High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart)

by Lynnette Bonner

  At that instant the window next to him shattered. The first bullet hit the wall beside his head with a strange thwap.

  He turned and looked at the hole. For one moment his heart stopped, and then he was somersaulting across the tiles toward the entry, away from the windows.

  A second bullet splintered the logs just behind him and above his head.

  He grabbed his rifle resting in the corner and pushed his back to the log wall beside the door. He pressed his head against the swell of a log, and clutched the rifle, chest heaving, mouth dry.

  So it had come to this. He had failed, and now his payment for failure loomed on the horizon.

  “I know you’re in there, William!”

  It was Roland. William cursed the fact that all his hands were branding in the south pasture today. Even Hank, his cook, had gone since it was a sun-up to sun-down process.

  So he was here alone. Trying to think his way back to life.

  The scent of smoke spiked his heart rate. “No, no, no, no. Come on! Think!” He drummed his fingers on the barrel of the rifle. Tom and probably an accomplice or two would be waiting for him if he tried to go out the door or one of the windows. Burn to death in the house? Or get shot trying to escape the flames?

  “I’m not gonna shoot ya! Come on out.” Roland called. “Just take this as a warning, so to speak. You got work to do!”

  William ground his teeth. He wasn’t an idiot.

  Tom was silent for a few moments, then, “You ever wonder what that little girl felt just before she left this earth? You don’t have to find out. Just come on out. I want to talk to you.”

  William cursed under his breath. Where was his voice coming from? The crackle and hiss of hungry flames obscured the direction of the voice. Smoke stabbed his nostrils. His eyes started to smart and water. He glanced to his left and crawled toward the window, rifle clutched in one hand. There was a steep, shale hill on the east side of the house, making it the least likely place for Roland to be waiting.

  Smoke curled down the walls, slithering toward him in a death march. He stripped off his shirt and tied it around his mouth and nose, then eased up under the window, still clutching his Winchester. He pushed up against the wall and peered out the window. Tears streamed from his eyes, making it hard to see, but it didn’t appear that anyone was stationed on this side of the house. He lifted his head higher. Smoke filtered across the yard in thick clouds. Someone could be hidden by it, but he would just have to take his chances. If he couldn’t see them, they would have a hard time seeing him, too.

  Behind him he heard a window burst. Several more windows shattered in succession. The heat must be causing that. Pure providence.

  “Here goes,” he muttered. Clutching the rifle by the barrel, he shoved the butt through the window. He could only hope the sound of this window breaking would be mistaken for the same. Quickly, he reamed out the glass and dropped his rifle onto the ground. In one swift leap he was out the window and sliding down the steep hill, cursing the shale and juniper prickles that immediately sought out any bare inch of his flesh.

  He slid several feet, scrabbling for purchase to no avail. Finally, to stop his descent, he plastered himself flat against the hill, spreading his weight as much as possible and grabbing for anything that rose by, gritting his teeth against the rocks grinding into his bare chest. Dust rose in a cloud around him and caked the inside of his mouth. At last, he came to a stop clutching a hand-full of bunch-grass.

  Hands, knees, and chest sliced and bleeding, he pressed his cheek to the dirt gasping. He took in a lungful of dust. Racking coughs threatened to start his slide again and he curled onto his side, digging in one foot and not daring to let go of the clump of grass. He’d lost his shirt somewhere above. But he was alive.

  For now.

  He was remarkably cold, for just having escaped a fire. A shiver coursed through him as wind gusted across the landscape. He could still see a patch of snow here and there clinging to the shady side of a juniper bush. He looked for his flannel shirt, spied it up and to his right, and belly-crawled toward it. Warmth would help him think. He wasn’t out of danger yet. Unless Roland assumed he hadn’t escaped the fire and had left already, which wasn’t likely.

  Shirt in place and clutching a juniper bush, he rolled so that he could look up the hill. Smoke billowed in great gusts above his head. Bright orange sparks and ash floated down through the air. He groaned. His place was gone!

  Jaw clenched, his free hand fisted around a handful of dirt and he growled under his breath. Roland will pay for this.

  Determined, he started the climb, one clump of bunch-grass at a time. Handhold after handhold, his anger growing with every inch he moved.

  He came on his rifle several feet above and slung it across his back as he continued up the hill skirting wide to the right. If Tom was still up there, he intended to catch him by surprise.

  He heard the muttered curses and the sound of pacing before he crested the ledge and was thankful for Roland’s incautious stupidity.

  Keeping below the crest of the hill, he moved a ways off, scrambled into the yard, and ducked behind the watering trough next to the barn. Carefully he scanned the surrounding hills and plains. Smoke drifted in a lazy haze across the scrub brush, but he didn’t see anyone else with Tom.

  His house was a heap of burnt logs and ashes. Tom was treading the perimeter, one hand held to his eyes warding off smoke as he peered into the charred rubble and muttered to himself. Apparently looking for my body.

  William cocked his rifle, the sound loud in the stillness.

  Roland froze, his back still to William, then lifted his hands to shoulder height.

  William grinned. “Lookin’ for something? Or, should I say, someone?”

  Tom didn’t move. “I told you I wasn’t gonna shoot ya. Think of this as a little lesson learned, that’s all.”

  “If you think I’m fool enough to believe that, you don’t know me too well. I heard you used to be a gunfighter before you became a banker.” Tom nodded, hands still raised.

  “So what happened? I saw the article in the paper.”

  Tom sighed. “The Association was not happy with the job we did. They sent a man to kill me.” He sniffed. “They weren’t happy with the job he did either.”

  “So, what now? We just part like old friends?”

  Tom shook his head. “I want you to help me go after them. We can—” He started to spin around, his hands dropping.

  William pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening in the afternoon stillness.

  Tom blinked, took a step forward, and looked down at the hole in his side as blood spilled onto the ground. Then he collapsed.

  William ground his teeth. If The Association had sent someone after Roland, he would probably be next. He was finished here. He would have to move onto some other part of the country. His eyes narrowed. All because of a stupid woman and a nice piece of land!

  20

  Jason’s heart nearly stopped as the torch bounced past Nicki and flipped flame over handle into the maw of the canyon.

  Nicki whimpered and pressed her body hard against the floor, but to no avail. She was slipping away from him.

  He grabbed for her but caught nothing except a thick strand of her hair. He seized it like a lifeline and her slide slowed to a stop. Thankfulness coursed through him. They were in total darkness now, but she had slipped far enough that he knew her knees had to be jutting over the lip of the canyon.

  With grim determination, he wrapped the strand of hair around his hand and pulled hard. Nicki cried out, but he kept tugging until he felt her move toward him. Feeling around on the ground he found more of her hair and grasped another handful. He heaved her toward him again and only stopped when he surmised he’d pulled her several inches closer to him.

  Pausing, he let her catch her breath. When he spoke, he deliberately kept his voice soft. “I need you to try and scoot your way up toward me a little.”

  “I can mov
e now?” The words were no more than a whisper.

  “Yes, I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let you slide further down.”

  “What if the men let go of the rope?”

  “The rope is tied to a tree outside the mouth of the cave. Everything is going to be fine.” Lord, let it be so.

  She lay still for a moment, as though judging whether she could trust him or not. Then she asked, “Is William out there?”

  The fear he heard in the question pierced his heart. “No, honey. William is not up there. Just Sheriff Watts, Rocky, Cade, and the ranch hands.”

  “Okay.” With that she lifted her head and pushed off with her knees.

  The shale tumbled over beneath her, cascading away behind her into the canyon and crashing into the torrent below. But with him pulling on her hair, she actually moved a few inches closer.

  He wrapped her hair in both hands. “Again.”

  She tried again, with a muffled cry of pain as her jostling legs yanked against her arm.

  “Almost there, Honey. Try one more time. On three. Ready? One. Two. Three!”

  She pushed one last time and he pulled hard, and then she was close enough for him to grasp her good arm and he tugged her even higher. “Thank you, God!” He placed a quick kiss against her hair. And then he hauled and scuffled and scraped until they were high enough that he could loosen his foot and turn his body around.

  Reaching into the boot he still wore he removed a knife and sliced through the rawhide strip that tied her hands and feet together. He heard her feet, numb from being in the same spot so long, thud to the ground and she groaned. Quickly he sliced the bonds at her wrist and her arms flopped to her sides in the same manner. She screamed.

  His heart lurched and he grimaced. I’m an idiot. “Sorry, Nick. We’ll get that arm popped back in as soon as we get you into the light. We’re almost done.” A quick slice freed her feet from their bonds and then he rolled her gently over her left shoulder onto his chest and clasped her to him with one arm. His other arm he wrapped several times around the rope and grasped it firmly. “Ready!” he yelled. The rope tightened and they started to slide upwards.

  Only when they were steadily sliding upwards did he realize that he’d left his boot at the base of the cave.

  It didn’t matter. He had all that mattered clutched to his chest.

  He tightened his grip on her in the darkness and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I thought I’d lost you. I’m so glad we found you.” He kissed her again and couldn’t suppress a shudder at the memory of the gaping maw of black that had almost swallowed her whole.

  She sighed. “I thought I was going to die.”

  When the men pulled them out into the light, Jason carefully laid Nicki on her good side and gave her a drink. He stood and gaped down at her, hardly able to believe his eyes. She lay there, eyes closed, head resting on her good arm, hair tangled around her face. Her other arm lay cocked at an odd angle, the shoulder bulging grotesquely. Her dress was torn to shreds, and her face had numerous cuts and contusions. Her wrists and ankles were ringed with bloody circles.

  Jason scrubbed his jaw and suppressed a growl as he gimped away. He felt like a half-shod horse with one boot on and the other somewhere in the darkness below.

  Cade took one look at his feet, grabbed a second torch and the rope, and disappeared into the mouth of the cavern.

  Rocky stepped up beside Jason. “We need to set that arm, Jace.”

  Jason clutched his head and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I know. Just give her a minute.” he glanced around. “Where are Sheriff Watts and the others?”

  Rocky stilled and looked at him. “He recognized the hoofprints. Said they were Harpster’s. He went after him. I sent the others back to your ranch when you called out that you had found her.”

  Hatred pulsed in blinding waves across Jason’s vision. If it wasn’t for the woman lying on the ground who needed him, he would be galloping across the hills toward William’s place with gun drawn and only one thing on his mind.

  Nicki stirred and moaned.

  Jason pulled off his belt and folded it in half. “Let’s do this. I’ll hold her. You deal with the arm.” He squatted beside her. “Nicki, we need to fix your arm.”

  She tipped her chin in acknowledgment.

  “Here, I need you to bite down on this.” He slid the double thickness of leather between her teeth. Then he sat down and eased her onto his lap with her good shoulder pressed into his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

  Wrapping one of his legs over top both of hers, he slid his hands carefully under the dislocated arm and pinned her tightly to him, then nodded at Rocky.

  With grim determination lining his face, Rocky placed both strong hands on Nicki’s upper arm and rotated the joint upward, so that her arm pointed at the sky.

  Nicki cried out and her whole body convulsed, but both men held onto her tightly, wanting this to work right the first time.

  Jason laid his face against hers and pressed her head into his shoulder, tightening his grip even as tears pressed at the backs of his eyes.

  Rocky placed his palm on the ball of bone that protruded at the front of her shoulder and pushed hard, pulling firmly on the arm with the other hand.

  Nicki moaned through the leather clenched between her teeth and pressed her face hard against Jason’s neck.

  Sweat beaded on Rocky’s forehead. He pulled and pushed on the protruding bone again.

  A satisfying snap and the joint was restored.

  Jason released the breath he’d been holding.

  Nicki slumped against him. He smoothed her hair away from her face in relief. “There. It’s done, now. It’s done.” He rocked her gently like she was a little girl.

  Rocky stepped back, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then sank down onto the ground as he let it out.

  Cade reappeared at that moment carrying Jason’s other boot and glanced back and forth between the two of them sitting on the ground. “Well, if you two don’t make a sorry pair.” He grinned and tossed Jason’s boot in a long arc so that it landed beside him. “Come on, we’ve got a bad guy to catch!”

  Jason met Rocky’s eyes over the top of Nicki’s head as he placed a kiss against her temple. They blinked at each other and then Rocky smiled and both of them chuckled. Jason stood, helping Nicki to her feet. She swayed and he took a moment to steady her. Bending down he peered into her face. “Ready?”

  She nodded but her face could have rivaled flour for color.

  “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  She looked up at him, pressing his belt into his hands. “It was William.” He nodded and slid his belt on. Then as he stripped off his bandana and gestured for Rocky to do the same, he said, “Sheriff Watts already went after him. We’ll get him.” He fashioned a sling as he talked and gently rested her arm on it, then tied it around her neck. He was careful to keep the rage from his face and voice, but it pulsed through him nonetheless.

  He looked over at Cade and Rocky, both of whom were already mounted.

  “Go on ahead. I’ll get her home and then meet you over there.”

  They nodded and rode off as Jason stooped to pull on his boot and then turned and helped Nicki into the saddle.

  He wouldn’t be far behind them.

  Sheriff Watts rode southeast, his horse running hard. Despite the clear skies and sunshine, the day was cold and his horse’s breath fogged the air with cloudy puffs.

  Watts sighed. So it had been William who was helping Roland.

  He grimaced. He had carefully pieced together a timeline of Tom Roland’s last few months and had come to the conclusion that he’d had an accomplice in the area. Maybe more than one. May Jeffries had been murdered at a time when Roland definitely was in Portland, so someone else had to have set that fire.

  William had said he knew Tom Roland; that he owed him some money. But when Watts had reviewed the loans held by Roland’s bank, there had been no note on W
illiam’s place. Still, he’d been reluctant to believe that William could be such a man.

  Watts shook his head. Perhaps if he’d followed reason instead of his heart, Nicki Trent wouldn’t have had to go through what she did this morning.

  Well, he was headed to the Bar H Slanted now, and William wouldn’t be going anywhere this time.

  He pulled up as he crested the rise before him and saw a huge column of black smoke stretching for the sky.

  With a muttered oath, he set his heels into his horse’s side once more and set off at a gallop. That fire was no burn pile.

  A shot rang out when he was still a three hundred yards off. When he skidded to a halt in the yard of William’s ranch a few moments later, a man was lying on the ground. He snatched his canteen from where it hung on the saddle and rushed to the man’s side. “Roland! What in thunderation happened?”

  He surveyed his injuries and with a sinking heart realized he would be witness to the man’s last breath. “Here.” He pressed the canteen to the man’s lips, but Tom pushed him away weakly.

  “Listen!” The word was barely audible, a strangled whisper.

  Watts bent closer. “I’m here, Roland. Whatever ya need to say, just say it.”

  “B-b-bank.” Moisture bubbled at the back of his throat, and Roland swallowed convulsively.

  “Yer a banker. Yeah, I know ’bout that.”

  Tom grasped his sleeve, clutching at him as he labored to take in a breath. “Stockman’s Association didn’t want s-small timers to ruin our rangeland.”

  “So you were tryin’ ta scare ’em all off and make sure the land turned o’er to yer bank when they left or forfeited.”

  Roland nodded. “W-W-William.” He gestured weakly at the still smoldering house.

  “He the one’s been working with ya an’ causin’ trouble fer the homesteaders?”

  Another nod. This time he closed his eyes and seemed to relax a little.

  “Did he set fire ta the Jeffries place?”

  A short nod.

  “Was he in his house?” Watts eyed the ruins of the smoldering building with a shudder.