by Lough, Loree
Half an hour later, they rode two by two in somber silence, eyes on the horizon, their minds on the dangerous task ahead of them. A man as arrogant as Frank Michaels—who considered himself above the law and smarter than anyone—would probably have no qualms about lighting a fire. He and his men would alternate as lookouts, of course, but not even the most alert man could watch his front and his back. So, the plan was simple. The gang was outnumbered by five guns. They figured that this fact, combined with the element of surprise, should guarantee a successful raid on the outlaws’ camp.
It was just past midnight when Josh spied an orange glow due north on the horizon. The makeshift posse dismounted to discuss strategy. Luke and Mark reminded the others that they’d served with Hood’s Texas Brigade at Gaines’s Mill, and their bayonet charge had stopped the Federals from taking Richmond. The rest readily went along with their battle plan: Josh would go in on foot and report back on the precise position of each man—and Kate. And then they’d decide how and when to attack.
Josh tossed his Stetson aside and, ducking low, moved stealthily across the grassland, darting left, then right, until the outline of a man crouching over the fire came into view. He crawled on his belly from that point on, taking care to stay low to the ground so that he could watch, unnoticed, from the cover of the gall grass, which whispered in the wind. Clumps like this were favorite hiding places for quail, and he prayed he wouldn’t disturb a nest, for their frightened flapping and squawking would surely signal his presence and pinpoint his location.
Thankfully, the thicket he’d chosen housed no birds. He said a second prayer that it didn’t provide cover for any scorpions.
It appeared Frank and his gang had come well-equipped to enjoy the most rudimentary pleasures of camp life, right down to the iron Y-supports for the rod that held their coffeepot above the fire. When Josh was close enough to smell the biscuits they’d cooked up for supper, he slowly raised his head and scrutinized the scene.
Frank must have assigned Amos to the first watch, for it was his silhouette Josh had seen earlier. That was a bonus for the Nevilles, and not so good for the outlaws, because, of the three, Amos seemed the least clever. But Josh had been a rancher long enough to know that, sometimes, what a man lacked in intelligence, he more than made up for in other ways. Perhaps, in place of brains, Amos could hear better than most of his contemporaries.
Tom lay with his back to the fire, snoring softly. Frank, his face hidden by his hat, lay on his back with his fingers linked behind his head. And Kate sat, her shoulders hunched, wide awake and staring into the fire. As much as he would have liked to let her know help had arrived, Josh couldn’t risk calling attention to himself, because all three men still wore holsters and were within inches of palming their six-shooters.
As he made a slow turn in preparation to retreat and report back to the others, the grit and gravel beneath him crunched—a sound barely audible but enough to alert Amos. The man was on his feet in a whipstitch, his gun in hand, his thumb on the hammer. “What was that?” Josh heard him hiss.
Kate raised her head. Oh, what he’d give to comfort her! He’d no sooner finished thinking that when he saw Frank raise his head and thumb his hat higher on his forehead. “What’s got you caterwaulin’ like a woman?”
“Thought I heard somethin’ over yonder.” And Amos pointed to a spot dangerously close to Josh’s hiding place.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Frank squinted into the darkness.
Josh froze, held his breath, and prayed the moment would pass quickly. Prayed, too, that his uncle John, who’d probably seen the whole thing through his binoculars, hadn’t gone off half-cocked and got the others riled and ready to ride.
A jackrabbit chose that moment to jump from the brush beside him. It skittered along the edge of their camp as Amos took aim and fired a single, earsplitting shot. He missed it, but just barely, and set off a cacophony of coyote howls to the east. Josh glanced over his shoulder and prayed his battle-savvy uncles could keep their cool long enough to control the rest of them.
Tom, half asleep yet on his feet, turned round and round, muttering to himself, looking ready to shoot the next thing that moved. “Put that thing down,” Frank snarled, “before you hurt somebody.”
Then, Frank got on his feet and began to pace around the fire. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, hitting Amos hard with the back of his hand.
The slap echoed across the prairie as Amos touched his lip, then stared down at his bloody fingertips. “Land sakes,” he said. “You had no call to do that, Frank.”
But Frank stood toe-to-toe with the smaller man and jabbed a forefinger into his chest. “No call? No call? If the Rangers aren’t breathing down our throats in ten minutes….” Frank ran both hands through his hair. “I ought to shoot the lot of you and go to Costa Rica alone. I’ll live longer without your constant aggravation.”
And, like a nightmare, it began—the thunder of horses’ hooves, the distinctive snick of gun hammers clicking into place.
In the seconds that had passed since Frank’s idle threat, Josh had remembered Shorty’s advice: “Shoot first and ask questions later.” But what if, in the fracas, Kate was hit by a stray bullet? Why didn’t they wait for my signal?
In the next second, a quick glance was enough to tell Josh that his pa had assumed the lead position. Josh could faintly hear him holler, “Firstborn, first to fall!” as he led the charge.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he muttered, and, in one swift motion, Josh was on his feet. He had six rounds in the chamber, and he aimed to make every one count.
“Kate,” he bellowed, “get down! Behind the horses!”
In the second it took Josh to issue his order, Frank got behind her and, with one hand on her throat, fired a shot over her shoulder. Its blinding, orange glare sliced through the darkness and whistled past Josh’s left ear; an inch down and to the right, and he’d have been a goner, for sure.
Matthew and John drove their horses right into the center of the camp and brought them up short. “Guns on the ground!” John shouted.
“Do it, slow and easy!” Matthew ordered. “Make one wrong move, and we’ll cut you in half, one at a time.”
The rest of the Neville men rode up from the other side, their weapons at the ready, but Frank’s men barely noticed. Tom stared down the barrel of a Henry rifle while Amos gaped at a Ward and Sons over-under shotgun. The outlaws exchanged a worried glance, dropped their Colts, and slowly raised their hands.
Josh took advantage of the flurry to advance on Frank. “It’s over,” he growled. “You’re outgunned and outnumbered.”
Frank’s sly grin never reached his eyes. “Fortunately,” was his calm reply, “I’m not outwitted.” For the second time that day, he pressed the barrel of his pistol into Kate’s temple.
“You’re a coward,” Josh snarled, “to hide behind a woman’s skirts.”
Frank chuckled and put his lips close to Kate’s ear. “He thinks I care about his opinion of me.” He gave her a rough jerk. “Tell him, Kate, that the opinions of others have never mattered to me.”
“The opinions of others have never mattered to him,” she echoed obediently.
The tremor in her voice and the fear in her eyes stirred something in Josh, something primal and baleful, which made him forget he’d been raised by a God-fearing mother, who’d taught him to practice civility and good manners, who’d insisted that he live by the Golden Rule. The only rule Frank Michaels lived by was survival of the fittest. Knowing that, Josh snarled, “Turn her lose.”
“Do I detect an ‘or else’ implied in that sentence?”
By now, his cousins had bound and gagged Tom and Amos, and the remaining Neville men had formed a circle around Josh, Frank, and his prisoner.
Frank searched the men’s faces and nodded with resignation as he counted the weapons aimed at his heart. “Give us two horses and an hour’s head start. I’ll leave her along the trail.”
“Dead, no doubt.” Josh shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t trust me? I’m hurt.” Frank feigned a pout, then gave Kate another forceful tug, as if to remind them that if they fired, she’d die, too. In the ensuing silence, all eight gun barrels raised slightly, this time aiming at an invisible spot between Frank’s eyebrows. He worked his jaw back and forth, making a thin line of his lips. “All right, gentlemen, so you’ve made your point. Now, let me make mine: I have no desire to die on this godforsaken Texas prairie tonight. You have my word that I won’t kill her. Give me one horse and thirty minutes, and—”
“Don’t listen to him,” Kate said. “You have loved ones waiting for you back at the ranch. I couldn’t live with myself if every last one of you didn’t go home to them, safe and sound.”
“One bullet to the brain, and he’ll drop like a rock,” Dan said.
“Maybe,” Frank spat, “but I bought this piece because of its hair trigger. Shoot me, and we’ll both be dead before we hit the ground.”
For the second time in minutes, the sound of horses’ hooves thundered across the prairie, this time mingling with gunshots, which sparked into the dark sky like red and yellow fireworks. The fleeting disruption gave Josh just enough time to dart behind Frank and throw him off balance, and he lost his grip on Kate.
---
Kate ran to the edge of the campfire, where the outlaws had tethered their horses. The animals’ terrified trumpeting made eerie music as their hooves pounded the dust.
Then, a single blast cracked the night, followed by complete, utter silence.
An excruciating moment passed, and everyone seemed to notice at once the slowly spreading bloodstain an inch above the pocket flap of Josh’s shirt.
Josh!
His gun slid from his hand and hit the dirt with a quiet thump. With his arm hanging limp at his side, he crumpled slowly to the ground as the Rangers reached the outskirts of the camp, riding low in their saddles.
For the first time since meeting him, Kate saw fear on Frank’s face. Clearly, he knew he wasn’t just outnumbered, but surrounded, as well. She took full advantage of his distracted state and crawled on her belly toward Josh’s pistol. Frank’s eyes glittered in the firelight as she pulled back on the hammer, prepared to force him to surrender. They narrowed to mere slits as he raised his gun arm and took aim. Shoot or be shot, she told herself. Shoot or be shot!
In less time than it took to blink, Kate realized Frank’s six-shooter wasn’t aimed at her but at Josh. The deafening discharge captured every man’s attention, and, for the second time in less than a minute, the prairie fell silent.
Frank looked down at the growing red stain in the middle of his own shirt. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “Why, I do believe you’ve killed me, darlin’,” he said before toppling like a freshly hewn tree.
42
Dr. Lane wiped his hands on a white towel. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I think I’ve got him patched up. Main worry now is infection, so we need to watch for signs of fever.” He tossed the towel onto the foot of Josh’s bed and focused on Kate. “He’s young and strong. If you can get plenty of liquids into him and keep him from moving around and tearing those stitches, he’ll come round.”
Kate held her breath, waiting for one of Josh’s relatives to take her to task for putting him in this situation. For putting them all in this situation. “I’ll stay with him night and day.”
“Won’t be easy,” Matthew said. “That boy’s as stubborn as—”
“—you?”
The others chuckled at John’s remark.
Eva stepped away from her only son and put her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “It’s a mother’s place to see him through this.”
Kate took a breath, intent on asking her, pleading with her, to let her stay with him. The family had been so good to her, and, besides, Josh had saved her life—more than once. It was the least she could do. But the sob in her throat stalled her speech long enough for Eva to deliver one of her own.
“You’ve already done so much for us, dear girl, caring for Esther the way you did.” She tucked several wisps of Kate’s hair behind her ears. “We know you never intended to stay this long.” Tears filled her eyes when she pressed her fingertips to Kate’s cheeks. “It’s a mother’s place to be with her son at a time like this, but.…”
Kate’s heart ached, and her gaze shifted to Josh. But I love him, she wanted to shout, so it is my place to see him through this! But she was stopped by the ugly fact that she was the reason he lay still and pale, fighting for his life.
“But I can’t be in two places at once,” Eva spoke again. “Susan needs me, too.”
“Susan?” Matthew said. “Has something happened to the baby?”
Eva tucked her lips inward in an effort to stanch her tears, and the men murmured and muttered. Clasping both hands under her chin, she said, “We could tell this would be a difficult pregnancy. That’s why we didn’t want to make an announcement, in case….” She shook her head. “So much blood,” she whispered. “I’m afraid that….”
As Dr. Lane filled the momentary gap with a brief explanation about the complications with Susan’s miscarriage, Kate drew Eva close and held her tight. How horrible for the woman to have two of her three children so close to death at the same time! “Don’t you worry,” she said when the doctor finished. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Kate,” Matthew said. “You’ve been a blessing to this family.” With that, he led his wife from the room, murmuring comforting words, as Dan stepped up to Kate’s side. “If you’re serious about staying with Josh,” he said softly, “you really ought to clean yourself up.”
It had been Dan and Kate who’d stayed behind while half of the Neville men had gone to fetch the doctor and the other half, including Matthew, had gone for the wagon. And it had been Dan and Kate who’d tried to hold the compress in place during the rough and seemingly endless ride back to the Lazy N. She looked from her own bloody clothes to Dan’s, then fixed her gaze on Josh. “I know I should, but—but I can’t leave him.”
Dan slid a brotherly arm across her shoulders and led her into the hallway, where the doctor stood, shrugging into his coat. “You don’t want that stale, old blood to contaminate him, now, do you?” Dr. Lane asked her.
“Of course not.”
“Then, clean yourself up. Dan will stay with Josh until you get back.” He picked up his medical bag and started down the steps. When he reached the bottom, he looked up. “Get lots of liquids into him, and keep him cool. I’ve left a bottle on his bedside table. If it seems he’s in pain, give him a spoonful every few hours.” And then, he was at the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check his dressing and to look in on Susan.”
Kate gripped the banister so tightly that her fingers ached. She wanted to call after him, plead with him to stay. Lucinda appeared at the bottom of the landing and came up to her. “The poor man needs to rest now,” she said gently. “He been here since George got him to take care of Susan. Thank the Lord he had not left when Josh come back hurt.”
From where she stood at the top of the stairs, Kate could see him, lying still and pale, in his room. She could hear Willie down the hall, asking why his mommy was crying, as Sam quietly assured his son that in no time, God would make things right.
One by one, the Neville men filed from Josh’s room. Luke said, “Thank you,” Mark offered a word of encouragement, and both sentiments were echoed by the others as they walked past her. Only Dan remained, and when the rest had left the house, he echoed the doctor’s words, adding, “If you’ll fix me something to eat after you’ve cleaned yourself up, I promise to sit with him.”
Not trusting herself to speak without breaking into tears, Kate smiled and touched his forearm, then hurried down the hall to wash up and slip into one of Sarah’s dresses, hanging in her wardrobe. “Wait,” she said, whirling around to face Dan
again. “Where’s Sarah?”
“Took the morning train to Amarillo to visit with Mee-Maw’s sister, remember?”
No, she didn’t remember. In fact, this was the first she’d heard of Sarah’s trip. Still, Kate expelled a sigh of relief. The family must have made those plans while you were busy feeling sorry for yourself, making plans to confess your sins to Josh and then run off to Mexico like the spoiled, self-centered brat you are. What a horrible human being she’d become! How ironic that these good, Christian people considered her a hero and a helpmate all rolled into one. So much for faith in their all-knowing, all-powerful God! Where had He been as one tragedy after another fell upon their devout shoulders? And why hadn’t He lifted the veils from their eyes so they could see her for what she was?
She was angry at God on the Nevilles’ behalf. They worked hard, from the oldest to the youngest of them, to live lives of faith. Worked hard turning what had been barren wasteland into a place where even the livestock flourished. And how had He repaid them for their devotion? With death and loss and heartache. She couldn’t worship a God like that. Wouldn’t worship a God like that.
Instead, she’d dedicate herself to the family that had welcomed a stranger as if she were one of their own. She’d tend to Josh until he was on his feet, hale and hardy, and keep right on doing it for as long as they’d let her—or until the Rangers came to collect her for the sins of her past.
43
Kate wasn’t in the mood for tea, but she brewed some, just in case Dan needed something to wash down the thick slabs of cold roast beef, left over from supper, which she’d arranged on his plate. With the additions of a small sliced apple and one heaping spoonful of Lucinda’s rice pudding, the meal was ready to carry upstairs.
Leaning stiff-armed against the sideboard, Kate planted a palm on either side of the tray and hung her head as hot tears filled her eyes. Don’t give in to them, she urged herself. Be strong, for Josh’s sake!
“Kate?”
The quiet baritone startled her so much that she nearly upset the mug of hot tea. “Daniel!” she said, putting one hand over her pounding heart. “Who’s with Josh?”
