Delilah wanted to slap the man across the face. At the very least, kick his shins a few times. She couldn’t wrestle the gun away from him. Even with a wounded arm, he was tall, broad, and at least seventy-five if not a hundred pounds heavier. She considered running away from him once they stepped outside the gate, but he’d most likely shoot her in the back. Perhaps she could lead him into the woods and lose him there then make her way back to the sheriff’s office. Seth would be there, or least she hoped he would.
“Fine. I’ll take you,” she said, walking toward the gate. As she made her way past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t ya try anythin’, or ya’ll end up as dead as Sutler.”
She glared at his hand on her arm, refusing to allow the terror welling within her to show. Fear burned like hot acid up her throat, but she swallowed it and gave him a disparaging glare. “Unhand me this instant.”
He grinned, showing brown teeth and releasing a malodorous stench that nearly made her gag. “Uppity lil’ thing, ain’t ya.”
Ignoring his comment, she pushed open the gate and moved out to the street, making sure to step in every muddy spot she could find. The outlaw kept step right behind her and she could feel the end of his pistol shoved against her spine. What if the stupid man tripped or accidentally set it off? Most likely, he planned to kill her regardless of what she did. She kept her feet moving forward with her back straight and chin up as she walked out of town heading south.
Once the river wound past Ian and Maggie’s place, it snaked through a thick grove of trees before it went around a craggy bend then flowed across the sage-dotted desert hills leading to Thane and Jemma’s place.
Delilah decided if all else failed, she could make it to the ranch. The cowboys there would make short work of Hugh Allen and keep her safe. With determined steps, she stayed close to the river, making sure they walked in the mud, leaving footprints in their wake.
Cautiously, she glanced behind her, pleased to see Hugh Allen hadn’t changed his footwear. Each step he took left an imprint in the mud with a star in the heel.
“How far is it?” the outlaw asked, sounding slightly winded.
Good. Delilah hoped he’d pass out soon and slightly increased her pace. “I think it was about a mile or so,” she said and continued to stick to a path near the river. No one was around although the trail was out in the open where they could be spotted.
Perhaps the outlaw was too wounded to think straight or maybe just too tired to care. Either way, he quietly followed her.
Delilah had only a hazy memory of where she’d picked up the piece of ore. It had been a week or so after she and Papa had arrived in town. She’d gone for a walk in the woods, looking up in the trees and watching the birds, not where she was going. After an hour or so, she’d sat on a fallen log and taken out her sketchbook. It wasn’t until she’d dropped her pencil and bent to retrieve it that she’d noticed the piece of ore, partly hidden beneath scattered leaves that hadn’t blown away in winter’s stout breezes. She wasn’t even sure at the time if the shiny substance was gold or pyrite, but her father had assured her it was gold.
He’d offered to have the ore processed for her, but she’d grinned and told him to keep it with his other treasures of nature. They both assumed a miner had been traipsing through the woods and accidentally dropped it. From what she knew of mines and gold, there wasn’t anywhere close to where she found it that could be a mine.
It wasn’t the loss of money that bothered her about Hugh Allen taking it, although that was certainly a consideration. It was the fact he’d taken a gift she’d given her papa and violated their office to do it.
The outlaw’s breath wheezed from his chest as they started up a slight incline. Delilah increased her speed.
“Not so fast, missy.” The tip of the pistol dug into the skin between her shoulder blades. “I’m in a hurry, but ya can keep a decent pace.”
Delilah didn’t answer, but slowed her steps. She wondered if she could possibly shove him hard enough he’d fall into the river. With her luck, he’d tug her in, too, and she’d drown with her layers of skirts and petticoats weighing her down.
She glanced back and noticed sweat beading the man’s forehead and across his upper lip despite the cooling temperatures. The fluffy white clouds that had filled the sky earlier that morning had given way to cumulonimbus clouds that almost always accompanied a thunderstorm.
Out in the open with nowhere to get out of the weather wasn’t her ideal way to endure a storm, particularly if lightning happened to strike.
Due to the slow pace the criminal insisted on keeping, Delilah realized they hadn’t made it far from town. In fact, at this rate, it would take hours to reach the Jordan Ranch. She wondered if she could perhaps somehow circle back around and go to the lumberyard for help.
Then again, she didn’t want to endanger her friends. There had to be a way to escape from Hugh Allen and alert someone to his presence.
Delilah feigned weariness and stumbled to the bank of the river where a thicket of cottonwood trees offered shade and shelter.
“Please, may we rest a moment?” she asked, doing her best to sound exhausted.
“Just one,” he said in a tone that sounded increasingly weak.
He plopped down beneath one of the trees, leaned against the trunk, and closed his eyes.
Delilah remained standing, looking around for a weapon or a means of escape. The sound of the man’s laborious breathing made her question if he had more injuries than just the one to his arm.
The cock of the hammer on his pistol pulled her attention back to the outlaw. “Try anythin’, and I’ll shoot ya dead.”
Convinced he would kill her without even blinking, she sat on a tree stump and pretended to look at the water while she intently studied her surroundings. A slight chattering noise drew her gaze overhead and she watched as a raccoon scurried across tree limbs until he was in the tree directly above the outlaw.
If she didn’t know better, Delilah would have said it was Oliver. Surely he wouldn’t follow her all the way out here, would he? If it was Ollie, the poor little creature would most likely get himself killed if he did anything to the despicable man holding her hostage.
Delilah continued watching the raccoon and pondering the best means of escape. A twig snapped behind Hugh. The outlaw was instantly on his feet, pulling her against him and shoving his gun against her temple.
“Figured it was about time for you to catch up with us,” Hugh Allen said, as he turned and faced a dusty figure wearing a long duster with a gleaming badge pinned to his chest. “Howdy, son.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dugan caught himself before he fell out of the saddle. He hadn’t slept in days and was so tired his eyes had drifted shut as he rode back to Baker City late Wednesday morning.
With Tully leading the charge, they’d captured all of the Allen gang except the leader. Much to Dugan’s dismay, Hugh Allen had gotten away in the wee hours of the morning when they’d finally tracked him and the remaining members of his gang to an abandoned cabin several miles north of town.
Dugan was fairly certain at least one of his shots had hit the mark when he’d opened fire on Hugh, but the outlaw was as hard to hang onto as a greased pig. One minute Hugh had been running out the back of the cabin and the next he’d disappeared into the woods on horseback.
Tully and Dugan had trailed him for hours while the posse hauled the criminals back to town. After riding out Sunday morning and chasing the gang over hill and dale then back again, they’d arrested six gang members and fatally shot two during a violent exchange of gunfire Tuesday evening. The outlaws had left a trail of bodies in their wake, shooting anyone who got in their way.
The gang members were worse for wear, but the same could be said for several members of the posse. One of the deputies who occasionally filled in for Seth and Dugan had taken a bullet to his side Sunday afternoon. Dugan had worried he’d bleed out before they st
aunched the flow. Two men had helped the deputy to town to see the doctor then rejoined the posse on Monday.
This morning, Dugan was certain they’d finally arrest Hugh. Then he’d crawled out a window and escaped while he and Tully gave chase. They finally lost his tracks on a rocky slope about five miles from town.
They hadn’t slept, barely ate, and were weary beyond endurance after days in the saddle. That’s why, when it became clear they’d lost Hugh yet again, Tully decided they needed a few hours of rest.
They rode toward Baker City, catching up to the posse a half-mile from town. Lulled to sleep by the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, Dugan awakened as he tilted left out of the saddle. He pulled himself upright and shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind.
Tully thumped him on the back then removed his watch from his pocket and looked at the time. “Go home, get an hour of sleep, eat a decent meal, and be back at my office by noon.” Tully tucked the watch into his vest pocket.
“Are you sure you don’t need help locking up the prisoners?” Dugan asked, glancing back at the ragtag men behind him.
“I’m sure. You didn’t exactly have a restful evening Saturday. I at least had a good night’s sleep before we had to leave,” Tully said. “Go on. I’ll see you at noon.”
Dugan peeled away from the group and rode to his house. Bleary eyed, he shucked off his filthy clothes. Although his bed and sleep beckoned, he took a bath in the spring that ran through the pasture. The water was icy cold and awakened him more than half a dozen cups of strong coffee might have done. When he was clean, he dressed and saddled Button, giving Barton a rest, then headed into town. He stopped by the mercantile long enough to purchase a few supplies, popped a piece of birch chewing gum in his mouth, and headed straight for Delilah’s house.
He’d meant to apologize to her Sunday, but didn’t get the chance. Before he and Tully headed back out, he needed to speak to her, to let her know why he’d behaved as though he’d been born on the backside of a barn without a speck of manners.
He swung off Button and left her by the front gate then rushed down the walk and up the porch steps. After knocking twice and not hearing any sound from inside the house, he made his way around to the side gate of the backyard. It stood ajar and dozens of footprints dotted the rapidly drying mud. Dugan recalled Delilah was planning to entertain Sammy and Nate Palmer’s classes today, which explained all the tiny footprints. But on top of those was the unmistakable print of a star pressed into the mud.
How had Hugh Allen beaten the posse to town and what was he doing at Delilah’s place? Had he arrived when the children were there? Had he taken hostages?
Dugan drew his pistol and moved cautiously into the yard, looking around to make sure no one waited to shoot him. Birds chirped in the trees and from their houses around the yard. The cheerful birdsong offered a good sign danger didn’t lurk in the yard.
Quietly creeping up the porch steps, he couldn’t help but grin at the child’s chair Delilah had purchased for Oliver. The raccoon loved curling up on it and sleeping in the afternoon sunshine. It seemed a shame to provide such a finely crafted piece of furniture for a wild animal, but it made Delilah happy and Dugan certainly wasn’t of a mind to argue with her.
He’d learned the woman made far more money than he did with the articles and sketches she submitted to newspapers and magazines back east. In fact, Delilah had no need for a man in her life because she could easily provide for herself. He just hoped she’d want to open her life and her heart to him. At least consider the possibility after he spent an hour or two begging for her forgiveness once this mess with Hugh Allen and his gang was behind them.
Dugan tapped on the back door and waited, but still no one answered. He opened the door and stepped inside the kitchen, finding an empty punch bowl and a tray with a handful of cookies on the counter. No sign of a struggle. No hint of where Delilah had gone. He grabbed a handful of cookies as he raced out the door.
Desperate to find Delilah, he wasn’t willing to squander a minute that could mean the difference between life and death. He ran outside and swung onto Button then followed Hugh’s tracks.
They led, to Dugan’s surprise, south of town. He couldn’t imagine why the outlaw was on foot, but it was apparent he was walking with someone. Not just anyone, either. Not a single doubt existed in Dugan’s mind that the man had abducted Delilah.
Overhead, storm clouds gathered. The air began to feel heavy and humid. All he needed was to be out in the sagebrush-covered hills without any place to take shelter when lightning struck.
For a moment, Dugan debated riding to the sheriff’s office and rounding up help. However, the time it would take was time he couldn’t afford to lose when it came to saving the woman he loved. With a deep and unwavering sense of urgency, he clucked to Button and hurried onward, riding along the river and keeping an eye open for Delilah.
He neared a bend in the river where an outcropping of craggy rock hid what waited on the other side. Quietly, he dismounted and edged around the rock until he could see a man beneath a tree, appearing to rest, while Delilah sat on a nearby rock.
She looked like a vision from an exquisite painting in an ivory-toned dress bedecked with purple roses while lace dripped from the sleeves. Her hair was still neatly pinned up, so he assumed Hugh hadn’t handled her roughly. At least not yet.
Dugan considered his options and decided to sneak up behind the outlaw. He mounted Button, urged her up an incline to the road and kept the horse to a sedate walk so he wouldn’t stir up any dust. A hundred yards past the tree, he left Button eating grass by the river bank, and made his way toward Delilah on silent feet.
He’d nearly reached the tree when he almost stepped on a rattlesnake. Startled, he sidestepped on a twig that snapped so loudly, it sounded like a blast of dynamite in the stillness of the afternoon.
The man beneath the tree shot to his feet and grabbed Delilah, pointing a gun to her head as he turned around and faced Dugan.
“Howdy, son,” Hugh Allen said with a contemptible sneer.
“I’m not your son. Reptiles like you hatch eggs, not humans, don’t they?” Dugan taunted, taking in the ashen pallor of Hugh’s skin and the way his hand shook as he held the gun. Mercy, what if he accidently set it off and killed Delilah? Dugan would die. He would surely die if anything happened to her.
“Let the girl go, Allen. It’s over.” Dugan took a step closer.
Hugh glared at him, tightening the hold he had on Delilah, making her wince. “It ain’t over until I say it is. Toss down yer weapons, deputy, and prepare to meet yer maker. I’m gonna kill the girl and let ya watch, then I’ll take care of ya. And when ya reach the other side, be sure ya give yer father my regards.”
Caught off guard by the man’s words, Dugan lowered his pistol. “My father. What’s he got to do with any of this?”
“Yer pa is the reason for all of this,” the man said, waving his gun in the air before returning it to Delilah’s temple.
Dugan could see the fear in her eyes, but he saw something else there, too. Love for him. Trust that he’d protect her. Hope they wouldn’t die.
He’d be a pink-eared polecat before he let her down.
“How do you know my pa?” Dugan asked, slowly edging closer. Something moved in the tree above Hugh. Dugan caught a glimpse of a raccoon making its way through the branches. It couldn’t be Oliver, could it? Keeping his face expressionless, Dugan continued moving forward.
“As a matter of fact, Deputy Durfey, yer pa and I used to be in the same gang.”
“What? My pa wouldn’t ever join a low-life scum-sucker like you.” Dugan frowned at the man. Something about him did seem alarmingly familiar, though.
Hugh scoffed. “Pretty words like that will just kill her faster, son.”
“So you claim you and my pa were in a gang together. That’s impossible. He and my mother left Texas the day they wed and came here to Baker City. He was only nineteen then.”
Dugan tried not to look up in the tree as the raccoon drew ever closer to Hugh. He almost hoped the animal was rabid.
“I know when they left, Dugan, because yer pa lit a shuck out of town and left me to rot in jail.” Hugh waved his gun toward him. “Yer saying ya don’t have any idea who I am?”
“None,” Dugan said, trying to decide whether he should shoot Hugh or the raccoon first. If the animal startled the outlaw, there was a chance Hugh would shoot Delilah by accident.
“Let me lay it out plain and simple for ya, then. Yer pa was my little brother. My name’s Bill Durfey, my real name.”
Hugh grinned with satisfaction when Dugan sucked in a gasp and glared at him.
Suddenly, he could see why Hugh Allen looked familiar. The man’s eyes were the same color and shape as his father’s, as Dugan’s, and they shared the same stubborn jawline. “My pa never mentioned a brother. He never talked much about Texas. I remember he once said his life began the day he wed my mother.”
“Sentimental claptrap,” Hugh said, spitting on the ground. “If yer mother wasn’t already cold in the grave, I’d take great pleasure in putting her there. I had a gang back then, six of us, even if I had to force David to do it. Then he had to go and fall for Marie, a preacher’s daughter. She was a looker, but I never could see why he’d give up on us to marry her. The day before they wed, David went to the sheriff. In exchange for havin’ his name cleared, he told them where to find the gang and every crime we’d committed. We all went to prison, but I escaped a few years ago and changed my name. By the time I made it out here, I’d already learned yer pa and ma were both dead. Good thing, too, ’cause I woulda killed them and enjoyed every minute of makin’ them both suffer.”
Hugh looked at Delilah and stroked the hand holding the gun over the curve of her cheek. “Now I get to kill ya and yer girl. That’ll be nearly as good, but not quite as satisfying.”
Dugan started to raise his gun, but the raccoon took it upon himself to become Delilah’s champion. The beast launched out of the tree and landed on Hugh’s head, startling him so badly he dropped his gun.
Lightning and Lawmen (Baker City Brides Book 5) Page 24