The Devil's Own Desperado

by Lynda J. Cox

  Billy’s leer widened. “Let’s see what’s hidden under all this calico.”

  Sick with terror, Amelia choked when the cold steel of Billy’s massive knife brushed against her skin and the bodice of her dress fell open.

  The sharp click of metal on metal froze the knife blade in midair. More frigid than a glacier, Colt’s deep voice said, “Drop the knife, Billy, and step away from her.”

  Relief made Amelia’s head swim. Billy lurched upright, and dragged Amelia to her feet. In a movement so fast it barely registered with her, he pulled her in front of him and pressed the Bowie knife to her throat. “Drop the rifle, Evans, and I’ll let her go.”

  “Not a chance, Billy-boy.” Colt shifted his gaze to her, and then returned to Billy. “Let her go or I’ll blow your brains out where you’re standing.”

  His expression could have shattered steel, and in that moment, Amelia knew what every man who challenged Colt had seen over the barrel of his revolver. Icy gray eyes set in a frigid, slightly mocking expression promised a swift death.

  “Let her go, Billy.”

  “I ain’t stupid.” Billy’s voice broke. “I know as soon as I let her go, you’re going to kill me.”

  The ice in Colt’s eyes deepened. “I’m going to kill you. That’s for damn sure. You can either let her go now, or you’ll let her go when I take your head off with this rifle. Let her go and do one decent thing in your life before you die.”

  “You could hit her, Evans.”

  Amelia bit back a cry when Billy’s knife dug into her neck. A drop of blood rolled in a heated path down the side of her throat.

  “You really want to take the chance you’ll hit her, or that I’ll slit her throat before you can pull that trigger? You want to take that chance?”

  “I squeeze the trigger and you’re a dead man, Billy. Think you can really slide that blade faster than a bullet can travel fifteen feet?” Colt’s voice hardened. “Where’s Johnny? You never go anywhere without him. He’s half your brains. The two of you can’t operate without the other.”

  Amelia opened her mouth to warn him, but another harsh click of metal silenced her.

  “I’m right behind you, Evans,” Johnny announced. “Now, you do just what Billy there said and you drop that rifle.”

  Colt’s eyes narrowed and a muscle ticked in the length of his clenched jaw.

  “Drop it,” Johnny barked.

  Colt lowered the rifle from his shoulder, but didn’t release it.

  “Drop it, Evans, and kick it away from you, or I’m going to gut-shoot you through the back and then, while you’re laying there dying, you can watch us with the woman.”

  “That’s provided I don’t shoot and kill you two half-brains before I go down.” Colt slid his gaze for another moment from Billy’s face to Amelia. His chest rose with the deep breath he eased in.

  Billy dragged the knife further along Amelia’s neck, forcing a frightened yelp from her. “Put the rifle down and kick it away, or I will slit her throat.”

  Colt released the pent-up breath. “All right, Billy.” He lowered his hand to his side, the muzzle of the rifle pointing to the ground. “Let her go, and you and Johnny can fill me so full of holes I’ll look like a sieve.”

  “No, Colt,” Amelia said.

  His gaze returned to her face and he slowly leaned to the side, lowering the rifle.

  Billy shoved Amelia away and reached for his revolver.

  Amelia fell to her knees, screaming Colt’s name. He whirled to Johnny, dropping to one knee. The rifle barked and Johnny collapsed to his knees, a bullet hole over his heart. Even as that shot echoed, Colt dropped to the floor, rolled to the side and levered the rife.

  Billy was drawing his revolver when Colt’s shot hit him in the shoulder. The round spun Billy around, but he clung to the revolver. Colt levered the spent bullet and chambered another one.

  Billy dropped to his knees. Colt scrambled to his feet, and aimed the rifle at Billy’s head.

  “Drop the revolver, Matthews, or I’ll blow your head clean off your shoulders.”

  “Shoot, you bastard. I’m dead as it is.”

  Amelia struggled to her feet, hindered with her hands bound behind her back.

  “That shot wasn’t fatal.” Colt’s voice crackled. Amelia had never heard anything so cold. “You’ll live, if you drop that damned gun now. Drop it.”

  Billy’s fingers uncurled and the revolver dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

  “Push it far away from you.”

  Billy shoved the revolver away. Colt crossed the barn floor, and kicked the revolver into an open stall. He pressed the muzzle of the rifle into the back of Billy’s head. “Now the knife. Drop that too.”

  Billy dropped the knife. A small puff of dust rose as it hit the dirt. Keeping the rifle in the base of Billy’s skull, Colt bent and picked up the knife.

  He jerked his head at Amelia. “Come here, Amy.”

  Lightheaded with relief, Amelia flew across the barn to him.

  “Turn around, honey, and I’ll cut you loose.”

  Once the ropes fell from her wrists, Amelia wanted to fling herself into his arms. But she couldn’t, not so long as he held the rifle to Billy’s skull. Colt smiled briefly at her. “Go get a length of rope.”

  A sick dread sank her stomach into her shoes. “You’re not going to hang him, are you?”

  Colt chuckled, and some of the chill melted from his eyes. “You hear that, Billy-boy? You abused her, threatened to kill her, tried to kill me, and she’s afraid I’m going to hang you.” Colt shook his head, smiling at her again. “No, Amy, we’re going to tie him up and wait for Marshal Taylor. We’ll let the Territory of Wyoming hang his worthless hide if they want to.”

  Amelia found a piece of rope and brought it to Colt.

  “No, you tie him up, and tie him up tight. I’m not going to take the chance he’ll try something if I pull this rifle away from his head.” Colt grinned at her. “Pretend you’re mad at me while you’re pulling those knots. That should make sure they’re good and tight.”

  Once Amelia had tied Billy’s hands behind his back, Colt pulled the man to his feet, ignoring Billy’s groan of pain. He pushed him into a stall and slammed the door, latching it. He lowered the rifle and slipped his finger away from the trigger. The shakes were starting, but not because he’d killed Johnny. This time, he knew it was because Amelia had been hurt and almost killed. Ruthlessly, he quelled his shaking hands. Not yet, he told himself. A few more minutes and then he could start shaking.

  Blood had dried at the corner of Amelia’s mouth and a bruise in the rough form of Billy’s handprint was forming along her cheekbone. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but he saw her iron will crumbling. He pulled her into his arms. The last of her bravery crumbled and she collapsed against him, sobbing. Colt smoothed her hair, murmuring, “It’s okay. You’re safe, now.”

  She pushed away from him. The fear and agony in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life, Colt was certain of that. She shook her head. “You were right. We’re only safe until the next man comes here looking to settle an old score with you.”

  She spun around and raced to the house.

  Billy leaned over the stall door. He watched Amy disappear into the house and laughed from his makeshift prison. “Evans, that woman’s smarter than she looks. As long as you’re here, she ain’t ever going to be safe. No matter where you go, someone is going to be looking for you. You’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next one who wants to even the score.”

  Colt raised the rifle. “I could get rid of one right now if you don’t shut up.”

  Billy only laughed louder. “Colt Evans, it don’t matter how long you hang onto a plow or a rope, you are always gonna be a shootist, and there is always gonna be someone who wants to prove they’re faster than you.”

  “Shut up.”

  Colt shut the barn door and san
k onto a sawhorse, the rifle held across his hips. Billy asked, “You going to leave Johnny there, staring up at the sky? Least you could do is find a blanket and cover him up.”

  “If you and Johnny had killed me, would you have done that? Or would you have raped Amelia by my body and then killed her and left the both of us? I should haul him out for the buzzards and the coyotes.” Colt spared the body a glance. “Soon as the marshal gets here, we’ll get him taken care of. He isn’t going anywhere, Billy.”

  “You’re a cold bastard, Evans.”

  “You knew that when you came out here. You also figured with two of you, you’d get the better of me.” Colt tried to ignore the way his insides were shaking like an aspen in a winter gale.

  A horse thundered into the yard and Colt rose. He pulled the door open a few inches and peered out. Taylor’s horse stood at the rail next to the house and Amelia was pointing to the barn.

  “Marshal’s here, Billy-boy.” He shoved the door open as Taylor turned from the house and walked to the barn.

  Colt raised a brow. Taylor was livid, if the expression on his face and his long strides were any indication.

  The marshal stormed into the barn. He leveled a glare at Colt, and then shifted his gaze to Billy, leaning over the stall door. “Outside,” the marshal hissed at Colt.

  Colt followed the man out of the barn. Taylor grabbed him by the shirtfront and slammed him into the barn wall. “I told you if you did anything to put Amy or those kids in harm’s way, you’d answer to me. You’ve got one hour to get saddled up and get the hell out of my county. If you don’t, I’ll find some excuse to arrest you and another one to keep you locked up for a long time down in Laramie.”

  Colt shoved the marshal back. “Why don’t you just trump up a murder charge and hang me in the town square?”

  “Don’t try me on that, Evans.” Taylor jerked his head in the direction of the house. “The only thing stopping me is Amy. I mean it, one hour.”

  “I told you before, the only one who can tell me to pull my freight is Amy. Not you or anyone else.” Colt straightened, only to have Taylor shove him against the coarse lumber of the barn again. A dull pain flared through him when his shoulder hit the wood.

  Taylor leaned closer. “What happens the next time your past comes prowling through my town looking for you? Amy was lucky…this time. You got here in enough time to stop her from getting hurt too much. As long as you’re here, Amy, Saul, and Jenny are going to be in harm’s way.”

  Resignation twisted around Colt’s heart. “You think I don’t know that? Marshal, you really think I would have stayed as long as I did if I thought she could get hurt?” He sagged against the wall. “You think I’d willingly put her in the line of fire?”

  “No, I don’t,” Taylor said. “I think you’re a better man than that.” The marshal released Colt and stepped away from him. “I told you before that if you have any feelings at all for her, you should leave before it hurts her too much. I’m telling you again, move along, Evans. Care enough to leave her.”

  Colt looked past Taylor to the small cabin. The pain he felt at the moment, a pain that started deep in his soul and lanced outward with knife-edged slashes, should kill a man. “Where are Saul and Jenny?”

  “I sent Saul and Jenny to the Lazy L. I had no idea what I’d find here.” Taylor glowered at Colt. “Last thing either of them would need to see is their sister injured, or worse, dead.”

  Colt dropped his gaze to the Winchester in his hand. “That’ll make it easier, then. It’ll just be Amy here.”

  “You’re leaving, then?”

  Colt snapped his gaze up to Taylor’s face. There was something in the man’s voice that puzzled him. It almost sounded like disappointment. Colt shrugged. “What choice do I have? I don’t want to take the chance she’ll get hurt again, and I sure as hell don’t want to spend my time in a cell in Laramie.” He forced a light tone to his voice. “I like this territory of yours, Marshal, but not enough to spend a lot of time locked up in a prison.”

  “I’ll send Bob Young out with his wagon for the dead man.” Taylor stepped past Colt. “Can the other one ride?”

  “Yeah. I just grazed him but he’s squealing like a stuck pig. His horse is tied outside the back of the barn. I saw his horse and his brother’s when I snuck in here after Jenny found me.”

  Colt stared at the cabin. His dreams of a small house nestled in a mountain valley, a couple of kids, a few head of cattle, and a life with Amy faded into the failing light as the sun slipped behind the sugary-white slopes of the Medicine Bow.

  Taylor came out of the barn, dragging Billy. He stopped. “Either your shooting was off, Evans, or you really didn’t want to kill him.”

  Colt shrugged again. “No need to kill both of them. Enough died today.”

  Taylor lifted his brow and tilted his head in a silent query, but Colt didn’t explain. Instead he walked to the cabin, aching and battered to his soul.

  ****

  Amelia tried to scrub the feel of Billy’s coarse hands and his vile mouth from her. She felt filthy to her soul. A single lantern dispelled the darkness. Colt had been sitting out on the small porch, silent, looking off into the Medicine Bow since the moment Marshal Taylor had led Billy Matthews away.

  “Amy.”

  Startled, Amelia glanced over her shoulder, instinctively crossing her arms over her breasts. Colt’s expression tightened and something pained flared to life in his dark eyes.

  “I’m leaving tonight, before Taylor brings Saul and Jenny back.”

  Her throat clenched around the sudden lump burning there. She pulled on her robe, crossed to the kitchen table, and sank into a chair.

  “Everyone except for you and me is right,” he continued, his voice flat. “As long as I’m here, you’re not going to be safe.” He pulled a hand back through his hair, disheveling it. “I kept hoping that everyone, including me, was wrong, that my past wouldn’t show up. But I made a mistake, and it’s the kind of mistake that a shootist can’t afford. The kind that usually ends up costing people their lives.”

  It was then she noticed the revolver on his thigh and that his sling was gone.

  “If I saddle up and leave now, it’ll be several hours before Saul and Jenny get back here, and I’ll be long gone from your lives.” Colt dropped a small leather pouch onto the table. Amelia cringed. “It’s not much, but it should help you and the kids through the winter, and repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

  “What happens if someone comes along and doesn’t believe that you aren’t here? What happens then?”

  His eyes darkened for just a second, and then that cold mask she had learned to despise fell into place. Ice skimmed the gray of his eyes. “They’ll find out in town I’ve left. They’ll all start looking for me in Federal, and the way the gossips in town work, everyone is going to know in a day or two I’ve left.”

  He started for the door, paused, and turned to her again. “You are the only decent and good thing to have come into my life in a long time and I guess that’s why I stayed as long as I did, but I never should have. I should have left two days ago. I’ve been accused of a lot of things in my life, most of them the truth. I guess now they can add coward to those accusations because I’m too much of a coward to stay here and risk you or those kids getting hurt because of me.”

  He turned toward the door again and Amelia knew she had a decision to make. Face life without him, or make peace with his past, knowing that it would forever be a specter haunting them. Her parents had confronted a similar decision, and for eleven of her nineteen years, Phillip McCollister and his wife had lived with that specter as the Reverend and Mrs. McCollister.

  Amelia came to her feet. “Colt.”

  He stopped, shoulders slumping, but didn’t turn around. His hand stayed on the latch, but he didn’t open the door.

  Amelia struggled to form the words her heart wanted to say, to beg him to stay, to tell him that somehow they could make things work,
that if they had to they could leave, go far away where no one would know who he was. But she couldn’t make any of those words move past the huge lump in her throat. She had thought she could be strong and brave if his past ever arrived to settle any scores with him. She had been so wrong. She hadn’t been brave. Or strong. She had just been terrified. After a long moment, Colt opened the door.

  If he walked out, Amelia knew he wouldn’t be back. She quickly crossed the room, and stepped between him and the open door, struggling to find any words.

  His shoulders sagged as a sigh escaped him. “You can’t even say it, can you?” His smile was forced and he caught her chin in his palm, splaying his fingers over her cheek. He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. “I’m going to do the only truly decent and selfless thing I’ve ever done in this life, because as sure as Saul wasn’t raised by your parents to be a shootist, you sure as hell weren’t meant to be a shootist’s whore. So I’m going to walk out that door and out of your life.”

  He lowered his hand, stepped around her and out the open door. Amelia screwed her eyes shut. The dull echo of his boot heels on the porch throbbed into her chest, constricting her heart. Moments later, she heard Angel’s hooves beat out a rapid staccato that faded into the darkness. Long after those retreating beats could no longer be heard, Amelia stood with her back to the open doorway, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, hunched into herself in an attempt to assuage the pain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The wind snarled with a bitter fury in the dark, cloud-laden skies, sending ice pellets skittering over the frozen landscape. Colt shivered deep in his coat. The lights of Rock Springs danced in the swirling snow, a welcoming beacon drawing him in from the vicious cold. He tugged Angel’s head toward the small town huddled along the banks of the Green River.

  Rock Springs was as good a place as any other to hole up for the winter. The mountain passes were snowed in, and he had no intention of trying to cross the Wasatch Range in January.

  He left Angel in the livery, and made his way down the boardwalk to one of the three hotels in town. After paying for a room, he crossed the frozen mud of the main street to the saloon.