“Oh!” Ben said. “You little devil—you’ve wet all your blankets.”
“That’s a good sign. A healthy baby will wet herself,” Mercy said through a yawn. She pulled off her own blankets and stood next to the cradle. “I’ll take her.”
Ben handed the child to her mother gratefully since he had no idea what to do. Mercy took her, cleaned her, and wrapped her in fresh linens. She made her way into the main room of the house and lowered herself gingerly onto the rocker that sat near the stove. Ben brought Mercy’s shawl from the bed and placed it around her shoulders. She smiled up at him.
“I’m worried about Miranda,” he said.
Mercy looked up at the clock and frowned. “I’d have thought they would be back by now.” Baby made little fussing sounds and Ben turned his back as Mercy reached for the buttons on the front of her gown.
“I hate to leave you alone.” He glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Mercy had the baby settled under the shawl before he pulled a chair next to her.
“You should go.” She favored him with a weak smile. “We’ll be fine.” She reached a hand out to him and he squeezed it. “Don’t worry about us.”
“I’ve no doubt by the time I get back you’ll be splitting wood or plowing fields.”
Mercy laughed. “I would, naturally, except that cattle ranchers don’t plow.” Mercy grew serious. “I’ll never find a way to thank you for all you’ve done for us.”
Ben nodded. “You did the hard work. All I did was watch.”
Mercy smiled. “I’m very grateful to you, yet here I am asking another favor. Bring the rest of my family home to me?”
“I’ll probably run across Miranda and Jonathan on their way here.”
“Do you mind a word of advice?” She gripped his hand. “Don’t let her out of your sight again without letting her know how you really feel about her.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“I’d have agreed with you had you made that statement on your wedding day. I can’t be right all the time.” Mercy sighed. “I’m sorry I . . . shouldn’t have let her go off alone.”
“You make it sound as though you could have stopped her. I know my wife better than that.”
“I reckon you’re right, but I should have tried to keep her here.”
“It isn’t as though either of you expected her to be out in that storm all night.”
Mercy frowned. “Don’t worry too much about Miranda. She’s strong, and the child she’s carryin’ will be fine.”
“You know about the baby?”
“Suspected. How long has she known?”
“She hasn’t actually told me. I . . .”
“An observant husband couldn’t fail to notice.”
Ben smiled. He hadn’t been any kind of a husband to her, but he hoped to have the chance to change that.
“Please bring her home.”
“I will. I’ll bring all of them home.”
Ben wanted to urge Lightning into a gallop, but that would be dangerous on the thick snow, so he allowed the horse to set the pace as he found his footing. All the while Ben scanned the horizon for some sign of Miranda, or Thad, or Jonathan. Or the last man on earth he wanted to see—O’Reilly.
When he sighted the cabin, he first felt relief to see smoke emerging from the chimney, but that was short lived. If it had been Miranda who had made that fire, she would now be on her way to the house. He could only conclude that it wasn’t Miranda in the cabin. Or if she was in there, something was wrong.
It was the latter thought that made Ben circle wide away from the cabin and into the cottonwoods along the creek to the southeast. He tethered his horse deep in the trees and peered out at the cabin.
Miranda’s horse, Princess, was there along with Thad’s and Jonathan’s horses. He shook his head. Something did not feel right. Then he heard them. Following the sounds through the trees, he found three horses. He recognized a squat sorrel gelding—O’Reilly’s ride. Damn!
He made his way back to the edge of the trees and tried to remember everything he could about the cabin. Unlike the place he shared with Miranda, this one had only two small windows flanking the door on the south side of the building. The other walls were solid to help keep out the bitter cold winds that often swept across the high plains.
It was perhaps 150 yards from the woods to the house, and there was no cover in any direction. Ben was fairly certain that the northernmost part of the woods was out of the line of vision from either window. If he left the woods there and aimed for the northern side of the cabin, he would not be seen. Once he was close, he could decide how to get inside.
He made an arcing path from the woods to the cabin, running as swiftly as possible through the snow. If someone happened outside while he was in the open, he’d be seen and would lose all chance of surprise.
Once he stood outside the cabin, he leaned against the thick wall, listening. It was damn hard to hear with his heart pounding in his ears. He fought to calm his breath and slow his heartbeat. Miranda’s life might well depend on his actions now. He did not allow himself to dwell on the thought that O’Reilly and his lot might have already ended her life. Then he heard it—Miranda’s voice.
Chapter 23
“He’s just a boy!” Miranda shouted. Ben would recognize her angry voice anywhere.
His heart skipped a beat. She was still alive and likely so was Jonathan. Ben aimed to keep it that way. His mind raced. A part of him wanted nothing more than to burst into the room with his Colt blazing. Good sense stopped him.
Surprise would likely get him a shot or two before O’Reilly and his men started shooting; but there were three horses, which meant there were probably three men. He couldn’t count on being quick and accurate enough to kill all three of them before they could shoot him. And he’d be taking a huge risk that Miranda and Jonathan would be hit by a stray bullet.
He didn’t dare risk going for help. His best chance was to wait until someone came outside. If he was lucky, one or two men would come out to relieve themselves, or check on the horses. He’d be ready for them.
Almost before he could complete the thought, the door opened. Ben flattened himself against the rough wall just as Miranda led Jonathan around the corner and within feet of where Ben hid. Jed followed right behind them, his gun aimed at Miranda’s back. Damn!
“You might give us some privacy!” Miranda snapped.
“I ain’t lettin’ you outta my sight.” Jed motioned with his gun. “Go on, right here.”
Miranda stooped to help the boy with his pants.
“I can’t,” Jonathan sobbed.
Miranda turned and glared at Jed, revealing an ugly purple bruise on one side of her face. Ben ground his teeth together and forced himself to be silent. Her eyes flicked to Ben for an instant, but she returned to glaring at Jed.
“Really, Jed. Are you afraid of a woman and a little boy? Where are we going to go? There’s nothing around but wide, open country. You can shoot us easy if we start to run.”
“O’Reilly give me orders.”
“I suppose you let that drunken Irishman do your thinkin’ for you?”
“Hell no.”
“Then holster the gun, Jed. You’re scaring the boy half to death. He can’t relieve himself with a gun pointed at him.”
Good girl. Keep talking now. Ben crept silently forward.
“Fine.” Jed let the barrel of his gun drop. “One minute now. Get on with it—it’s colder’n blazes out here.”
As the scrawny cowboy inserted his pistol into his holster, Ben knocked the man cold with a blow to the head.
Miranda wisely clamped a hand over Jonathan’s mouth. “Stay quiet, you hear?” she whispered in the boy’s ear. He nodded.
“How many inside?” Ben whispered as he grabbed Jed’s gun.
“O’Reilly and another man they call Dally. Thad’s in there, too. He was shot in the arm, but it’s not too bad. He’ll be fine if we can get him home. They’ve got
him tied up in the corner.”
Ben handed her Jed’s pistol. “Take the boy and run for those trees.”
Miranda started to protest.
Ben cut her off. “I want the boy clear of here in case there’s any shooting.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Please?”
Miranda nodded.
“Good.” He bent to talk to Jonathan. “Go with Aunt Miranda. Run that way”—he pointed—“so they won’t see you from the window.”
Miranda shot Ben a grim look, but she took Jonathan’s hand and tugged him along behind her as she moved quickly toward the trees. Ben waited until they were out of sight before creeping around to the front corner of the house. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he took a step toward the door.
A soft creak sent him flying back to the side of the cabin. The door was opening again.
“Jed?” The gravelly voice must belong to Dally. “What the hell’s keeping you out there? You playing with the girl, or the little boy?” The man laughed.
Ben forced himself to stay back, though he wanted to tear Dally limb from limb. “Come look.” He tried to imitate Jed’s high, nasally voice and muffled the sound by speaking into his hand.
“It’s cold as Hades out here, Jed.” Dally came around the corner directly into Ben’s fist. Before he could cry out, Ben shoved him face-first into the snow and straddled him. He pressed a gun against the side of the man’s head with his left hand. Ben wasn’t certain he could pull the trigger with his damaged hand, but Dally didn’t need to know that.
Ben glanced over to where Jed remained motionless. That wouldn’t last much longer. He fished out his own kerchief and shoved it into Dally’s mouth. He holstered his gun long enough to tie the gag in place with Dally’s bandanna. The numb fingers of his right hand were nearly as useless as the stubs on his left, but he managed a knot that would hold. Ben used Dally’s belt to tie the man’s wrists behind his back. He removed his own belt and used it around Dally’s ankles. When he was certain Dally was no further threat, he hurried over to Jed. What he needed was some good rope, but there wasn’t any at hand. He pulled off his tie and bound the unconscious man’s hands, cursing the lack of dexterity in his numb fingers. The clumsy knot would have to do—he didn’t dare take any more time.
Ben slid back along the wall of the cabin and peeked around the corner. No sign of O’Reilly. He crept under the window and knelt beside the door, flung it open, then plastered himself against the outside wall.
“What the hell?” O’Reilly bellowed. “It’s cold enough in here without leaving the door wide open.”
O’Reilly stomped across the floor. Ben greeted him with a pistol leveled at his gut. “You’re going to be a hell of a lot colder before we get to the sheriff’s office, O’Reilly.”
Ben grabbed the man and shoved him back through the door.
“Glad to see you, Ben,” Thad drawled from the floor.
“Face down on the floor!” Ben ordered, shoving O’Reilly down. He took the guns out of O’Reilly’s holster and checked him thoroughly for other weapons.
“You all right, Buchanan?” Ben asked.
“Just tell me my son is unharmed.”
“Miranda has him safe outside.” Ben found some twine and tied O’Reilly’s hands. “Your wife and daughter are also doing well.”
“Daughter?” Thad struggled to sit up; his hands and legs were still bound.
“A beautiful baby girl.” Ben pulled his watch from his vest pocket. “About six hours old now.” He found a knife and cut Thad loose. “How bad is it?” He nodded toward Thad’s bloody arm.
“It’s nothing. O’Reilly’s a lousy shot.”
“I should have killed you when I had the chance, Buchanan.”
Ben glared at the Irishman’s back. “I’m going to need to gag him.” He handed O’Reilly’s gun to Thad. “Keep an eye on him, will you?”
Ben dashed out the door. Finding Jed struggling to his feet, Ben slammed his fist to the man’s jaw, knocking him back down. “I should put a bullet through your head, you son of a bitch.” He rolled Jed on his face and pulled his arms behind his back. “I saw the bruises on my wife’s face.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“I don’t give a damn which one of you hit her!”
He pulled the lanky man to his feet and dragged him inside, then went back out for Dally.
“Thad’s anxious to use that pistol on you boys,” Ben said. “Don’t get any ideas about running for the door,” he said before dashing off to find Miranda and Jonathan.
They met him at the edge of the trees. He pulled his wife and nephew close to him and kissed Miranda gently, careful not to touch the bruises on her face.
“You’re safe now, love,” he whispered to Miranda before lifting Jonathan up onto his shoulders. “Come on, lad, we’re going to collect your father and take you home. Your mother has someone she wants you to meet.”
“Someone?” Miranda asked. “The baby?”
He winked at her. “A girl.”
“Leave it to Mercy to give birth on her own.”
“You mean my brother’s a girl?” Jonathan asked.
Ben grinned. “She’s a sister, I’m afraid.” “There’s nothing wrong with girls, Jonathan,” Miranda said.
“Nothing wrong at all.” Ben took Miranda’s hand in his and led her back to the cabin. He leaned toward her and pitched his voice low. “I have to ask—who hit you?”
“It was O’Reilly. Don’t worry, I made him regret it.” She gave Ben what he supposed was intended to be a victorious smile.
He draped an arm over her shoulder, wishing there was a way to hold her close forever and keep her in the shelter of his arm. “I’m quite certain he’ll rue the day he faced you.” He pulled her close.
When they reached the cabin, Ben directed Miranda to wait with Jonathan on the side. “I want to be sure it’s safe before you come in.”
Miranda nodded and held Jonathan close. She heard Ben stomp across the wooden floor of the cabin.
“O’Reilly!” Ben shouted. Miranda heard a grunt and a crash.
“Stay right here,” she whispered to Jonathan as she stepped around to the front of the cabin, cocking the gun Ben had given her before peeking in the window.
“That’s enough!” Thad shouted as Ben landed a punch to O’Reilly’s jaw.
“The man needs to learn a gentleman doesn’t hit a lady.” Ben punctuated this statement with a fist to O’Reilly’s gut, knocking him against the wall.
“I believe he’s learned his lesson. Haven’t you, O’Reilly?”
“Shut up . . . Buchanan.” The Irishman sank to his knees.
Ben pulled him up. “Come outside, O’Reilly. A bit of fresh air will revive you.” He pushed the man out the door, marched him to a snowdrift, and shoved him into it face-first. “Refreshing, isn’t it?” Ben asked as he grabbed a handful of hair and used it to pull O’Reilly’s head out of the snow. “Just once more, now.” He shoved O’Reilly’s face back into the snow.
Miranda carefully released the hammer on Jed’s pistol. Men! She marched back to where Jonathan was waiting. Ben wanted to protect her. He had a lot of silly notions about how to do that. Marrying her. Beating O’Reilly to a pulp. Leaving her.
Miranda wrapped two blankets over Jonathan’s shoulders and tied them under his chin. It would be a cold ride home, and the boy hadn’t worn his warm coat.
“I wish you’d change your mind,” Ben said.
“I’m going with you.” Miranda lifted her chin and glared at Ben, a sure sign he’d better stop arguing with her.
She helped Jonathan mount Pegasus and tied another blanket around the boy’s waist.
Thad rode Zeus up next to his son. “Bury the boy in blankets and he won’t be able to ride.”
“He’ll be better able to ride if he isn’t freezing,” Miranda snapped.
Thad had sense enough not to respond. Ben smiled. His wife might be petite, but she knew how to take charge o
f a situation.
“You should go home with Thad and Jonathan.” Ben held Lightning’s reins in one hand and Princess’s in the other.
“I’m going with you,” she said. “Thad, you tell him.”
“She’s right, Ben. It’s too dangerous for you to take those three alone. I’d come with you myself, but—”
“Someone has to get Jonathan home,” Miranda interrupted. She figured it was useless to mention the fact that her brother-in-law was injured and had no business making the two-hour ride into town. The bullet had torn through the fleshy part of Thad’s arm and didn’t appear to have damaged the bone. He was lucky. Still, the man should be resting, not riding across slippery, frozen ground. Miranda had fashioned a sling to hold Thad’s wounded arm steady. But it would surely be a painful ride.
Miranda said the only thing she knew would persuade Thad: “Mercy will be anxious to see for herself that you’re all right.” She turned back to Ben. “I’m going with you.”
Ben and Thad had tethered O’Reilly’s, Jed’s, and Dally’s horses together and tied each man to his saddle. They were all gagged and unarmed. Miranda would lead the way into town, and Ben would ride in the rear with one gun aimed directly at O’Reilly’s back and two more fully loaded pistols in his belt.
“Thad needs—”
“Don’t worry about me, I have Jonathan to help me. Right, buddy?”
“Right, Papa.”
“You just get O’Reilly and his lot to the sheriff.” Thad nodded in the direction of O’Reilly, Jed and Dally. “And don’t forget to collect that reward.”
“Reward?”
Miranda’s heart sank.
“It’s not the five thousand you came for, but five hundred dollars is a lot of money.”
More than enough for passage to the Sandwich Islands where Ben could start a new life. Without her.
Ben and Miranda watched Thad and Jonathan ride away before they mounted.
“Please give me an excuse to shoot you, O’Reilly,” Ben said as they set off.
Teresa Bodwell Page 25
