Nothing. The only sound from outside was the mooing of a cow and buzzing of some insects.
He opened the door a little more and still nothing happened. He proceeded to do this in increments, waiting for someone to jump in, shoot…anything. But nothing happened.
He clenched his jaw. Whoever was out there was more clever than Daniel or Wilson. With a grimace, he finally resorted to his last plan. If he didn’t want the money so badly, he’d torch the whole place and burn it down. But without it, he would never ensure the monopoly he needed to take over his town. He cursed Prudence for being so difficult. Had he known one woman could cause so many problems, he would have looked for a different way to obtain $10,000.
Quickly, he turned the wick as high as it would go and threw the lamp out the door. The metal clanked and oil leaked out. A river of fire spread across the yard. He searched for the man, determined to find him before he got out of the cabin. Grabbing a coat from a hook by the door, he flung it out, figuring the man would fire as soon as he saw something come out of the cabin. Then, before the coat landed on the ground, Robert appeared in the doorway and swung the gun, glancing in all directions for the man. But nothing happened. The only advantage he had was the fact that everything was dark, so the man wouldn’t be able to see any more than him.
He waited for any sound to indicate someone was walking his direction but it was quiet. He gritted his teeth. The man was out there, hiding in the shadows, possibly around the side of the cabin or behind a tree. Across the yard, Robert saw a clear path to his horse which remained undisturbed. But he knew going directly to it would make him an open target. Mentally cursing the predicament he was in, he inched along the cabin wall, mindful to keep an eye out for any movements.
What he needed was a better vantage point. And as long as he stayed at the cabin, he wasn’t going to get it. He needed to get to one of the trees. His gaze went to the trees closest to him. It would be a risk to get there, but he didn’t really have a choice unless he wanted to get back in the cabin. But the cabin had no real hiding places. He shook his head in aggravation. Whether he liked it or not, his best chance was in the trees.
His grip tightened on the gun as he made his way to the corner of the cabin. The grass rustled and he pointed his gun in the direction of the sound, his heartbeat picking up. A deer shifted its head to look at him then scurried back into the trees. Robert released his breath and lowered the gun. He didn’t like this. He wasn’t usually spooked.
It was the endless silence that was bothering him. Most people would come right out and attack, but the man gauging his movements had an irritatingly huge amount of patience. And if he wasn’t careful, his need to kill the bastard was going to be his undoing.
Renewing his grip on the gun, he scanned the area again then proceeded to the edge of the cabin. With a glance behind him to make sure the man wasn’t behind him, he swung the gun to the other side and peered in that direction.
No one was there.
He had no choice. He had to run. He couldn’t keep edging around the cabin all night. If he wanted to get to a better hiding place and wait for the man to expose himself, he only had one chance.
He bolted for the trees closest to him. He made it and scanned the cabin and yard but still didn’t see the man. Waiting until his breathing slowed, he continued his watch. The moonlight did little to show him what he needed, and shadows hovered all around him in the trees. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to pound the tree with the butt of his gun. He was still the mouse in this pursuit. He had gained no real advantage by leaving the cabin.
Just what was he supposed to do? Wait until sunrise and ride the horse out of here? Even then, the man would still be lurking somewhere nearby.
Who was the man and why did he care that he wanted to get the trunk? Prudence wouldn’t tell a group of outlaws about $10,000, would she? He couldn’t believe she’d do something so foolish. Unless maybe they got a hold of the wanted poster and she offered them $2,000 not to turn her in?
He scoffed at the idea. He recalled how she reacted to Wilson as he hauled her off into the trees. The woman might have been pretending she didn’t know her way through the forest, but there was no way she could pretend being afraid of what Wilson was going to do to her. She wouldn’t play whore to a group of bandits.
But maybe the bandits went through her trunk and found the money. In that case, the money could be anywhere. He clenched his jaw again, fighting another urge to yell. Men would kill for $10,000, and these outlaws would be no different.
Curse Prudence for running away from Virginia to begin with. He hoped she got lost and rotted out in these woods. Or even better, was mauled by an animal. It would serve her right.
Now there might be no getting to that $10,000, and it wasn’t like Albert was still alive to make good on his debts. He took a deep breath and released it. Killing the moron had been a lapse in judgment because now he wouldn’t do him any good at all.
He stood by the tree and continued to stare at the cabin and lawn surrounding it. He had two options. Either he could stay here and wait until he killed the man so he could go back in the cabin where the bandits might or might not have hidden the money, or he could leave the cabin and return to Virginia. Going to Virginia, of course, meant he’d have to give up most of his plans, though he’d still have significant influence. But even if he headed back, he’d located the outlaws’ hideout. He doubted the man would let him out of this alive.
And that meant he couldn’t do anything until he got rid of the man. It wasn’t something he wanted to do since it was an inconvenience, but he didn’t get this far by letting inconveniences stand in his way. Keeping an eye on the cabin then glancing around the shadows nearby, he dug out three bullets and filled his chamber.
When he was ready, he glanced around the trees. Not seeing anyone, he wove his way around them, his strides slow and purposeful as he made his way toward the back of the cabin. He grunted. Of course. The man wasn’t there. This was going to be a long night. How he wished Charles’ men were better able to wipe out their enemies.
He took in his surroundings, thinking he saw something in the shadows of the trees and almost shot when he realized there was nothing there. That was close. He almost gave his position away. He moved forward, gun raised in front of him when a gunshot erupted from his left and pain flared through his arm. His gun flew out of his grasp and landed somewhere out of view.
“You must be Robert.”
Robert turned to the man who looked to have been dragged through the mud and splashed with blood, though by the looks of it, the dirt and blood weren’t from a recent scuffle.
Holding his wounded arm, he asked, “And you would be?”
“The man whose house you ransacked.”
“Well, I’m the man you stole money from. $10,000 to be exact. I’ll clean up my mess if you hand over the money you owe me.”
“$10,000? That’s a lot of money. But even if she’d given it to me, I wouldn’t give it to you.”
“She? Do you know who ‘she’ is?”
The man smiled. “Do you?”
Of course. The man would be an unreasonable sort, given that he was an outlaw. Robert rolled his eyes but chuckled as he scanned the ground for the gun. It had to be around here somewhere. “Fine. You want to play, let’s play. How much of it do you want?”
“Was it always about the money?”
“As opposed to what?”
“The woman? She never meant anything to you, did she?”
“Is that what you want? Her? Her brother owed me that money. It’s my due. You can have her.” If he could have figured out a way to get his hands on $10,000 without her, he would have done it in a heartbeat. If that was all this man wanted, then he was welcome to her.
He laughed, drawing a long, wicked knife from its sheath. “She’s not yours to give. You can’t have her money. And your life was forfeit the second you let Wilson touch her.”
Robert’s gaze traveled
the length of the knife. “Interesting. So you two were in this together, just waiting until I was in your territory before you struck. I suppose you were giving her pointers on where to go so she had us all going in circles.” He found his gun and snorted. “I should have known she could never be that smart.”
“She’s smarter than you give her credit for. She left a trail for me to follow and had you walking around in circles for hours. She got away from you...twice? Three times? Smart woman.”
“And yet, she’d needed help from a man each time. Doesn’t seem so smart to me.”
“Did she?” The man took a step forward. “She didn’t need me to slit Wilson’s throat. I did that to silence his bellyaching.”
Robert got within inches of his gun. “I don’t care what she’s like. You want to believe she’s smart? Go ahead and believe she’s smart. I don’t care what you do to her. Quite frankly, she’s not worth the effort.”
At this point, he wished he’d killed her so Albert could have just handed him the money, but her brother had insisted he do right by her and marry her in order to get the money. And now it was proving to be a thorn in his side.
“All I want is the money. Now,” Robert swiped down, grabbed his gun, cocked it and pointed it at the man, “where is it?”
The man no longer stood where he’d been. His knife rested on Robert’s throat, his hand around his wrist, keeping him from pointing the gun at him. “Nowhere you or I will ever find it. My wife’s smart that way.” The cool metal bit deep.
Despite the pain in his neck, he laughed. He didn’t know how Prudence got an outlaw’s loyalty, but he had to admit it was an impressive feat. “Your wife? Oh, that’s just splendid. Men out in this area are so desperate for a woman they’ll take anyone who comes along.”
“Men back East don’t know a good woman when they have one.”
That reply only made him laugh harder. He was going to die. He knew it. The only thing keeping him alive was the blade embedded in his throat slowing the bleeding. His body was already beginning to go numb and cold. As soon as it was out, he was dead. But unlike all the people he killed who fought the inevitable, he decided he’d take it like a man and embrace it. “Tell her that her brother was crying on his hands and knees like a woman before I shot him.”
The knife slid through his skin as the man pulled it from him, releasing the blood flow. “I’ll tell her you said goodbye.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mic stared down at the man he’d killed, thinking—hoping—he would feel something for the life he’d taken. Maybe a hint of remorse, possibly guilt, even the rage he’d felt earlier. Anything would be better than relief.
Robert lay on his back at his feet, his empty eyes staring back at him, dead. He was gone forever and Mic didn’t feel the least bit of remorse. The man had been a monster. He’d killed, cheated, and who knew what else. He’d been willing to let Wilson rape Lillian as if it was his right to do so.
From the second he’d arrived at the camp and realized what Robert truly was, he knew the man would have to die. With Robert dead, Lillian was safe. She’d never have to live her life looking over her shoulder and waiting for him to appear. She could be happy, safe in the knowledge that those who knew her were gone.
“It’s over,” he shouted, dragging his eyes from Robert and glancing over his shoulder toward the trees.
Noah and Caleb emerged from the darkness, supporting a limping Jeremiah between them. Dried blood crusted his buckskin breeches and darkened the makeshift bandage that had once been Caleb’s shirt.
“That was a fool thing. You should have shot him,” Jeremiah growled.
Mic shook his head. “I don’t like guns.”
“Makes you a damn fool.”
He smiled at his brother. “Well I’m not the one that missed his mark.”
Jeremiah glared at him. “Let’s see how good you shoot with a broken arm.”
Mic shook his head at Jeremiah’s antics. His fool brother had barreled into the house after hearing the shot and nearly met his maker. Charles’ man would have shot him if not for the nurse who was caring for Lloyd. She’d knocked him in the head and ran when Charles had called for her.
“If it wasn’t for my arm, I wouldn’t have missed,” Jeremiah answered, “and he wouldn’t have almost killed you. If you got killed, Lillian would skin me alive. Or possibly beaten me to death with her skillet.” He looked around the clearing. “Where is she, Mic?”
He ignored the question. “Get him in the house. Make a bed by the fire,” he told the boys. Thank God, Noah and Caleb had been unharmed in the fiasco at Charles’ and during his confrontation with Robert. They were too innocent and young to die. Too young to be hunted and too innocent to be outlaws. “Then I want you two to get rid of the body.”
“Where should we put him?” Noah asked.
“As much as I want to say throw him over the ravine, the stink of him would be awful. Give him a shallow grave somewhere away from here.”
Caleb frowned at him. “Where are you going?”
Jeremiah stopped his slow progress and grabbed Mic’s arm before he could pass. He glared at Mic. “Where is Little Spitfire?”
“Doing what we taught her to do. She injured one of the men with that pick of Abby’s and then ran. I’d like to go get my wife now.”
It felt good to say those words. His wife, the woman he loved. The woman he planned to spend his life loving.
Jeremiah grinned. “Go.”
Mic didn’t need permission. Grabbing two blankets from the house, he headed east along the pathway. He’d been afraid for her when she’d been escorted into Charles’ place. His fear grew when Robert and the others had taken her with them. He’d wanted to follow her directly and rescue her from the hands of her captors, but was delayed rescuing Jeremiah, which had almost ended with them both dead.
He was just glad to leave Jeremiah in the hands of Noah and Caleb and follow Robert’s trail. It hadn’t been too hard. Lillian had left clues for him, letting him know she was alright. She was smarter than Robert realized or would have ever given her credit for. She’d brought them back to his lands, to the places that she knew.
He’d arrived in time to see Wilson leading her away. The cruel lust in his eyes sent chills through him even now. Wilson hadn’t just meant to rape her, he’d meant her harm.
Forced to skirt the arguing men which had ended in Daniel’s death, he’d arrived in time to see his wife driving a six-inch, very thin pick into Wilson’s groin area. Mic hadn’t hesitated to slit his throat like the pig he was. The man had touched his wife and for that he paid with his life.
He picked up his pace, smiling at the thought of Lillian racing away from him to hide in the forest. He really needed a bath and would have loved to wash away the mud and blood, but he’d not leave his woman holed up a moment longer. He was sure she hadn’t recognized him and had probably thought him a crazy man come to finish Wilson’s job. He’d only let her go because Robert had come and he was better off watching the man than letting him sneak up on him later.
Lillian had learned the lessons he’d tried to teach her and made them her own. Robert had passed within feet of her hiding place. If he’d even noticed the pile of leaves, he’d probably mistaken them as a natural occurrence. If Mic hadn’t been searching for her as he tracked Robert, he’d probably have missed it too.
Stopping in the area of the old fallen log, he softly called, “Uzizitka?”
He wasn’t sure where in the area she was or if she was still there. Maybe her sign was merely to tell him she’d been there. He searched the ground, unable to really see the tracks in the dark. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around him, picking through the ones he knew belonged to the forest, searching for the ones that didn’t.
“Lillian, are you here?”
Something stirred in the dark to his right. It was too big to be a rabbit and too small to be a bear.
“Mic?” her voice was soft, almost grog
gy, and it had never sounded so good.
“It’s me, Uzizitka.”
There was a scurry of activity from within the old fallen log and the bush rustled as she wiggled out of her hiding spot. She held a piece of half-eaten jerky in her hand and looked up at him, blinking for a moment before she leapt over the bush to embrace him. “Mic?”
He couldn’t blame her for not recognizing him. He had to look horrible. “It’s me, Lillian.”
“Mic! You’re still alive.”
He enfolded her in his arms, breathing her in. His body swayed. He was bone tired and soul weary. “You too. Though I’d have to say you appear to have fared better.”
She pulled back, scanning him from head to toe and making him feel like he was six-years-old and caught muddying his best clothes. “There’s blood on you. What happened?”
He shrugged and glanced down at himself. He looked horrible and smelled worse. “Wade bled on me after Charles shot him. Jeremiah bled on me while escaping Charles’ men. I’m sure there are a few spots from Wilson.”
“Wilson?”
“The man who thought to take what didn’t belong to him from the woman with a very sharp and long pick. He paid for his mistake twice over.” Mic cupped her face in his hands, kissing her gently on the lips. “I’m so proud of you, my wife.”
Lillian pulled back, eyes wide with surprise. “That was you? The shadowed man who cut his throat?” She laughed and leaned against him, her arm slipping around his waist. “I thought you were one of Robert’s men. It’s not unlike him to get his own men to kill each other and finish off the ones who survive.”
He tucked one of the blankets around her shoulder and led her along the path to the lake. He was going to get that bath tonight, even if it was in the very cold lake. “About Robert…”
She shivered and drew closer to him. “Did you get him?”
The Stagecoach Bride Page 22