by Linda Broday
No mistaking Dowlen’s gravelly voice. “Don’t know who’d be fool enough to side with an Indian. Bet we can handle ’em though. An’ about that other—I ain’t afraid of you, Liberty. Ain’t afraid of nothing.”
“Except catching something from these poor children. You’re mighty scared of that.”
“That’s why we gotta get rid of ’em once and for all.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Rand yelled from his position.
Cooper joined in. “Texas Rangers are coming. You’ll be laughing out the other side of your mouth when they tote your carcass to jail. The judge might throw the book at you, and those working for you as well.”
“Let ’em come,” Oldham hollered.
The sound of that voice still chilled Brett’s bones. He’d never forget the man who wanted him dead so badly he’d do anything.
“Can’t we talk about this?” Brett asked. “There’s no need for bloodshed. Surely we can work something out.”
“Nothing to say. Long as you’re keeping those heathens over there, I see it as my duty to get rid of ’em,” Dowlen answered.
Heathens? Brett’s jaw clenched. Over his dead body.
The remainder of the night passed in brittle silence, each side waiting for the deadlock to shatter at any time.
*
When he rode into camp long after dawn, Rayna came running. Her ashen face scared him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sarah left. I tried to stop her, but she went anyway.”
“Where? Why?” Brett couldn’t imagine his sister being a coward and running. Just not possible.
“Her plan is to sneak through the woods. If she can get through, she’s going to try to rally the people of Battle Creek. I’m worried Dowlen’s men will kill her.”
“If anyone can do it, my sister can. I haven’t known her long, but I’ve seen her with people. They trust her word. She’s a born leader, and she’s determined. She’ll make it safely.”
Rayna nodded, and the lines on her forehead vanished. “You need to eat. Get some coffee while I dish up a plate of what I cooked for the children.”
When she turned, Brett’s gaze followed her soft curves, wishing he had the power to freeze time so he could take the fear and worry from her for a day or two. He’d wrap her in his arms and block it all out.
It took everything he had to drag his eyes from her. With a sigh, he moved toward the coffee. This wasn’t sustainable—there were too few of them. They were going at this all wrong. They had to change tactics.
Taking his coffee, he joined the tired group of men. “What we’re doing isn’t working. We’ve separated ourselves from the women and children, when we should be standing guard here, not out there with too large an area to patrol.”
Rand nodded. “If we had more men, keeping the fight away from the children would be best, but you’re right—it’s getting clearer and clearer we just don’t have that option. We can do a better job here and block any attempt to ride in between us.”
“Makes sense,” Cooper said to a round of agreement.
“Fill your bellies then, and we’ll get started on our fort.” Now that they had a better—if still risky—plan, Brett felt some of the tension leave his neck and shoulders.
After eating, they got busy. For the rest of the day, every man worked feverishly to make the camp more secure. They brought downed logs from the woods and piled them up to form a chest-high barrier for the men to hide behind. Brett got two of his horses and managed to drag the wagon that was damaged during the stampede into place as a buffer. They piled all their ammunition behind the barricade.
When they were finally done, twilight painted the sky dark purple. Brett and his brothers stood back to survey their work. Each agreed it was the best they could make in a short time.
“I think the children will be all right in the safety of the trees,” Brett said. “Even if Dowlen or his men know where they are, they’ll have to go through us to get to them.”
And they’d face a hail of bullets if they tried.
Adam joined them, wearing streaks of dirt on his face, looking very similar to their ancestors when they geared up for a fight. He dusted off his hands. “I think we did good. We’re ready for them.”
“As much as we can be,” Brett agreed, tossing him his rifle. Pride in his nephew burst anew in his chest. He worked as hard as any man and did everything Brett asked. “Remember, don’t take any chances. Your mother will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. Don’t worry so much, Uncle Brett.”
“It’s my job to worry.” He glanced toward the sheltering trees then back to Rayna, who had just finished tying off a bandage on a man who’d caught a bullet during last night’s standoff. The light of the campfire caressed her face, doing things he wished his hands were doing. Everyone counted on him to keep them safe.
A muscle bunched in his jaw. That’s what he’d do, no matter how he accomplished it. He’d walk barefoot through fire for her, the unwanted orphans, and his family.
She finished up and poured a cup of coffee, bringing it to him. They moved to one of logs and sat down. With her shoulder brushing his, she stared into the flames. “I’m worried. Something is coming.”
“I know.” Brett took a sip of the hot brew and added with an edge to his voice, “We’ll defend this place with our lives.”
In one of the conversations he’d had with Bob, he’d learned that the Comanche believed that the greatest glory wasn’t in killing an enemy but in getting close enough to touch him and taking his power.
Maybe it was true. He knew Bob’s spirit was still with them. Earlier this afternoon when he’d looked up on the ridge, he thought he saw the old Comanche standing up there. But then he decided it was the light bouncing off the limestone. One day he’d like to find his friend’s bones and bury him.
The thought brought comfort.
Rayna rested her head on his shoulder. “I like having you close, not out in the darkness.”
“How are the children, Rayna?”
“Safe as I can make them. They know to stay put and not make a sound. I pray we make it through this. I have a bad feeling.”
When she reached for his hand, he squeezed her cold fingers. “We’re going to survive this. Sure, Dowlen has amassed a lot on his side. But what does he really have? Drunks and fat, lazy old men with a grudge. That’s why they haven’t won, and why they’ll never win.” He touched her hair. “We’ll be enjoying the privacy of our oasis before you know it.”
“Yes, we will.” Her smile quivered as she kissed his cheek.
Brett soaked up the quiet moment with the woman who filled his dreams. He didn’t need her omens that prophesied death at every turn to know something bad was coming. He felt it in his bones. They were as ready as they’d ever be.
No matter what happened to him, he prayed Rayna, the orphans, and everyone else came to no harm.
Before he could tell her he loved her once more, sudden gunshots rang out, and the world plunged into turmoil and chaos.
Thirty-three
Hoofbeats pounded, men yelled, and a barrage of bullets exploded around the camp in a chaotic frenzy. Brett threw down his cup and grabbed his rifle, his senses instantly on high alert. He dove for safety behind the pile of logs, dragging Rayna with him.
“Stay down,” he ordered.
“Give me a gun. I can shoot. You need me.”
His brothers, Adam, and the ranch hands ran from everywhere, converging behind the security of the wall of timber and broken wagon.
The thickest, blackest night Brett had ever seen enveloped them with no hint a dawn would ever come again.
A handful of men to rebuff an attack three times their size. Brett’s stomach clenched. Still, the defenders of the Alamo would’ve taken these odds in a heartbeat.
Brett cursed the fact that Dowlen and Oldham’s army had caught their small and exhausted group off guard time and again. He cursed
the overwhelming odds stacked against them by men eaten up with hate.
And he cursed the fact that somewhere deep in the trees, orphans huddled in terror, asking only for a chance to grow up.
A muscle worked in Brett’s jaw. God willing, he would give them that.
He would not give up, as his opponents counted on. Those who had killing on their minds would see and finally come to know the strength of his heart and the fiery purpose that beat inside each of them. They’d fight until life left their bodies. This cause was right and just.
Then there was Sarah. If she made it to town, she’d bring help. When she told the townspeople what had happened, they’d come. They were good, decent people. But if he was wrong and Sarah couldn’t sway them, he’d put fourteen seasoned men up against anything Dowlen and Oldham threw at them.
With renewed determination, he fired at the nearest horseman, hitting him, but not knocking him from the saddle. Rayna spoke the truth. He reached for a second rifle at his feet, handing it to her. “Aim at the chest, and take your time with the shot.”
Wave after wave of riders hit them. This would be a fight measured in so many heartbeats instead of minutes. If they made it to daylight…
Brett gripped the rifle, firing until he ran out of ammunition. Pulling his Colt from the holster, he kept shooting until he could reload the rifle.
From out of nowhere, a bullet slammed into the wood he crouched behind, splintering it.
He spared the hole a glance, grateful the hot metal had missed him. However, seconds later, the next bullet struck his chest below his collarbone. The impact spun him around as hot fire pierced, sending mind-numbing pain through his body.
The rifle fell from his hands as he battled to stay on his feet. Losing that fight a second later, he slid to the ground in a heap.
Rayna screamed and grabbed him. “Brett, keep breathing and look at me. I’m not going to let you die. Do you hear me? You will not die on me!”
While he tried to make sense of her words, she ripped off his shirt, pressed it tightly to the wound, and ordered him to hold on.
From the sound of her distant voice, she seemed in the grips of a heavy fog. He kept losing her. He wished he’d told her one more time that he loved her.
Kissed her once more.
Breathing hard, he tried to focus on her face, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting shut.
Where had she gone? She promised to wait for him.
No. He couldn’t give up.
Inch by inch, he fought his way through the pain back to Rayna, back to the woman he loved. She needed him. The others needed him. He couldn’t let them down. He had powerful medicine.
“Bandage me and let me up,” he rasped, forcing his eyes open.
“You’re hurt. You can’t. The blood…”
A muscle worked in his jaw as he groped for the Colt that was somewhere around his hip. His trembling hand couldn’t locate it. “Help me to my feet. I have to fight.”
“I’ll do what you want, but only after I bandage you,” she said mulishly.
Silently, Rayna helped him sit. Brett could see anger and frustration in her eyes and body movements, but he knew it came out of concern for him and nothing more.
“See if you can tell if the bullet is still in there.”
“I’ll try.” She slid her hand over his skin, both chest and back.
Brett gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain while she poked around in the wound and felt along his back before announcing, “I think it went through. I can feel a hole on the back side where the bullet came out.”
“Good news.” Sweat formed on his forehead.
As the battle raged around them, she wadded his shirt into a tighter ball and told him to hold it to the wound as hard as he could. His ragged breath hurt his chest as he watched her tear off a length of her petticoat and bind it tightly around his shoulder and chest. Giving the fabric an extra tug, she tied it off. Then putting her arm around his waist, she hoisted him to his feet.
The ground whirled with the effort, and he clenched his teeth against the searing agony. “Will you reload my rifle for me, please?”
“I already have.” She handed the Winchester to him. “Don’t pass out on me.”
“Aw, Rayna darlin’, I don’t plan on it.” He was tired of fighting. His soul was weary. He wanted only to take Rayna’s hand and lead her to their special place, where peace and harmony lived, and never leave.
It wasn’t possible though. The killing wouldn’t stop.
Screams of terrified orphans suddenly burst through the noise and chaos of the night. They must’ve crept from their hiding place. To them, they must think the world was coming to an end. Maybe it was. Maybe the next world would be more accepting.
Brett holstered his Colt and propped the rifle on the top log in the pile. Though his grip was shaky, he fired at the blur of movement. At times he had to close his eyes for a half second to enable a sharper focus.
His legs wobbled, threatening to collapse as his pain increased. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to continue, but prayed he could last the distance.
The mounted army kept coming. When one rider plunged to the ground, another took his place. Brett lost count of the hours that seemed to bleed into days in his delirious mind. He kept thinking about the blood moon and Rayna’s whispered statement that it meant death.
Brett had long since lost feeling in his body. His legs threatened to collapse under him, and his fingers were numb. Relentless pain was the only thing he was able to feel, and it was like a wild animal gnawing into him.
Finally, unable to stand, he sank to the ground in despair.
Just before black fog stole his vision, he heard a sound. A bugle? What the hell?
His first thought was that he’d gone crazy. The second was of Rayna and wishing he didn’t have to leave her. Wetness trickled down his cheek. Sweat? A tear?
“Please forgive me,” he whispered.
*
Hues of pink and gold marked the breaking daylight when Brett next managed to open his eyes. Cooper was leaning over him, trying his best to pry the rifle from Brett’s hand.
“I think you’ve seen better days, little brother.”
“Hurts like someone pressed a hot brand to me,” he rasped. “How about you?”
“Just a few scratches,” Cooper said, wiping blood from his face. “Weren’t as lucky with the men. We lost another, two are missing, and several have gunshot wounds. One of the wounded is Fletcher. He’s been with me a long time.”
Rand strode forward with a cup of water and held it to Brett’s mouth.
He took a long drink. “Sorry about Fletcher. Which one died?”
Deep sorrow and guilt pierced Brett’s heart. He couldn’t stand the thought of any of the men dying. Especially not on his behalf. He didn’t need that on his conscience.
The lines in Copper’s face deepened. “Gabe Booker. He hired on at the start of the Long Odds Ranch and leaves a wife and kids.” The tightness in Cooper’s voice spoke of his grief.
“Damn. Gabe was a good man. What about the two missing?”
“Not sure. It’s a battlefield out there.” Cooper wearily rubbed his eyes. “Bodies lying everywhere. We’re just beginning to check for survivors. You seen Rayna? We need her doctoring skills.”
Brett glanced around. “She was beside me all night. Fought as well as any of us. She bandaged me up after I got hit.”
Rand held the water up to his mouth again. “I’m sure she’s around here someplace.”
Panic swept through Brett. He couldn’t see her anywhere. With every bit of strength he had, he pushed away the cup and struggled to his feet. “I have to find her.”
To lose the only thing that gave his life real meaning scared him worse than facing a hangman’s noose. He didn’t want to live in a world without her.
The ranch hand named Fletcher approached with a soldier wearing an army uniform. “Need a word, boss.”
C
ooper straightened and disappeared with them around the makeshift barricade.
“What’s going on? Where did the soldier come from?”
“The cavalry rode in with guns blazing just when all seemed lost,” Rand explained. “If it hadn’t been for them, we wouldn’t have survived.”
Their miracle had happened.
“I hope they plan on staying awhile.”
Rand put an arm around him and helped him to one of the seats outside the tepee. “Not sure how long they’ll have. Rest here, little brother. You’re in no shape to look for anyone. Coop and I will locate her for you.”
“Thanks.” Brett’s harsh breath was loud in his ears. The short walk had winded him. “Find Rayna. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Rand raced toward the woods where the children were.
If Brett was prone to cussing, he’d let some fly. He remembered back to the time after Cooper and Rand had helped him escape the jail in Steele’s Hollow and how totally useless he’d felt when they made camp. Now everyone scurried around trying to help the wounded, and he just sat there like a doddering old man with one foot in the grave. Bob appeared to have had more life than Brett did at the moment.
His heartbeats were measured in minutes while he waited for his brothers to return, his searching gaze seeking a glimpse of the woman who filled his heart.
The longer time dragged by, the more his hopes dimmed.
He saw only one choice left—he had to go look for her himself. A downward glance at his soaked bandage revealed the extent of his blood loss. He had to call on every bit of bravery he had.
Finally, taking deep breaths, he staggered to the fire and laid his knife in the hot coals. Then he removed the crude bandage Rayna had wrapped around him.
Brett had heard of cauterizing a wound to stop the bleeding from an old mountain man he’d run across years ago, but he’d never done it. The tough frontiersman had told of the enormous pain, saying he’d done it as a last resort but wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.
This was Brett’s only option, and he’d gladly do it if it helped to find Rayna. He’d do anything.
Even crawl through the flames of hell on his belly.
By the time the knife glowed red, Brett had given himself a talking-to. Before he could lift the knife from the coals, Cooper and Rand strode toward him. He could tell by their faces they hadn’t found her.
