“Alright,” Collier scanned each face, “let’s move out.”
Cade followed, once again praying that no one would be hurt today. But something niggled at the back of his mind. Something that didn’t feel right. Something he couldn’t quite put a saddle on.
Sharyah stood on the platform at the stage stop trying to ignore the woman sweeping the boardwalk in front of the mercantile who kept eyeing her torn and bloody sleeve with something akin to horror etching her face. She shifted and rested her hand over the tear, hoping the move looked unintentional. The woman obviously had never had all her possessions burned up and her only remaining dress shot through with a hole, all in the same night. Not to mention my arm. That thought nearly brought a chuckle and she caught herself just in time. The woman would be summoning the nearest asylum attendant, if she wasn’t careful.
Beside her Brandon shifted uneasily.
“Just a few more hours, Brandon.”
He squirmed again, glancing up at her through the mop of his bangs. “Ma’s gonna be some sore at me.”
Some? “Yes. I imagine she will be. But first she is going to be beside herself with joy to know you are well and safe.”
His lips tugged over to one side of his face. “I shouldn’t o’ run off.”
“No. You shouldn’t. But she will forgive you. Mother’s always do.”
Jason stepped up beside her holding three tickets and for the third time that morning she said, “You really don’t have to come with us. We’ll be fine.”
“Won’t take me more than a day to make sure you get home safe, and I wouldn’t want to have to face Cade if I let you go off without an escort. Besides,” he grinned at her, “what are cousins for?”
“What do you mean you wouldn’t want to face—” Her cheeks heated up like a cast-iron griddle and she decided she’d rather not pursue that conversation, after all. “—oh, never mind.”
Jason grinned full-out and crossed his arms. But he was gentleman enough not to embarrass her with further comment.
Brandon, however, held no such compunctions. “I do think Mr. Cade’s some sweet on you, Miss Jordan.”
“Do you, now? Oh look, here comes the stage.” She snatched up her skirts and stepped to the edge of the platform, leaving the two annoyingly male individuals grinning at each other like goats in a kitchen garden.
The arriving passengers disembarked and Jason had his hand on her elbow, ready to help her to the first step, when a horse galloped around the corner of the farthest building down the street.
Jason’s hand tightened and they paused to see what the commotion was about.
The lathered horse, flecks of foam spurting from its sides with each stride, slid to a stop only feet away, sides heaving. The rider relaxed visibly when he noticed the stage driver seemed more interested in learning his business than getting the stage off on time. He pulled a bandana from his shirt pocket and mopped his face, then swung down.
“Boy,” he gestured Brandon over to him, “you walk this horse for me. Just for a few minutes, until I complete my business with the stage driver here. He’s a good horse and I don’t want him ruined because he cooled down too quick after such a long hard run.”
Brandon glanced at Sharyah for permission and she nodded. “Just take him down to the end of the street and back.”
“Walk him at a good clip, son.” Jason clapped the boy on the shoulder.
The rider handed the reins to Brandon with a tired smile. “Thanks, lad. I’ll make it worth your time.” Then, as Brandon led the horse back the way it had just come, the rider turned to the stage driver. “Can I have a moment of your time before you make the next run?”
The driver shrugged. “Don’t suppose a few more minutes will make much difference one way or another.”
The rider scrubbed the bandana over his face and neck once more. “You have any room on there for one more passenger?”
The driver cast him a skeptical look.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m a paying customer.” The man smiled. “I have to get to Beth Haven and I’ve had nothing but trouble trying to get there.”
At the mention of money, the stage driver perked right up. “If you’re paying, we got room.”
“Good then. Can you give me thirty minutes to cool down my horse, stable it, and send a telegram?”
The driver turned to glance at them. “You have any problems with that?”
Sharyah looked at Jason. They really should get Brandon home as quickly as possible.
Jason hooked his thumbs into his belt buckle. “He’s already been gone for several days. I don’t presume a few more minutes will hurt anything.”
She fiddled with the strap of her reticule. “You’re right, I suppose.”
Jason nodded their consent.
Returning his focus to the rider, the driver said, “You got thirty minutes.”
“Much obliged.” The man tipped his hat and strode off toward Brandon to gather his horse.
Jason escorted Sharyah and Brandon into the local boarding house where she fidgeted through a second cup of coffee and Brandon had a warm doughnut. Sharyah kept thinking of Brandon’s poor mother. Every minute they remained away, was another minute she would be worrying over her missing son. But, true to his word, thirty minutes later the rider was back and everyone climbed aboard the stage.
The driver cracked his whip with a shouted, “Gid’up!” and the coach lurched into motion.
Sharyah and Brandon, occupied one seat, while Jason and the rider occupied the facing one.
After a moment the rider held his hand out to Jason. “Name’s Baylor. James Baylor.”
“Jordan.” Jason clasped his hand. “Jason Jordan.” He gestured across the coach. “This is my cousin, Miss Sharyah Jordan, and her charge Brandon McBride.”
“How do?” The man shook Brandon’s hand as if he were an equal gentleman, then touched one finger to his hat brim and nodded at her. “Ma’am.”
Sharyah smiled her reply, liking him immediately.
They made small talk for over an hour and they had almost reached the beautiful vista of Powell Butte when Jason finally asked the man, “What brings you out this way?”
Baylor shrugged. “I’m a courier on a delivery errand. “I work for a man who has a friend that lives in Beth Haven. My boss has me delivering a… well, a package to him.”
Sharyah stiffened and took a calming breath.
Collier walked out of the jail office with the group, his rifle held in one hand. Too bad he’d made that little slip up – tensing when he’d noticed the telegrams plainly visible on his desk. Cade had been looking right at him. Hopefully, Cade thought his surprise had something to do with the judge’s slip about Miss Jordan’s well-being. Cade, after all, didn’t know that he was the one who’d narrowly missed cutting the lovely Miss Jordan out of the picture for good. Well, in the end her escape into the judge’s house hadn’t mattered. Apparently the girl hadn’t seen enough of the letter to do any damage. And Cade taking her out of town had really been an advantage.
He sniffed and scanned the street. At least he didn’t have her death on his conscience.
One worry niggled at the back of his mind. Why hadn’t Bennett and Green confided in him of the girl’s safety? Were they doubting his loyalty?
He shoved the thought aside. No. They were probably just playing their cards close to their chests.
The judge didn’t even know his diamonds would be on that stage today. Providence had made sure of that when he’d intercepted a telegram that had come through for Judge Green.
It had been quite by accident, really. He’d been strolling by the telegraph office, when Earl had gimped out with a message to deliver to Judge Green. Collier had been headed to meet the judge anyhow, and had said he’d be happy to deliver the telegram. He hadn’t planned on reading it. But curiosity had gotten the better of him and he’d never been more happy that he decided to give into that curiosity, than now.
The telegram had
stated that the judge’s diamonds would arrive earlier than he expected on one of this week’s stages from Farewell Bend and further details would be forthcoming. It had been the easiest thing in the world to simply slip that message into his pocket and neglect to give it to the judge. The next step had been to butter ol’ Earl up some and commiserate about his bum leg, torn and irreparably damaged during the War Between the States. He’d said there was no need for Earl to walk the messages all the way to the Greens’ place. Just to bring them on by the sheriff’s office and he would take care of delivering them for him. Earl’s leg gave him a sight of pain and he’d been more than happy to agree to that arrangement.
And it was a good thing they’d made the agreement when they had, because the very next day the telegram had come in saying that the courier was on his way and that he would send a wire from Farewell Bend on the day he was to arrive.
Only moments before Green and Bennett stepped into his office, Earl had delivered a telegram stating that the man was on his way and should be here by early afternoon.
Yes. He held in a whoop of triumph. All was falling into place.
Katrina didn’t know that he was bringing half the best guns in town to her little party. And the judge didn’t know that his diamonds really were in danger of being stolen. And no one suspected that he of all people planned to make off with the whole shooting match.
They would get the drop on Katrina and her gang, give them the sad news that the diamonds weren’t even on the stage, and haul them off to their respective hangings.
Only he and the courier would know the diamonds really were there, and the courier wouldn’t live long enough to spill that information. In all the chaos, and with Cade and his men sure to be caught off guard by his false information, it wouldn’t be suspect at all for the man to end up shot. Then he would pocket the diamonds, but only after arresting Katrina and all her compatriots, leaving Green, Bennett, and the rest thinking he was still on the up and up. Then he planned to get out of town while the getting was good.
He was careful to keep any expression off his face, but on the inside he was smiling. Oh he was smiling to beat the band. He had no doubt Cade and his men would eventually gain the upper hand. They’d all make the arrests then he could light a shuck out of town with no one the wiser.
All his planning was finally coming to fruition. Yes sirree. He would soon be a very rich man with a future stretching out before him full of infinite possibilities.
They mounted up and trotted their horses out of town but they’d only gone a couple miles when Bennett’s father pulled to a stop and gestured for all of them to do the same.
“I’ve been pondering on the best way to keep everyone safe today,” he said. “Coordinating each attack without some central signal will be too difficult and would likely result in one party or another of the outlaw gang, being alerted that their plans aren’t going as scheduled. Seems to me that as soon as the stage gets near enough that we’re sure all their attention is fixed on it, that would be the time to make our move. The stage should still be far enough away that none of the passengers, or the driver for that matter, should come to injury from a bullet, but still be close enough to offer a little distraction. And like we’ve already said, we need to strike unanimously, so it seems the best way would be for Collier here to be the signal for the rest of us. When he steps out to take down Katrina, that’s when we strike all at once. She will need to be in the road before the stage comes into view to keep the driver from getting suspicious, not to mention barreling right on by her. When Collier confronts her, all of the outlaws will have their attention fixed on her at that moment, for just a split second, all of them will be surprised and it will give us the best shot at safety, both for us and for the stage passengers.”
Collier cursed silently. He needed the stage to be within shooting range for his plan to work. But to express descent would draw suspicion. He couldn’t have that – at least not too soon. First they had to take out Katrina and the Rodales for him.
There was only one way to handle this, then. He’d hoped to keep up the ruse of honesty all the way until he lit out of town, but… Well, he’d just have to travel a little farther and be a little more careful in the long run.
He leaned over and spat on the ground then forced himself to grin at the men gathered around him. “Ya’ll just be sure you don’t leave me out there, exposed and vulnerable, for too long, ya hear?”
As they all rode out once more, under his breath he cussed them all soundly for the do-gooders they were.
17
Sam Perry crushed the brim of his bowler in one hand as he waited on the Greens’ front porch for someone to answer the door.
When Missy herself opened the door, he thought his heart might stop on the spot.
“Sam?” She glanced past him, as though expecting he would be with someone else.
“It’s just me. May I…” He cleared his throat. “May I come in?”
“Of course. Papa isn’t here right now.” She didn’t move out of the way.
“Yes. I know. He asked me to come, actually.”
“Oh.”
Was that disappointment he heard in her tone? His heart thudded out renewed hope.
“I wanted to come, though. I mean I had a choice to be somewhere else or to be here and I chose… well, here.” He gestured inside with his hat. “May I…?”
Blushing, she stepped back. “Of course. Yes. Do. The parlor is…” Her hands fluttered toward the settee he could just see through the door. “But then you already know that. Ahh,” she hoisted her skirts and fled the room calling over her shoulder, “I’ll just get us some tea.”
Sam hooked his hat on the tree and only stood for one moment of indecision. Then he followed her toward the kitchen. Forget this dancing-around-the-subject business. He’d let her put him off for far too long. And heaven knew that he’d tried to forget her. It simply wasn’t going to happen. They needed to have this out and have it now.
He pushed open the kitchen door and stepped inside.
She squeaked in surprise and dropped a teacup. It shattered at her feet.
Ignoring the mess, he stepped over it and took her hand, brushing the softness of her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Her jaw dropped slightly, but she seemed paralyzed and didn’t try to pull away as he’d feared she would.
“Missy…” Sam closed his eyes and inhaled long and slow, savoring the familiar scent of her lavender toilet water. Leaning forward he pressed his forehead to hers.
“S-sam, we can’t…” She swallowed hard.
He eased back a fraction and cupped her cheek. “Why can’t we?”
“I’m ru-ruined. It can never work.” She didn’t meet his gaze.
Anger surged through him toward the man who had robbed so much from them. “You are not ruined.” He gentled his tone and thumbed the tears from her cheeks, lowering his head until she finally looked at him. “Hasn’t enough been stolen from you? From us? Don’t let him steal anything more.”
Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. “You deserve so much better.”
He shook his head. “That’s not true. If anything I don’t deserve even the half of you. I’m so sorry, I never should have…left. Not when you needed me the most.”
Missy stiffened and jerked away from him. “Wait! Are you here because you think Sharyah is dead?” Sam started to shake his head, but Missy forged on. “Because she’s not, you know. Someone tried to kill her but Mr. Bennett helped her escape.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s not dead? That’s great news!”
Resignation filled Missy’s face. “I knew—”
Sam’s fingers against her lips cut off her words. “I don’t want her. All the time with her only made me long all the more for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Sam, I don’t know.” Her face crumpled and she folded her arms tight against herself.
“Shhhhh.”
He pulled her head down against his chest. “We’ll just take one day at a time. Alright?”
She made no response for the longest time, then finally her arms slipped around him.
Gratification released his pent up tension on a breath. “That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of her head as she sobbed against his shirt. But he knew these were healing tears. Tears that had needed to fall for a long time. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek atop her curls, thanking God for giving him the courage to do what he’d been longing to do since the day of her attack.
As he stood there, he realized he still needed to tell her about Kat. It would be another blow. But, together, they would make it through this.
He lifted a glance toward the ceiling. Thank you, Lord.
Cade belly-crawled along the ground, rifle in one hand, careful to keep from crushing any twigs that might snap under his weight, or brushing up against any of the sage brush that grew freely across the hillside. He didn’t want to alert Rodale that he was only yards from him.
He’d left his horse ground hitched a ways back, knowing the well-trained steed would come trotting the moment he whistled for it.
The scent of Judd’s cigarette came to him now, so he was closer than he’d thought. He stretched out behind a length of bunch grass and stilled, breathing shallowly. From here, on the knoll just south of the road, he could see one of Judd’s boots, and had a fairly good view of the path the stage would come on from Farewell Bend.
He should have no problem seeing Collier’s signal for attack when he confronted Katrina after she stepped out into the open.
Judging from the angle of the sun, the stage should be rolling through any moment now. All he had to do was hunker down, keep quiet, and wait.
When fifteen minutes went by and the stage wasn’t even a speck of dust on the horizon yet, he hoped Green, Collier and Jonas would hold their positions and not do anything stupid before the right time. He wasn’t worried about Pa. That man had more patience than an old maid had wrinkles.
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