by Linda Broday
“Tait’s a wanted man! His name is Trinity!” Leo yelled. “What’cha gonna do with his ass?”
Temple swung around. “That true?”
A hard swallow nearly choked Tait. “You’ll find my name on posters, sure, but I’m trying to change.”
“Half the men in Mobeetie are on wanted posters.” Temple’s dark eyes raked over Tait. “I won’t stop you from going after your niece. I have a feeling her life isn’t worth much to these men.”
Relief flooded over Tait. “Thank you, sir.”
“This country is changing though. You’d best clear your name,” Temple warned. “And soon.”
“I intend to try. Thanks again.”
Leo made a desperate attempt to spur his horse to move, but the district attorney grabbed the reins. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to clean up this last section of Texas and rid it of the stench of men like you.”
Once Temple Houston had moved down the street with his prisoners and their dead friend, Tait turned to Jack and Clay. “We have to check this town before we ride out. Just because Houston didn’t see Kern doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”
“I agree.” Jack glanced at the row of saloons. “If anyone knows anything, they’ll be in there. If we spread out, it won’t take long to finish.”
Clay nodded. “And we’ll also check the horses tied in front.”
They split up, and Tait moved through the Bucket of Blood and Rose of San Antone. No one had seen a hairless man or a child, and none of the horses wore a broken shoe. Jack and Clay had no better luck.
“Not here.” Tait was dead on his feet, and his side burned like a red-hot ember, but he had to keep riding. “Let’s go.”
The weary men saddled up, but five miles out of town Jack pulled to a stop. “I can’t go any farther, and I don’t think either of you are any better. Tait’s about to fall off his horse. We’ll stop here and sleep a few hours.”
“I’m going on without you then. I have to.” Tait jerked on the reins.
Jack reached out and grabbed the headstall. “No. You’ll sleep a bit. Riding on in our condition is foolish, and you know it. Kern could be lying in wait, and we’re not alert enough to see him.”
“He’s right,” Clay said firmly. “Two or three hours of sleep will make a lot of difference.”
“Fine.” Tait knew they were right, but the guilt ate away at his insides. Becky needed him.
He dismounted and led his horse into a bunch of scrub oak where they wouldn’t be seen. He pulled a bedroll from his roan and stumbled toward a flat piece of ground. He thought he’d be asleep the moment he laid down, only his brain wouldn’t shut off.
Becky’s little face swam before his eyes. She was crying, saying, “Saw-wee.”
And he couldn’t help her one damn bit. He clenched a fist until his nails dug into his palm.
* * *
Melanie rose before daylight and tied her bedroll onto the black gelding. The packhorse was still there along with all the bags. Her father gave her black looks but didn’t have to be prodded too much. He seemed to somehow sense that she’d leave him afoot in a heartbeat. And she would. She had no time to waste on coddling him. The words on the telegram raced through her head.
Bring the money and Trinity in two days or you’ll never see your sister again.
Her hands trembled, and she wished like hell that Tait was with her. His strength would give her courage for what lay ahead.
“Come here,” Mac said gruffly and put his arms around her. “I may not be the best option, but I think you need someone, daughter.”
“I’m scared, real scared.” She laid her head on his shoulder and for a moment took what scraps of comfort he was willing to offer. A night spent with little sleep had laid her spirits lower than they’d ever been. She was second-guessing herself, and worry had taken hold. Plus she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “What if I fail? What if the judge still sends Ava to prison and me with her? What if Kern kills Becky?”
Tait might as well be dead if that happened. That sweet girl meant everything to him.
“You can ‘what if’ things to death, and it won’t change anything one bit.” He patted her back awkwardly. “I haven’t been the father you and your sister deserved, but I’m not going to let you go through this alone. We’ll figure everything out together.”
He was silent for several long heartbeats. When he spoke, his voice broke. “I’m sorry for trying to steal the money. You’re right. Everything you said hit me upside the head. Greed came over me, and I’m ashamed.”
Melanie leaned back to look at him. Real, genuine emotion filled his eyes. To hear him admit his shortcomings softened her heart a bit; however, it would take more than mere words to believe this was a long-term change.
“I’m glad you recognize your failings, Mac. None of us are perfect. Let’s ride. Time is against us, and Ava needs her family.”
No one needed them more than Becky though. Tears burned the backs of Melanie’s eyes. She prayed Tait had caught up to Kern and rescued the child. But…a chilling thought hit her. What if Tait was dead and she’d never see him again?
Sharp pain shot through her, and she stumbled toward her black gelding. She needed good news, and soon, or she’d lose her sanity altogether.
Thirty
Tait jerked awake in the darkness, listening, every nerve standing on end. Becky had called out to him. He’d heard her crying out for him as plain as day. “Me hurt. Me want you.”
He got up and glanced around but saw nothing.
Jack raised from his bedroll. “What is it?”
Tait struggled to speak and finally got some words out. “Heard something—Becky.”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“Not sure of one damn thing. It sure sounded real though.” Tait let out a long breath. “I think I might be going crazy.”
Clay rolled over and stood. “With good reason. You’re dealing with some heavy stuff.” He scratched his belly. “As long as we’re all up, we’d best ride. Maybe we’ll catch the bastards.”
Tait pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s four o’clock. Still three hours to daylight. We could be in Canadian by then and possibly get a jump on Kern—if he’s there.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Clay rolled up his bed. “Let me take a look at that wound before we head out.”
“Hell! You might as well give me a sugar teat too, Mother!” Though Tait complained, he was glad they cared about him, so he sat patiently while Jack wet his bandana and washed some of the blood away.
“I don’t think you’re going to die.” Clay went to his saddlebags and pulled out a jar of ointment, smearing the separated, angry wound well.
In a few minutes, they saddled their horses and galloped down the trail. They kept up the pace and made Canadian as a red dawn broke over the town, casting it in eerie shadow. Tait slowed his roan, scanning both sides of the street. It was possible that Kern hadn’t come here, that he’d gone to a ranch or his home. In all the years since Lucy’s death, Tait had still never learned where the man lived. He realized how little he knew about Kern.
And riding in the dark, they hadn’t even been able to track the strange hoofprint.
Tait avoided some chickens scratching for food in the street, and they squawked loudly back at being disturbed. A cat streaked in front of them followed by a large barking dog. Few people stirred in the early morning.
Tait’s breath fogged in the cool air as he desperately searched for some clue that would tell him where Becky was. They pulled up in front of the Wild Jacks Saloon, the location offering a good view of the jail sitting opposite. All was quiet in the limestone building. He wondered if Ava Dunbar was shivering inside in the dim light, praying for her sister to come. After he got Becky back, Ava was next.
“What do you think?” he asked his
companions.
Clay took tobacco and papers from his pocket. “We need to scout around and talk to a few people, but it’s too early.” He rolled a cigarette and licked the paper to seal it.
“Since me and Clay aren’t wanted, we can go speak to the sheriff. Maybe that judge too.” Jack nodded at a rider coming toward them. “I think that might be the sheriff now. I see a tin star.”
“Just what the hell would you say to him? He’s crooked. They’re all crooked and lining their pockets with Markham’s money. All you’ll do is tip them off.” Tait eyed the weasel with distaste as he stopped in front of the sheriff’s office and dismounted.
The short man stared back. Then, instead of going inside, he crossed the street. He seemed less like a weasel as he got closer—more young and anxious to prove himself. “You boys look like you lost your way. State your names and the reason you’re here.”
“We’re not bothering anyone.” Clay took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head. “Name’s Colby, and we’re just passing through, Sheriff—”
“Quitman.” The lawman patted the head of a mutt that had wandered up.
Tait glanced around for some establishment to disappear into. His name would give them away immediately. Jack introduced himself and launched into a long story of how the Great Western Cattle Trail originated, and right then Tait decided Jack had a real talent for spreading hogwash. Several times Sheriff Quitman tried to talk, but each time Jack cut him off. The young man, probably not a day over twenty, had certainly never run up against anyone like Jack.
The door of the saloon rattled behind Tait as someone opened it. Not taking any chances that Quitman would somehow manage to get the best of Jack, Tait slipped into the dim interior of the Wild Jacks.
A man with a broom in his hand jerked around at the noise. “We’re not open yet. You’ll have to come back.”
Tait thought fast. Almost every place had a Mary, and he’d bet one worked upstairs. “I’m just here to give Mary a message.”
“All right. Go on up.” The man motioned with his head and resumed sweeping.
Before Tait did, he asked, “Hey, did you see a man with a little girl come through here yesterday? Name’s Berringer. Tall, walks with a limp, shaves his head.”
“Yep, I saw him. He brought that child in here, and I ran him out. She wouldn’t hush bellering. Last I saw, he went to the mercantile. I got no use for him.”
Seemed few people did. “Much obliged.” Tait climbed the stairs and paused on the landing. Anger boiled inside him. Becky must be terror stricken. He had to find her fast.
Light at the end of the hall indicated a door to the balcony. He hurried toward it and down the outside stairs. Keeping close to the side of the building, he stole around to the front and carefully peeked around the corner. Jack was still talking. Tait got Clay’s attention and drew his hand across his throat, motioning to cut the conversation. A few moments later, Jack and Clay joined him.
“Are you hoarse?” He grinned at Jack.
“No. By the way, you’re welcome for saving your rear.”
“I got some information from a man inside this saloon.” Tait relayed the conversation.
Jack glanced toward the C. R. Ussary and Sons Mercantile down the street. “We need to talk to the owner. Besides, I need to buy me a new hat.”
“We all need new ones.” Clay laughed. “That’s the second I’ve lost this year.”
“I vote for eating first. That looks like a good café over there.” Tait motioned toward the Hot Biscuit Café, its doors just being propped open. “I’m starving.”
A full stomach and hot coffee would do wonders and give him the strength to find Becky. He wondered how well they were caring for the sweet girl. Maybe Kern had a woman who’d see to her. But knowing Kern—Tait couldn’t complete the thought that sent pain spiraling into his chest. The fact was he did know the depths of that bastard’s ruthless evil.
The little café was still wiping sleep from its eyes, but they grabbed a table near the door and ordered coffee and a full breakfast.
Thirty minutes later, they emerged. Tait definitely felt much better. He kept an eye out for Sheriff Quitman and turned toward the mercantile with Jack and Clay flanking him.
A one-armed clerk came toward them. “Morning, gentlemen. I’m Charles Ussary. May I help you?”
Tait glanced around. “We need hats.”
“All of you?”
“It’s a long story.” Tait spied hats hanging on a wall and headed toward them. Ussary followed. “Say, have you seen an older man and a three-year-old? They would’ve come in yesterday. His name is Kern Berringer.”
A wary expression crossed Ussary’s eyes. “Are you kin?”
“No. He took the child, and I’ve come to bring her home.” Tait reached for a black hat, checked the size, and tried it on. “I’ll pay for any information.”
The lines of Ussary’s face relaxed. “He came in late yesterday with the child wailing. She was dirty and terrified. Kern was none too gentle, in both voice and the way he jerked her around. She kept trying to get down and actually bit him once. Made him real mad. If I had been able, I would’ve tried to take her from him.” He glanced at his empty sleeve. “Couldn’t do much of anything.”
Tait’s heart squeezed. Kern would pay for hurting the girl. But if she didn’t stop biting, the man would kill her. By the looks on Jack’s and Clay’s faces, they worried as well.
Jack adjusted a hat on his head. “I’ll take this one. We heard Berringer has a place outside town.”
The owner nodded. “It’s well hidden. You’ll never find it on your own, but I have to deliver his order in a bit. You can follow me. I want to help that little girl.”
Hope soared in Tait. Somehow, someway, before dark, he’d have Becky out of there or die trying.
* * *
After first stopping to bury half the loot outside of town, Melanie rode into Canadian about ten o’clock on the morning of the third day. The Hot Biscuit Café was still doing a booming business as was the mercantile across from the Wild Jacks Saloon. A few folks stared as she, Mac, and the laden packhorse slowly made their way to the sheriff’s office and went around back. It was best that they keep out of sight as much as possible.
Her sweaty palms stuck to the inside of her soft leather gloves, and droplets of sweat inched between breasts. This had to work. Still, when the judge found out she’d only brought half of the loot, he’d be furious. Holding back part of the money gave her bargaining power.
“Mac, wait here with the money.” She swung her leg over the saddle.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, daughter.” Mac released a wad of spit onto the dirt. “If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m riding off with this packhorse as we agreed.”
“Wish me luck.” She gave him a smile and strode around the stone building to the door.
Sheriff Quitman looked up with a cruel smirk when she entered. “About time, girlie. Got the money with you?”
“Half.”
He stood, anger glittering in his eyes. “What was that you said?”
The man’s long, skinny neck resembled a chicken’s, and it seemed to stick out even further now. She could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he came close to shouting.
Melanie glared. “I said I have half of it. The other half is in safekeeping. Give me my sister, and you’ll get it.”
Quitman stalked around his desk, fury turning his face red. He drew back a hand to slap her.
The door behind him opened, and Judge McIlroy barked, “Not yet, you fool.”
For several heartbeats, Melanie stared at the silver-haired judge. If it wasn’t for the long, puckered scar on his cheek and the way his lip curled up in a sneer, he’d be a handsome man. But she couldn’t see anything except his greed and spite.
&nb
sp; Though she trembled inside, she wouldn’t show him anything but cold disdain. She slowly tugged off her gloves and planted her feet. “Give me my sister.”
“My dear, you’re hardly in any position to make demands. You only brought half the money, and you didn’t bring me Trinity.” McIlroy strode into the room, gripping an ivory-handled black cane. “Cuff her, Quitman. See how she likes a cell.”
The young sheriff jerked her hands behind her and leaned close. “You thought you were better than me. I’ll show you.”
She refused to cry out, her gaze never leaving the judge’s face. “No matter what you do to me, you’ll never get Tait Trinity. He’s off the table.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “You might not think twice about loading me and Ava up and carting us off to prison, but you might care that Stoker Legend and his sons are involved now. They know all about you and that poor young woman you almost beat to death over in Indian Territory.” She tsked him. “According to Stoker, people are ready to talk. You’re the one who’s about to go to jail.”
The color drained from McIlroy’s face, and he glanced around the room as though the Legend men were hiding in the corners. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a letter in my pocket from Stoker and Sam Legend. I would also be remiss if I didn’t share that you should expect a visit any day now. The governor is sending someone to investigate you and all your shady dealings and criminal enterprises.”
“Let her go, Quitman.”
“But Judge—”
“Hand over this letter—if you truly have it.”
“Gladly.” Melanie pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it to McIlroy.
His face turned gray as he read, then he crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. “I don’t plan on being here when they arrive. Until then, you still have an obligation to turn over every cent of the money Trinity stole.” He jabbed a finger in her chest. “Every red cent.”
“Not before I get Ava.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You have five minutes to release her to me, or you won’t even get half of the loot.”
