Desperate Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  Mitch took a cheroot from his saddlebag, along with a match. He lit the cheroot and smoked a minute, studying the vast Montana landscape ahead of them. “It’s my fault anyway for not telling you everything you should have been watching for,” he told Randy. He climbed back onto his horse. “He’s headed right through that valley ahead, and at a pretty good clip. He has to wear down pretty soon. That little gun of Emma’s doesn’t blow a big hole in a man, but he’s hurting, I guarantee it, especially if she hit something important. I’m proud of her for managing to do what she did. A wounded man will be a lot easier to catch.”

  Len pushed back his hat, studying the valley and the mountains beyond. “She told me when I seen her at Doc’s that this man we’re after might have a high-powered rifle with him. Said he used to hunt big game with it.”

  Mitch drew on the cheroot. “Yeah, well he’s not used to hunting men. Hank down at the stables told Randy he’s riding that black gelding Hank used to enter in races. It’s a good horse, but Radcliffe isn’t used to him. It makes a big difference when you’re riding your own animal. And Radcliffe is a city man. This country will get to him real fast. He doesn’t have a clue as to what a man needs to take along when he’s alone out here, and he likely doesn’t even know for sure which way to go. He’s heading west.” He looked back at Len. “Right into Witch’s Canyon.”

  Len grinned. “Lots of snakes there.”

  “Hell, no man in his right mind goes there,” Randy added.

  “Not unless he’s a greenhorn like Alan Radcliffe, riding an unfamiliar horse and fighting a hole in his gut,” Mitch added.

  Randy nodded. “Ain’t nobody knows Montana like the vigilantes,” he answered.

  “You’re damn right,” Mitch told him, kicking his horse into a gentle trot. “And we don’t have to be in a hurry, because this guy is going to be easy to follow. He doesn’t have all that much of a head start on us. We’ll give him time to lose some more blood, maybe so much that he’s too weak to raise that fancy rifle of his.” He studied the tracks again, then gave Randy a look that made the young man shiver. “Then I might have to reopen the wound and make him bleed a little more,” Mitch added.

  Randy glanced at Len, who just nodded. “Be glad you ain’t the one he’s after,” Len told him.

  “Oh, I am. I surely am.”

  They followed Mitch, all three men riding until it was too dark to keep going. They made it to the mouth of Witch’s Canyon, where they made camp.

  “Our man will hole up in there for the night,” Mitch told them, rolling out his bedroll and using his saddle at the head of it for a pillow. “And when he wakes up in the morning and that sun shines onto the western rim of the canyon, he’ll realize he’s ridden right into a place he can’t ride out of. He’ll wake up to the fact that he has to backtrack right through here to get out of there and find a different trail. If a snake doesn’t get him, and he doesn’t die from that bullet Emma put in him, our dumb sonofabitch of a city man will ride right into our camp.” He stood at the campfire drinking some of the strong coffee Len had made. “Alan Radcliffe might be a powerful man where he comes from, but out here he’s nothing more than a scared little rabbit.”

  Len thought how, in the firelight, Mitch’s eyes looked like the eyes of Satan. “Mitch, Doc said you have to be careful not to get too physical. That wound could still mean you blacking out if that head gets banged around too much.”

  Mitch tossed out what was left of his coffee and stooped down to stretch out on his bedroll. “Oh, I don’t intend to manhandle the man too much. I’ll just open that wound a little, maybe break a rib or two, considering how he broke Emma’s rib—maybe more than one.”

  “That so?” Len asked.

  Mitch put a hand to his head. “He hurt her bad, Len, real bad.”

  “I saw her face and her throat. I’m real sorry about that, Mitch.”

  Mitch glanced at Randy. “When you found her, she was just beat up, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…all her clothes were on, just like she was still completely dressed when I got to Doc’s office. You didn’t do anything to try to hide something worse?”

  “Something worse?” Randy crouched by the fire to pour his own cup of coffee. “Shit, no, Mitch. If you’re meanin’ what I think you’re meanin’, there wasn’t no sign of somethin’ like that. Besides, the guy is her uncle, right? He married her ma, who you said was his brother’s wife. I mean, a guy doesn’t do somethin’ like that to his own niece.”

  Mitch put his hands behind his head and stared at the flickering fire. “Doesn’t he?”

  Everything got quiet for a moment.

  “Jesus,” Randy muttered. “This guy is worse than I thought.”

  “He is,” Mitch answered. “She had damn good reason for running from this guy, and it was more than just to keep him from getting hold of that necklace. She was hardly more than a scared little girl. He’d murdered her mother and then told her he’d accuse her of killing the woman out of jealousy because she wanted him for herself—said he’d accuse her of coming to his bed and trying to seduce him. He threatened her in every way he could to get that necklace from her, but she’d promised her ma that would never happen, so she just took the necklace and ran off, figuring a man like Alan Radcliffe would never dream she’d come to a place like Alder. I don’t know how in God’s name he figured it out, but he did. Once we take care of him, I need to find out if Emma is wanted in New York. I intend to straighten that out for her so she can finally have some peace of mind.”

  Len sighed. “I can’t believe a man would do that to his own brother’s child. He must be pretty desperate.”

  “Yeah, well, Emma said something similar—about him being desperate, I mean. I think his gambling led to maybe losing everything back in New York. She made it sound like he was out here for more than just the necklace and revenge. I have a feeling he’s already running from something. Now he’s got Montana vigilantes on his ass, so he’s done for, one way or another.”

  “All the more reason why you can’t let what he did make you do somethin’ stupid, Mitch—somethin’ that could mean Emma losin’ you all over again. I’ve seen what you do to a man who beats up on a woman, but you think about Emma this time, not your ma and not your need for revenge. Your ma was dead and didn’t need you anymore, so even if avenging her meant you gettin’ hurt bad, it wouldn’t have mattered. This time it does matter, to Emma. You keep that in mind. This guy is gonna get his due without you havin’ to exert yourself beatin’ him half to death. He ain’t never gonna make it back to New York or out to California or any place else. You damn well know that.”

  Mitch sighed. “Yeah, I expect so.”

  “I’m willin’ to bet there’s a lynch mob formin’ right now back in Alder. A lot of folks are gonna be wantin’ revenge just as much as you, cuz they like that little gal you married,” Len added.

  Mitch smiled sadly. “True.”

  “And it’s likely that mob will be so big and so determined that you and me and Randy and all the vigilantes in Montana won’t be able to stop them. Know what I mean?”

  Mitch met Len’s all-knowing eyes. Len Gray was an older, wiser man whose past Mitch knew nothing about but who was hardened and tough and dependable. Mitch knew he was trying to keep his rage in check—not just for Mitch’s sake, but for Emma’s. “I know what you mean.”

  All three men quietly watched the fire. Mitch settled against his saddle. “Emma said something to you before you left, didn’t she?” Mitch asked Len.

  “Just a word or two.”

  “Told you to watch out for me.”

  “Kind of.”

  “You know damn well I don’t need watching out for when I’m after someone.”

  “I know that, you stubborn ass. It ain’t the other guy she’s worried about. It’s you gettin’ in your own way. S
he’s scared cuz of that wound that’s still a bit too fresh to risk getting bashed in the head all over again. She knows you can handle yourself, and I sure as hell do, too. But sometimes you need somebody to slow you down some. I’ll lasso you to a tree if I have to—for her—not because I give a damn about you. Got that?”

  Mitch reached behind him and pulled a small flask of whiskey from his saddlebag. He uncorked it and took a swallow. “I got that just fine.” He handed the flask out to Len, who walked over and knelt down to his own bedroll nearby.

  Len reached out and took the whiskey, taking a swig of it and handing it back. Their gazes locked and held in silent understanding. Len nodded as he handed back the whiskey.

  “Me and Randy love her, too,” he told Mitch. “If you hadn’t moved in on her so fast, we sure as hell would have tried, especially young Randy there. He don’t feel like shit about what happened just because he was afraid you’d skin him alive for fallin’ down on the job. He feels like shit cuz Emma is such a fine young lady and he let her down, too.”

  Randy waved them off and turned his back to Mitch, settling under his blanket.

  Mitch took another swallow of whiskey. “Guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Yeah, well, you just keep yourself healthy for that woman, cuz if somethin’ happens to you, she’ll be somebody else’s wife. I don’t think you want that.”

  Mitch grinned, realizing Len Gray was using every sly trick he could think of to keep Mitch from going over the edge. “No, I sure don’t want that,” he answered, putting the cork back in the flask and setting it beside his saddle. “I surely don’t want anybody but me calling that woman his wife.”

  He stared at millions of stars in a black Montana sky, listening to the crackle of the fire as it began burning down to embers. He wondered how one man could know so little about another man and yet be sure without a doubt that he could totally trust that same man.

  “I have a question for you two,” he said before they fell asleep.

  “Ask away,” Randy answered, still turned away.

  “What if I bought some land and started ranching? I’d need some ranch hands to help with all the chores that come with that, help with roundups, guard against cattle thieves, watch out for Indian raids, build fences, and the like. Would you two be interested in something like that?”

  Neither man answered right away.

  “Hell, why not?” Len finally spoke up. “I’ve worked ranches before. There isn’t much I haven’t done, and if any man can make it ranchin’, you can.”

  “I expect I don’t have anything better to do,” Randy put in. “Not much difference between ridin’ the range herdin’ cattle and watchin’ out for thieves and Indians as a ranch hand and ridin’ half of Montana lookin’ for troublemakers as a vigilante. I don’t see much difference, and there ain’t nobody I’d rather work for than you, Mitch. You and Len are like…I don’t know…like the pa I never had, I guess. Fact is, the reason I figured you’d beat my ass is because that’s what my pa would have done for failin’ him…and Lord knows he found plenty of ways to accuse me of lettin’ him down so’s he’d have an excuse to whale on me.”

  “The only thing that would make me want to beat the hell out of you is if you tried to make a move on my wife,” Mitch answered.

  “Shoot, Mitch, I ain’t educated, but I ain’t that stupid, either,” Randy shot back.

  All three men laughed, and Mitch felt some of his fury ease up. “You know, boys, I’m thinking we won’t go any farther. We’ll get us a good night’s sleep and then we’ll wait right here come morning. We’ll let Mr. Alan Radcliffe come to us instead of us going after him. Maybe he thinks no one is even after him yet. Maybe he’s cocky enough to think he’s gotten away with this, like he got away with everything back in New York. Either way, he’s gonna come right back through here when he figures out he can’t get out of that canyon.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Len answered.

  “I can’t wait,” Randy put in.

  All three men settled in for the night, but Mitch knew he wouldn’t really sleep much. For the rest of his life, he wouldn’t sleep well without Emma lying right next to him. He wanted desperately to be with her tonight, to comfort her in any way he could. The vision of her battered face, her purple ribs—the idea of a man his size pummeling a hundred-pound woman—it all kept slamming at his guts. It wouldn’t be easy taking this calmly the way Len was warning him to do. That hundred-pound woman was his Emma, the very woman he’d promised would never suffer again at the hands of Alan Radcliffe.

  No, he wouldn’t sleep easy tonight.

  Thirty-four

  “Sit still, boys. He’s coming,” Mitch said softly.

  All three men had packed up and moved their horses behind some of the masses of huge boulders that lay strewn over the vast flatland that led to the entrance to Witch’s Canyon. They hunkered down behind more rocks and waited as a fine black gelding made its way through the canyon entrance. A tall man wearing an expensive but obviously soiled and dusty suit coat sat astride the horse. He wore a black felt hat and held a fancy hunting rifle in his right hand.

  At the entrance he spotted the remains of Mitch’s campfire and reined his horse to a halt, looking around like a wild animal that sensed danger.

  “Morning, Mr. Radcliffe,” Mitch spoke up.

  Radcliffe whirled, his rifle instantly raised and ready to shoot. Mitch fired his own carbine. Radcliffe cried out when a bullet ripped through his hand and tore the rifle from it. The rifle went flying, slamming against a rock, the butt of the gun breaking away from the barrel.

  Mitch, Len, and Randy all moved out from behind the rocks.

  “We were kind of wonderin’ how long it would take you to figure out you couldn’t get out of that canyon,” Len spoke up, his own rifle leveled at Radcliffe.

  “You’re lucky a rattler didn’t crawl into your blankets to warm itself last night,” Randy added, also leveling a rifle at the man. “That canyon is full of ’em.”

  “He probably wouldn’t have been bit,” Mitch said, moving into a position where Radcliffe could better see him. “Snakes don’t bite each other, and I’ll bet this man was the biggest, meanest snake in the canyon.”

  Radcliffe held out his bloody hand, his eyes wide, his body trembling. “I’m bleeding! And I’ve—” He opened his coat to show a huge bloodstain on his satin vest. “I’ve been…shot!”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Mitch told him. “Ain’t it, boys?”

  “Sure is,” Len answered.

  Radcliffe swallowed, studying Mitch closely as his face began turning whiter before their eyes. “You’re the ignorant, murdering…low-life vigilante Emma’s been…sleeping with, aren’t you?” he sneered. “I saw you…a couple of times from a…distance. Someone…pointed you out to me…thought I was a reporter.”

  “Yeah, I’m the ignorant, murdering, low-life vigilante Emma’s been sleeping with, and I could blow your head off right here and now and get away with it. Out here in Montana, we vigilantes have a way of doing whatever the hell we want with murdering, thieving rapists. Ain’t I right again, boys?”

  “Right again,” Len answered.

  “I suggest you get down off that horse,” Mitch told Radcliffe.

  Radcliffe just stared at him. “No.”

  “Mister, you either get down, or I’ll shoot you off that horse. I’ll start with one ear, then the other, then an elbow, then the other, and once you fall, I’ll finish off both knees! Don’t try my very short patience. Get off your goddamn horse!”

  Radcliffe winced as he slowly dismounted. He stumbled then, his knees buckling. He ended up sitting on the ground and grabbing his side with his good hand. “I’ve lost a lot of blood,” he told Mitch. “I…need a doctor.”

  Mitch motioned for Randy to grab the man’s horse. Randy walked over and took the animal’s br
idle and led it aside. “Go get our horses, too,” Mitch told the boy.

  Randy hurried over to where their own horses were tied, and Mitch stepped closer to Radcliffe, Len staying close behind.

  “Too bad about you needing a doctor,” Mitch told Radcliffe. “Seems Alder’s doctor is occupied with someone else right now, a tiny, hundred-pound woman you choked until she couldn’t breathe!” He handed his rifle out sideways to Len, who took it from him.

  “Mitch, be careful. Remember what I told you.”

  Mitch walked up to Radcliffe, his hands balled into fists. “Get up, you worthless piece of shit!”

  Radcliffe hung his head. “Give me a minute.”

  Mitch grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him to his feet. “I said to get up!” he growled.

  “Mitch, watch yourself!” Len warned, stepping closer.

  “I’m being careful!” Mitch shot back. “You have no idea how careful!” He looked Radcliffe straight in the eyes. “So, you are my size.” He gave Radcliffe a shove, and the man fell back to the ground. “Tell me, Radcliffe, how does a man your size live with the knowledge that he’s the most worthless, cowardly, yellow cow shit of a man who ever walked?” On the word walked, he kicked Radcliffe in the side where he’d been wounded.

  Radcliffe screamed with the pain and rolled away.

  “God, how I wish you weren’t wounded at all,” Mitch told him, “so I could take pleasure in beating the hell out of you man-to-man! I guess I won’t get that enjoyment, will I?” On the word will, he slammed a booted foot upward under Radcliffe’s chin, sending him sprawling once more.

  “Mitch, let’s get him back to town,” Randy yelled.

  Mitch watched Radcliffe struggle to a sitting position. He bent over, fresh blood coming from his wound. “Call this your medical treatment,” Mitch told him, “because this is as close as you’ll get to doctoring!”

  “Please…no more,” Radcliffe panted.

  “Did my wife say the same thing to you when you were beating her?” Mitch knelt down and jerked Radcliffe’s head back by the hair. “Or maybe she never got the chance, since you were also trying to choke her to death!” He backhanded Radcliffe, then stood up, walking to his horse. He grasped the saddle horn and just stood there a minute, hanging his head. “God, I need to kill him so bad, Len.”