This Cowboy of Mine--Includes a Bonus Novella

by R. C. Ryan

  Kirby kept her eyes fixed on his face, waiting for any hint of his eyes closing. She was desperate to free her ankles, to flee this monster before he could carry out his threat. Every minute she waited felt like an eternity.

  Peering through the window, Casey saw the man finish his cigar and disappear.

  Had he left the room? Since Casey had never been inside the house, he had no idea of the layout. Craning his neck, he could see Kirby still bound, and still on the floor.

  He needed to find out where her abductor had gone. He began circling the house, peering into windows. Seeing no one, he pulled himself hand over hand up an ancient trellis to the upper floor and looked in other windows. Again, he came up empty.

  Where could the man be?

  Casey glanced at the sky, cursing the fact that daylight was fading. If he didn’t act soon, he might miss the element of surprise.

  He debated his choices. If he stormed in, he took the chance that the abductor had easy access to his gun and might shoot Kirby before Casey could save her.

  If he found a way to sneak inside and free Kirby first, he could send her outside before confronting the abductor.

  Knowing he couldn’t risk putting Kirby in even more harm than she already was, he climbed back down and circled around the house again, determined to find a way inside without smashing a window and alerting the man to his presence.

  With each minute he felt his frustration growing. For Kirby, being held against her will, every minute must be an eternity of agony. He couldn’t bear the thought of how she must be suffering at the hands of this guy.

  Why had he taken her hostage? Who in hell was he?

  As he peered in yet another window, he saw the man walking into the kitchen, steps away from where Kirby lay bound on the floor.

  In the man’s hand was a gun. When he turned slightly, Casey felt a lightning bolt of recognition.

  He knew instantly where he’d seen him before. His face had been on all the television news broadcasts for days.

  He was the escaped convict known as Killer Keller.

  Chapter Thirty

  Whatever cautious move Casey had planned was instantly forgotten when he saw Kirby’s captor standing over her with the gun. The only thing that mattered right now was that Kirby was being held against her will by a cold-blooded killer who would have no problem killing again.

  Desperate, he pressed his father’s number on speed dial and said, “I have no choice. I’m going in.”

  He dropped the phone into his pocket before using the barrel of his rifle to smash the floor-to-ceiling window, sending shards of glass raining across the kitchen floor. He charged inside, with no regard to the jagged pieces of glass that raked his face and his arms, leaving blood dripping from half a dozen cuts.

  At the first sound of breaking glass Keller wheeled around, taking aim with his pistol and firing off a shot in one quick motion.

  The bullet missed Casey by a hair, hitting what was left of the window and sending more glass crashing down.

  Casey was just taking aim with his rifle when Keller fired again. This time Keller hit his target and Casey absorbed a burning pain in his left arm. A scant second later the arm went limp, dangling helplessly at his side.

  For a split second Casey glanced at his arm as though it didn’t belong to his body. And then, sheer determination kicked in and he started across the room toward Keller, the rifle clenched in his right arm, his finger on the trigger.

  Seeing what he intended, Keller turned and aimed the gun at Kirby, who was still lying helplessly on the floor.

  “Come on, cowboy.” He actually smiled as he waved his hand. “One more step and I waste her.”

  Casey stilled immediately, his heart nearly stopping at the look of absolute terror on Kirby’s face.

  “It doesn’t matter, Casey.” Kirby’s voice was strong, despite her fear. “He’s already said he intended to kill me after dark.”

  “Now he won’t have to kill you.” Casey looked first at Kirby, then at Keller. “Kill me instead.”

  “You trying to be a big, brave hero, cowboy?” The convict’s smile grew. “Okay, hero. Prove it. Drop the rifle and kick it over here.”

  Casey did as he said even as Kirby protested again. “You can’t trust him. He’s a—”

  “I think we all know what I am.” Keller’s gaze darted from Casey to Kirby before he threw back his head, laughing maniacally. “Looks like I’m going to have myself a real good time tonight. Two killings are always better’n one. Especially when each stupid victim wants to save the other.”

  He picked up the discarded rifle and swung the barrel against Casey’s temple with all his might.

  With a grunt of pain, Casey dropped to the floor in a heap. Getting to his knees, he shook his head and stumbled up, only to have Keller’s booted foot connect with his groin. He doubled over, but before he could straighten again Keller followed up with another rifle-butt blow to his head.

  This time, when Casey fell to the floor, he was silent as he slipped into oblivion.

  “You’ve killed him.” Filled with blinding rage and absolute terror, Kirby almost revealed her freed hands before clenching them firmly behind her back as she twisted and turned, inching herself across the floor until she was beside Casey’s still body.

  “I hope you’re wrong. I’d like to use him for a punching bag a few more times before I shoot him.” Keller touched a finger to Casey’s throat. “Good. Still alive. For now. That means I can have some more fun with this cowboy when he wakes up. I prefer an opponent who won’t give up too soon. It makes the game more interesting.”

  After binding Casey’s wrists and ankles, Keller walked back to the comfortable recliner and picked up the TV remote. Keeping both weapons beside him, he began scrolling through the channels until he found another crime show. Humming a tune, he settled in to wait for dark.

  Two trucks headed toward the Regan ranch at breakneck speed. Bo drove the first truck, with his grandfather beside him and his parents in the back seat.

  His argument that his grandmother should remain at home with Liz and Avery had been loudly overruled by the women. They’d insisted that the family would stand together, no matter the danger.

  Ham turned to his grandson. “I hope Casey isn’t foolish enough to go storming in like J. Edgar Hoover and his band of agents. They always got hit with a volley of bullets in those movies.”

  Bo stared straight ahead, his hands clenched tightly to the wheel. “Casey’s always kept a cool head when there’s trouble, Ham.”

  “That was before.”

  Bo glanced over. “Before what?”

  “Before he fell head over heels for the bean counter.”

  In the back seat, Meg huffed a breath. “Kirby is much more than a bean counter, Hammond.”

  “That she is, Margaret Mary.” He looked over his shoulder, pinning her with a look. “But you can’t deny it. Our Casey has fallen hard.”

  “You’re right about that.” Meg reached over and caught Egan’s hand before saying to her father-in-law, “And seeing the two of them together, it’s something we can all understand. I imagine he’s in agony right now, worrying about Kirby, and how to free her from this stranger.”

  Her words had the others nodding in silence.

  Brand was driving the second truck, with Avery beside him and Jonah next to her. In the back seat were his aunt Liz, Chet, and Billy.

  Theirs was a somber group, their voices, when they spoke, muted.

  Avery, recalling her own near-death assault at the hands of a woman with a fatal attraction, felt a chill along her spine. “I know what Kirby is feeling. I wish I could be there to comfort her.”

  Brand took one hand off the wheel long enough to squeeze her hand. “Don’t go there in your mind, babe.”

  “I can’t help it. The minute Casey told us about seeing blood on Kirby’s wrist, I keep thinking about the lengths an attacker will go to in order to control the victim. In my case Renee Wilm
ot used drugs to subdue me, but at least I had a fighting chance. It must be so hard to have your hands and feet bound, knowing you can’t escape.”

  “Okay.” Brand’s tone was rough. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Let’s hope that when we get to the Regan ranch, Casey and Kirby are just fine and it was all a misunderstanding.”

  From the back seat came Liz’s voice. “From your lips, Brand.”

  Chet, seeing her hand trembling, put a big hand over hers.

  All of them fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  Kirby watched and waited, until she was certain Keller was deeply involved in the TV show. Letting go of the pieces of rope she’d been holding behind her, she moved slowly and carefully, inching her hands toward the rope at her ankles. While she worked the knife she kept watch over Keller, desperately afraid he would see her movements and realize what she was doing.

  And then there was Casey. There was so much blood. His arms. His poor face. She knew he’d been shot, but she didn’t know which was worse, the bullet wound or the blow he’d taken to his head and body. He was so still it tore at her heart. For a moment she stopped what she was doing to assure herself that he was still alive. When she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest, she managed to breathe. Keller had been right. He was alive. At least for now. She would cling to that and do whatever she could to thwart this madman.

  She returned to the rope with renewed vigor. She had to get free. Had to. Even though she had no idea what chance she had against a man armed with both a pistol and a rifle, she held on to the hope that if they were freed of their bonds, at least they stood a small chance. If they remained bound, they had no chance at all.

  Noble Crain was in constant contact with the state troopers as they made their way from the police post thirty miles east of town. “The Merrick family is ahead of me somewhere. I tried to convince them to wait for us to do our job, but their son is on the Regan property and they’re not about to wait for anyone.”

  There was a short laugh on the phone before a deep voice said, “No need to explain, Noble. Ranchers are a breed apart. They’re used to doing what they have to do, and to hell with the rules.”

  “Yeah. That’s the Merrick family. How soon will you be here?”

  “We’re coming up on you right now.”

  He looked in his rearview mirror and saw the convoy of state police vans. They must have set a new speed record.

  “And the helicopters?”

  “Any minute now.”

  He stepped out of his SUV and waited until the state police walked closer, their assault weapons drawn.

  They had already agreed to leave their vehicles out of sight while they made their way to the ranch house on foot.

  If what he suggested turned out to be true, and the man holding a hostage inside was escaped convict Ray Keller, they wanted to be certain that he didn’t get away again.

  It was a matter of pride to all of them. If they were successful, they would be hailed as heroes. If they made a mistake that allowed him to escape yet again, the blame would lie squarely on their shoulders.

  Not one of them was willing to consider failing, especially with an innocent hostage at his mercy.

  Killer Keller would be stopped, or they would die trying.

  The real job was to make sure that the hostage emerged from this siege alive.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Casey awoke to fireworks going off. Bright neon red-and-yellow flashes, brighter than the sign over Nonie’s Wild Horses Saloon. The only trouble was, they were going off inside his brain, causing him to wince in pain.

  At least, he thought, it was proof that he wasn’t dead. Yet.

  For a moment the fireworks ended, and he began to relax. But then they started up again and he clenched his teeth as pain radiated from his brain to his left arm, before exploding through him. His entire body was bathed in sweat.

  Maybe death was better, he thought as he clenched his teeth against the pain.

  “I’m sorry.” He heard the softest whisper and wondered how he knew that voice.

  He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the beautiful woman who floated in and out of his vision.

  She put a finger to his lips and gave the slightest shake of her head before her finger disappeared from view. He wanted to tell her to touch him again. For that one instant he felt warm, and now he was cold. So cold.

  Fresh pain radiated along his left arm. White hot pain. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Yet in his mind he was screaming in agony.

  What in hell was happening to him? When he tried to move his hands, they wouldn’t budge. The same with his feet.

  He looked down and realized that his ankles were tied with rope. His wrists were bound behind his back, as well. And then a fresh thought speared through his mind. He’d been shot. Trying to save Kirby.

  Kirby. She was being held hostage by that convict.

  He had to save her. Had to. He tugged desperately at the rope binding his wrists, and felt it fall away.

  In that same moment, Kirby swam into his line of vision again as she gave a firm shake of her head, her finger back on his lips.

  Moments later he felt her move away slightly as she began working a knife through the rope at his ankles.

  Despite the pain, he was suddenly awake and alert.

  For a brief moment he’d thought he had some sort of mystical powers that could disintegrate rope. Now he realized that he hadn’t mysteriously broken free. This was all Kirby’s doing. By some miracle she had taken possession of a knife and was trying to free him.

  When the rope she’d been working on finally fell away, she wrapped the ends lightly over his ankles, and pointed to the man in the recliner, who was intent on the television screen.

  He understood her signal. If Keller looked over, he would assume that both he and Kirby were still bound, hand and foot.

  He gave her a quick nod of his head, and for the first time she managed a smile of relief as she hid the knife beneath her body and lay perfectly still beside him.

  Now, free of his bonds, he would have to concentrate all his energy on staying alert. Whenever he saw their chance, he had to be ready to take it, no matter how much it cost him. Including his own life. His only goal now was to save Kirby from this killer.

  The Merrick family huddled behind the barn, holding a frantic whispered conference.

  Bo’s voice was husky with agitation and fear. “All Casey said was that he was going in. Then the line went dead.”

  Brand touched a hand to his father’s arm. “We’ve all got rifles. I say we just follow Casey’s lead. If we storm the house, this guy can’t hit all of us.”

  Bo was quick to shake his head. “But he can hit some. I’d like to leave here with my entire family intact. There has to be a better way.”

  Jonah tossed his rope and lassoed a beam above the hayloft window.

  At his father’s arched brow, he shrugged. “I figure I’ll see if there’s any equipment inside that could be useful. Like a backhoe that we could use to smash through a wall or two.”

  Bo nodded. “Good thinking. That would certainly distract whoever is inside with Kirby and Casey.”

  Jonah began climbing hand over hand, with Brand following right behind him.

  The two brothers forced the window open and climbed inside, while the family waited in silence below.

  Minutes later, though it seemed more like an hour, they slid down the rope to announce that there was no heavy equipment left. But they’d found the ranch truck Kirby drove, along with a newer-model truck that had Washington, DC, plates.

  Bo’s eyes went wide. “It has to be Kirby’s truck.”

  Meg looked puzzled. “But it was stolen.”

  “Yeah.” Bo’s face turned into a frown of doom and gloom. “This changes everything.”

  Ham shot him a stern look. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Bo nodded. “If Casey’s stolen truck is here, that means the guy wh
o stole it is here, too.”

  “But I thought it was stolen by that escaped convict…” All the color drained from Meg’s face as she realized the truth. “Oh, sweet heaven.” She felt Egan’s arms come around and draw her close. Against his chest she managed to cry, “Oh, Egan. Kirby and Casey are in there with a convicted killer.”

  Chief Noble Crain led the team of police sharpshooters over a rise and came to a sudden halt when he spotted the Merrick family behind the Regan barn.

  He turned to Lieutenant Barrow, the officer in charge. “That’s the family of the man who phoned me. I’ll have a talk with them and explain your plan.”

  As he approached, Bo started forward. “Kirby Regan’s truck is parked inside this barn, Noble. We believe that the escaped convict is the one holding her hostage.”

  Noble nodded. “The state boys and I have reached the same conclusion.” He glanced around. “Where’s Casey?”

  “Inside. He called and said he was going in. Then the line went dead. We plan to follow his lead.”

  Noble swore and held up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere until you get your marching orders from the state police.” With a worried expression he turned away to speak to the lieutenant.

  Minutes later he returned to make introductions, only to find the Merrick men ignoring his order and loading their rifles.

  He lifted a hand for their attention. “We have a team of state police sharpshooters who are already surrounding the house. When Lieutenant Barrow gives me the signal, I’ll use the bullhorn to alert Ray Keller that his only chance of staying alive is to release the hostages and surrender. I want all of you to stay here, far from danger, until you get the all clear.”

  When he walked away Ham drew himself up to his full height and turned to his son, grandson, and great-grandsons. “That’s all well and good, and I’m sure those sharpshooters are the best around. But from what I’ve heard about this convict, he’s not going to just release Kirby and Casey and walk out with his hands in the air like a good little boy.” He turned to the women. “You three will stay here where it’s safe. We’re going in after Casey and Kirby before this killer realizes he’s surrounded and panics, then shoots up everything in his path.”