Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Mallary Mitchell
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Down the
Chimney
by
Mallary Mitchell
Lawmen and Outlaws
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Down the Chimney: Lawmen and Outlaws
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Mallary Mitchell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Arial Burnz
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Cactus Rose Edition, 2012
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-447-1
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Mallary Mitchell
LUCK OF THE IRISH:
“If you enjoy reading American history, then you will enjoy this book. If you enjoy a story written with an economy of words few writers achieve and still maintain maximum input, then you will enjoy this story. If you enjoy a love story that triumphs against the odds, then don’t let this story slip by you.”
~Fennel, Long and Short Reviews
~*~
THE WIDOW'S RANSOM:
“Even if THE WIDOW’S RANSOM didn’t have enough tension and suspense to keep you turning the pages (which it certainly does), Abby’s outrageous antics and River’s reluctant metamorphosis from villain to hero would keep you engrossed. Read it. THE WIDOW’S RANSOM is a book you’ll definitely want to experience more than once. Just for the pure fun of it.”
~Pepper, Romance in the Back Seat
Dedication
To Shannon, Allison, Spenser, Beth,
Jade, Jordan, and Rebecca
Chapter One
“And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed...” Odessa Courtland paused as her daughter tugged on her skirt.
“Ma, ma, ma.” Leah was insistent. Dessa hoped if ignored, Leah would forget whatever she questioned, and she always questioned.
Her daughters loved the poem, but today Dessa hoped to make A Visit From Saint Nicholas as succinct as possible. Today Blake Henry waited and watched. It was his third visit in as many weeks. The outlaw, in his snappy black suit replete with string tie, looked the part of a dapper gentleman, but appearances were often deceptive. Blake was no gentleman.
Heat scorched her face. Was it the outlaw’s unnerving stare or her close proximity to the one working fireplace? She moved her chair back a bit in case it was the latter and swallowed. Leah moved in and tugged as Dessa tried to add the rest of the sentence. “...all in fur...”
“Ma.” Leah’s voice was louder this time. Usually, Hannah was much more outspoken than her sister, but Hannah seemed to sense the danger. Leah’s head cocked to one side with that same look of stubborn persistence she’d often seen in the mirror. The child’s bobbed blonde hair curled, barely reaching her chin, an ever present reminder of a not too distant bout with scarlet fever. The town doctor had shorn both her daughters’ curling locks in a desperate effort to reduce the fever.
“What is it?” Dessa shifted in her rocker trying to find a comfortable position for her aching back. The child in her belly moved as if greatly inconvenienced by her motions. She couldn’t help but pat her stomach in an effort to soothe the little one.
“Ma?” Leah always seemed to add one more “Ma” for good measure, and Dessa couldn’t keep her mouth from inching up on either end. “What is a bound? Saint Nicholas has a bound. Is that a little reindeer?”
“Maybe it’s a toy?” Hannah’s eyes were wide, and she spoke barely above a whisper.
Both Leah and Hannah had been more than intrigued at this tale of Saint Nicholas. It was a good thing, too. She’d managed to construct and squirrel away two rag dolls, but there would be no trip to town for candy sticks and fruit, their usual Christmas frivolity. She had no money to spend, and because of her husband’s shady business practices and partners, no one would allow her to have an account payable at a later date. The dolls and this story were all they would get this Christmas.
“Hmmm, let’s see. It’s kind of like a hop,” she explained.
“More like a sudden movement.” One of her husband’s shady partners, Blake Henry, spoke from his corner chair, where he watched her with pale blue eyes. His baritone voice washed over her like a cold, drenching rain that sapped the body of all warmth. His very presence shrouded them with a thick, dense fog. Blake Henry crossed his arms and cocked a brow as if expecting her rebuttal.
Her blood chilled more at his demeanor than at his intrusion into the conversation.
“Yes.” She just smiled as best she could back into his icy eyes. “That is an excellent description.”
“Now, do continue.” His words were an imperious order.
Continue? Where was she? A bound. Yes, that was it. Her heart pulsed in her ears as she went through the poem to try to find her place, an unnerving and iffy prospect with Blake Henry eyeing her every move. Oh, yes. “He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot...” She paused a moment. Last time she’d recited Hannah asked why Santa only had one foot, not two feet. While she tried to explain the nuances of rhyming, Hannah with her childlike wisdom had completely ignored the fact this was a poem. She decided he must have a peg leg. This time the girls merely sat a little closer to the edge of their stools as if urging her on.
Dessa went through Santa’s appearance, apparel, and his deeds. The girls listened with rapt attention until he sprang into his sleigh and sped off into the air.
“...Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” she finished.
Her girls clapped, but their childish pattering was overshadowed by the deep sound of leather-gloved hands meeting. How could mere applause seem so ominous? After several long and lazy claps, he stopped. “What an enthralling tale.” The sneer on his face contradicted his words.
“Bedtime, girls.”
“Ma!” Hannah began, then stopped at seeing Dessa’s pointing index finger. The girls didn’t ask for much, and, yes, she knew she was sending them to the loft early, but she needed to speak with Blake Henry without any distractions. Again Hannah sensed her mood, because she stopped whining after her lone protest, climbed the ladder to her bed, and urged Leah along as well.
“Goodnight, Mr. Henry.” Leah, the younger of her two daughters called over her shoulder and smiled at the black-hearted devil. He returned her expression as best he could.
“Good night to you, as well.” He walked to the loft ladder and ruffled Leah’s hair. Dessa stiffened. How dare he touch her child.
She stilled her protest. One didn’t disagree with Blake Henry and live. Her late husband was a case in point. What a ye
ar it had been. In the wake of Orion Courtland’s death, she’d nearly lost both her daughters to scarlet fever.
She’d been so distracted with her fight to save her daughters nothing else had been clear in her brain. Once they were well, it became starkly apparent she was carrying a child. She hadn’t had time to grieve for her husband. Sometimes it occurred to Dessa maybe the distractions were just an excuse.
Now Blake Henry had come to close some unfinished business with Orion. She eyed him as the girls finished their slow ascent up the ladder.
“Say your prayers,” she reminded as she did each night. “I have to speak with Mr. Henry, so off to sleep with the both of you.” The girls were good, obedient children. Both would grow to be strong women, perhaps a bit too strong in Hannah’s case. She wanted to protect them as much as she could, but reality wouldn’t allow that. Already she’d had them practicing for the upcoming birth. Leah would put the old quilts on the bed and tie the rope to the headboard so she’d have something to pull on. Hannah would fetch water, stoke up the fire, and get a basin of clean warm water to bathe the baby. She had string and scissors to cut and tie the baby’s cord. Her last two births were attended by a doctor. This time there was no one to get the doctor, nor were there funds to pay one.
Odessa swept her hand to the door. “Shall we speak outside?”
Blake Henry inclined his head and held out his hand in a flourish, indicating she should lead the way. Odessa checked her fire. It would be safe to step out a moment with the girls unattended. She grabbed her shawl and threw it across her shoulders before stepping out into the cold night. When the outlaw followed, she pulled the hand hewn door shut with the rope latch.
“Do have a seat, Mr. Henry.” She motioned to one of the rockers that graced the wide porch of her house. She’d thought it strange when Orion had built it into the side of a hill. The back wall was the hill. It had been dug out and covered with plaster. The front and sides of the cabin looked like any split log house, even the floor and ceiling were the same split logs. The roof pitched higher on one end where the girls had their loft bed, but on the outside, the house fit into the hill. The roof blended with the landscape.
Once it worried her how the children could climb the hill, get up on the roof, and fall off the front, but she had trained them with great care to avoid the roof of the house.
Blake Henry shook his head. “You’ll understand if I decline your offer. Under the circumstances I greatly prefer standing.”
She crossed her arms bringing the shawl tighter around her chilled body. Steeling her frame she stared him right in the eye. “State your business. I know these aren’t social visits.”
“Certainly. You have something of mine, and I want it back. I will have it back.” He brushed off his clothing and picked at lint on his jacket as if he’d become unclean by merely entering her home. The gesture rankled, but his words stung even more. He would have it back.
“What would that be?” The fog of dread and doubt settled more firmly around her.
“You know very well. Your husband took a strong box full of cash and coins containing nearly ten thousand dollars. And I want it—now.”
“You think I have it?” Forgetting who he was she laughed. “Do you think I’d give my children nothing but cornmeal mush, dandelion greens, and the occasional rabbit and squirrel if I had a strong box containing ten thousand dollars? Ha. Some smart outlaw you are Blake Henry. You’ve been duped. Ori took that money and spent it somewhere, but it sure wasn’t here.”
Henry moved in closer. He smiled and took her in his arms. Dessa was grateful for the huge bulk of baby between them. “You are a cool-headed woman. I admire that.” He wound her hair around his hand like a rope drawing her head back to look him in the eyes. “Ori claimed you to be the brains.” He cocked his head, and for a second Dessa thought it sad such a handsome man had such a black heart. His eyes narrowed, and he peered at her, as if searching her soul and reading her thoughts. “After dealing with Ori and realizing his shortcomings, I think he was truthful.” Blake smirked. “Ori sure wasn’t the brightest nugget in the pan. You’re playing me, Dessa. Dessa, that’s what he called you isn’t it? Pretty Dessa.” His face was inches from hers.
She planned Ori’s ridiculous schemes? A sickening wave of fear rushed through her body. Dessa put a hand to her stomach. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Was there no end to Orion’s lies? How long would she have to pay? “Mr. Henry, I was never part of any of my husband’s business ventures. I keep the house and tend the children.”
“The consummate actress.” He raked his eyes over her like an enamored suitor. “Don’t make me force your hand. Get the strong box, and we’ll call it even as long as you stay out of my way.”
“I don’t have it. I promise you. I would gladly give you his ill gotten gains. I just don’t have it.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” He wound her hair by one more length. “I guess I’ll have to force it out of you.” His grip on her hair brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t cry out, that would bring the children. “You are an interesting woman. I don’t think I’ll kill you first. I’ll start with your children.”
A gasp came unbidden from her throat. “No.”
“Or maybe I can just sell them.” He smiled, revealing perfect pearly teeth. His voice dropped to a low, seductive tone. “Pretty little girls like that ought to...”
“No!” She lifted her knee to his groin and made contact. He released her hair as he doubled over. Thank God for cousins who taught her to fight. She didn’t think Grandma would be so angry with them now.
“Smart girl aren’t you.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked up at her, still doubled over in pain. “Who showed you that trick?”
She smoothed her hair and glared his way. “I don’t have your money. Now get off my land.”
“Oh, but you do. You have it, and I will get it. So here’s a little deal for you. You give me the money by Christmas Eve and no questions asked. I like you Dessa. But...if you don’t have that money for me, I will kill all three of you.” He spoke the words without menace, or anger. It was that cool tone of his, that emotionless glaze of his eyes that chilled her to the bone. Blake Henry gave her large stomach a desultory glance and raised his brows. “Well, by then it may be four.”
He turned and sauntered off the porch.
“I don’t have it.” She rasped after him. He turned around and closed the difference between them.
“Then, my dear,” he took her chin in his hand and leaned in so close that his whispered words brushed her face, “you best find it.”
****
Deputy Deke Ramey rifled through the old stack of wanted posters. So far he had quite a collection on the wall of the back cell converted into an office. Ironically, this had been his cell—the first and only time he’d been arrested. His boss thought it fitting he have it now as his own private office. Isaiah McLean’s penciled likeness stared back at him from the tattered poster. Old and faded, the poster showed McLean in a battered derby and collarless shirt. McLean joined the ranks of his sister, Cordelia, the notorious half-breed, Black River Kirby and a very young likeness of his father, Ethan Elliot, on his wall. Deke was rather proud of his collection.
“Deacon Ramey.” Sheriff Beckett’s voice boomed throughout the jailhouse. Deke strapped on his gun belt and walked from his office to the front room, but not before a second, resounding, “Deke, you got lead in your backside? My eighty-year-old grandma moves faster than you.”
Deke emerged from the backroom to catch Jonah loading his rifle.
“You get loaded and quick. Blake Henry’s been spotted up in Angel’s Landing, three miles east of here.”
Deke frowned. He’d known this day would come, but had hoped it would be later rather than sooner. Blake Henry was Ethan’s half-brother and his uncle. Blake was bad. Even Ethan and Blake’s ma knew Blake was bad. “Ethan know?” Those were the only words that managed to form.
“Yeah, he
knows. He also knows his brother has pushed too far. During that last robbery, Blake killed three people. We talked about this when you hired on. You knowing these outlaws is an asset, you can identify them, but it is also a liability, it’s hard bringing in someone you know.” Jonah paused. “Even harder when it’s kin. You able to do this?”
His one childhood memory of Blake had been when he’d beaten up one of the ladies at Magnolia House. Granted, they weren’t really ladies, but his ma had been one of them. They were the closest thing to ladies he knew. While the upright citizens turned their noses up at the soiled doves, they did nothing to help them. Most of those women at Magnolia were there for some reason or the other. None of them just wanted to be a whore. Each and every one of them had a story. And as distasteful as it was to think about it, that had been his ma’s job after her husband passed.
Deke looked to Jonah as he fitted his hat atop his sandy brown hair. The memory of the young woman’s face battered and bruised by Blake Henry was as fresh today as the day he’d first seen it. Yeah, he was ready, willing, and able to do this.
“I’m fine.” Deke nodded.
Jonah gave a grim smile and slapped Deke’s back. “If it makes you feel any better, your pa’s riding with us. He hopes if he’s along his brother might surrender.”
Not that he was scared of a fight. Deke liked a good fight now and again to get the blood to flowing. But bullets and crazy didn’t mix, and Blake Henry had a mix of both. Ethan was going to ride with them and that relived Deke a bit. If anyone could reason their way out of a bad situation, it was Ethan. He was definitely a man who lived by his wits and not his guns. Deke swallowed hard and loaded his rifle.
“Come on, kid.” Jonah jerked his head and walked out of the jail’s front door. Deke stopped and whistled. In the fading light, Flapjack, his horse, heard the call and trotted up from the side of the jail.
“That’s still the dangedest thing I ever saw.” Jonah shook his head as Deke gave his horse an affectionate pat. “That animal’s as smart as a whip.”
Down the Chimney Page 1
