The Surrender of Lacy Morgan

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “Dakota’s herbs may take too long to work. The timing would have to be perfect.”

  “We’ve enough to take down a herd of bulls, brother,” Dakota said, coming up behind them. “She’s right. This is what Cap would want us to do. Our duty above all else.”

  “Promise me one thing,” Lacy said, looking deep into Quinn’s eyes.

  “What, darlin’?”

  “No matter what happens, no matter what you hear in that valley, you’ll make Devil pay for all the things he’s done.”

  “I promise.”

  Lacy reached over and pulled her other lover close and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she turned and kissed Quinn. “In my whole life I’ve never been safer than this past week with you two. Trust doesn’t come easy for me, but I trust you to keep me safe.”

  Even as she said it, she hoped that once they were in Devil’s valley, they’d not only keep her alive, but find some way to forgive her. The truth would come out one way or another. Secrets were never buried long.

  * * * * *

  Early the next evening, they approached the mountain shielding the outlaw’s hidden valley. Quinn scanned the rim of the narrow inlet for the guards Lacy told them would be watching—one on each side.

  Sunlight glinted off metal to his left.

  “One up top. Left. Near the boulder,” he called back to Dakota, who flanked Lacy behind him.

  “I saw him. Other hombre on the right. Black hat. Seated between those two saplings.”

  “We’ll be easy targets, going in or coming out.”

  “As soon as they see me, they’ll fire two shots off to let Devil know,” Lacy said quietly. “One for company’s coming, the other that it’s trouble. Once we’re inside the opening, every word we say can be heard the length of the entrance, and all the way up to the lookouts, even in a whisper.”

  “Got it. No conversation.” Pulling back on his reins, Quinn stopped them short. “Remember the plan. You stay with me, no matter what else happens. First we get them drunk, then we grab Devil, then we worry about the gold.”

  He saw the flash of fear cross her face. It was gone a moment later and she sat straighter in her saddle and nodded. Damn, the woman had backbone enough for an army. And he wished they could turn around and ride away.

  But her impassioned argument from the night before still sounded in his head along with Cap’s advice, “Son, out here, we’re all that stands between good people and savages.”

  Unlike other white men, Cap hadn’t been talking about tribal Indians when he used the term, but the renegade outlaws who would steal, maim or kill without conscience—men in this valley.

  “Ready?” He squeezed Lacy’s hand, which was clutching her reins.

  She stared back unflinchingly. “More than ever in my life.”

  He nodded then glanced back at Dakota, who inclined his head. His rifle lay across his lap, prepared for anything. If they tried to look too trusting or harmless, every outlaw in the valley would suspect a trick. Instead they’d come armed and wary like any other group of Western travelers.

  Twenty yards ahead they heard the report of one rifle shot, followed by a second.

  Quinn tightened his hold on his reins and edged his horse closer to Lacy’s mount. Their plan was a solid one, but he knew better than to trust a gang of murderous thieves. Despite what he’d said to Lacy, chances were something would go wrong before they’d safely captured Devil.

  They crossed into the dark entrance between the mountain walls, moving single file—him, Lacy, Dakota and finally their packhorse—only a sliver of light at the far end showing the way.

  Damn.

  Perfect place for an ambush. If anyone hid in the rock crevices they passed, they’d be caught in a crossfire and dead before they ever got inside the valley.

  He wished they could’ve waited for Nicco and Ian, hell the Army would’ve been nice too, but if Lacy was right and Devil was getting desperate for money, the gang might not wait too much longer for another raid. After all these months of searching for Cap’s killers, he wasn’t going to let them escape now.

  The farther into the narrow passage they rode, the harder his gut churned. A fine bead of sweat slid down his neck despite the cool spring air blowing down the mountain.

  No way would they be able to leave after dark without risking breaking a neck on a fall from their horses. How the hell had Lacy made it out in a winter storm?

  Halfway through, the shaft of light at the end started to widen. Silhouetted in the sunlight were three men seated on horseback. Quinn squinted to try to identify their greeters.

  “So the thieving whore returns,” a deep raspy voice echoed through the passage.

  Quinn knew from the air Lacy hissed in behind him the voice belonged to Devil. Too late to turn around and ride with her to parts unknown. He just prayed they all made it out of here in one piece.

  “Heard there was a bounty on her head,” he called up ahead, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “Name’s Halliday. You Devil Morgan?”

  “Damn right and that bitch belongs to me.”

  Over my dead body.

  Quinn studied the welcoming committee as they rode closer. The long and lean man sitting tall in the middle had to be Devil Morgan. His scraggly gray beard hit the front of his collar and fit the description a witness gave in town after the robbery and murders. His jaw swelled on one side, then he leaned over and spit a stream of spittle laced with dark tobacco juice.

  To his left was a bulky giant who kept looking around as if expecting someone to pop out and start firing. Flanking Devil on the right was a shorter man who kept leaning in to whisper to his boss.

  Devil might be calm, but his cohorts were definitely nervous, or excited about the prospect of getting their hands on Lacy.

  Riding into the sunlight, the low brim of his hat shading his eyes and keeping him from squinting, Quinn maneuvered his horse to one side, giving Lacy and Dakota space to stop beside him. One hand deceptively lying in his lap, mere inches from the butt of his gun, he watched the trio in front of him as Lacy came into view.

  Wearing her camisole, with its thin material and deep neckline open to showcase her firm breasts and taut nipples, and her split skirt to show off her long legs, she’d meant to entice every man here. The gold collar glimmering on the long column of her throat added to her sensual allure.

  He’d hated her outfit and fought the idea before they broke camp this morning, wanting her to wear her men’s pants and shirt. But she was right.

  As a distraction, she worked to perfection.

  Now all he wanted to do was shoot the men ogling her.

  As he got his first good look at Lacy, Devil licked his lips and pulled on the reins of his horse. No doubt about it, he lusted after her, probably had for years.

  The idea sickened Quinn and notched up the protective urge he’d had for Lacy since almost the day they’d captured her.

  Damn, he needed to focus on the mission, not Lacy.

  “Well, now, seems we have a problem then,” Quinn drawled easily, but with enough steel in his voice to let the other man know he meant business.

  Devil nodded and Big-bulky reached for Lacy’s reins.

  Quinn palmed his gun in less than a second, the barrel pointed at the henchman’s face. “I didn’t bring her back out of the goodness of my heart. You’ll have to pay good money for her.”

  Big-bulky held his hand up and backed his horse away from Lacy.

  “H-he’s faster ’n Santos, b-boss,” Short-and-nervous stuttered, looking quickly between Quinn and Devil.

  A muscle jerked in Devil’s face and he slid his leering gaze over Lacy’s body once more before his lips split in a snakelike smile. “Well, let’s go parley then.”

  Turning his horse, Devil led the way. Quinn and Lacy followed, with Dakota and the packhorse behind. Devil’s two men brought up the rear.

  As they rode toward a cluster of buildings, shacks mostly, Quinn scanned the area for tr
ouble spots. A large barn stood to one side, a corral with a dozen horses milling about connected to the side. Several cowboys hung over the fence and stopped to openly stare at the group as they passed.

  Quinn’s skin crawled as if a troop of ants marched across it. From every angle he swore someone watched their movements. A few women, the valley’s whores, stood in one doorway shooting hostile stares at Lacy.

  At the far end of the makeshift road stood a larger building. She’d told them this was the tavern where Devil held court. Just to the left was a pole standing over six feet high with a metal ring embedded in the top.

  The whipping post.

  The spot where they’d tortured Lacy.

  He glanced to his right. Sitting as straight as a branding iron, head held high, Lacy stared in the opposite direction. As always, her courage touched him deeply.

  Once they reached the tavern, Quinn and the men slid from their saddles. Lacy remained in hers, just as they’d planned.

  “What’s the matter, girl, forget how to get off yer horse?” Devil spit another stream of tobacco juice into the dirt.

  “I didn’t tell her to dismount,” Quinn said, walking around the horse to help Lacy down. He wanted everyone in the valley convinced she was his property. He locked his gaze with hers, willing her to take some strength from him. “She obeys me and no one else.”

  “You been training her right?” Devil leered at her again.

  “I b-bet he’s been t-trainin’ her—right between her legs,” Short-and-nervous said, then made a humping action with his hips.

  The man would pay for that, soon.

  A light flush of embarrassment spread over Lacy’s face and chest. Anger filled her eyes, but she didn’t break eye contact with Quinn. A moment later she gave a slight nod to indicate she was ready.

  He turned to Dakota. “Stay with the horses,” he ordered as if Dakota too obeyed him. They needed Devil focused only on him and Lacy, not what Dakota would be up to.

  Gripping Lacy by the elbow, he could feel the fine tremors showing her fear. The action allowed him to support her, but gave the illusion he was forcing her to come with him. Quinn followed Devil inside the log structure, ducking to get inside the doorframe.

  The stench of body odor hit him as soon as they were inside, followed quickly by the smell of bad whiskey.

  Quinn glanced around the room, sizing up the situation.

  Three men, their hats pulled low, sat at a table in the back corner. Quinn recognized two of them from Wanted posters for other robberies. This was their lucky day. He was only after the people who killed Cap.

  A fat woman, her breasts half-falling out of her dress, leaned against the bar. Behind it stood a bald man with a gray shirt, scraggly beard and suspenders. Counting the lookouts, but not the women, that made a dozen outlaws so far.

  Shit. He’d hoped the open spring pass and the bounty on Lacy would’ve forced more of Devil’s men out of the valley, making their odds better.

  No such luck.

  Dakota’s herbal-laced whiskey better work. Or they were dead meat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where can I find water for our horses?” Dakota asked the big outlaw who’d remained outside with him. The man’s shorter friend had hurried after Devil and the others into the tavern.

  “Over at the barn’s a trough or there’s a creek running over by the valley wall.” The outlaw pointed to the tree-lined area some three hundred yards away.

  No way was he going that far. He needed to be close in case Quinn or Lacy needed him.

  “Horses are tired. Just a’soon use the trough,” he said, leading their horses to the corral. He wasn’t surprised when the outlaw followed him. He dismounted and opened the spout from the water barrel to fill the trough for the four animals. The big man and the other three hombres at the corral watched without lifting a finger to help. He had no doubt any of them would slit his throat if he made the wrong move.

  “Whatcha got in that box?” The tallest man, leaning against the corral post, nodded at the packhorse.

  Dakota fought back a grin. They’d taken the bait. “Boss’s whiskey.”

  “Hell, we got whiskey,” another of the men said, laughing at his own humor and elbowing one of the others. “We got women, too, don’t we, Slim?”

  “Boss is particular about his women and his whiskey.” He untied the box and lowered it to the ground as if it were a sacred treasure. That drew the quartet a few steps closer.

  “Mmm, that Lacy looked better than ever,” the big man said.

  “Sure did, Mos. Like something special.” Slim leaned in as Dakota opened the box. “Your whiskey special like her?”

  “Boss thinks so.” Dakota pulled out one of the doctored bottles so the men could see the label, recognizing it as good whiskey. Then he looked back at the tavern, as if considering how much trouble he’d be in if he shared with them. Forbidden fruit was always the most tempting. “He won’t miss one bottle. Why don’t y’all take this one into the barn and see how smooth it is. I’ll deliver the boss his and come join y’all in a few moments.”

  Grins spread on all four faces. They signaled the three camp whores to join them as they carried the bottle into the barn to enjoy the wares.

  Dakota tied the horses’ reins to the corral near a grassy spot for grazing, then hefted the box of whiskey and headed to the tavern. Hopefully the group would be out fast. He still had to deal with the lookouts or their escape was doomed.

  * * * * *

  Quinn leaned back in his chair and pulled Lacy around to stand behind him. The closer he kept her, the less easy it was for Devil to grab her. And he could see the lust in the outlaw’s cold, dark eyes. It wasn’t just the look of a man wanting to touch or fuck a beautiful woman. No, he wanted to hurt her, bad.

  The idea turned Quinn’s stomach. He ought to put a bullet between the snake’s eyes right now and be done with it.

  You have a job to do, son. No matter how ugly the varmint or his deeds, you must get justice for the innocents. Cap always pushed him to do the right thing.

  Could he do any less for his mentor, his father’s memory?

  The door behind them opened. Dakota entered with the box of whiskey, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Your breed ain’t welcome here.” Devil spat on the floor and wiped his sleeve over his mouth.

  The only acknowledgement Dakota gave Devil’s slur was a slight quirking of one brow.

  It never failed to amuse his blood brother that he was far more civilized and educated than the vermin like those in the room with them.

  “What’s he got in the box?” Short-and-nervous asked.

  Something you’re going to regret drinking in the morning.

  “Whiskey,” was all Dakota said.

  “Hell, we got whiskey.”

  “Not like this.”

  Dakota hefted the box onto the bar and lifted one bottle out so they could all see the label. Then he brought it to the table, setting it beside Quinn.

  Devil eyed the bottle and licked his lips. “Ain’t had any of that in years.”

  “Why don’t we all have some while we parley a bit?”

  “Don’t mind if I do, Halliday.”

  Quinn opened the only bottle not laced with Dakota’s herbs and poured some into both his and Devil’s glasses. He nodded to Dakota who got out a few bottles and distributed them to the other desperados.

  “You finished outside?” Quinn asked when all the others were drinking the tainted liquor.

  “Just about.”

  Dakota slipped back out the door.

  Eyes on his nemesis, Quinn lifted his glass and sipped, letting the smooth amber fluid burn its way down his throat. Lacy’s hand slid down on to his shoulder. Time to tempt the Devil.

  Lacy stood behind Quinn’s chair, hands on his shoulders, staring at the nightmare from her past. How could she pretend to feel anything but loathing for the monster?

  “So, you tamed the hellcat?” Devil
leered at her over his glass of whiskey. The cool mountain air wasn’t the only chill that crept over her skin. Her stomach turned. Any moment she’d hurl her afternoon meal on the tavern’s plank floor.

  It had been bad enough enduring the whistles and lewd comments from the men, and the name calling from Daisy over at the bar after Quinn half dragged her into the tavern, but knowing she’d willingly put herself into Devil’s hands before they left the valley ate at her soul.

  A tremble of revulsion ran through her.

  “It didn’t take me long to wear the sass out of her,” Quinn drawled with a laugh in his voice at the same time he reached up and laid his hand over one of hers. Its warmth reminded her she could trust him and took the sting out of his comments to Devil.

  She relaxed, flashed a saucy look at her nemesis and stroked her free hand across Quinn’s shoulder and up his neck.

  Devil licked his lips, then took another long draw on his drink. “I’d nearly broke the filly myself before she snuck out of here last fall.”

  Another ripple of fear ran through her at the mention of her whipping.

  Quinn tensed beneath her hands.

  It was her turn to calm him. She leaned in, making sure Devil saw the mounds of her breasts, and swirled her tongue over Quinn’s ear. “He can’t hurt me with you here to protect me,” she whispered.

  Quinn laughed. “You’re damn right, darlin’.”

  “What did the bitch say?” Devil swiped his sleeve over his lips then adjusted his crotch.

  What a pig.

  “Seems she prefers my way of taming her over yours,” Quinn drawled, tweaking Devil’s temper.

  Devil shot Lacy a glare. “Keep it up, girl. You won’t be laughing when I lay my whip across your backside agin.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t bring her back to you for nothing. I expect to get paid well for this piece of ass.” To emphasize his words, Quinn slid his hand up her skirt in the back, exposing her long thigh and one ass cheek.

  Whatever you do, you do it to please me only, no one else.

  Lacy focused on Quinn’s words from days before as he displayed her flesh for the lecherous group. It relaxed her, as did the warmth of his calloused hand rubbing slowly over her flesh.