by Danni Roan
Darcy felt frozen, even as she gripped the door handle for support. The words her companion had just spoken reverberated through her mind, but she couldn’t comprehend it. To warrant heaven you had to do good. You had to make amends for all the bad you had done in the world. How could Blake have such confidence in his place in the world? It didn’t make sense.
“I think that’s it,” Blake said, as he slowed the car further and rolled down a hill toward a collection of huge rocks stacked together like oddly shaped building blocks. “You ready?” he asked pulling the car to a stop and setting the brake.
“Ready as I’m going to be,” Darcy replied grasping the door lever and stepping into the dust around her.
Blake watched as Darcy shifted from the open, friendly woman he had gotten to know over the past few weeks into the swanky moll she had been in Cheyenne.
Flipping his hat onto his head, Blake shifted the pistol under his coat for easy access and stepped up behind Darcy following her to the entrance of the rock enclosure.
The click of a pistol hammer made the hair on the back of Blake’s neck stand up and he lifted his hands slowly as Darcy came to a stop.
“Where’s my sweet Pierce,” the woman called, her sultry drawl returning as she shrugged her coat around her shoulders once more. “He must be worried sick about me by now.”
A scarecrow of a man stepped from behind a boulder, the pistol in his hand glinting in the afternoon light. “Darcy is that you?” the man asked in a high voice. “We thought you was dead.”
“Well I ain’t,” Darcy spat, “and Pierce won’t like you keeping me out here all this time. “ I’ve been worried senseless about him, and it was no easy task finding the right people to point me in this direction.”
“You’d better come inside then,” the scarecrow said, raking Blake with his beady eyes. “Pierce will know what to do.”
Together Blake and Darcy followed the other man through a narrow passage between the massive boulders before stepping into a wide grotto that had been built with native rock.
“Who’s that?” A burly man Blake recognized from Cheyenne asked. “Darcy is that you?”
“In the flesh,” the woman tittered. “Now where’s my man?” her smile was bright, but her eyes hard as she glared at the man.
“He’ll be surprised to see you for sure,” the guard grinned. “Come on, I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
Darcy shot a glance at Blake as the burly man opened the door to the hideout beckoning them to follow, but her nerve never faltered.
Chapter 21
The grotto was more of a house once Blake stepped through the door and a cozy fire flickering on a stone hearth had the space warm and welcoming.
“Pierce, honey!” Darcy squealed as soon as she stepped inside and her eyes landed on the man they had been seeking. Darcy thrust her arms out stepping toward the startled man who stood to his feet and smiled.
“Darcy! I can’t believe it,” he stammered as the girl fell into his arms, fawning on him. “I thought you were dead.”
“I thought I was too,” Darcy said, snuggling under his arm and laying a slim hand on his lapel. “But Turnip here took you at your word and saved me. You told him to look after me, and he did. He took me to some two bit sawbones, and now here I am.” Darcy leaned in kissing Pierce on the cheek and cooing softly. “I missed you so much honey bunch.”
Pierce flicked his eyes between Darcy and Blake, a glint of suspicion twinkling in their dark depths.
“I guess I owe you my thanks,” Pierce finally grinned. “We wouldn’t want little Darcy out there on her own now, would we.” He squeezed her close with his hand and Darcy gasped at the pain that shot through her side. “What’s wrong honey?” he dropped his gaze to Darcy.
“Well I still have a little pain from that bullet,” Darcy admitted as she batted her lashes at him. “But now that I’m back where I belong I feel much better.” The young woman placed her hand on Pierce’s jaw turning his face to hers before kissing him.
“Why don’t you go have a little rest,” Pierce said, his eyes returning to Blake. “I’ll join you later and we can catch up.”
Darcy giggled, patting his cheek and stepping away as another man led her out of sight.
“I don’t know how you managed to find us, or to save Darcy,” Pierce said his hard eyes raking the younger man, “but you showed real initiative. Sit down and tell me everything.”
Blake joined Pierce at the table, careful to take a seat that kept his back to the wall and smiled. “I don’t know that it’s so amazing,” he began. “You told me my first job was to look out for your girl, so when things went haywire at the bank, I did what I was told. I got her away and found a doctor who knew how to keep his mouth shut. After that there isn’t much else to tell. Darcy was determined to find you, so I followed her lead until we ended up here.” Blake raised a hand gesturing to the space. “It’s quite a place.”
Pierce’s eyes pinned Blake to his seat as he watched the play of emotion on the older man’s face. Suspicion, awe, interest, all played across his brow and Blake schooled his own features to an innocent smile.
“I can hardly believe it,” Pierce said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You proved yourself loyal and effective.” Pierce dropped a heavy hand on Blake’s shoulder and nodded. “You’ll do boy.”
Blake grinned like a rube, hoping the big man would believe everything he had said. He knew that he was only minutes away from the breakthrough he had been working toward for nearly two years.
“There’s someone else I’d like you to meet,” Pierce said. “Only my most trusted men have ever met him, but once you do, all your dreams could come true.”
Blake tipped his head in acknowledgment as his hands grew sweaty with doubt. Either he was going to meet the man who pulled the strings for this gang, or he was going to die. He could only trust that he could play the role he had been given well enough to save his sorry hide and keep Darcy from losing the life she had only recently regained.
“I’m your man,” Blake’s voice rang with a confidence he didn’t feel, but when the other man chuckled, he knew his play had worked.
From a dark corner of the room a tall thin man with white hair peeled himself from the shadows and stepped into the light. His white hair was combed neatly over a wide brow and his blue eyes glinted with intellect. The well made suit fit his bony frame perfectly making him look austere rather than frail. “I believe I’ve heard of you,” the older man drawled walking slowly toward the table, his long silver handled cane tapping on the stone floor.
Blake slowly rose to his feet, the blood draining from his face as he recognized Harold Hawkins one of the governor’s under secretaries. He had known that the corruption went deep in the state, but this was a shock he hadn’t expected, and it made his blood run cold.
“You seem to have a bit of initiative young man,” Hawkins said, his rich smooth voice calm as he stepped up to look Blake in the eye. “I see you didn’t expect to see me here,” he added with a grin. “Pierce you have done very well. No one has suspected me once of being the one holding the reins of this very lucrative partnership.”
“I’ve done my best,” Pierce said, looking nervously between Blake and Hawkins.
“We can use young men like you in this organization,” Hawkins continued. “But how do I know I can trust you?”
Blake looked toward Pierce then back to the well dressed man before him. “I think I’ve proven my loyalty.”
“Indeed,” Hawkins’ grin was anything but friendly. “I think perhaps a little test,” his blue eyes flickered toward Pierce, who blanched, then back. “You will kill the girl.”
Blake clenched his jaw preventing the gasp that sprang to his lips from escaping. Was the man serious? He wanted him to kill Darcy in cold blood. Swallowing hard, he cut his eyes to Pierce who was busy studying his finger nails as if some deep secret was hidden there.
“Well?” Hawkins asked.
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Blake swallowed hard but nodded. His next actions would determine if he lived or died. He had no choice. He had to do what the other man said.
Chapter 22
Blake eased the pistol under his arm and took a step toward the door Darcy had gone through earlier. His mouth was dry, his chest tight, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.
Gripping the door handle tight, he pushed the door open closing it behind him with a soft snap as Darcy turned from the bench where she sat, a smile touching her lips.
Blake laid a hand over his lips and whispered as quickly as he could. “Play along.” The words flickered between them even as he raised his pistol and shot.
Darcy screamed, the sound of running feet pounded toward them and Blake quickly took the woman by the shoulders, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, as his fingers dug into her side and bright blood began to pool on her satin dress.
Darcy grasped Blake’s arms as he pressed her to the floor, her eyes never leaving his as the door behind them slammed open and she sagged into darkness.
Blake closed his eyes for a second, pleading for forgiveness as he lifted the limp body of Darcy in his arms.
“I guess that answers that question,” Pierce snapped. “It was time to be rid of her anyway.”
“Yes, it was.” Mr. Hawkins voice dripped with meaning as Blake carried Darcy’s still form from the room. Bright blood dripped through his fingers leaving a spotted trail behind him with every step.
“I’ll get rid of the body,” he said. His voice steady and his heart like ice. “I’ll take her out where no one will find her.”
The cold crook of the silver headed cane hooked Blake’s shoulder and he paused, looking back at the older man. “You have proven yourself,” Hawkin’s grin was like the smile of a corpse. “Head back to Cheyenne and await our orders.”
Blake nodded, his muscles cramping with the weight in his arms as he struggled toward the little sports car that had brought him there only hours ago.
***
Blake drove as fast as he could, skidding across the crushed granite roads and checking his rear view mirror to be sure he hadn’t been followed. He drove as far as he thought he could then slid into a field surrounded by huge rocks.
“Darcy,” he croaked, his voice breaking on her name as he jumped from the car and moved to the prostrate woman in the back seat. “I’m so sorry honey,” he moaned pulling a kerchief from his pocket and pressing it into her reopened wound. “I didn’t have a choice. If I hadn’t done this…”
Darcy’s blood stained hand touched his lips as her eyes fluttered open. “You did good Turnip,” she whispered, her voice weak. “They would have killed both of us.”
Blake shook his head, his heart threatening to break. He didn’t’ know how the woman laying there bleeding all over the white cushions of the car could be so calm. With great care, he pulled the hole in her dress apart then pressed the kerchief into her side. The ragged scar, his uncle had worked so hard to heal now pulsed with crimson blood. Darcy hissed with pain but didn’t cry out as Blake struggled to get the bleeding under control. It seemed like an eternity before he felt it was safe to wrap the wound in tight bandages and continue along the road. He hadn’t meant to re-open the wound so much when he’d fired his shot wide, but he needed it to look convincing.
“I’ll get you someplace safe,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her brow. “Then it’s time to put an end to this whole thing. We know who is behind this notorious gang and we’re going to put them all away for good.”
Darcy smiled weakly as her eyes fluttered closed once more. She had done something good with her life. She had made amends for the sins of her past. She could now rest in peace.
***
“You had better be right about this,” a terse Marshal Beckett snapped at Blake as the task force loaded up and raced toward the mountain strong hold. “If you’re wrong, we’ll all be exposed and probably fired to boot.”
“I swear it’s true,” Blake snapped as he clutched the rifle in his hands as the big truck raced toward the hang out, a beast hunting its prey. “This has been a rough job Beckett and I hope we’ll put an end to it now.”
Blake’s mind turned back to Darcy, her precious life hanging in the balance as he rushed to the hide out once more. She had never blamed him, never accused him, for what he had done. She had played her role well and now was in the hands of the police surgeon. “God save her,” he pleaded, gaining a sharp look from the man who had recruited him for this job.
The hideout looked empty as they skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust as the sun slipped behind the hills.
A shout and the sharp snap of a pistol shot was evidence enough that the hideout was still occupied, but would they be too late?
The men pouring from the transport returned fire, advancing as a burly man twisted toppling from a rock by the door.
In seconds they had raced through the grotto crashing through the door of the hideout, guns blazing.
Blake caught a glimpse of Pierce diving under a table where a shot from one of the officers send money scattering to the floor in a tinkle of glass and coins.
Beckett motioned the other men to fan out searching every corner as a man jumped through a door pistol popping and was shot down in a loud blast of return fire.
The sound of shooting, the crash of doors, the tinkle of shattered glass filled the space as acrid gun smoke threatened to choke them all.
Blake dodged to the right as a bullet whipped past his head and dove for Pierce who was crawling to a low door along the wall.
“Stop right there,” Blake barked as the man twisted toward him, pushing to his feet and slamming into the younger man. Pierce’s greater bulk crushed Blake to the wall and he grappled with the gangster, trying to get the upper hand.
“You,” Pierce spat, his dark eyes crazed with desperation, recognition and hate. “You’ll hang along with me. You’ll hang for killing Darcy in cold blood.” His mad cackle prickled along Blake’s skin like blades of ice but he grabbed at Pierce trying to bring him down.
Pierce thrust his arms outward, breaking Blake’s grip, but the lawman swung a fist, connecting with the man’s nose as blood blossomed. His other hand grasped for Pierce’s right hand where a tiny derringer suddenly appeared.
“Darcy isn’t dead,” Blake snapped, his hand chopping toward Pierce’s wrist. The bark of the tiny gun made both men jump, and Blake staggered backward his back hitting the wall as he looked down at the blood spraying from his ruined leg.
Pierce smiled, a gruesome grin through a curtain of blood and lifted the little pistol for the killing shot.
Blake felt his heart stutter as he saw his fate. He was going to die and a sudden calm seemed to wash over him. He knew this could happen. He had accepted this eventuality and knew that he had lived his short life with his heart in God’s hand. If he went now, he only prayed that Darcy would live.
The crack of a pistol shot made Blake close his eyes as he waited for the pain of the killing shot to register as he began a slow slide down the wall.
The thump of something heavy landing next to him made his eyes snap open and Blake blinked in shock at the still form of Pierce lying on the stone floor, in a pool of blood.
“You alive boy?” Beckett’s voice filled his brain and Blake looked down at his chest to see that he had not been shot. “My leg,” he gasped leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes once more as silence slipped into the room.
***
“Wake up Turnip,” Darcy’s voice was a cool balm to Blake’s fevered brow. He felt her voice echo through him like a symphony’s strident note.
“Darcy?” Blake struggled to open his eyes. He was too warm, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tickling toward his ear.
“I guess you’re finally waking up.” The smile in Darcy’s voice was evident as Blake finally opened his eyes.
“You’re all right,” Blake smiled, float
ing between wakefulness and sleep. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“You doubted me?” Darcy laughed as Blake’s eyes closed again and the sound of dripping water filled him before something cool and damp touched his forehead. Blake’s eyes opened again and this time they focused on the young woman bent over him. “You’re real.”
“Of course I’m real. What do you think I am a manikin?”
“An angel,” Blake grinned.
“As if.” Darcy rolled her dark eye with derision.
Blake fumbled for Darcy’s hand finally taking it in his. She was pail and dark circles marred her bright eyes, but it was really her.
“You look like an angel to me,” Blake continued squeezing her hand softly. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I was afraid…” his eyes met hers, and he blinked slowly as she smoothed his hair from his face.
“You mean you doubted me Turnip?” Darcy’s bright smile was tempered with sorrow. “I’m tougher than I look you know. Besides all you did was re-open the old wound, not actually shoot me.”
“I can see that now.”
“Now it’s your turn to get better. You were shot. Took a bullet at close range in the thigh. Doc says it chipped the bone.”
“How bad?”
Darcy took the cool cloth from his brow, turning and dipping it into a bowl and ringing it out. Once the cloth rested on his head she looked at him again. “The injury isn’t life threatening, but the chip might cause you problems and,” she bit her lower lip. “And you have an infection.”