“Don’t ever take anything for granted,” Hannah said. “One of you go have a look-see.”
Sam started to rise but froze along with the rest of his family when the dog’s barking was brought to an end by the blast of a rifle. The next instant the Butchers were scrambling for their hardware. Without thinking, young Sam and Carson went to rush out the door.
“Stop right there!” Hannah commanded. “What are you trying to do? Get yourselves killed?”
Mocking laughter wafted from the woods. “Can you hear me in there? This is Gertrude Tanner!”
So much for her giving me twenty-four hours. With an effort I swallowed my fury.
“Dear God!” Hannah Butcher breathed.
Again Gertrude laughed in sheer savage delight. “Are you ready to meet your Maker? Because you are all going to die!”
Chapter 13
Tyrel sprang to the door and wrenched it open, only to slam it shut again and fling himself against the wall as rifles thundered and half a dozen slugs thudded against the door and the jamb.
“You’re trapped!” Gertrude gloated. “My hands have your cabin surrounded! Try to make a break and we’ll shoot you to ribbons!”
“Ma?” Sam said anxiously. He was flat on the floor, as were several of the others. Daisy had sought cover by the stove.
Hannah sidled to a window, careful not to show herself. “Hush, boy, and let me think.”
I was crouched next to the table, but now I rose in a crouch and crossed to her side. She was warily peeking out. “See anything?”
“No, but I don’t doubt they’re out there. My worst fear has come to pass. Gertrude has us boxed in and can do as she pleases.” Hannah pressed her forehead to the wall and closed her eyes. “We’re goners. I should have left someone out there to stand guard.”
“Never give up hope,” I offered. Which was easy for me to say since I had a way out. “Perhaps if I talk to her I can persuade her to leave you be.”
Hope filled Hannah’s eyes. “Would you? She might listen to you, you being the parson and all.”
“It won’t hurt to try.” I moved past Jordy and Ty and opened the front door a crack. “Mrs. Tanner?” I bawled. “This is Reverend Storm! Tell your men not to shoot. I’m coming out.”
“By all means, do. I very much want to talk to you.”
As I stepped outside I heard Gertrude issue an order for the cowboys to hold their fire. She materialized out of the woods, as straight backed and haughty as ever. She was smiling a wicked sort of smile that widened when we met halfway across the clearing. I counted at least seven rifle barrels trained on me.
“Well, well, well,” Gertrude said. She was dressed in black and wore an ivory-handled Colt around her waist. In her left hand was a quirt. “Paying those scum a social call, are you?”
“I’m here to get the job done.” I gestured at the rifles. “You gave me twenty-four hours, remember? If I had known you were going to take matters into your own hands, I wouldn’t have bothered coming out.”
“I wearied of waiting for you,” Gertrude said. “There’s an old saying. If you want something done—”
“Do it yourself,” I finished for her. “But you hired me, and I intend to wrap everything up by midnight.”
“I think not,” Gertrude said.
“You want to see them die with your own eyes, is that it?”
“That, and more.” Gertrude grinned and tapped the riding quirt against her leg. “Oh, this is delicious. I only wish Phil was here. He would delight in the irony as much as I do.”
“What irony?” I asked.
“He’s laid up for a week. Doctor’s orders,” Gertrude said. “When I saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood, I thought I would die. He’s always meant the world to me, my boy.”
“What about your husband?”
“What about him?” she retorted. “Lloyd was a fool. But then, so was I, for marrying him. I loathe weak men, and he was as weak as pond water. How curious that I chose to hitch myself to someone like him.”
I had no interest in her personal life. “About the Butchers—”
“It’s strange how thing works out, isn’t it? Never as we expect. I had resigned myself to being shackled to Lloyd for the rest of my days, and now look. I am free to do as I want without his constant carping. You have no idea what I had to put up with.”
“I don’t give a damn,” I said.
“Now, now. Don’t be mad. I’m only doing what I intended to do all along. I never really needed you. But Lloyd insisted we hire an outsider so the finger of blame would not point at us.”
“Lloyd insisted? I thought you hired me on your own?”
“Did I give that impression?”
I didn’t like where this was leading. “Take your men and go.”
“Haven’t I made myself clear? I no longer require your services as a Regulator. I will do my own regulating from here on out.”
“We have a deal,” I stressed yet again.
Gertrude snickered. She was enjoying herself. “Deals, like laws, are made to be broken.”
“I won’t take it kindly if you back out.”
“What was it you said to me a few moments ago? Oh, yes. I don’t give a damn. In my estimation your reputation is greatly overblown.”
I could feel myself growing mad. I never let anyone talk to me like she was doing. “Be careful.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? I wouldn’t try, were I you. One wrong move, or a gesture from me, and my punchers will turn you into a sieve.”
The rifle muzzles pointed at me left no doubt her threat was genuine. It only made me hotter. “I’m not leaving until I get the rest of my money.”
Gertrude actually had the gall to laugh in my face. “Your money? In order for it to be yours, you had to earn it. Which you did not. No, the five hundred I have already paid is all I am paying, and even that was too much.”
“You don’t want me for an enemy.”
Smirking, Gertrude put her hands on her hips. “You still don’t get it, do you? Must I spell it out as I would to my late husband? How you have lasted so long is beyond me.”
One more insult and I would punch her, female or no. “Maybe it’s best if I just go.” I glanced at where I had left Brisco and felt my gut tighten; Brisco was gone. “What did you do with my horse?”
“We drove him off, along with their horses. After all, I wouldn’t want anyone to escape, now would I?” Gertrude regarded me intently. “Tell you what. I’ve thought of a way for you to redeem yourself. Do as I ask and I will pay you the other five hundred. Does that sound fair?”
“I’m listening.”
“Go back inside. Tell Hannah and her brats I will spare them if they throw down their guns and come out with their hands over their heads.”
“They’re not stupid,” I said.
“Assure them I am sincere. Convince them I intend to turn them over to the Texas Rangers.”
“As if you would.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Gertrude pressed. “And it’s the only way you will get what is coming to you.”
I hesitated. I might be able to talk the Butchers into agreeing. They trusted me, after all. I would assure them that as God was my witness, I would not let them come to harm.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“It may take me a while to convince them,” I said. I glanced at the cabin. We were far enough from it, and had talked quietly enough, that there was little chance we had been overheard.
“Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
I still hesitated. Gertrude reminded me of a cat about to eat a canary. I didn’t trust her. But so what if she did not keep her word? So what if she had the Butchers gunned down? I was fixing to kill them, anyway. What difference did it make who turned them into maggot bait so long as I was paid? Shrugging, I turned. I was almost to the door when Gertrude called my name. Not Reverend Storm, but my real name.
“Oh, Mr. St
ark?”
Mad as hell, I looked over my shoulder. She had drawn her Colt and was pointing it at my back. It stopped me in my tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving myself five hundred dollars.”
Gertrude shot me. There was a sharp sensation between my shoulder blades and the slug tore through my chest and burst out the front of my shirt. The impact jolted me. The world darkened and spun. Close to passing out, I lurched toward the front door and groped for the latch. I heard Gertrude laugh, and it was like having a bucket of cold water splashed in my face. My vision cleared and I stumbled to the door just as it was yanked open from within. Hannah enfolded me in her arms and pulled me in after her. None too soon. A volley from the woods blistered the door.
Jordy slammed the door after us.
Everyone else was down low. Hannah and Daisy half dragged, half carried me to a far corner and gently eased me down so I had my back to the wall. A strange weakness had come over me, and it was all I could do to hold my head up.
“She shot him!” Daisy exclaimed. “She shot the parson!”
“I wouldn’t put anything past that monster,” Hannah said while plucking at my shirt. “Let’s see how bad off he is.” She flicked my jacket aside. I tried to reach up to stop her but couldn’t. Suddenly she recoiled as if I had slapped her. “What in the world is this?”
“It’s a pistol!”
“I can see that, daughter.” Hannah slid the short-barreled Remington from my shoulder holster. “But what in the world is the preacher doing with a hideout? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“He has a rifle, too. I saw it in his saddle scabbard.”
“Even preachers shoot game for the dinner table,” Hannah said. “But this”—she hefted the Remington—“this is something a gambler or an assassin would carry.”
I had to say something. She was close to guessing the truth. But I was so weak that all I could croak was, “Pro—tect—you.”
“What did he say?” Hannah asked.
“I think he said he brought the gun to protect us,” Daisy said, and tenderly clasped my hand.
Disbelief was written plain on Hannah’s face.
Just then another volley peppered the cabin to the accompaniment of whoops and yips from the cowboys. The window shattered in a spray of shards. Slugs cored the door, narrowly missing Kip.
“Douse the lamp!”
Sam leaped to obey. As he rose to extinguish the wick, a rifle cracked. He had exposed himself through the window to a shooter in the woods. The slug caught him high in the shoulder and spun him around. He braced himself against the wall to keep from falling, but would have collapsed if not for Jordy, who caught him and lowered him into a chair. It was Ty who blew out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Hannah crabbed toward her youngest. “Keep low!” she cautioned. “Jordy, bolt the door. Carson and Ty, scoot over by the window.”
I attempted to sit up, but my legs would not cooperate. Seldom had I felt so defenseless. Hannah had taken my Remington, leaving me with nothing but the boot knife. The shooting, though, had stopped.
The way I saw it, Gertrude had four choices. She could wait us out until we were so low on food and water, her cowboys could overrun us. But that would take days, and by then the Texas Rangers would arrive. Her second choice was to rush us, but she was bound to lose a lot of punchers. Her third option was the one I would pick: sit out there and pepper us with lead for ten to twelve hours, whittling us down so when she did give the order for her cowhands to attack, they would overwhelm us with little loss of life on their side.
As if Gertrude was able to read my mind, she shouted, and leaden hail blistered the cabin on four sides. She had not been exaggerating when she said she had it surrounded.
Laughter pealed in the silence that followed the shots. “Are you still alive in there, Hannah? If so, you won’t be for long. By daybreak all of you will be dead and your cabin burned to the ground.”
Hannah was bent over Sam. Without raising her head she called out, “What did we do to you that you hate us so?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Gertrude rejoined. “But it will stay my little secret this side of the grave.”
“Please, for the sake of my children, don’t take the law into your own hands. Turn us over to the Texas Rangers.”
“Beg all you want, but my mind is made up. None of you are getting out of there alive. That includes your parson friend, in case he’s still breathing.”
God, how I hankered to blow out her wick. In my fury I clenched my fists and realized my strength was returning. Pain was setting in, as well. My temples pounded and my mouth became as dry as Death Valley. I did not have the warm, wet feeling deep inside, that warned of internal bleeding, which was a good sign. Nor was blood leaking out of my mouth and nose.
Daisy had slid over by her mother, but now she returned and wanted to know, “How are you holding up?”
I had to lick my lips and swallow a few times before saying, “It’s no worse than being stomped by a bull. How is your brother?”
Bending so close her warm breath fluttered my cheek, Daisy said, “The bullet nicked his shoulder bone, but Ma thinks Sam will live.”
“We can’t stay cooped up in here,” I said.
“What else can we do? Ma says it would be suicide to make a break for the woods. They would drop us one by one as we go out the door.”
That they would. “Give me a revolver or a rifle and I will cover you,” I offered. My thinking was that the cowboys would chase after them, giving me the chance to crawl into the woods and hide.
Daisy misunderstood. “You are the noblest man I’ve ever met. But we’re not about to run off and leave you.”
At that juncture something struck the front of the cabin with a loud thump, and seconds later a flickering glow lit the window.
“Dear Lord!” Hannah cried. “They’re trying to set the cabin on fire!”
That was the fourth choice.
Chapter 14
A bucket of water was on the counter. Jordy grabbed it and ran to the window, where fingers of flame were licking at the sill. To douse them, he had to lean out and upend the bucket. The moment he did, a rifle cracked off in the trees. Jordy dropped the bucket and tottered back, his right arm suddenly limp.
Hannah and Daisy rushed to render aid. They brought Jordy over near me and had him sit. Kip joined them and handed his mother his belt knife, which Hannah used to cut open Jordy’s sleeve. She gingerly examined the wound. The slug had drilled Jordy above the elbow, shattering the bone and leaving an exit hole the size of a walnut. Blood pumped in a torrent.
“We have to stop the bleeding,” Hannah said. “Daughter, rip a sheet into strips. Kip, find me something to use as a splint.”
I was feeling weak again. I stared at my own wound, wondering if I would live. Internal bleeding was not always apparent. If I was bleeding inside, there was nothing Hannah could do for me. I thought of Gertrude’s treachery and yearned to slip a garrote around her throat or, better yet, strangle her with my hands.
I had only myself to blame for being shot. When I started in the regulating business, I would never turn my back on someone like Gertrude. I had become too sure of myself, too careless. I had taken to assuming my reputation would protect me.
As I watched the glow at the front of the cabin grow, I did something I had not done since I was knee high to a foal. I prayed. I asked God Almighty to let me live so I could have my revenge on the woman who had done this to me. With every iota of my being, I prayed. When it hit me what I was doing, I grinned at my silliness.
Long ago I learned that God never answered my prayers. As a boy, night after night, I prayed that my father would stop beating my mother. Night after night, I prayed he would stop drowning himself in drink and treat us as a father was supposed to treat us. But my prayers did no good. My father did not stop drinking. He did not stop beating her. He did not treat us as a caring father should.
<
br /> I had heard that God answered the prayers of others: Folks have told me that the Almighty answered theirs. Why God never answered mine, I couldn’t rightly say. Maybe I made God mad at me somehow. Maybe I prayed wrong. Whatever it was, as I sat there with that bullet hole in me and realized I was praying, I not only grinned, I had a lump in my throat.
Then the moment passed, and the cowboys were whooping and hollering and peppering the cabin with lead. The flames outside were now visibly licking at the sill, and spreading rapidly.
The Butchers were huddled together and Hannah was talking in urgent but hushed tones. I could not hear what she was saying. Jordy had been bandaged, but he was as pale as paper. Sam looked even worse.
I tried to crawl to them, but my arms would not support me. I was able to sit back, but the effort left me exhausted. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, hands had hold of me and I was being dragged across the floor. I sucked in a deep breath and the pain made me cough and sputter.
Hannah’s kindly features floated above me. “Be still, Parson, and listen. We don’t have much time. Our cabin is filling with smoke. We can’t stay or we’ll be burned alive. We have to try for the woods. But we can’t take you with us.”
“What—?” I began, but she hushed me with a finger to my mouth.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t. Jordy and Carson are too weak to help carry you, and it will be all the rest of us can do not to get ourselves shot.”
I felt a hand in mine, squeezing gently. A small, slender hand. Daisy’s hand. I heard a scraping sound and saw Ty sliding the table aside.
“We’re going to put you in the root cellar,” Hannah went on. “It’s the best we can do. If we live, we will come back and fetch you as soon as we can.” Hannah held the short-barreled Remington where I could see it, then slid it into my shoulder holster. “Here. The Lord only knows what you are doing with this, but it might come in handy.” She regarded me intently. “I wish we had time to talk. I have a feeling things aren’t as I thought they were, but that’s neither here nor there now. We’re all in the same boat, and it’s sinking.”
A Wolf in the Fold Page 11
