by Kim Redford
As if to deny her words, he shook his massive head and pawed the ground again, gouging out big clumps of grass to reveal the bare ground underneath.
“It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” She spoke more to reassure herself than the worried bull, then straightened her shoulders in determination and continued on her path.
Finally, she got a good view of the bandstand, where two shapes crouched in front to make a smaller target. She stopped at what she considered a safe distance from being grabbed but not from being shot. It didn’t matter. She was here to make a trade, and she’d do it no matter the consequences.
“I’m here,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You look good. I like you as a dance hall darling.” Simon had dressed as a formidable gunslinger in menacing all black with a leather holster strapped to his narrow hips. He appeared strong and resolute as he stared at her, holding Storm’s small arm with one hand while holding his revolver to her head with the other. “I wanted to make this quick and easy, but you have too many friends around you all the time.”
“Please let her go.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“Yes.”
“Is it because you finally recognize our love, or is it because you want this child free?”
“What do you think?”
“I want the truth.” He jerked on Storm’s arm, but she stayed stoically quiet.
“Both.” She’d say or do anything to give Storm her chance to run.
“Good answer.” He smiled at her, flashing white teeth. “I’ve missed you.”
She nodded, trying to think how to get Storm away from him and yet stay out of his clutches herself.
“Did you enjoy the roses? I know they’re your favorite.” He flashed predatory teeth again. “I chose white for the purity of our love. I knew you’d appreciate the symbolism.”
She froze on the spot as she realized the depths of his fantasy.
“Did you?”
“Yes, of course.” She bought time with her words while she tried to fathom a way to free Storm without getting caught herself. She didn’t see a way, no way at all, so she went ahead and edged closer, making sure she didn’t trip by stepping on her long skirt or petticoats.
Simon rose to his feet, jerking Storm up with him while he kept the Colt .44 at her temple. “Come nearer, my love.”
Fern took a step closer, letting her hands swing loose by her sides to appear as no threat. She felt the puny derringer in her pocket and wished she carried her pink pistol instead. Still, a glimmer of hope hit her. The gun was worthless for defense, but he didn’t know that…not for sure anyway. If she could get his revolver pointed at her instead of Storm, then maybe they had a chance.
“Get over here,” he ordered in a voice gone edgy. “Once I have you in my embrace, she can go.”
Fern didn’t believe him. If one hostage was good, two were better. And yet, she did move closer. She had to do it. She glanced down at Storm, who was watching her with narrowed eyes, no tears, and a determined set to her jaw. Fern tilted her head to the side, indicating for Storm to run toward the front of the park and safety as soon as she had the chance.
When Fern was in close enough range for Simon to grab her, she pulled out the derringer and pointed it at his face. Shocked, he jerked the revolver away from Storm and pointed it at Fern while he reached for the derringer.
“Storm, run!” she cried out.
Storm leaped away. “Fernando! I’m coming to keep you safe.”
“You’ll pay for that!” Simon twisted the derringer out of Fern’s hand, put the Colt .44 to her head, and tugged her after Storm.
“Stop!” Simon commanded. “If you take another step, Fern dies right this minute.”
Storm skidded to a stop in front of the arena. She looked back, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, then she slowly turned to face Simon and dropped to her knees as Fernando looked on from the side. “Don’t hurt her…please.” Finally, tears slipped down her pink cheeks. “Take me. Let her go.”
Fernando pawed the ground with a huge, black hoof, snorted loudly through outstretched nostrils, then raised his head toward the sky and emitted a deep, long bellow so full of outrage and challenge that it echoed across Old Town Park, down the boardwalk, across the vendor tents, and clear to Wildcat Road. In the wake of his outburst, silence reigned supreme.
Simon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Fernando, all two thousand pounds of enraged bull. A long moment passed as they took the measure of each other…and Simon’s face turned pale. He shoved Fern to the ground beside Storm, pointed his Colt .44 at Fernando, and pulled the trigger. It clicked on an empty chamber.
Fernando bellowed in outrage again, then leaped up, twisting his massive body in midair before he came down on all four feet with legs spread wide. He backed up, pawing the ground and lowering his head as he snorted and tossed clumps of grass-encrusted clods of dirt.
Fern felt her breath catch in her throat as the scene played out before her. If Fernando decided to come through the fence, nothing could stop him…and if Simon decided to shoot the bull or her and Storm, nothing could stop him. Things kept going from bad to worse.
She quietly slid her hand across the grass and gently touched Storm’s arm, hoping the little girl could still move. Storm turned her head, staying quiet and still, as she acknowledged the touch. Fern put a fingertip to her lips, then pointed toward the sheriff and family waiting on the sidelines, so Storm would understand they needed to get up and run while they had the chance. Storm shook her head and crawled away from Simon and up to a section of the fence near Fernando. Fern could only follow, hoping she could keep them safe where they huddled together on the ground.
Simon raised his Colt .44 again, took aim, and fired, but the bullet went wild and hit the trailer.
Fernando gave Simon a deadly look, bunched his powerful shoulder muscles, lowered his massive head, and burst through the metal fence like it was soft ice cream on a hot day. He hit Simon in the stomach with his massive head and tossed him into the air. He hung there for a millisecond before he came back down and was caught by a massive shoulder that slung him to the ground, where he lay like a broken rag doll with arms and legs akimbo.
Fernando walked to Simon’s crumpled form, sniffed him, then raised a huge hoof and placed it directly over the man’s heart.
Fern felt her breath catch in her throat. Two thousand pounds of fury would send that hoof straight through Simon’s body and drill his heart into the ground. She felt Storm stir beside her. She reached out to keep her away from harm, but Storm evaded her and walked over to Fernando.
She placed a hand on the bull’s broad shoulder and murmured soft words of comfort. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m here.”
Fernando turned his head, focused on her with dark eyes, and snorted a questioning sound.
She stroked down his long nose. “Thank you. You took care of the bad man. Let him go now, so the sheriff can take him to jail.”
Fernando rubbed his nose against her hand, then slowly lifted his hoof from Simon’s chest.
“Let’s go home. Maybe we better rethink how to handle this celebrity business.” Storm turned, stepped over the downed fence, and Fernando followed her into the trailer.
Fern breathed a sigh of relief as she stood up, picked up the Colt .44, and checked on Simon. He still breathed, although she figured he’d be a long time recovering, and she’d bet he’d think twice before he ever stalked another woman, because every one of them just might have a big Angus bull as a friend.
She glanced up. Sydney, Slade, and all the family ran toward Fernando’s arena. TV anchor Jennifer Sales stood on the boardwalk, speaking into a microphone. Eden, Jack, and Nathan were livestreaming everything, too. No doubt the entire episode would be on television, radio, and the internet. Fernando would become an even bigger hero. And
he deserved it.
Love did indeed conquer all.
Chapter 37
Fern sat on a bench in a darkened corner of Wildcat Hall, nursing a sarsaparilla that had grown warm in her hands. Lots of folks from Wild West Days crowded the dance floor and nudged each other on the benches, laughing, talking, and gossiping about the legendary events of the day. They all felt special because most of them had been there to witness, or heard firsthand, Storm’s kidnapping and rescue by Fernando, everyone’s favorite new hero.
Lots more folks across the country saw the Wildcat Den’s livestreaming of the dramatic rescue, as well as Jennifer Sale’s on-air piece on her Dallas television station. Those were both being replayed constantly, so even more people would witness Fernando in action. All in all, it’d gone viral. That meant Fernando’s website and Instagram page were burning up with hearts and comments and requests for him to appear at public events. It was phenomenal.
Fortunately, Storm and Fernando were now safely at Steele Trap Ranch with Sydney, Dune, Slade, and Ivy. Fern had talked briefly with Ivy, who’d said Storm appeared none the worse for wear after her experience. In fact, Storm was busy setting up online interviews and answering queries, but she’d vowed to keep Fernando close to home.
Much to her surprise, it wasn’t just Storm and Fernando who were getting all the attention. She was receiving hits on her website with offers for gigs at major venues across the country. She was suddenly a name with a fascinating—and dangerous—backstory. Video of her wearing her silk-and-satin ball gown, brandishing a silver derringer, had sparked quite a bit of attention and speculation. The media had dubbed her the “Dance Hall Darlin’ Chanteuse” and were clamoring for interviews and photographs.
Craig was caught up in all the drama, too, because Wildcat Hall was suddenly on the map for performers wanting new and different venues that might garner extra media interest. Lots of requests were rolling in from performers and their representatives.
She could still hardly believe it, but all that she and Craig had dreamed of doing had been jump-started by a stalker-turned-kidnapper. Simon was in the hospital, but soon Sheriff Calhoun would turn him over to federal authorities to enforce kidnaping charges and seek justice.
All in all, Fern felt grateful that such a negative situation had transformed into a positive outcome for so many people, setting into motion exciting events that would play out in their future, and that included bigger and better Wild West Days.
But for now, she was content to sit on the sidelines letting someone else take the stage and garner appreciation. She tapped her toe as she listened to the Red River Wranglers play onstage. They were already getting tighter as a band. She almost envied them the path they’d chosen because she was far from those heady days of discovery and wonder. And yet, there was also great pleasure in being this far along the road of life. She could look back and she could look forward, but for the moment, she preferred to be situated right here, right now.
After all was said and done, love made this the perfect place at the perfect time with the perfect person. Craig had changed her, or she had changed for him, or they had changed together. Just in the short time she’d been back, they’d shared such intensity of emotion and such adversity in life that they could have been torn apart. Instead, everything they’d survived had drawn them closer, until now she couldn’t imagine living a moment without him…just like she couldn’t imagine leaving a place and people that nurtured her, protected her, and encouraged her to be more than she could ever be on her own out there. Wildcat Bluff County, she’d discovered, was a little slice of heaven on earth.
She had chosen it without knowing what was really here except Wildcat Hall Park, and yet she’d been driven by some inner instinct to change her life. Once here, she’d immersed herself in the lifestyle as if she’d been born to it. And then there was Craig, waiting for her to finally come home to him.
As if her thoughts conjured him, Craig walked out of the crowd and headed her way with a smile on his lips.
He sat down beside her, making sure they were so close together that heat sparked between them. “Are you hiding out?”
“After today? I’m thinking it might be a good idea.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, chuckling softly. “You sound as if Wild West Days might have been a little bit more than you expected on your first time out.”
“You think?”
He laughed harder. “Well, I have to admit seeing Ivy with a dagger clenched between her teeth might have set the whole thing off in the wrong direction.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling as he made light of a grueling day. He was right to put it in perspective. Anyway, Texans had a great love of laughing at themselves in their most ridiculous situations. Only this time, the stalking and kidnapping were a little beyond what might ordinarily be considered laughable. Still, he was right. It was over. It had a good ending. And the bad guy would soon be behind bars.
Craig slipped her bottle from her hand and took a sip of warm sarsaparilla. “You know, there were a lot of ways I’d thought of putting Wildcat Hall on the map, but I have to admit kidnapping and rescue weren’t even close to being on the list.”
“Please don’t leave out the dramatic exploits of the Dance Hall Darlin’ Chanteuse to drive social media for the Hall.” She batted her eyelashes at him in a parody of a Southern belle.
“Never.” He kissed her cheek again. “I think that low-cut gown with all the gewgaws was what put you over the top. I mean, who knew you could, and would, hide a fancy derringer in a pocket of that long skirt. Makes a guy wonder just what else you’ve got under all those petticoats.”
“Wouldn’t you just like to find out?”
“Yeah. I sure would.” He grinned, took a sip, and let his eyes roam over the décolletage of her gown. “I’ve got to tell you that T-shirts and jeans won’t cut it anymore.”
“No?”
“There’s not enough mystery.”
“You like mystery?”
“I like you…and you’re the biggest mystery in my life.”
“I am?”
“You almost gave me a heart attack when you whipped out that gun and went for the stalker,” he said.
“That’s the mystery?”
“How could I not love a woman who braves everything to save a little girl from a kidnapper?”
“Well, it was sort of my fault, and—”
“Never say that again. He was at fault. He made that choice. And he’ll pay the price.”
“True.” She leaned over and rested her head against Craig’s broad shoulder. “I could stay here with you forever.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Yes.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been back.”
“It has been pretty eventful. I wish I could’ve made it better for you.”
“Without you, I wouldn’t have survived it at all.”
“You’d have found a way.”
She shook her head. “I’m really sorry about your barn.”
“Just gives me an excuse to build a new one.”
“How many good spins do you think we can put on all our questionable adventures?”
“Fern,” he said, turning serious. “We can make our lives the best spin of all, if you’d just…”
“What?”
He held out his hand. “Come on. They don’t need us here tonight. We ought to make this our time. We’ve given enough to others for now.”
“Our time?”
“Yeah. We don’t have to carry the world on our shoulders.”
“You’re right. It’s felt like it’s been that way since I got back.”
“It’s time to turn it around for us.”
“How?”
“Come on. I’ve got an idea.”
She let
him lead her out of the Hall, past the rocking-out band, past the revelers in colorful clothing from two time periods, past the outer room with patrons bellied up to the bar, and into a night made for lovers with bright stars overhead, the scent of roses in the air, and the sound of cicadas.
He kept going, weaving in and out of the trees and shrubs and flower beds until he arrived at the big cabin. He stopped and looked at her.
“Are you disappointed?”
“In the cabin?”
“That I couldn’t think of someplace more special to bring you?”
“With the town full up for Wild West Days, I’m not sure we have any other options.”
“I wanted it to be romantic for you.”
“Craig, you’re romantic, so wherever you are is romantic.” She placed a hand over his heart and felt the soft fabric of his gambler’s vest, so in contrast to his usual clothes that she felt a little thrill.
“Thanks.” He walked with her up the stairs, unlocked the front door, and ushered her inside.
As always, the room was neat from the Settelmeyers’ gentle ministrations and cozy with the cowboy knickknacks and furniture. Soft lamplight illuminated the room.
“Will you sit on the sofa?”
“Okay.” She was sincerely beginning to wonder what was going on with him. “Remember, I don’t need any more surprises.”
“Not even good ones?”
“Good is okay.” She sat down, but she felt a little on edge with anticipation.
He walked into the kitchen, poured two glasses of wine, and came back to hand her one.
She took a small sip, feeling it heat her as it slid to her stomach. Wine was probably a good idea. She needed the warmth and relaxation. She drank a little more, then set down the glass.
He sat beside her, set his glass on the coffee table beside hers, and turned to face her. He reached into the pocket of his vest and drew out a ring of rose gold—no stone, no adornment, simply a circle representing endless love. He placed it in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers over it.
She felt her heart beat a little faster. “Do you plan to ask me something?”
