Grady gave her a baleful look. “Liz, you rode across the terrain alone with nothing but an old horse for company through Indian country, snakes, and likely scorpions, not to mention coyotes and other critters around you. Now, you’re turning yellow?”
When he put it like that, she did feel a bit sheepish about her reaction. She certainly didn’t want to be a coward and was generally not one to be so hesitant. However, her instincts were telling her to be afraid, so she was. “You’ve told me to trust my instincts.”
“Always. They’ll save your life.” His answer was quick and firm.
“Mine are telling me not to go into the store and to keep riding out of Black Rock without stopping.” Her entire body was tense, as if she was waiting for something to happen.
“It’s the cleanest damn building in this sorry excuse for a town. Besides, I’ll be out here the entire time. If you need me, just holler.” He handed her the buttoned pouch. “Make sure you get whatever food you need, and some saddle soap and liniment for Cab. His leg’s looking poorly.”
She glanced down now, very concerned about her horse. “Is he injured?”
“Not yet, but he might if we don’t start taking care of the old boy. You know he ain’t used to riding so long.”
Grady was right, of course. She hadn’t even considered Cab’s pain or discomfort. Guilt washed through her, and she dismounted so quickly she surprised herself and Grady.
“Hell’s bells, Liz, that was, well, damn impressive.” He pushed his hat back and raised his brows.
She smiled and performed a curtsey. “Thank you, kind sir.” When she turned to enter the mercantile, her amusement fled when she remembered where she was.
Black Rock.
As she walked into the mercantile, she glanced back at Grady and realized he looked quite formidable up on his dark horse. She felt marginally more secure with him watching her, but her stomach still jumped with fear.
A bell tinkled above the door as she walked in. The interior was as clean as the exterior, with very neat shelves stocked with many goods. She looked around but didn’t see anyone and didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.
The organization of the shelves made it easy for her to find the saddle soap and liniment, as well as the canned peaches Grady favored.
She placed the items on the counter and frowned. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
The curtain behind the counter moved, and she jumped nearly a foot in the air. Gray hair appeared in the narrow space, and then one wrinkled eye peered out at her. “Whatchoo want?”
Eliza didn’t know whether the speaker was male or female. “I need to purchase some supplies.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Eliza Wolfe. My, uh, husband and I are traveling to his mother’s house, and we need some supplies.” She tried to smile to show she was friendly, but her face was too tight with anxiety to let her.
The person watching her made a grunting noise, followed by a horribly phlegmy one. Eliza managed not to grimace. From behind the curtain, a tiny little woman emerged. She couldn’t have been any taller than Eliza’s shoulder, which meant she was very short.
“Get what you need. Cash only.” The older woman put a pair of spectacles on her nose, stepped close to Eliza, and examined her with her owl-like eyes. “You married?”
“Yes, ma’am. My husband is outside waiting.” Eliza felt the lie becoming more than what it was.
“You got cash?”
Eliza didn’t understand why the old woman kept asking her the same questions over and over. Perhaps she forgot things easily, although judging by the store, there wasn’t a thing she forgot in there.
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Eliza breathed a sigh of relief when the old woman finally moved away.
“Get what you need then. Just be ready to pay for it.” The tiny woman climbed up onto a stool behind the counter, and much to Eliza’s shock, a shotgun rested across her lap.
First of all, she hadn’t seen the gun. Second, it made her so nervous she forgot what she wanted to buy. She swallowed hard and tried to think of what Grady would do in this situation.
He certainly wouldn’t be standing there cowering in front of an eighty-pound old woman with a shotgun she probably forgot to load. No doubt, he would take charge of the situation and get what he needed without quaking in his boots.
She straightened her shoulders and focused on what she’d made for supper the night before, and what she’d made for breakfast. That sparked her memory, and with Grady’s ghost walking beside her, she stepped through the mercantile and got everything she needed.
The old woman watched her like a hawk watches its prey. Her stare made the hairs on Eliza’s neck stand up, but she kept at her task until everything was on the counter.
With surprising speed, the strange shopkeeper tallied up the purchases. “Five dollars and thirty-seven cents.”
Eliza counted out the money from the small brown pouch and paid the woman, frowning at the fact her hand shook. “Do you have a sack I could carry these in?”
“What’s the matter? Your husband lazy?”
Eliza just wanted to get out of the store, out of Black Rock, as quickly as she could. She gathered up everything she could in her skirt and turned to leave.
“No manners.”
“I would justify that with a response, but that would bring me down to your level. I came in here with money to purchase goods, and you treated me as if I were a criminal.” Eliza turned to glare at the woman. “If you’re lucky, my husband won’t come in here and teach you manners.”
A rusty chuckle followed her out the door. Eliza didn’t know if she was amused or frightened by it. She was only glad to be out in the fresh air, out of reach of the woman’s stare. When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she realized Grady and the horses were gone.
Grady wanted to shoot the damn blacksmith. The one-eyed old bastard simply chattered on about nothing in particular without answering Grady’s questions. The one thing he did determine was that his quarry had not passed through town, or maybe the other man had lied.
Either way, he was ready to throttle the smithy. He needed to get Bullseye shoed, and anyone would have thought he’d asked the old man to sing and dance.
“Listen, old timer, can you shoe my damn horse or not?” Grady put himself between the grizzled smithy and the forge.
The man was old, but he was built like a tree, with arms as big around as Grady’s waist. If he’d wanted to, no doubt the blacksmith could simply break Grady in half and throw him in the fire. The heat from the forge almost burned his back from five feet away.
“You’d best move out of the way, stranger.” The man’s voice was soft but icy enough to make Grady believe the man had done more in his lifetime than worked as a smithy.
“There’s no livery in town, so you’re the one who can shoe a horse. Just answer the question, and I’ll move.” Grady wasn’t intimidated by the man, just aware of what could happen. His hand never left the guns slung low on his hips.
“Livery up and shut its doors last year after the owner got shot dead. His wife took off for her mama’s house. Ain’t nobody been working there since.”
More information about shit Grady didn’t care about.
“Do you go somewhere else for shoeing?”
“Ayup, usually get to Montgomery. There’s a livery there.” The smithy pointed at Grady with the hammer in his hand. “You look like you already tangled with a wildcat. I know you don’t want to tangle with me. Now, move.”
Grady stepped toward the old man, tired of the foolish discussion and the threats. He leaned over until he was almost nose to nose with the old man.
“Ain’t too many men who can threaten me and walk away on two legs. Next time I ask you a question, answer it.” Grady kept his coldest stare on the man for a full minute before stepping away, confident the smithy wouldn’t give him a hammer in the back.
He had just made it to the door when a woman’s screa
m ripped through the air. Grady’s entire body clenched when he recognized Eliza’s voice. He threw himself up on Bullseye and rode hell for leather toward the sound of her voice. It was only a short distance, perhaps three hundred yards, but it seemed to be a mile.
There didn’t appear to be anyone on the street as he flew past, a streak of horse and man in the midday sun. He reached the mercantile and dismounted before the horse even stopped.
Eliza was nowhere to be seen, but the sidewalk in front of the mercantile was littered with cans, a broken sack of cornmeal, and liniment.
Eliza.
He looked around, furious that he couldn’t see her. Although he didn’t want her to scream again, without her making a noise there was no way for him to find her. There were alleys on either side of the mercantile. He had to take a chance and pick one. Each second weighed on his shoulders like lead.
Grady focused on imagining Eliza’s smiling face, and then took off for the left alley because she favored her left hand when she wrote. If he’d chosen the wrong direction, she might die because of it. The sun didn’t penetrate the gloom of the alley. He stepped forward, straining for a sound, anything besides the scurrying of the rats.
His blood thundered through his veins as he put all his focus on listening. Rushing in might make her attacker panic, but creeping up might surprise him. Although it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, Grady crept along at a snail’s pace. He kept his breath shallow and silent, letting no one and nothing know if his presence.
He reached the darkest part of the alley and stopped dead. There was nothing there but him and the rats. It was empty, which meant he’d chosen wrong. Where the hell was she? Grady’s fury mixed with fear for her, a lethal combination for whoever had touched her.
There was no hope for it. He’d simply have to reveal his presence and hope she heard him.
“Eliza!” Her name was torn from his throat and echoed down the alley.
“Grady!” Eliza’s scream made the hairs on his arms stand up. It was one of terror and pain—he knew it well.
He berated himself for not continuing to the end of the alley because her scream had come from beyond it, and behind the mercantile. Both guns were in his hands before he even realized he’d touched them.
His teeth were clenched so hard, his jaw throbbed. When he burst around the corner, he found two men holding her down while a wrinkled old midget in a skirt had her hands all over Eliza.
Grady didn’t hesitate.
He killed the two men with a single shot to the head. The old midget continued to touch Eliza, but now that her arms were free, she could fight back. She stood up and started slapping at the hands that were all over her. A chilly chuckle burst from the old woman as the two of them started rolling on the ground.
Grady didn’t want to hit Eliza, and he couldn’t get a clear shot. He holstered his guns and reached in to try to separate them.
That’s when he saw the knife.
His body turned into ice at the sight of the deadly blade mere inches from Eliza’s throat. The women were moving so fast, Eliza could be cut without either of them knowing it. Grady didn’t like being helpless one single goddamn bit.
He could shoot the old woman, but if he did, he might shoot Eliza instead. He could separate them, but the knife was perilously close to killing her already. The women rolled around like two cats fighting, getting covered in dirt and blood from the dead bastards who’d held her down.
Grady stood there on his toes watching them, unable to help and unsure of what to do. It almost killed him to do nothing. He roared in frustration then figured he had to do something. So kicked the old woman as hard as he could in the kidneys, the first place he could reach.
She screeched and grabbed at her back. Eliza, being the foolish woman she was, took the opportunity to take hold of the woman’s other hand. The one holding the huge knife.
“If you do not unhand this knife instantly, you old hag, I will skewer you with it.” Eliza sounded so fierce, he almost didn’t recognize her voice. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl. “Let go. Now.”
She sounded so much like him, it was uncanny. Eliza was no longer the little wren. She was now an eagle.
With Eliza distracting the old woman, Grady was able to reach down and pluck the knife from her hand. Then he took the crone by the collar and dragged her from Eliza although she tried her damndest to hang on to his sometimes wife. He threw the old woman against a crate and she lay still, a tiny ball of gray hair and blood.
Pointing a finger at her, he said, “Don’t you even think about moving, you crazy old fuck. Nobody touches my wife. Nobody.” He wanted to shoot her in the head and end her miserable existence.
“Don’t kill her Grady. She’s not worth the bullet.”
Eliza got to her feet, visibly shaking and covered in dirt, grass, and blood. She met his gaze, and he was sorry to see the sparkle of life in her eyes had dimmed. Grady knew she’d never seen the darkest side of other people before. Now because he’d insisted on stopping in Black Rock, she had.
“You left me,” she said, her bottom lip quivering.
Grady opened his arms, and she flew into them, shaking so hard, he could actually hear her teeth rattle. He held her tight, noting that his heart was beating just as fast as hers. Thank God he’d gotten there in time. He hadn’t wanted Eliza’s company, but she had definitely become a part of his world, like it or not.
The thought should have scared him more than it did, but he was too busy being grateful she was in his arms. “I’m sorry Liz. I thought it would only take five minutes to talk to the smithy.”
“You left me,” she repeated, her face against his chest.
He stroked her hair, picking out the debris as best he could. Eliza was a scrapper, a warrior queen, who had shown him exactly what she was made of. He was proud of her.
“I should have listened to your instincts. Next time, I will.” He turned to leave the carnage behind them. “Now, let’s get the hell out of this place before something else happens.” As they walked back to the front of the mercantile, she had her arm around his waist and his stayed firmly around her shoulders.
Guilt was another emotion he hadn’t dealt with very often, but he couldn’t help but recognize it when it landed on him. He’d told Eliza to listen to her instincts, and he hadn’t followed through on that lesson. Eliza was the smartest person he’d ever known, and she had just taught him a lesson that scared him almost as much as seeing her being attacked.
He cared about her, perhaps even more than he would admit to himself.
When Eliza returned from the creek with damp skin, wearing her purple dress and carrying her clean clothes, she felt much better. It had been a horrible day, and she was glad to have washed off the stink from Black Rock and all that had happened there. Grady stood at the edge of the clearing with his back to her, looking out at the darkness.
The campfire flickered merrily in the twilight, leading her back. She wanted nothing more than to have a hot meal then rest. Although the riding was coming easier, she was still sore and completely exhausted.
Grady didn’t turn around, but lying on her saddle was a paper package, secured with twine. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering what he’d left for her. She laid out her wet clothes on tree branches to dry while her gaze kept returning to the package.
Common courtesy told her to wait until he turned around to open it. Perhaps he’d simply set it there without thinking. Or perhaps he’d left her a gift.
When he finally turned around, he picked up a skinned rabbit from the grass. He must’ve caught it while she was bathing. She forgot all about the package when she realized they’d have meat for dinner, hot and salty, exactly what she was craving.
“Oh, Grady, that’s positively wonderful!” She hopped up and started searching for a sturdy stick to use for the rabbit. “I’m sure we can fashion a spit of sorts to cook it.”
With a little ingenuity and some blind luck in finding the right
sticks, they made a spit for the rabbit to cook over the fire. The smell of the roasting meat made her stomach yowl, and she laughed nervously.
“Hungry, Liz?” he asked, one side of his mouth quirking upward.
“Most assuredly. I can’t remember the last time I had rabbit. It’s been years since—” She stopped, realizing she had been about to mention her father.
“Since what?” He peered at her as he turned the rabbit on the spit.
“I never had the agility required to hunt rabbits, so we had deer when a neighbor brought us a haunch, and beef from the cattle we raised.” Eliza found the story tripping off her tongue as if it were completely true. When had she become so adept at lying?
“That right? No man to take care of you?”
She swallowed the guilt for lying, silently apologizing to Grady for her falsehood. “My father was quite old, and he didn’t hunt.”
A few moments of silence followed her explanation, which had been the absolute truth.
“You look right pretty in that purple dress.”
She glanced down. “It seemed too pretty to wear on the trail, but I had to wash the rest of my clothing.” She didn’t need to tell him why.
“You got it to wear, so why not wear it?” Grady was taking care of the fire, something she had been doing each night.
“Well, I’m just not used to wearing pretty things.”
He snorted. “That’s for damn sure.”
“What does that mean?” She frowned, trying to decide if she was insulted by his backhanded comment.
“Your clothes are worse than rags, Liz. They’re so damn thin, I can see through them half the time. Good thing your drawers are thicker or you’d be showing a lot more than you think.” He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t intend that to be mean, but it’s the truth. And well, it’s just, I wanted you to have something nice to wear.”
Eliza took a moment to absorb what he’d said. She wasn’t used to nice things. Ladies in the LDS church didn’t wear fancy clothes, especially the brilliant purple she sported now. She was glad she’d picked out the dress. It matched the new woman she’d become, rather than the one who’d been trapped by her upbringing and her own lack of self-confidence. She ran her hands down the fabric and smiled. Yes, she was definitely happy with her new frock.
Ruthless Heart Page 12
