This Side of Forever (Book Five of the Brides of the West Series)

by Hestand, Rita

  "Ever think about another lady…" Clay asked.

  "Si…many times." His eyes lit up once more.

  Clay slapped him on the back and laughed. "I hope you find someone, and bring her here for me to meet."

  "I have my eyes on Chiquita she is a dancer…"

  "A dancer. Well, that sounds promising." Clay nodded.

  "Si, except…she already has a husband." Juan laughed.

  "You live dangerously my friend." Clay chuckled.

  "Si…he is no good, and one day he'll leave her and I will go get her and make her my bride."

  Billy came out; Becca stood on the porch and watched them. Billy waved to her. She waved back, her face was serious, but before he left, she smiled and Billy was happy again.

  "She worries too much." Billy told them.

  "We'll do our best not to take any chances." Clay assured him.

  Juan nodded.

  As they approached George's place, they climbed a ridge that over-looked the ranch house. Clay got out his binoculars he had saved during his days with the union army, and he looked down the hill and into the yard.

  There were two men digging graves to one side of the house. Directly George came out of the house and walked up to the men digging. Two other men brought two bodies out of the house.

  "What's going on Clay?"

  "Looks like the Sheriff and his deputy met up with the wrong side of a gun." Clay frowned. "That's not good news. This means, it's up to us to take them in."

  "Si…" Juan looked disturbed too.

  "Well, what are waiting for?" Billy started to get off the ground and go for his horse.

  "Wait, come back here. We can't just ride down there and start shooting. We have to make a plan, surprise them. The best way to lick the enemy is surprise Billy." Clay explained.

  "He is right." Juan nodded.

  "Alright…what's the plan?" Billy asked his impatience showing.

  "There are four men doing all the work. What we need to do is watch where George goes and capture him, then hold a gun over him in front of his men. They won't shoot." Clay insisted. "He pays their salaries."

  "Si. That is good."

  "Alright, they just started digging, it's time to watch and figure out where we can catch George. We'll sneak down there and go in the back way. As soon as we get closer, we can see who is out there. We want to capture George alive, because he won't be worth much dead. His men would shoot it out or run. So we need George alive. The element of surprise usually works well." Clay said.

  "Let's work our way down there, toward the back of the house. George just went inside." Clay told them.

  As they worked their way down the hill, they kept low and quiet.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, they waited until the other two men started picking up the bodies.

  George hadn't come out of the house yet.

  "Alright you two go around the back; I'm going to try to get around the front from the other side." Clay motioned for them to go. "I'll cover you if need be."

  As Billy and Juan made their way toward the back of the house, Clay watched for anyone coming in or going out of the grounds. But it didn't look as if there were anyone else.

  He began making his way around the house and going in the front. He kept himself low, so as not to be noticed. As he slowly opened the door, he went inside. He saw the shadows of Billy and Juan.

  He heard George talking to someone and they all converged on him with their guns.

  George rose up from his easy chair in the parlor and looked stunned at Clay and Billy. Juan came up from behind and George frowned. He had been talking to one of his men, but there was no sign of him now.

  They pulled their guns.

  "What are you doing here?" George demanded to know.

  "We're taking you in."

  "For what?"

  "Killing the Sheriff and deputy." Clay announced. "And I guess we could add, beating up a woman…huh George?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about." George's voice was filled with tension now. His hand was shaking as he tried to finish his cigar.

  "I'm talking about Amy, George. Left up to me, I'd just kill you right here and be done with it, but I promised Amy…"

  "Promised her what?" George asked looking vaguely interested.

  "That I wouldn't kill you…."

  George tried to laugh, but the laugh was high pitched as though he were afraid.

  "You'll never get away with this. I have four men, right outside…"

  "We know. But they won't do anything to get their boss shot, I’m sure of that." Clay smiled.

  "You're stupid, and you're going to die today, Clay."

  "I don't think so." Billy came forward. "You see, he promised Amy. But I didn't."

  George's smile faded.

  "Neither did I." Juan said holding his shotgun up.

  "You won't get away with this." George insisted, his confidence waning some.

  "Let's just see if we will." Clay put the gun to his head, "now move." He held one of George's arms behind him and guided him to the front door.

  The door opened slowly and George walked out, his men all turned to look when Clay, Billy, and Juan came out with him.

  "Boss…what's going on?" his foreman asked as he came closer.

  "That's far enough Sam." Clay shouted. "Now look, we don't want any blood-shed. We're taking your boss into town to jail. And if any of you try to be heroes, my brother Billy or my friend Juan will shoot you, and I'll have to kill George."

  "Don't believe him. He won't shoot." George almost laughed.

  "Boss, I can't take that chance." Sam looked at George an cocked his head.

  "Good thinking Sam. Now just keep your hands away from your guns, or we'll have to shoot." Clay instructed.

  "Reno, you won't get away with this." One of his men boasted.

  "Try me. Please…try me." Clay frowned and stared the cowboy down.

  Sam shook his head. "Don't try it Jake."

  "That's good Sam. That's real good. Now we're leaving and if you want to see your boss, come to the jail. But with you out here burying the Sheriff, I don't think you'd want to come to town right now, would you?"

  Sam shook his head. "You're holding all the aces right now."

  "That's right Sam. I am." Clay made George mount his horse, then he climbed on back and they rode out like lightning.

  Billy and Juan held guns on the men until Clay and George were out of sight, and then Juan had an idea.

  "Take your boots off boys." Juan told them.

  "Our boots?"

  "That's right, your boots."

  The men sat down on the grass and took their boots off.

  "Good job, now your clothes." Billy looked at Juan and laughed.

  "Good thinking, Billy." Juan laughed.

  "Come on…you're not serious?"

  "Try us."

  Juan aimed the gun at the one talking so much.

  "Okay, we'll take our clothes off. What will this prove?"

  "Nothing, but I don't think you're going to chase after us with no clothes on…" Juan laughed.

  The men proceeded to undress. "We won't forget this." Sam promised.

  "Good, maybe you'll think before you kill another Sheriff, huh?"

  "We didn't kill them."

  Billy twisted himself and then turned to stare. "They killed themselves?"

  "George did all the killing. We're just hired cowboys." Sam insisted.

  "You are the wrong kind of cowboys, mister. The kind that does anything their boss tells them to. Sit down…" Juan said, aiming his shotgun.

  "What are you doing now?" Sam asked.

  "We're gonna tie you up, that's what." Billy said as Juan got his rope from his horse.

  Billy began wrapping the rope around them and before long had all four of them tied in a neat little bundle.

  "Now, I'd suggest you fellas go find you another job, because I don't think he's going to be back here for a while." Billy la
ughed. "In fact, in light of what you are out here burying for him, I think he's gonna swing for this."

  Sam finally shut up. He stared at the ground and despite the fact that it was hot, he shivered.

  "Let's go Juan." Billy laughed.

  "We'll get you for this, Billy." Sam promised.

  "I doubt that…" Billy laughed and they rode off, toward town. "You won't show your faces in town for a long while, I don't think."

  Clay reached town about an hour and a half later. He glanced at the building crowd following him through town.

  "What's going on, Clay?" The doc hollered.

  "Taking George in for killing the Sheriff." Clay announced loud enough for all the hear.

  "Bill's dead?"

  "That's right and the deputy too."

  There were whispers all over town.

  Clay saw Martin come out of his house and to the street to stare at them. He talked to someone on the street, and then he shot Clay a murderous glance.

  Clay continued to the jail. He took him inside and finding the keys; he threw George in a cell and locked the door.

  Closing the door between him and George, he waited for Billy and Juan.

  They were nearly an hour late getting in, but they were laughing all the way.

  "What's so funny," Clay asked pushing his hat back from his face with relief at seeing them.

  "We left them buck naked and tied up to boot. That's what."

  Clay smiled, "Now that's something even I wouldn't have thought of. Great job boys."

  "What do we do now?"

  "I reckon we need to find a deputy or go to the judge or someone to watch over George."

  "Dell Simmons might watch them for us; he used to be a deputy a long time ago." Billy hollered.

  "Good, go see if you can find him."

  "Alright. Be back soon." Billy smiled at them.

  About that time, Martin came barging through the door, bigger than life. His voice boomed at them.

  "What do you think you are doing?" he demanded to know.

  "We made a citizen's arrest. George killed the Sheriff and his deputy." Clay announced.

  "How do you know it was him?" Martin insisted.

  "Pretty easy really. His men were burying them." Clay chuckled.

  "Did you see them kill them?" Martin demanded.

  "Nope, but the Sheriff went out to arrest him."

  "For what?" he raised his voice again.

  "Oh, yeah, I guess you don't know about it. Well, he beat the hell out of Amy, that's what." Clay came up to him. "You know you and George would make a good team, you both mistreat your women."

  "Amy? Is she all right? My God. How do you know all of this?"

  "I've seen them."

  "Is she…alright?"

  "If you call broken ribs and a really bad looking black eye alright, I guess."

  "Now…exactly what can we do for you, Martin?" Clay asked putting his feet up on the side of the desk.

  "Nothing…" he glanced toward the jail, then started to walk off.

  "Not going to spring him?" Clay asked.

  "Of course not. I should kill him." Martin frowned at him.

  "Why don't you leave that to the law?" Clay suggested.

  He shot Clay another mean glance and walked out the door.

  Clay watched to see where he was headed.

  He was headed for the hotel.

  "Dammit, he's going to the hotel, to see Amy." Clay fussed.

  Juan looked at him strangely. "It's his daughter, right?"

  "Right….I guess." Clay thought about that and what he had learned about Amy.

  "I've got to get there before him. You stay here and watch the jail. If you have trouble, shoot that gun of yours off three times. I'll be back." Clay told Juan.

  "Si…"

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clay went behind the hotel and climbed the back stairs. He scaled the ledge as he found the room, and tapped on the window for Beatrice to let him in. It took a minute or two to figure out where the noise was coming from but she finally heard him.

  "What's happened?" She cried as she opened the window for him.

  Clay climbed through and looked at her. "Your husband is on his way over. Do you want to be here?"

  "Yes…I do." Beatrice cried. "I'm not afraid of him, now."

  "I'm not letting him in, to see her, and I think you shouldn't be here at all. He's liable to get rough if you are here, so I want you to slip out the back way and go on over to the doc's house. I'll meet you there, quick now."

  She nodded. "You won't let him see her?"

  "No, now hurry. Hurry," he told her.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Did you find the Sheriff?"

  "He's dead, we got George locked up over at the jail." Clay told her, "Now scoot. He'll be here any moment."

  He watched as she slipped away.

  About that time, Martin pounded on the door.

  Clay didn't answer it.

  "Beatrice, if you are in there, you better let me in…" Martin hollered again. He pounded several times, exasperation making his angrier by the minute.

  Martin swore under his breath and went down to talk to the desk clerk.

  "Is my wife and daughter in?" He asked the little man at the desk.

  "I don't know sir. I just came on duty a few minutes ago." He said meekly.

  Martin jerked him up by the collar and held him up so he could look him in the eye. "Do you have the key?"

  "Nor sir…we only have two keys, and they have them." The little man cowed down.

  "Where could they have gone?" Martin asked as though he expected an answer.

  "I have no idea, sir."

  "I'll be back, and that door better be unlocked." He bellowed.

  "Yes sir…"

  ~*~

  Martin went home. The house was so quiet. He kept hearing things when no one was there. It was driving him crazy. He held his head and willed himself not to panic.

  He concentrated on what he needed to do, and on finding Amy. That was all that mattered anymore. He needed a gun and he was going to shut George up permanently. But his only real worry was Amy. What exactly had George done to her? And why? Where was she? He had to find her.

  His mind ran rampant.

  He felt a rage building inside him. If George hurt a hair on her head, he'd kill him, so help him.

  He went upstairs to his own bedroom, one he no longer shared with Beatrice. He went to the gun cabinet and unlocked it. He took out his rifle and loaded his handgun. He strapped on his holster and checked for ammunition. When he was fully loaded, he looked around the room.

  He needed a plan. He couldn't go off and not know what he was going to do.

  First, he'd take care of George, and then he'd worry about catching up to Amy. If she was hurt, she shouldn't be hard to find.

  He paced the room trying to think. He knew that the whole town would be wise to him before long. He couldn't keep things a secret any longer and it was all George's fault.

  He'd see him dead before the night was over.

  Then he'd take care of Clay Reno, and find his Amy.

  He picked up a picture he had of Amy by his bed. A picture he had lusted after for too many years. He wanted her and before long, he would have her. Before long, she would murmur his name and cling to him for protection. He could see it all now. Amy would love him…as a man, not a father.

  Beatrice hadn't fooled him all these years; he knew he wasn't her blood father. Moreover, that knowledge gave him the permission he needed to lust after her for the past few years.

  She had always been a loving daughter to him, and soon she would be even closer to him. He sneered at the outside world. He needed no one but her.

  His brain wasn't working, and he cursed the confusion he was feeling now. He cursed Beatrice most of all. He'd kill her, and then he could have Amy all to himself. He was tired of sharing her with her mother. He needed his Amy, his darling little girl who had grown into a beau
tiful, captivating woman. A young woman he'd barely been able to keep his hands off of all these years.

  George wasn't good enough for her, either. The thought of George having her was like a tornado ripping through his mind. No one would have her, but himself.

  Clay Reno wanted her, but he'd see him dead first too.

  He was no blood relation to Amy, only in the minds of people in this town. They didn't know the secrets behind the walls of this beautiful house. But he could leave this town, and he would.

  He stomped out of the house and decided to try to remain hidden until he could get to the jail and kill George.

  He needed to know who was in the office. If Clay was still there, he'd take care of him at the same time he took care of George. He'd kill them all. And all for one thing…his Amy.

  He'd bottled up his feelings so long, releasing them now made him feel powerful, and deadly. Adrenalin surged through him. His head was spinning with a triumph that wasn't his yet.

  He tried to remember when he first had the idea that Amy could be all his. It was after their son died, when Beatrice refused to have relations with him. Amy had been extra sweet to him, because he was so depressed. She'd cuddle up in his lap and kiss his cheek, but she was still very young then. His awareness of her began the summer she blossomed into a woman. The revelation was breathtaking. He was watching her change clothes. He stopped at her doorway. She saw him, and scrambled into her gown. He did nothing, but stare and fantasize the whole summer. So much so, he could feel the curve of her young, high breasts, the natural curve of her hips that would fit his hands nicely. The beautiful red-gold flecks in her hair that he'd love to run his fingers through. Everything about her attracted him. Her hair flowed down her back in ringlets, her lips were cherry red and ripe for his kisses. He knew then he wanted her, in the most basic way. Beatrice had become nothing but extra baggage to him. He began to fantasize about being with Amy.

  He imagined Amy, lying on the bed, in her gown, waiting for him, calling to him. It gave him such a rush.

  It wouldn't be long now. All he had to do was kill a few people and she'd be his. He could take her to Mexico and they could live there as husband and wife. He'd be happy at last. He'd have his Amy.

  His head began to pound. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what it was. He'd been having such monster headaches for the past few years and he didn't know what was causing them. But Amy would come and rub his temples, kiss his forehead and tell him it would be all right.