Miss Lily's Boarding House

by Sandi Hampton

  “No, no, I won’t.” Grace’s heart rose in her throat.

  “Okay.” Randolph turned to Magee. “Kill the old woman. We don’t need her anymore.”

  “No, Philip, no,” Maggie shrieked. “Please. You promised me.”

  A wolfish grin flashed across Magee’s face. He slid the knife blade across Maggie’s throat, and a thin trickle of blood ran down her neck.

  “No, no, stop. Oh, God, please stop. I’ll give you the deed. Don’t hurt her.” Grace held the deed out, and Randolph jerked it from her hand.

  “That’s more like it.”

  With an evil laugh, Magee threw Maggie to the floor. Grace rushed to her and knelt by her side. “Are you all right?”

  Maggie nodded. “I’m so sorry, Gracie. I didn’t know they’d hurt her. He promised me nobody would get hurt.”

  “It’s okay, Maggie.” Grace looked around for an avenue of escape, but saw none. Hope faded quickly. She had to try to stall for time, and hope and pray someone came to their rescue. “What do you plan to do with us?”

  Randolph’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’ll just…disappear, and Logan Barnett has to die, then everybody that stood in my way will be gone.” He turned to Magee. “Jake, go take care of Barnett now.”

  “Okay, boss.” The outlaw hurried from the room.

  Grace sank to her knees. Logan! Somehow she had to warn him. She forced herself to stand. “You won’t get away with this.”

  He grinned at her. Her fingers itched to wipe that smirk from his face. Oh, why hadn’t she insisted Logan give her a gun?

  “Who’s going to stop me? You?” Randolph laughed.

  Movement at the door caught Grace’s attention. Lottie, Kate and Frenchy peered around the door frame. Lottie held an iron skillet while Kate and Frenchy held brass candlesticks. Lottie motioned at Grace, then pointed to Randolph and made a walking motion. Grace tried to keep her face expressionless. When she realized what Lottie was telling her, she rose to her feet and walked toward the window. Randolph turned to watch her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled. “Get back over here.”

  Lottie crept up behind him and slammed the skillet on his head with a loud thump. At the same time, Kate and Frenchy attacked with the candlesticks. He slumped to the floor-unconscious.

  Grace dashed over and hugged the women. “Oh, thank you. You saved our lives.”

  “Let’s get him tied up,” Lottie said, “before he comes around.”

  Frenchy pulled a pair of nylons from her pocket. “Zee turn him over, Lottie, and I will tie his hands.”

  Grace and Lottie rolled Randolph over on his stomach and pulled his hands to the small of his back. Frenchy looped the nylons around his wrist and pulled the knots tight.

  “I can’t believe I’m wasting my nylons on zis pig.”

  Grace hugged her. “I’ll buy you ten pair to replace them. Take care of Maggie. I’ve got to go warn Logan.”

  “Grace, wait,” Lottie yelled. “You can’t go alone.”

  But Grace didn’t listen. She bolted out the door and down the steps.

  ****

  Logan reined in his horse and stared up at the billowing clouds. A hawk circled lazily overhead, its wings dark against the blue sky. The wind came out of the west, strong and swirling. He’d been out rounding up some steers when this feeling came over him. His gut told him something was wrong, and he always listened to his instincts. He rode to the top of the ridge and stopped, surveying the land below.

  A puff of dust in the distance caught his attention, and he pulled his field glasses from his saddle bag. Two riders crested the rocky slope below the river. He focused the glasses, but couldn’t make out their identity. Several miles back another sliver of dust rose from the prairie floor—all headed in his direction. He pulled his revolver from its holster and checked his ammunition. Trouble rode the horizon.

  His thoughts turned to Grace, and he wondered if she were safe. He should never have left her at the boarding house. Whoever had killed her aunt and his father wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. Men like Randolph or Magee were killers, men with no conscience. A shiver crawled down his spine. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  He turned his attention to the on-coming riders. This time he could make out the faces. Magee and one of his henchmen. The far rider was still not identifiable. He glanced down the slope and figured out the best place to intercept the men. It’d be best to confront them here—they wouldn’t expect him.

  “Let’s go, boy,” he said and flicked the reins across the animal’s flanks. “Let’s go welcome our guests.”

  He slouched back in the saddle, letting the animal have its head going down the steep, rocky incline. Pebbles flew beneath the horse’s hooves. When he reached the bottom, he rode hard for the intercept point—a small canyon with a narrow mouth. He had to get there before they did. When they entered the canyon, they’d have to slow to a walk, and he’d be waiting on them.

  He entered the canyon from a side ravine and made his way to the entrance. He’d let them ride in before he made his presence known. A dead tree on the far side caught his attention. He grabbed his rope, circled it and tossed it. The noose wrapped around one of the branches, and he looped the rope around the saddle horn and pulled the tree across the narrow entrance. He dismounted and led his mount behind a jumble of rocks, then climbed up atop the boulders where he’d have a clear view.

  He pulled his gun—and waited.

  And waited.

  Long moments ticked by. The air was still, stifling, not a trace of a breeze. Logan wiped the perspiration from his forehead. They should be here by now. Had they changed direction? He peered around the rocks—no movement—no sound. Then he heard the faint drumming of hoof beats.

  In a few minutes, a lone rider rode through the narrow entrance.

  Magee!

  The outlaw rode in slowly, saw the dead tree, stopped and pulled his gun. He looked around, and Logan ducked.

  Come on, Magee. Just a few more feet.

  After several long minutes, the outlaw rode ahead. Logan waited until the man was within twenty feet of him, then he stood and put a bullet at the horse’s feet. “That’s far enough, Magee. Throw your gun down. Don’t try nothing because I’m itching to put a bullet in you.”

  Magee tossed his gun to the ground and held his hands up. “That you, Barnett?”

  Logan stepped out on the boulder. “Yeah. You looking for me?”

  “Yeah. Come on down so we can talk. Don’t you want to know what your pa said afore I killed him?”

  Logan sucked in a deep breath. He’d figured Magee to be the killer, but to hear it from the man’s mouth gut-punched him. His finger tightened on the trigger. “Figured it was you. Well, I aim to return the favor.”

  “You don’t want to do that. You shoot me, Higgins shoots the girl.” Magee waved to someone behind him, and two horses appeared. A man rode one, his gun pointed at—

  Grace!

  Logan cursed. So that’s what had taken them so long—they’d spotted her too, then waited and ambushed her. His heart rose in his throat. Magee wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both.

  “Come on down, Barnett. Now.”

  As he scrambled down the rocks, his mind searched for a way out of this mess. He jumped to the ground.

  Higgins rode up and motioned for Grace to dismount. “Get over there by him.”

  She dashed over to Logan, and he pushed her behind him, then turned to Magee. “What now?”

  Magee grinned, a look of evil on his face. “I’m gonna kill you, then I’m gonna have some fun with her—then kill her.”

  “Why?” Logan asked, stalling for time.

  “Cuz you’re worth a lot of money to me—dead. Randolph pays good.”

  “Randolph’s been captured,” Grace said from behind him. “He won’t be paying you anything, and you’ll go to jail.”

  “You’re lying, girl.”

  “Didn’t
you wonder how I got here?” she continued. “You left me with Randolph.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Magee.” Logan shot Grace a warning gaze. “You and Higgins ride off now, and I won’t come after you.” He inched forward as he talked. Magee’s gun was only a few feet in front of him. He had to keep the outlaw talking. “What do you say?”

  “I say you’re crazy.”

  Logan knew they had only seconds left. He turned slightly to Grace and whispered. “I’m going for the gun. When I do, grab that rock there and throw it at Higgins.”

  “You can’t—”

  “It’s our only chance.” He took a step forward and then dove for the gun. As his fingers closed around the weapon, Grace stooped, grabbed the rock and threw it, all in a single motion. Higgins’ horse reared, and he slammed to the ground, then lay still.

  Magee bellowed like a bull as he pounced on Logan. The gun flew from Logan’s fingers, and he scrambled after it. The killer caught him and rained blows on his back. Logan rolled over and kicked him in the midsection. The outlaw’s breath left him in a single swoosh, and he slumped to the ground.

  Logan rushed the man, but Magee caught him and tumbled him to the ground, his fist connecting with Logan’s jaw. Stunned, Logan stumbled backward. As he fell, he saw the outlaw pick up the gun and point the weapon at him, and an evil smile flickered across his lips.

  Then a gunshot echoed around the canyon, and Magee stiffened. A look of surprise crossed his face as he slumped to the ground. A crimson stain spread across his chest. Logan whirled and saw Grace, a smoking gun in her hand. She screamed and dropped the weapon.

  With his last breath, the outlaw fired again.

  The bullet struck Logan in the chest. He looked down and saw the blood.

  Stars whirled before his eyes, and darkness closed around him.

  Chapter 9

  Grace stared at the smoking gun in her hand. She’d killed a man. She threw the gun to the ground. A cry rose in her throat, and she muffled it with her hand. She looked at Logan, and her knees threatened to buckle under her. He lay unmoving, prone on the ground, face down. “Logan, no, no.”

  She raced over to him and knelt by his side. With trembling hands, she rolled him over and gasped. His shirt was covered with blood. His face was deathly pale. She brushed the sand from his face and pulled his head into her lap. “Logan, Logan, speak to me. Don’t you dare die on me. Please speak to me.”

  He moaned, and Grace sent up a quick prayer of thanks that he was alive. But she had no idea what to do, except staunch the flow of blood. Tears clouded her eyes and with a curse she wiped them on her sleeve. Quickly, she tore his shirt open, then ripped a piece of her petticoat and pressed it against the flow. Nausea rose in her throat, and she gagged. Upset with herself for her lack of control, she dug deep in her being and forced the nausea away.

  “Logan, wake up. You have to tell me what to do.” But he made no move. “The doctor—I have to get you to the doctor. That bullet has to come out, and I don’t know how to remove it.”

  She glanced around and saw the horses. But how could she get the unconscious man on the animal? The answer was simple—somehow she had to awaken him. She slipped from under him, taking care to cradle his head in her hands. She hurried to the nearest horse, grabbed the canteen and ran back to him. She tore another piece from her petticoat, poured water on it and then bathed his face and neck. “Logan, wake up.”

  To her relief, his eyelids fluttered open. “Oh, thank God. Can you sit up?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  As she helped him to a seated position, he rubbed his forehead. “What happened?”

  “You got shot. I need to get you to the doctor.”

  He glanced down at his wound and grimaced. “Yeah, now I remember.” He looked up at her. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  As she gazed down into his brilliant blue eyes, tenderness rushed over her. “You’re very welcome. But I’m not sure that I’ve saved your life unless I can get you to a doctor. Can you stand up?”

  “I think so.”

  “Here, lean on me.” She grabbed his arm and hooked it around her neck. He stumbled to his knees, leaning on her. His weight almost toppled her over. He struggled to his feet, and she helped him to the clump of boulders.

  “What about the other guy?”

  “I think he’s dead, too. He hasn’t moved. Must have hit his head on a rock. I’ll get the horse.”

  She dashed over to the animal and led him to the boulders. Logan’s face contorted as he levered himself into the saddle, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to make it. But he swung his leg over the saddle and sent her a victorious smile.

  Grace caught the second horse and climbed in the saddle. She grabbed the reins of Logan’s horse and led the way down the canyon. The way back to town seemed interminable. Several times she had to stop and help Logan remain in the saddle. And every time they stopped, he seemed paler—and weaker, barely hanging on.

  Finally, Dry Springs appeared on the horizon. As Grace rode up to the boarding house, she yelled for help. Lottie opened the back door. When she saw Grace, she motioned behind her, and Kate and Frenchy ran out on the porch.

  “Get the doctor,” Grace yelled. “Quick.”

  “Oui, oui.” Frenchy lifted the hem of her dress and bolted down the street like a frightened deer.

  “Help me get him in the house. He’s lost a lot of blood.” Grace, Lottie and Kate helped Logan from his horse and into the house.

  “We’ll never get him up the stairs,” Lottie said. “He’s dead weight. Let’s put him on the sofa.”

  “Good idea,” Grace agreed.

  The three women half-dragged, half-carried the unconscious man into the parlor and placed him on the sofa.

  “I’ll get water boiling and some clean cloths.” Kate headed for the kitchen. “The doc will need it when he takes the bullet out.”

  Grace knelt by the sofa and opened Logan’s blood-soaked shirt. His face was pale and ashen. A sob burst from her lips.

  Lottie patted her shoulder. “Take it easy. He’s a big, strong man, and he’s gonna be fine. The doc will be here any minute. What happened?”

  After she told Lottie what had happened, Lottie nodded. “Sorry you had to do it, but Magee was an evil man, pure evil.”

  “What about Randolph?”

  Lottie laughed. “Locked up in the storeroom. Did my heart good to lock that slimey little bastard up.”

  “Did you tell the Sheriff?”

  “Hah!” She made a very unladylike gesture. “He’s gone. He must have got wind of something because he took off with his tail between his legs. Coward!”

  Grace heard Frenchy’s voice at the back door. “Zis way, doctor. Hurry.”

  The physician bustled in and immediately went to Logan’s side. Kate appeared with water and bandages. The doctor took one look at Logan’s wound, then ushered everyone out of the room except Lottie. Grace protested, but he shook his head. “I know Lottie’s doctoring ability, and she’s good at it. Now go.”

  “Is he going to be all right? Doctor, please tell me. I have to know.”

  “Can’t say yet, but it don’t look good.”

  As Grace left the room, Frenchy grabbed her hand. “Come. Frenchy make you drink. Zee look like zee is going to faint.”

  “Thanks.” Grace allowed Frenchy to lead her into the kitchen. She didn’t object when the woman poured her a large glass of an amber liquid. She did a large swallow. It tasted horrible, and Grace gagged. “What is that?”

  “Zis is whiskey. Drink it all.”

  “Okay.” Grace forced down another drink then shook her head. “No more, please.”

  Frenchy nodded. “You go lay down. Frenchy get you when doctor done.”

  “No. I don’t want to leave him. I’m going to stay here until Logan wakes up.”

  “You like zis man?”

  Grace nodded.

  “You love zis man?”

  The tr
uth hit Grace right between the eyes. She was in love with Logan Barnett. “Yes.”

  ****

  Logan’s insides felt as if they were on fire. From outside the fuzzy realm, he heard someone call his name, but he couldn’t answer. He retreated further, hiding in the darkness to keep the pain at bay.

  Later, the voice called to him again—pleading, cajoling, begging. The voice was familiar, sending a warm rush of feeling over him. With great effort, he forced his eyes open and stared into Grace’s green eyes. Green eyes brimming with tears.

  He smiled, reached out and wiped the wet tears from her cheeks.

  She put her hand over his. “Welcome back, Logan.”

  “Thanks.”

  He tried to sit up, but she gently held him down. “Oh, no, you don’t. You stay right where you are. If you move, you might open your wound up.”

  “Okay. I won’t argue with you.”

  “How do you feel?” Grace reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.

  “Like somebody shot me. Did I thank you for saving my life?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  He heard the doubt in her voice. “You had no choice, Grace. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I took a man’s life. I don’t know how I can live with that.”

  “One day at a time. That’s how.”

  “You sound like you’re talking from experience?”

  “I am. So tell me what happened.”

  “I found the deed to your father’s ranch, but Randolph showed up. He planned to kill me and Maggie, and he sent Magee to kill you. I was coming to warn you.”

  “And Randolph?”

  “We took care of him. He’s waiting in jail—for a U.S. Marshall.”

  “Good place for him. So what happens now? What are you going to do?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

  She rose and walked over to the window. Logan’s hopes plummeted to his toes. If she couldn’t face him, it probably meant she was returning east—to the other man.

  After several long minutes, she turned to face him. “I haven’t quite decided. Everybody thinks I should leave and go back to Philadelphia. Maybe I should. Maybe if I go back, I can forget I took someone’s life.”