man came out and headed in a crouching run toward the house. A flare of light outlined the man’s gun. Then a shrill whistle told Sid the rest. This man wasn’t alone.
Dying was not part of Sid’s plan. He felt his feet itching to take off, to run for the hills, to leave Harv to his fate. Except Harv was the only one who knew where that blasted gold was hidden.
They’d run into that house and see Harv with the wild woman, and there’d be killing trouble and Sid’s dreams of gold would die along with his saddle partner.
Inching forward, Sid drew his gun.
Abby couldn’t believe her eyes.
Maybe the lightning had left her addled, but she saw somebody huddled in the woods, barely visible because she was covered head to foot with a cloak. Watching closely, a long braid whipped out, and a pretty bow on the braid told Abby that this was a woman. The woman held three horses, and even deep in the woods on this black night, Abby recognized Wade’s horse.
Wade was here? Abby sidled closer, hating that she lost sight of the house as she moved closer to the woman.
A high-pitched cry Abby recognized convinced her to forget being quiet, and she walked forward without concealment. It sounded like…a baby. And who had a baby with her every time Abby had seen her? “Cassie, is that you?” “Abby? You’re here? You’re okay?”
Cassie Dawson, and from the odd wriggling and crying from under her cloak, Abby surmised that the woman had indeed brought a baby along.
“You brought a baby to a gunfight?”
Mary Connealy Page 84