by Carol Arens
“Is that our Butcher, or just a vision, off to join the others in the garden?” Grannie Rose ruffled the fur on the dog’s thick neck. “He seems real enough to me.”
“It’s him, Grannie, fleas and all,” Colt assured her.
“He’ll be a help, then, when the war starts.”
* * *
Cold dread tightened Colt’s gut. One of two things was happening and neither one of them were good. Either there was about to be some sort of conflict with Holly Jane at the heart of it, or Grannie’s mind was failing fast.
“Aunt Tillie?” he asked, bracing for bad news.
“Let’s go inside,” she said. “It’s turning colder by the minute.”
“I’ll see to the horses.”
“Don’t dillydally,” Aunt Tillie ordered. “That ring on Holly Jane’s finger says we’ve got some catching up to do.”
“I hope we haven’t missed anything,” he heard Grannie say.
“We wouldn’t do anything without you and Aunt Tillie,” Holly Jane answered.
The truth was that they had done everything short of the vows. And that’s something he intended to take care of in the morning.
Hell and damn if he was going to let the Folsoms and the Broadhowers use Holly Jane as an excuse to destroy each other.
Fifteen minutes later, with the horses and the dog settled, he walked back to the house. The boy that he had hired to take care of the animals while he was gone had done a fine job. He would be sure to give him an extra dollar.
Coming in the back door, he went through the kitchen then into the parlor. He found his intended seated between Grannie and Aunt Tillie in front of the fireplace. The pig sat on her lap snuffling down a cookie. His heart warmed and it wasn’t due to the heat of the flames in the hearth.
Only Holly Jane could coddle a side of bacon. He hoped the critter stayed small. Chances were slim that it would ever spend a night in the barn with the rest of the livestock.
It would only be a matter of time before she brought Butcher inside.
He considered that for a moment while he gazed at the three women in his care. The hound would be better able to protect them if he was in the house.
Later on tonight, when he made a final check on the animals, he’d brush the dirt out of the dog’s fur and bring him inside.
“Well—” Grannie pointed to the vacant chair before the fire “—tell us everything. Did you kill your cousin?”
“I felt like doing it,” he admitted, sitting in the chair beside Holly Jane and stretching his boots toward the warmth. “Didn’t need to, though, since he didn’t do Holly Jane any lasting harm.”
“Your grandson did a thorough job of burning down the ranch, though. And everyone who needed to go to jail, did.”
“What about poor little Hattie...and the children?” Auntie Tillie asked, leaning forward in her chair, concern etched in the lines about her eyes. “What became of them? It was near Hattie’s time when we left.”
“The baby, Seth, has a lusty set of lungs for such a tiny thing. The marshal took the lot of them home to Hattie’s folks.”
“That is good news. The sweet girl never did take to being a Travers. She was like you in that way, Colt,” Grannie said.
“And speaking of good news—” he nodded his head at his intended then reached for her hand “—you noticed the ring on Holly Jane’s finger?”
“We thought you’d never come in from the barn and tell us about it.” Aunt Tillie clapped her delicately veined hands then folded them in her lap.
“We were about to burst,” Grannie said.
“Turns out the two of you were right. Holly Jane is my one. We’re getting hitched as soon as I can clear it with the preacher.”
Aunt Tillie hugged Holly Jane then hurried to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bottle of wine and four glasses.
Given a choice, he’d live in this moment forever, with the three women he loved gathered around the fireplace, laughing and toasting Emily and Alexander.
But he hadn’t been given a choice. The feud was coming to a head, like a boil ready to burst, and his bride-to-be was at the center of the ugly mess.
* * *
A day had passed since Colt brought her home. Holly Jane paced across the front porch, watching him gallop away on Silver.
This was the third time he had gone to town since then. Each time he came home he reported that tensions were tightening. The only folks on the streets were the ones who had to be...and a few stray dogs.
Children stayed home from school. The saloon was boarded up. Someone had moved past the window inside the hotel, he’d told them, but the Closed sign remained on the door.
Those who did venture out moved quickly from one building to another, glancing worriedly over their shoulders.
This was not what Granddaddy had intended for his town. From the beginning it was to be a place of harmony among neighbors, and mostly it was...except when it came to the Folsoms and the Broadhowers.
Holly Jane shivered in the cold. She spun about then and went back inside the house to bake another batch of chocolate cookies. This kept Grannie happy, but didn’t do a thing to soothe her own nerves the way it usually did.
What, she wondered, was Colt doing now? Yesterday morning, he had gone to speak to the preacher and arrange their wedding.
The sooner the better, when it came to that. It was not easy falling asleep knowing that her man was in the room across the hall, maybe naked, maybe—well, she couldn’t dwell on that right now.
Had it not been for Grannie and Aunt Tillie, she would have spent the night where her heart belonged...where all of her would belong, the day after tomorrow.
Maybe as soon as she was married, things in town would cool off. If they had no hope of controlling the carousel land, perhaps the Folsoms and the Broadhowers would give up.
It wasn’t likely, since their hatred of each other went beyond her part in it. Still, what if she promised not to dam up the water to either family?
But no, hadn’t Granddaddy promised the same?
Colt believed that the feud had gone too far for anyone to listen to reason.
“Don’t you worry, dear. Our boy can take care of himself. He grew up having to, what with his pappy being worse than no pappy at all.” Aunt Tillie stood at the front door watching Colt disappear into the woods.
“I know he can, in a face-to-face fight. I saw that at the Broken Brand. But, Aunt Tillie, Colt is all that’s standing in the way of either of those families taking this ranch, and neither of them favors a fair fight.”
“He knows that. He’ll be careful...and not only because he loves this place, but because he loves you. Our Colt won’t be careless and leave you unprotected.”
Not on purpose. But she wouldn’t put it beyond his enemies to shoot him in the back. The picture in her mind made her want to retch.
Grannie pushed Lulu off her lap, joined Tillie at the door and gave Holly Jane a hug around the middle.
“Won’t you fix us up a pot of hot chocolate, dear? It will make us all feel better.”
* * *
Midday had come and gone. Where was Colt?
Even Aunt Tillie and Grannie seemed nervous, which made her want to crawl out of her skin. Those ladies had seen a lot in their lives and were normally as cool as a pair of melons in a summerhouse.
“I’m going for a walk,” she told Aunt Tillie.
“I reckon it won’t hurt as long as you stay close to the house...like Colt said to.”
It wasn’t so much that Colt had asked her not to leave the ranch—it was more that he had demanded it. So far only the preacher knew where she was, and that is how he wanted it to stay.
Things were dangerous in town, especially for her. She understood that. By g
oing there she would be placing him in danger as much as herself since he would face any risk to protect her.
With Butcher on one side of her and Lulu on the other, she crossed the bridge. She walked toward the path, pausing now and again to listen for the beat of Silver’s hooves on the trail.
The woods were quiet with November’s cold weather settling in. If he were coming, she would hear him from far off.
Silence and more silence strained her ears.
There had to be something she could do. She was in the thick of this mess whether she wanted to be or not. If a battle did break out between the families, each believing the other had kidnapped her, people might be hurt...even innocent children.
She ought to show herself. It might defuse things for a time.
That would not solve the issue of them both coveting her land, though.
There was nothing she could do, absolutely nothing...except.
She went suddenly still then bolted toward town with Butcher bounding on one side of her and Lulu squealing behind.
Running, she prayed that Granddaddy would understand.
Chapter Sixteen
Old man Folsom marched through the woods carrying a rifle. His breath trailed behind him like a cloud in the snapping air. He turned to glance behind him at the two young men following, also carrying firearms.
“Hurry up, you old women! It’s past time that those Broadhowers paid for all the years of...”
Colt sat on Silver’s back, visible among the trees, but the men didn’t appear to notice him.
The old fellow shook his fist at the sky for some reason that Colt couldn’t understand. Looks like the boys didn’t either because they shook their heads. Still, they trailed after the old man, rifles in hand.
“And now they’ve kidnapped Miss Munroe!” he roared. “They’ll see every one of us in our graves if we don’t do something about it right now.”
“Maybe they didn’t take her,” Billy Folsom, a young man who had been one of Holly Jane’s suitors, spoke up.
“She’s gone, ain’t she?” He shook his fist, this time at a passing cloud. “Who else would have done it?”
“Could be she went someplace of her own free will,” the other boy pointed out.
“Don’t be a dimwit, Chester.”
“He’s just saying, Grandpa, those Broadhowers think that we took her.”
“Just goes to prove that family is all liars, have been from the very beginning.”
“I heard that you and old man Broadhower were friends once.” Billy, as young as he was, had to quick foot it to keep up.
“I reckon everyone’s danced with the devil a time or two. Least that’s one Broadhower gone to hell. This afternoon there’s going to be a whole lot more of them.”
Billy stopped and set the mouth of his rifle toward the dirt. “What if I don’t want to kill anyone?”
“Then you can find yourself a new family, boy. Now get along, we’re keeping the others waiting.”
Colt watched the trio disappear into the trees.
He’d spent a number of hours watching the woods, making sure that no one approached the ranch.
Holly Jane was safe at home and he meant to keep her that way. There had been a time when he would have watched over her out of obligation to William, but not now. Now he did it because she was his future.
Out patrolling the woods and keeping an eye on the town, there had been plenty of time for his mind to wander.
Too often, it wandered to a life without Holly Jane. That was a future he wanted no part of. Whatever the hell happened between the Folsoms and the Broadhowers, Holly Jane would be well away from it.
When the voices of the men faded, he turned Silver south, taking the trail through the woods that led to the saloon. He had noticed earlier in the day that the Watering Can had reopened.
Since the marshal hadn’t been in his office all day, or at home, Colt hoped to corner him in the saloon. Hell was about to break out in town, and the man had an obligation to take care of it.
A thought hit him. It whooshed the breath right out of his lungs. Could be that making other folks live up to their obligations was a Travers trait. He didn’t want to admit that he was like his cousin in any way, but here he was, on his way to confront the lawman and convince him to do his duty.
Coming inside, he was greeted by warmth and quiet conversation. Half a dozen men sat about a table, drinking and discussing the unease that each of them had seen in town while on the way here.
The marshal sat in a corner by himself, smoking a cigar.
“Afternoon, Travers.” The blacksmith greeted him with a nod. “Come sit with us.”
“Maybe later,” he answered to be polite, but with everything going on, he couldn’t sit still if his pants were nailed to the chair. “I’ve come to speak with the marshal.”
Six disgusted glances pivoted the lawman’s way.
Colt crossed the room. The conversation at the table fell silent.
Colt scraped a chair away from the table, propped his leg on the seat and crossed his arms over his knee. He stared down at the lawman. “Don’t you have a town to save, Wyatt Earp?”
“Used to.” His voice quavered. It was pitiful. The man responsible for the well-being of the folks in Friendship Springs had a face as pale as watered milk...and his jowls jiggled.
“There’s a rumor that Miss Munroe has been kidnapped by the Folsoms. You intend to ignore that?” he asked.
“I heard it was the Broadhowers that did it,” said a man at the table.
The marshal seemed to sink in upon himself. He snuffed out his cigar.
“She isn’t kidnapped at all,” the blacksmith answered. “I saw her go into the mayor’s office not half an hour ago, dragging the lawyer with her.”
What the hell and damn was the woman doing in town? She’d hear a mouthful from him when—
A gunshot cracked from the north end of town. Another one spit an answer.
* * *
A shotgun blast rattled the front window of the mayor’s office.
Holly Jane grabbed a document off the front desk, the signatures still damp. Lulu scrambled for cover under the mayor’s desk, where she would probably remain for the rest of the week.
Butcher, apparently used to gunfire, didn’t hesitate to dash out the front door when she did.
She couldn’t be too late...please don’t let her be too late to stop the violence.
An answering shot split the quiet afternoon, coming from two blocks north of her.
Folks who had been too cautious to come outside over the past two days, drew aside the curtains over their windows, looking surprised to see her.
She heard a door open, then another and another.
In the street up ahead, she spotted her grandfather’s old friend, Hyrum Folsom, the only one of Friendship Springs’ founders still alive.
But he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t drop the weapon he had pointed at Henry Broadhower.
A hundred feet away, on the opposite side of the road, Henry braced his legs. Because of his injured shoulder, his left arm was in a sling, but in the other hand was a pistol. He was flanked by half a dozen men and boys with weapons of their own.
Hyrum was backed up by his men, Billy amongst them.
Her heart sickened. Billy was a decent young man. If he died in the street in front of her she couldn’t bear it.
“Time you all met your evil maker!” Hyrum shouted. And raised his rifle.
“It’s Folsom blood that’ll be spilling on the street if you don’t hand over Holly Jane!” Henry lifted his gun.
She ran as fast as she could with Butcher keeping pace.
“Stop!” she shouted, hoping that she could be heard above all the cussing bei
ng fired back and forth.
“Wait!” She stood, barely able to catch her breath, between the angry families.
Everyone grew silent, staring at her. The dog paced a circle about her, growling and looking like his name.
“There’s no need for a fight,” she gasped. “No one kidnapped me. I was on a trip.”
“You walk over here to me, Holly Jane,” Henry barked, waving his pistol. “You marry me this afternoon and I won’t kill anyone.”
“You take a step that way, Miss Munroe, and you’ll be the first to fall.” At this moment, it was hard to believe that Hyrum Folsom had ever been Granddaddy’s friend.
“You don’t need me, Henry. You either, Mr. Folsom.” She stood still, afraid that a quick movement might cause the men to begin shooting. She heard voices but they seemed distant, muffled...and horse hooves clapping on the road, coming hard and fast.
“Not you.” Henry’s voice sounded like a growl, and Butcher bunched his shoulders. She touched the dog gently, told him with her fingers not to leap. “Your land, though. I need that to dry out the Folsom maggots for good.”
“Shoot that girl, Billy,” Hyrum shouted. “Before she hightails it out with Lucifer.”
“Do it yourself, if you’re going to.” Billy tossed his rifle in the dirt. “I reckon I will find me another family.”
The sound of the hoofbeats halted all of a sudden, then someone was running but she couldn’t look.
Then there was Colt, standing beside her with his big knife drawn.
A dozen firearms swung toward him from both sides of the conflict. With a firm hand on her shoulder, he shoved her down so that she was somewhat sheltered between his legs and Butcher’s bulky body.
“You all go on home.” He glared at the Folsoms, then the Broadhowers.
“Says you and that piece of tin?” Henry snickered. So did some others.
“It won’t get everyone, but it’ll get you.” Colt balanced the handle in his fingers. “Eyeball or throat? Your choice, Sap Head.”
