Sam heard a moan from somewhere underneath him. Then came the sound of the wounded outlaw falling from his horse. He had to proceed carefully, for any movement would cause hay and dust to fall, giving him away. There was a scrambling sound and then voices.
“Seamus, you hurt?” The voice was high-pitched and wobbly. It didn’t sound like a hardened killer.
“Yea, Billy, I’m hit. Drag me over there where I can get a look out this door.”
“But, you need doctorin’!”
Coarse laughter turned into a sputtering cough. “Ain’t no doctor goin’ to patch me up, you dummy. Besides, did you forget already we beat the doctor to within an inch of his life? They buried someone out in the cemetery today. My guess is it was him. But, forget about that. We need to bust Spencer out of that jail before I lose the little blood I got left. Come on, pull me over there!”
Sam lowered himself quietly to the loft floor and tried to see between the boards, but they were too tightly set. He slowly pushed aside straw until he found a knothole. A small noise beside him made him turn his head. Ashes moved to his side and she rubbed adoringly against his head. Sam gritted his teeth. Not now, you dang cat! He tried to push her away with his shoulder, but she started to purr. It was then he noticed dust floating from the knothole and over the two outlaws.
“Ah, ah, ah, choo.” The younger man sneezed, and then wiped his arm across his face.
Sam held his breath. A couple well-placed bullets through the old loft boards would easily kill him.
The young outlaw dragged the bigger one over behind some hay where he’d have a view of the jailhouse. As he propped the wounded man’s back against a wall, the leader grabbed his underling by the shirtfront and viciously pulled his face to within an inch of his own. “That brother of Spencer’s don’t have the guts to break his own kin out. Besides, I don’t know where he went. Maybe he’s dead. It’s going to be up to you to get out there and get it done. I’m telling you now to shoot anyone that comes within your sights. I don’t care if it be man, woman or child. Just kill something, and the rest will run and hide.”
Seamus shoved Billy away and spat out a glob of blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sam heard shouts from out on the street and then a shot. He wished he could go back to the window, but moving now would be suicide.
When a couple more shots sounded, the wounded man hissed, “See who that is!”
While Billy scooted to the door, Sam took the opportunity to move carefully over to the loft ladder himself.
“Well?”
“I cain’t, I cain’t,” he stuttered. “I cain’t see anything.”
Sam inched toward the ladder.
Billy turned and looked up.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Shoot, you idiot,” Seamus bellowed. “Shoot!
Billy froze, his gun pointed at Sam’s chest.
Their eyes locked and Sam dared not take a breath. Thoughts of Cassie filled his heart. He might never see her again. Or hold her in his arms. Never get the chance to feel his lips on hers. Never say I love you! Billy’s hand wavered and Sam could see the sheen of perspiration on the young man’s forehead.
“If you don’t shoot, you lily-livered toad, I’m going to kill you!
Billy’s face hardened.
Exactly at that moment, Ashes jumped from between some sacks of grain stacked on a platform and raced between Billy’s boots, startling him. The blast from Billy’s gun split the air and a lantern hanging above Sam’s head exploded, raining glass down around him.
Seizing the moment, Sam hopped down the ladder, and then leaped from six feet up. He knocked Billy down and the two men rolled around the dirt floor. They slammed up against a support post, and Sam was knocked against it hard, hitting his head. Shaking it off, and with a thrust propelled by adrenaline, he pitched Billy off him and jumped to his feet. With a handful of Billy’s shirtfront, Sam hoisted him up and smashed his fist into his face, holding nothing back. There were sounds of commotion outside, too.
The young outlaw was no match for Sam. The punch sent him reeling across the hay-littered floor and he crashed to the ground.
Seamus grabbed wildly at his bandolier but the bullets he extracted slipped in his bloody fingers as he tried to jam them into the chamber of his six shooter. Sam pulled his Colt 45 and blasted the gun from Seamus’s hand. The outlaw cried out in pain.
“I’m saving you for the hangman’s noose,” Sam said. He closed the distance between them and picked up the outlaw’s gun. “You and Spencer can swing side by side.” He stepped close and, with his gun, knocked the man out cold.
Enraged screaming came from inside the jail. Sam ran over and pushed inside. Jonathan, Walter, and Chester were there, the latter holding his bloody arm to his body. The last outlaw rolled on the floor, his face in his hand. His cries of pain were pathetic. Beside him was the board with the broken bottles attached and scattered glass all around.
“I saw the whole thing happen,” Jonathan said, his face gritty with dirt and sweat. “It was just like you figured, Sam. When he came through the door all the broken glass on the floor threw him off and he never saw the trip wire or the board until it hit him in the face.” He slapped Sam on the back and let loose a nervous laugh. “Congratulations! You captured them all. You’re one clever cowboy. Downright brilliant.”
Sam looked around at the relieved faces. His gaze stopped on Chester, the only one who was hurt. “Sorry about that arm, Chester. But if it’s the only casualty of the day, I’ll be a happy man.”
All the men nodded.
***
Cassie couldn’t sit still another second. She could see the commotion at the jail was winding down and the men were milling around, talking and laughing. She bounded up the stairs and went into the bedroom where Grace and Annabelle watched over Josephine.
“How is she?”
“Sleeping now,” Grace replied softly. “But I’m sure she’s on the road to recovery. She’s much cooler. And look here.”
Grace gently picked up Josephine’s arm. The scratches were still red but their intensity had lessened, and the marks weren’t quite as puffy. “I believe she’s out of the woods.”
Annabelle was looking stronger, too. Her eyes were still bloodshot and anguished, but she was up and about, doing for Josephine. “Did you see anything, Cassie?” she asked quietly.
“Yes. Looks like we whooped ’em good. I’m not sure yet, but I think everyone is okay. And, in case you’re wondering…” She paused and draped her arm around the younger girl’s shoulder and pulled her close, “I just saw Jonathan talking with Sam on the boardwalk at the end of the street.”
That brought a smile to Annabelle’s face and Grace nodded with pleasure.
“I’d like to go down to the jailhouse and see what’s going on,” Cassie said.
“Of course,” Grace responded. “Then you can bring us back the news.”
Cassie bounded down the stairs and out onto the boardwalk, which was still wet from the bullet-pierced water trough. Hopping over the mud, she hurried toward the jail, anxious to see Sam. She couldn’t wait to touch him and prove to herself that he really and truly was safe. When all the shooting had started she wanted to be out there with him, protect him. She’d had to push every bad thought from her mind, telling herself that he was still alive, still a part of her life.
Just what did Sam mean to her anyway? She was depending on him more and more these days. When he’d held her in the moonlight last night she’d wanted to run her hands over his chest and loop her arms around his neck. Lean into him, feel his body against hers. She’d wanted him to kiss her in the worst of ways.
Well? Who was Sam in the scheme of her life? Did he fit in with her dream of becoming a baker with her and Josephine’s own bakery? That’s all she’d wanted for as long as she could remember. Her mother used to tell her all sorts of wonderful stories of when she was a little girl helping her mama bake. Cassie’s grandma, Cookie Fo
ster, had been a successful businesswoman. She’d wanted that dream her whole life. And the gold claim Uncle Arvid had given them would provide the means to make that dream come true. It was all she needed in this life—or so she’d thought.
“Cassie! Over here!”
Sam was at the livery, waving to get her attention.
At the sight of his disheveled appearance her heart somersaulted. She wanted to run and jump into his arms. Feel his lips against hers. His heart-stopping eyes made her breath catch. His shirt was torn and there was straw in his hair, but his smile—wide and warm and inviting—made her insides do funny things. She smiled back quickly and waved, hurrying across the street to meet him.
The moment she was close, Sam pulled her into his arms and cocooned her to his chest. “Everything all right down at the doctor’s?”
She nodded, still marveling over her revelation that Sam had made his way into her heart. He wasn’t like the men her mother had warned her against. He was honest, and good. She wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him back. She inhaled deeply loving his scent, scruffy or not.
“Josephine will be up and around soon,” she answered, looking up into his face. “The scratches are looking a lot better even in such a short time. The goldenseal tea and poultice did the trick. Oh, Sam, I’m so happy!”
“I can see that in your face. I’m happy, too. For Josephine and for how we collared all those murdering outlaws. It feels real good not to have that threat hanging over our heads anymore.” He loosened his hold and she stepped away, instantly missing the warmth of his body.
He chuckled and shook his head slowly. “I really don’t believe it.”
“What?”
Sam pointed to a dilapidated wagon next to the livery wall. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
When they got close Cassie could see Ashes circled up on the wooden seat. Sam reached for the cat and held her in his arms. He even rubbed under her chin and the cat lazily opened her eyes.
Cassie couldn’t believe her cat and Sam had finally made their peace. “Sam?”
“This mangy animal saved my skin. That outlaw would’ve shot me dead if not for her. He was just pulling the trigger when she raced between his legs and blooey! The shot went wild.”
“Really?” She laughed and reached for her cat, holding her lovingly in her arms. “Good girl,” she crooned. “Josephine will be excited to hear how you saved Sam’s life.”
Ashes mewed softly.
“Sam,” Jonathan called, walking toward them. “What’re your thoughts concerning the outlaws? We’re still waiting on the circuit judge and a new sheriff. I’ve asked all the other men and everyone is agreed about wanting you to stay until they arrive, and act as sheriff. And, you know…if you’re willing and all, be our sheriff for as long as you like.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A rush of pleasure coursed through Sam. He liked these men! Felt a closeness with them, a bond of brotherhood. But sheriff? No. He had a claim to dig. Gold to discover. A ranch to build and horses to breed.
“Sam, what do you think?” Cassie studied him, her expression blank. He wished he knew what was going through that head of hers. “Do you want to stay on? It is a beautiful little place. I could see you settling here.”
She stood tall in her boy’s clothes, her hair tucked behind her ears, the cat cuddled in her arms. Her cheek, soft and fair, begged to be touched. Her eyes sparkled. She was so darn pretty Sam was sure he’d never forget the way she looked right now.
Then a realization smacked him hard in the core of his being. When that outlaw had had him in his sights, one heartbeat away from death, all he’d wanted in the world was one more moment with Cassie. To be with her. Laugh with her. Feel her hand in his. He hadn’t given the claim a passing thought. Now he was stunned to realize he never wanted to be anywhere Cassie wasn’t. The claim was important, yes—but not as important as Cassie, or winning her heart!
As tempting as these feelings of attraction were, as beautiful as she was standing there gazing up at him, he had to remember she wasn’t going to be happy when she learned the reason he’d begun this journey to Coloma with her and Josephine. In all honesty, she would probably hate him for the deceit. And could he blame her? He’d do well to keep his sights on getting them all to the claim alive, and then work out the truth about everything. He wasn’t sure what he would do or how, but he’d navigate that stream when he got there.
He glanced at Jonathan and then at the jailhouse where Brox, Walter, and the rest of the men were watching to see what his answer would be.
“No, I’m going with you, Cassie, until you reach your destination. I’m not changing horses in the middle of this stream.”
“You sure? You don’t owe us anything. Or our Uncle Arvid.” She seemed to let go a breath she must have been holding, for her shoulders relaxed and she smiled making her eyes come alive. “I’d think twice if I—”
“Hush! I’m not letting you go on without me. Look at what happened to Josephine.” He hadn’t meant to sound so stern, but why the heck was she trying to get rid of him? “I can always come back if I change my mind.”
Jonathan shrugged. “I was afraid you’d say that. You sure? Rosenthal is usually peaceful. A nice place to sink your roots and start a family. You’d come to like it here pretty quick.”
The men were sincere and Sam felt a jab of regret at having to turn down their offer. He’d only been eight when his mother had passed away, and since then he’d never really felt as if he belonged anywhere. He and his brother, Seth, had helped her the best they could eking out a living by washing other people’s clothes. Then when she passed on, Clemen Miller, who’d always been around with sacks of potatoes and flour for their dinner, chopping wood for their fire, took the boys in and taught them how to ride. How to spot good horseflesh and how to patiently bring along a two-year-old so as not to sour or spook him. In essence, he taught them how to be men.
Clemen, Sam was sure, had had a soft spot for his mother. Would have married her too, if she hadn’t already had a husband. Brewster Ridgeway always stood in the way. After years of abandonment his mother finally received a letter telling them Brewster Ridgeway, as part of an outlaw gang, had been tried and found guilty of armed robbery. Incarcerated for life. Sam remembered how, even at that young age, he’d been glad to hear the shocking news. If he’d been able, he would’ve gone and laughed in his face.
Jonathan laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “No, Jon. I’m not staying.”
Jonathan turned to the waiting men and shook his head. They dispersed slowly, talking amongst themselves.
“What now?” Cassie asked, as Ashes jumped out of her embrace and trotted a few feet away.
“I figure it’ll be a little while before Josephine is fit to ride again. I think we should just rest up until then.”
They strolled down the boardwalk back toward the doctor’s office. Sam tipped his hat to a woman who was standing in her doorway, watching them approach. “Ma’am.”
“Thank you, mister, for helping our town. If it hadn’t been for you, who knows what would’ve happened. We’re grateful.”
Sam felt his face heat up. He wasn’t used to so much attention. Didn’t much like it.
“No thanks needed, ma’am.” He took Cassie’s elbow and continued down the walkway.
“Sam, you sureabout not staying? You could start your new ranch here, couldn’t you?” Cassie asked.
“Well, Cass, I suppose I could now, at that,” he quipped sarcastically. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. An unexplainable irritation twisted his gut at her insistence. “But what about you and Josephine? Are you going to ride out and set up claim on the river without help?”
He glanced back at Ashes bringing up the rear. “What’ll happen when more men like the ones we just locked up find out it’s just you and your little sister and this here little cat? What’s to stop them from killing you and taking over? Or even worse?” He smacked a post with his open palm and frow
ned.
Cassie stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you being so cross?” Her hand came up and fingered the lump of whatever it was she always kept hidden under her shirt.
He folded his arms and glared at her, agitation percolating within. Was she actually trying to get rid of him? “What is that, anyway?” he asked crossly. His curiosity had gotten the best of him but he was glad the question was finally out. “Well?”
“A cameo—if you must know.”
“Where’d you get it?”
Her expression hardened and she took a step back. “It was a gift from…Charles Smith. My intended.”
Sam’s stomach clenched.
“Your intended! You’re engaged to be married?”
She looked off down the street for a few seconds in silence. Her nostrils flared before she turned back, leveling him with a purposeful gaze that scorched him to the bottom of his boots.
“Why so surprised, Sam? Is that so impossible? I wear pants and shoot like a man. Is that what you’re thinking?” She reached up and fluffed her hair from behind her ears and shook it out. It swished around her face. “I’m not woman enough to find a husband?”
“Of course not!”
Ashes leaped to the railing and looked at them.
“Even if you can’t envision such a ridiculous notion, Sam, I was engaged for a short time. Charles was a wonderful man. Handsome, too…and, uh, rich. Why, his family owned half the town. He was tall and had muscles,”—she made a gripping motion with her hands— “and was stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen. And, he was smart. He’d completed all his grades and was working on becoming a United States senator.”
Cassie turned and started walking toward the doctor’s office. “Charles gave me this brooch as a reminder of our commitment to each other. He died before we could marry.”
Sam felt foolish—and boorish. Poor Cassie! She’d lost so much. She’d suffered more at the hands of fate than anyone ever should. “Forgive me for prying.”
Sourdough Creek Page 12
