“Fair enough.”
Reid and the old outlaw stayed to the road that wound southwest, following a faint trail and Kincaid’s gut feeling that Arlen had headed this way. He wasn’t sure anymore.
A biting wind at his back proved the Chinook wind had come and gone, and clouds had shrouded the full moon. But the snow that had started falling right after they left the ranch now covered the tracks with a blanket of white.
Arlen could have veered off the road and be heading east or west. The sonofabitch could be out of the county.
If Arlen had a buyer lined up, those horses could be loaded onto a railcar and out of the state. Worry tied Reid’s gut in knots. There was a good chance he’d never find Arlen or the herd.
Kincaid reined up sharp and tipped his head back. “I smell smoke.”
He sniffed, catching the unmistakable scent of wood-smoke as well. That shouldn’t be, at least not here. Even with the strong wind, smoke wouldn’t carry that far and be that strong.
Nope, this fire was close.
He turned Kaw in a slow circle to get his bearings. They’d reached the northern edge of Rocky Point Ranch.
The road hugged the creek here. To the east, the ground stretched in a flat plain, but to the west it climbed a rocky hill to a shelf of land that was ten acres or more at best.
The remains of an early homestead was there, abandoned because pit vipers claimed it from the spring till frost. But the rattlers hibernated in the winter.
“Up ahead there’s a trail that leads to an abandoned ranch,” he said. “Arlen could be holed up there.”
“How much cover?”
He wasn’t sure. “As I recall, once you climb out of the arroyo, you’re in the open.”
Kincaid swore. “We’d best hope the snowfall shields us then.”
They road in silence to the trail cut by wildlife. Midway down, the ground looked churned from hooves.
“This has to be it,” Reid said, gaining a nod of agreement from Kincaid.
The old rustler reined his mount down the incline first. Kaw balked, not wanting to risk the hill that was made more treacherous by the near frozen mud.
He waited until Kincaid had crossed the creek and started up the other bank before urging Kaw to pick his path. The big gelding blew hard, but started down the slope. His hind legs slid under him once and nearly unseated Reid, but he leaned back as far as he dare and let Kaw get his legs under him again.
The old outlaw had already made it up the opposite bank by the time he reached the creek. The gelding forded it and climbed the bank in a few powerful lunges.
Kincaid stood by a stand of trees, his back and his horse covered with snow. “Up ahead,” he said.
He squinted but saw nothing but a wall of white before him. The only saving grace was if he couldn’t see the cabin, Arlen couldn’t see them. Or so he hoped.
They set off at a walk, the time crawling by until the dark outline of a cabin loomed before them. A soft whicker echoed up ahead, soon joined by another. Had to be his thoroughbreds.
“The weather is getting too dangerous to drive the horses out,” he said.
“Didn’t intend to,” Kincaid said. “Horses will be fine where they are. It’s that no-account inside we need to round up for the marshal.”
“Can’t just barge in.” That’d likely gain them a gut full of lead. “You got an idea how to flush him out?”
“Sure do.”
Kincaid cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a howl that raised the hair on Reid’s nape and set the horses whickering and stamping. Hell, if he hadn’t been watching the old outlaw, he’d swear a lone wolf was near.
“Come on.” Kincaid reined his horse and set off around the far end of the cabin.
When they drew near to what remained of a barn, he let loose another howl. The horses snorted and began milling in the corral.
Kincaid dismounted and tied his horse to an old hitching rail on the far side of the barn. His hat, shoulders and back were now white with snow.
“I’m going to draw him out,” Kincaid said. “Get the jump on him then. We likely won’t get a second try.”
The old outlaw ambled down the narrow finger of land between the corral and the rocky cliff. Reid swung from the saddle and secured his gelding near the outlaw’s mount, then angled back toward the cabin.
Muted light seeped from around the shutters on the window. Arlen was in there. Was he alone?
The plaintive howl of a wolf echoed from the murky darkness, throwing the horses into a nervous frenzy. He whispered his Peacemaker from the holster and eased toward the cabin door.
Tense moments passed before it opened and Arlen stepped out, a shotgun resting against his shoulder. Light poured out the door to pool around him.
“Drop it,” Reid said, thumbing the hammer back on his sidearm.
Arlen didn’t move. “I can pull the trigger and pepper the corral with buckshot long before you get a shot off to kill me.”
It was a galling fact Reid didn’t like acknowledging. Even if Arlen missed hitting the horses, they’d bolt. In this weather that’d likely result in them going down.
But he couldn’t let Arlen get away either. He just hoped Kincaid didn’t take it into his head to shoot Arlen because then they’d never get the truth out of him.
Reid damn sure wanted the whole truth.
“What did you do with the stallion you stole off me?” he asked.
“In a stall in the barn. Feller said I’d make more money off the stallion and the mares.”
“You’ll never see the money,” he said, trying to divert Arlen’s attention so he could get the jump on him.
That’s all he needed. Once he lowered that shotgun, he’d plug him.
Arlen laughed. “Neither will you if I pull this trigger.”
Damn him! “Why shoot the horses that can make you money when it’s me you want dead?”
Just when he thought Arlen would aim that shotgun at him, a muffled sound came from beyond the corral. He hoped it was Kincaid getting the horses tethered together for the ride back to the Crown Seven.
“It was you who blew up the jail and the cook shack,” he said. “Why?”
“Plain to see that with Kincaid busted out of jail, he and his gang would set off another explosion at the ranch so they could make off with the horses.”
Reid had to hand it to him, for most people would believe that, including him. How wrong he’d been about Ezra Kincaid all these years.
“Why’d you kill that woman in Laramie?” he asked, when Arlen stepped back in the doorway.
Again Arlen let out a crazed laugh that stabbed Reid with chills. “She aimed to tell her beau what we’d been doing in the livery. Couldn’t let her do that.”
Disgust boiled in his gut. “You raped her.”
“She asked for it, coming in the livery and insisting I hitch up a buggy for her.” Arlen laughed. “I hitched her up, all right. Tossed her skirts and showed her who was boss. The little bitch fought like a wildcat.”
Men like Arlen didn’t deserve to draw air. “Drop the shotgun,” he said again.
“Go to hell, Barclay.”
“I’d rather send you there.” His finger curled on the trigger, ready to squeeze.
“You gunned her down so she wouldn’t identify you.” Tavish’s voice cracked like a whip just to the side of the cabin. “You lied to the law so they’d go after Kincaid.”
Dammit, where was the old man? Had Tavish spotted him? Or had Kincaid spied the lawman and taken off on foot?
Arlen sneered and steadied the shotgun as if planning to squeeze off a round. “What if I did? You can’t prove a damned thing.”
“I don’t have to. I heard you bragging on how you got away with murder,” Tavish said. “But not this time.”
The crack of a rifle tore through the gloom, followed by a second one. Glass shattered inside the cabin and a flare of bright light arced out the door. Arlen staggered backward into the cabin with
a guttural grunt and let go a shotgun blast at the same time.
The horses whickered, whinnied and charged in the corral, slamming into the rails so hard they groaned and cracked. Damn the man! It wouldn’t take much for the horses to bolt.
He kept his back to the wall and eased to the door, half hoping he’d find a dead man instead of a trap. He heard the roar of flames before he peeked around the doorway.
The shattered remains of a kerosene lamp lay on the floor. So did Arlen. He stared at the ceiling, a black hole smack dab in the middle of his forehead.
Reid debated about rushing in to pull him out, but a timber gave way overhead. In a blink the roof collapsed on the old cabin.
Reid headed for the corral and the restive horses. Halfway there, Kincaid hobbled out of the darkness with Tavish right behind him. He was sure the lawman had a gun to the old man’s back.
“Let him go,” Reid said to Tavish.
“Can’t do that. He’s a wanted man.”
“For rustling horses years back,” he said. “He never killed that woman. You heard Arlen.”
“I heard, but I can’t absolve Kincaid on hearsay. I’d have to bring Arlen before the judge.” Tavish glared at the cabin fully ablaze now. “Too late for that.”
Reid hunched his stiff shoulders and refused to give up yet. This was Ellie’s pa. He’d worked for Reid for a whole damned year without causing one stir. He’d still be working there if he hadn’t gone into Maverick to buy Ellie that doll he’d neglected to get for her when she was a child.
“Let Ezra Kincaid die tonight,” Reid said.
“You sonofabitch,” the old man said. “After what you did to Ellie Jo—”
“I’m sticking my neck out for her,” Reid said as he squared off against Tavish, the loud crackle and sizzle of wet logs in the background. “Who’s to know if Kincaid died in the explosion at the Crown Seven, or in this fire?”
“That’d break my vow to uphold the law.”
“No, that’s righting a wrong,” Reid said. “Kincaid is the man who witnessed a murder. If he hadn’t gone after Arlen tonight, the no-account might have gotten away with murder.”
“Kincaid is still a rustler.”
“Let it go, Tavish. You got the man who killed Lisa True.”
The marshal shoved Kincaid forward and stepped back, his gaze flicking from Reid to Kincaid, his Colt .45 gripped in one hand. “You want Ezra Kincaid dead? Fine. I’ll end his miserable life right now.”
Chapter 24
This had been the most troubled Christmas of her life. One week ago she’d come here for the sole purpose of spending the holiday with her pa, and talking him out of hunting down the real killer.
She’d struggled to put a meal on the table.
She’d made love with Reid and shamelessly enjoyed every kiss, every heated stroke, every breath they shared.
One week ago she’d viewed her time here as a brief visit before she assumed her new teaching job in California. Now her heart just wasn’t into it.
No, her heart belonged to Reid Barclay.
She laid her palm on her chest and smiled, feeling the ring he’d given her press against her bosom. How could he possibly think he couldn’t give her anything when he’d already given her torrid memories that would last her a lifetime?
The back door opened on a gust of icy air that chilled her to the bone. She knew who’d come home before Reid stalked into the kitchen. He looked ready to drop with exhaustion.
His glaze flicked from her to Hubert. “Ezra Kincaid is dead.”
Ellie grabbed the back of the chair and swayed, feeling the stab of grief shoot right through her.
Even Hubert seemed dumbfounded by that cold announcement.
“What happened?” she managed to get out.
“Marshal Tavish shot him, but a fire started in the cabin he was holed up in and he was trapped.” Reid shook his head, his mouth a grim line.
She dropped on the chair this time, sick at heart. Why was he telling her this so coldly?
“The horses, sir?” Hubert asked.
“Moss helped me bring them back,” he said.
Her head snapped up and her gaze shot to his. Had she heard him right? “Moss?”
“Yep. He was there with me and Tavish when Kincaid died.”
She read the truth in his eyes and realized something very wonderful had happened this Christmas. Somehow two men had decided to give her pa redemption.
The outlaw was dead.
Her pa had been reborn.
“Any chance Dade or Trey are here?” Reid asked, his dark eyes bright with hope.
“Unfortunately not, sir,” Hubert said.
Reid ran a hand down his face and swore, but it was the bleak resignation in his midnight-blue eyes that broke her heart. “Reckon we can expect a visit from Erston soon.”
She had nothing to say to that, for Reid would likely lose the ranch now. She just wished this proud, arrogant cowboy would realize that his own worth wasn’t tied to the land.
Reid stood at the window admiring the thoroughbreds prancing in their corral. They’d been Kirby’s dream that had passed on to him, and he’d done well with the breeding program.
He’d had such plans. But a drunken spree in Laramie two years ago changed his life, and not for the better.
It didn’t matter now that Burl Erston had duped Kirby and him. The deal had had been made, and now the consequences had to be met.
He’d failed Kirby, his foster brothers, and himself.
He’d lost the ranch because he’d been so damned sure Dade and Trey would return to stake their claims. He’d believed he could beat Burl Erston at his own devious game.
A lone rider reined up in front of the house, the collar of his greatcoat turned up and a bowler planted squarely on his head. Speak of the devil—
Burl Erston dismounted and tied the horse’s line to the iron hitching post. His swagger said it all.
Reid pushed away from the window and strode to his desk for what might be the last time. He held no hope that Erston had had a change of heart.
Nope, the man was heartless.
He cared about one thing. Money.
The office door swung open and Erston entered. His mockery of a smile proved he’d come to gloat.
“I wanted to be the first to inform you that I sold my shares of the Crown Seven,” Erston said.
It was all Reid could do to hide his surprise. But damn, he sure hadn’t expected that. While he was glad to have Erston out of his hair, he dreaded to learn who’d own controlling interest in the ranch.
“Who bought them?”
“A gentleman I happened to meet in Laramie.” Erston poured himself a generous glass of bourbon. “I was at the depot when Mr. and Mrs. Charlton arrived. Once I realized why they were here, I invited them to share Christmas dinner with me at the boardinghouse. It seems Mrs. Charlton is looking for her long lost son who was taken from her at birth.”
A pang of empathy eddied in him, for he knew the pain of growing up without a mother’s love. “How old is the boy?”
“He’s a grown man now.” Erston let out a laugh that roused a real bad suspicion in Reid. “All she knew was the boy was placed in the Guardian Angel’s Orphan Asylum. Can you believe that she and her husband are attempting to track down those boys who lived there?”
“There were a helluva lot of them,” Reid said. “But I’m guessing you told her about me, Dade and Trey.”
“Actually I didn’t mention your foster brothers,” he said. “It seemed more circumspect to keep the information at a minimum and hint that you may be this long lost son.”
“You lying sonofabitch!” Reid’s mother had died shortly after birthing him, and the midwife had taken him to the Guardian Angel’s Orphan Asylum soon afterward.
“This is business. I was merely doing what I could to gain the price I was asking.” Erston shrugged. “It should be interesting to see what happens when they learn the truth.”
Rei
d grabbed the Englishman by the collar and slammed him up against the door. The man clawed at his hand, his eyes bulging and his face purpling.
“Get the hell off this ranch and don’t ever come back.” He shoved the man into the hall and came after him, fists bunched at his sides.
Erston stumbled backward to the door, cradling his throat and coughing violently. “My only regret,” he said, wheezing deeply, “is that I won’t be on hand to see you finally ruined.”
The slamming of the door closed that troubled chapter on his life. But what did the next segment promise? Did this signal an end to his life here at the Crown as well?
“This is business, and the Charltons assumed they were doing their lost son a favor by buying shares in his failing ranch.” Erston shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps one of your foster brothers is this missing son.”
“You know the chances of that being true are damn slim.”
“Indeed so, but the economy is deplorable and I wish to get what I can out of the ranch and return to England. They offered a price I couldn’t refuse,” Erston said, his smile as stingy as his kindness. “It should be interesting to see what happens when they learn the truth.”
“Don’t give up, Reid,” Ellie said.
He looked in the parlor to find her standing on a chair by the tree with the cornhusk angel in her hands. Sun streamed through the window and painted fiery streaks in her auburn hair, but it was the passion within her that lighted the fire in her eyes.
He strode into the room and stood before her, his hands coming up to cup her bottom. “I’m down to nothing, Ellie.”
“That’s not true,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair so lightly he groaned with need. “You still have your horses. And you have me.”
“But I’ve lost the ranch.”
She shook her head, her smile sad. “Then you’ll find a way to buy another one. This land doesn’t define you. What’s in your heart does.”
Could it be that simple?
He was a heartbeat from grabbing her off the chair and showing her what was in his heart when the clearing of a throat shattered the mood. He gave Ellie a hand getting off the chair, then reluctantly let go of her and turned to find Hubert in the doorway.
A Cowboy Christmas Page 29
