Blazing Rattles (A Harley and Davidson Mystery Book 10)

by Liliana Hart

  Will laughed. “I never said I wasn’t interested. I just know better than to meddle in your business.”

  “Who’s getting hitched?” Jackson asked from the wagon.

  “Mind your own business,” Will said.

  Jackson shrugged and laid back down.

  “What are we going to do with that one?” Will asked.

  “Well, when we find Coil, there’s only room for one in that wagon.”

  “And?”

  Hank thought about it for a spell. “And I guess we’ll figure it out when the time comes”

  Hank noticed that Whitehorse had turned into a clearing beyond the trees. The rocks were directly ahead, and Hank figured that was the point of departure for making their way to the train tracks. He and Will decided to hang back a bit and try to cover up any signs of where they might’ve gone.

  It wasn’t long before they’d caught back up with the others as the wagon slowly traversed a bedrock river. The water wasn’t rushing, but the debris and uneven surface were giving them fits. Springer looked capable, but the extra heft of Jackson had offset the center of gravity. Agatha was already out of the water and onto the opposite shore while Whitehorse came back to help with the wagon.

  The back wheel caught a rock and teetered back and forth, and then the whole wagon started to tilt.

  “We’re tipping,” James yelled out.

  “Cut him loose,” Will hollered.

  It was obvious from their vantage point that Jackson’s size had become too unstable for the rickety wagon. Freeing him was the only way to save the wagon and keep Jackson from drowning.

  “Don’t free him,” Agatha shouted.

  “Gotta do it,” James said, hacking through the ropes that bound up the big outlaw.

  Jackson dropped into the water, and immediately the wagon stabilized and the horses were able to right themselves against an increasing current. James and Springer hustled to keep the supplies from being ruined, but there was nothing they could do about Jackson.

  For a big man, he sure moved fast through the water.

  Hank watched as Agatha leveled her rifle.

  “No!” Hank yelled.

  “He’s escaping!”

  “Too loud,” Hank replied. “Your shot will draw attention.”

  He watched as she fought an inner battle and finally lowered the weapon. She shoved the rifle back into its leather sleeve with a huff. Then she reached down on the other side of her saddle and came up with something new.

  “Is that a bow and arrow?” Hank asked.

  Will started laughing. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “Jackson,” Hank yelled. “You better stop.”

  The bear of a man looked like he was starting to tucker out as his water sprint morphed into a trudge. Even so, he was still putting space between them and him.

  “Well, I tried to warn you,” Hank said quietly.

  “Think we should stop her?” Will asked.

  “Do you think we could stop her?” he asked.

  Both men watched in awe as Agatha drew back on the bow and unleashed an arrow toward Jackson. He screamed out loud as the arrow sunk into the back of his hamstring. It wasn’t a fatal shot, but the way he was thrashing in the water would’ve said otherwise.

  Agatha turned toward Hank and gave him a thumbs up.

  “Are you sure you want to marry her?” Will asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Hank said. “Definitely.”

  Chapter Nine

  It had been one long and exhausting day.

  Their task had seemed simple at the time. All they needed was to find Coil and bring him home—dead or alive. But somehow, they’d ended up chasing a stagecoach, surviving a gun battle, and almost getting swept away by the river. Not to mention she’d killed a couple of men, and shot another with her bow. And though Agatha would never admit it, she’d actually been aiming for his buttocks.

  They’d agreed to change their course and head away from the military outpost and toward the railroad tracks, traveling in between the tracks and the river. Logic had dictated that route was probably the one Coil had taken if he’d managed to survive. Since they knew Coil’s time could be limited, and the fact that they’d picked up their slightly worse for wear prisoner thanks to Agatha, bedding down for the night wasn’t an option.

  It was a shade past dusk, and a full moon and star-filled sky helped them navigate their way along a rocky ledge that was expected to set them very close to the Union Pacific Railroad track. Temperatures had turned cold as soon as night had fallen, and Agatha was glad for the wool-lined coat and gloves she wore. The cold was making her clumsy, and she was long past exhaustion.

  Agatha knew how to prepare for the changing elements, but it didn’t mean she enjoyed the drastic drop in temperature. She liked her creature comforts—like a bed, a fire, and hot tea. She nestled her gloved hand through the bulk of layered clothing until she felt a stick of beef jerky. She gnawed on it, feeling the salt course through her veins, and tried to ignore her growling stomach. It would have to do for dinner.

  She’d lived a life on the edge. It was a life she’d never once apologized for, but at times, she did wonder what it would have been like on the other side. If she’d been a “normal” lady of gentle breeding. If she’d settled down and married, raised a family, and tended to hearth and home.

  Her father had always told her she’d been a late bloomer, but sometimes the flowers that took the longest to bloom were the most beautiful. She didn’t regret her life. And she was glad she’d waited because she’d found Hank, and she knew he was meant for her. But something was holding him back. And all she could reason was that it was her. Maybe she wasn’t feminine enough. Maybe she embarrassed him.

  One thing she knew for sure was that she wouldn’t wait around for him forever. She had too much self-respect for that.

  “Hey, Aggie,” Hank said, surprising her. “Nice shot, pretty lady.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. He was always making her laugh.

  “Thank you,” she said, primly. “I like having a few surprises up my sleeve. I’m like a little Cupid.”

  “Well, I hope you only have arrows for me,” Hank teased.

  “You know I do,” she said, batting her eyes. It always worked for the girls back home. Maybe she just needed to flirt more for him to get the hint. “How would you like me to shoot you with one?”

  Hank barked out a laugh, and she felt the heat of embarrassment in her face.

  “Like poor Jackson?” he asked. “No, thank you.”

  Agatha pursed her lips and tugged on Jeep’s reins, creating a gap between her and Hank. So she didn’t know how to flirt. So what? He didn’t have to laugh at her. The stupid man.

  Hank reached across the gap and grabbed her reins, pulling her back toward him.

  “Hey, Aggie,” he said in a whisper. “I’d like to talk with you at some point about our future.”

  “Our future?” she asked, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

  “Yes. Our future. Together.”

  “Are you a fortune teller then?” she asked

  “More than you know,” he mumbled.

  She watched him shift uncomfortably in his saddle. Hank wasn’t the best when it came to talking about emotions.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “You know what I’m saying,” he said, blowing out a breath. “Don’t make me spell it out.”

  “Spell what out?”

  “You know,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “The future.”

  “And what do you see in the future, Hank the fortune teller?” she asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he said.

  “Try me.”

  “Aggie, I love you and I want us to be together.”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Not right this minute. It’s so dark I wouldn’t know if you were shaking you’re head yes or no,” he said. “
I want to do it proper.”

  “Who are you going to ask for my hand?” she asked. “You know my folks have passed on. Will you get down on one knee? You know how your knees hurt when you’ve been down on the ground too long. You really should be careful. I’d like to travel someday. Maybe out to San Francisco or New York. There’s a lot of world to see.”

  Agatha knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t make herself stop talking. She’d thought about the reality of them marrying, and even assumed she’d be rational about the whole process, but she had no idea how excited she’d be when it began to happen.

  “You’re asking a lot of questions,” Hank said, chuckling. “You might want to give yourself some time to breathe.”

  “Sorry,” she said, but her smile said she was anything but. She suddenly felt flushed with heat, love, excitement and embarrassment, all at the same time. What didn’t help were the thick bundles of clothing she’d donned for their night ride. Her skin was burning hot, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  She closed her eyes and thought about their wedding day. She didn’t have any family left, so it’d be a small affair, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was she’d get to call Hank her husband at the end of it. She hadn’t realized marriage had been a secret dream until she’d let it become a reality.

  Between the exhaustion, the excitement, the swaying of her body back and forth in the saddle, and the fact that she’d closed her eyes, she must’ve lulled herself to sleep because the next thing she knew she was sliding off of Jeep onto the cold hard ground.

  “Agatha?” Hank asked, patting her cheek. “You okay?”

  Agatha slowly opened her eyes. The stars were beautiful. And then she saw several worried faces looking down at her.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I think you fell asleep,” Hank said.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said. “I’m okay.”

  “I didn’t know talk of our future would put you to sleep,” Hank teased.

  “Why?” Will asked. “It put the rest of us to sleep. You two sure do talk loud.”

  “Yeah,” James said. “Just marry the woman already.”

  Agatha felt her face heating even more and rolled to her hands and knees to get up. Hank was there to help her, lifting her to her feet, and holding her loosely in his arms until she was steady on her feet.

  “Thanks,” Agatha said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  “Did they get married yet?” Jackson called out from the wagon.

  “Nope,” Springer said.

  “Too bad,” Jackson said. “I love weddings.”

  “Good grief,” Agatha said. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Maybe this is a good time to regroup,” Will said. “We can grab some quick chow and some shuteye.”

  “But no fires,” James said, reminding everyone.

  Agatha figured after her last stunt she needed a break. But she wasn’t too keen on doing without the fire, though she wouldn’t complain. In her experience, people who complained didn’t get invited on adventures. And if she could put something in her stomach other than jerky, she’d be grateful.

  Her backside was sore from the saddle, and she stretched her muscles. Exhaustion overtook her and she barely glanced at the others as they dug out the food. She made herself as comfortable a pallet as she could and curled up to go to sleep.

  “Agatha,” Hank said.

  It sounded like he was talking through water, and she shrugged him off. Then she heard her name again. And again. Hank sure was becoming a nuisance. They’d have to do something about that after they got married.

  “What?” she snarled.

  “We gotta move,” Hank said.

  Agatha sat straight up, almost butting Hank in the head. She’d been sleeping hard. “What happened? Did the Copper Cove Boys find us? Did Jackson escape again?”

  “Relax,” Hank said. He pointed to Jackson leaning against the wagon wheel. “Whitehorse thinks he sees something. It might be Coil.”

  She rubbed her eyes and tried to slap some color in her cheeks and wake up a bit. And then she scrambled to her feet, rolling up her bedroll and wool blanket.

  “Wait a second,” she said. “What could Whitehorse possibly see? It’s dark out here.”

  “The moon is bright tonight,” Hank said. “And Whitehorse said he saw a reverse smoke signal drifting from behind the ledges that overlook the train tracks.”

  “What’s a reverse smoke signal?” she asked.

  “It comes from a Dakota fire hole,” Hank said. “It’s an underground fire to keep anyone from seeing the flames. It burns hot and creates a different kind smoke. It has to be Coil. There’s not too many people who would know about that.”

  “Impressive,” she said. “Let’s get moving.”

  Hank held her by the shoulders. “Whoa, hold on,” he said. “We can’t just stroll up to the fire. That’s a good way to die. There’s no telling who it might be, and if it is Coil, you can bet he’ll come out fighting.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Can’t we just call out to him?”

  “What if it’s McIrish and the gang laying a trap?” Hank asked.

  “Then we finish him off,” she said. “It’s what he deserves. We can take them.”

  “Hold on, tiger,” Hank said. “How about we focus on Coil first and then we’ll worry about finishing off McIrish?”

  “Deal,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “But I’m going to hold you to it.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t get married?” Jackson asked, watching them closely.

  “We did not get married,” Agatha said.

  “Yet,” Hank clarified.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

  “You stay here and try to get some more sleep,” Hank said. “Whitehorse knows this land like the back of his hand, and we’re going to go check it out.”

  “You woke me up to tell me you were leaving me here?” she asked, aggravated.

  “Well, yeah,” he said, shrugging. “I guess so. And I wanted to tell you bye.”

  “Oh,” she said, giving him another squeeze. “That’s okay then. Be careful. And wake me up when you get back.”

  “Will do,” he said. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, unrolling her bedding again, and crawling under the covers. She’d gotten cold again, and it was hard to warm up. She wished Hank was able to snuggle close and share his body heat, but she was jumping the gun. Wedding first, body heat later.

  It wasn’t long before she was being shaken awake once again, and someone was calling her name. She woke up easier this time, having never fully gotten warm or done more than doze on and off.

  “What happened?” she asked. Hank’s face was close to hers. “Any news?”

  “We’ve got Coil,” he said.

  “No kidding?” she asked, coming to her feet. “That’s incredible. How is he?”

  “He’s fine,” Coil said, coming into view. He looked worn down and ragged, but there was a smile on his face. “Thanks for asking.”

  Agatha was so relieved to see that he was safe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  “Shelly’s going to be so happy to see you,” Agatha said. “If she doesn’t kill you first.”

  Coil snorted out a laugh, and winced, grabbing his midsection.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Just some bruised ribs,” he said. “Maybe a crack or two.”

  “You’re not shot?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “McIrish’s shot got close enough to my horse to spook him, and he threw me right in the nick of time, because I would’ve been filled with lead otherwise. My spur got caught on the way down and I got dragged through some pretty tough terrain. That’s where I hurt my ribs.” He’d noticed the big bear of a man by the wagon. “Is that Jackson?”

  “In the flesh,” Hank said.

>   “And what’s that about?” Coil asked.

  “Same old, same old,” Agatha said. “Jackson tried to kill me, and then I shot him in the leg with an arrow. He’s my prisoner.”

  “Your prisoner?” Coil asked, rubbing his hands over his eyes in disbelief. “Maybe I’m dead. None of this makes sense.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Agatha said.

  “And what are you going to do with your prisoner?”

  “Have him stuffed and mounted to the wall, of course,” she said. “I’ve decided to redecorate.”

  “You’re a strange woman, Agatha Harley,” Coil said.

  “What happened with McIrish?” Hank asked.

  “I knew he had something up his sleeve as soon as we set out for Austin. I figured it was an ambush, and once I saw what I was facing, I made my own plans. I was outnumbered and figured the smart thing to do was let them get away with it. And then I could gather up a posse and track them to their next town.”

  “But where did the blood come from on the saddle?” Agatha asked.

  “I killed some rabbits our first night out for dinner, and I just hadn’t cleaned the saddle,” Coil said. “Didn’t mean to give y’all a fright.”

  “Well, Coil,” Hank said. “It looks like you’ve got your posse. Let’s go round up the Copper Cove Boys.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was February sixteenth, and the morning was crisp and clear. Hank had been in 1874 for three days. How and why he was there was still a mystery, but one fact he’d come to accept was that this wasn’t a dream. He’d never had a dream this real, where he could taste, touch, and smell everything around him. Where the realities of love, loss and life all hung in the balance.

  Dawn lazily approached and fingers of orange and yellow crept across the horizon, and they’d waited until light touched the sky to start a fire. The coffee was strong, and the last dregs heated over a waning fire as they discussed their strategy for capturing Dillon McIrish and his rebel band of marauders. Everyone except Agatha. She’d been plum tuckered out, and no one had the heart to wake her. Or maybe everyone was too afraid to wake her. She wasn’t a morning person.

  Coil had been doing most of the talking. After the Copper Cove Boys had thought him dead, they’d set up camp near the place Coil had been thrown from his horse so McIrish could tend to his own wounds. He’d gotten roughed up pretty good in the scuffle that had led to his arrest. Coil’s horse had long taken off, but he’d made himself a ghost in the woods close enough to hear the gang plotting their next heist. He knew every detail. And it was going to be their downfall.