Her Cold Revenge

by Erin Johnson

  “Well now, that sounds mighty nice, but —” He glanced at the sky. “I’m afeared another storm’s coming.”

  “Oh dear.” Grace looked in the direction he pointed. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so.” Plimpton’s voice turned harsh, cruel. “Not the kind of storm you’d expect, though.”

  He lunged at the door, smashing it into her. Grace crashed onto her backside, cursing under her breath as the revolver flew from her hand and skidded across the floor. She scrabbled for the gun but Plimpton fell heavily on top of her, and her breath whooshed from her body. Her ribs ached from the impact, and the odor of weeks-old sweat mingled with cigar smoke choked her. Pinning her hands against the wooden floor, he smirked down at her.

  “So what’s a sweet young thing like you doing with a weapon? You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

  “Why don’t you let me show you what I can do with it?” she snarled.

  The laughter that burbled from deep in Plimpton’s chest chilled Grace to the core, and his lips twisted in an evil grin. “You’re gonna show me what you can do, all right — but you won’t need a gun.”

  Tobacco-stained teeth headed for her mouth and Grace jerked her head to one side. Rough stubble raked her skin, and Plimpton growled and grabbed both her wrists with one beefy hand. His head descended again. Gagging and choking, Grace whipped her head from side to side, but he ground his lips and teeth against her mouth. Frantic, she writhed and kicked, trying to dislodge him, but his iron grip on her wrists tightened so much she squealed.

  He chuckled. “Now, that is what I like to hear from a woman.” His free hand fumbled for his belt. “Hold still, girl. This won’t take long.”

  Anger surged through her, and Grace clamped her teeth together to prevent another sound from escaping. She twisted her body and managed to wrench one of her hands from his grip. Nails extended, she clawed at his face. He snarled and let go of his belt buckle. With his free hand, he struggled to recapture her wrist, but she flailed her arm, evading him. He emitted a low growl of frustration. Darting a hand under his arm, Grace jabbed him in the eye with her fingers. Plimpton howled and loosened his grip slightly, and she took the opportunity to yank her other wrist away, shoving at his chest, desperate to free herself.

  His fist whipped through the air and crunched into her jaw, jarring her teeth and momentarily blackening her vision. Then Plimpton began to tear at her bodice. Though every movement of her head brought waves of pain so intense her stomach roiled, she again scratched fiercely at his face and hammered at him with her fists. Plimpton’s fingers closed around her neck, but as they did, one hairy arm brushed past her mouth. She grimaced but then bit down — hard. Plimpton screeched and drew back, and Grace squirmed and bucked, managing finally to tip him to one side. She thrashed to keep him off balance, and Plimpton fought to grab her flailing arms, but she evaded his grip. With one last thrash, gritting her teeth, she managed to smash her knee into his groin.

  Plimpton cried out and doubled over on the floor, and Grace shook herself free of him and crawled for the gun. Shaky and with a throbbing head, she stood up and trained her revolver on him as he lay rocking back and forth, his eyes glazed over with pain. She reached down and slid his own gun swiftly from his holster, then stepped back to set it on the table behind her. When Plimpton finally focused on her and her revolver, his eyes widened. He shook his head. “You ain’t gonna use that thing, woman.”

  “You a betting man, Earl? We could bet on that.”

  With a grimace, Plimpton pulled himself into a sitting position. “Aw, now, there’s no call for getting angry. We was just having some fun.”

  “Fun?” Grace spat out the word.

  “So maybe I got a mite rough, but you can’t blame a man.” The predatory gleam was back in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful I had trouble controlling myself.” Plimpton pushed himself up on one knee.

  “Stay where you are or I’ll shoot.” Grace barked out the words.

  Plimpton stopped for a second and looked at her, holding out a pleading hand. “Let’s start over, sugar. I’ll take it slow and gentle. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

  The man was a superb actor. Grace had to give him that, but his act sickened her. He was lower than a sidewinder and just as slithery.

  When he made a move to rise, she snapped, “You move so much as another inch and I’ll shoot.”

  With a smarmy smile, Plimpton rocked back onto his heels. “Aw, sweetheart, you don’t mean that.”

  “Try me.” Her finger itched on the trigger.

  In one swift move, he uncoiled himself and lunged.

  Grace fired.

  He flew backward, cracking his head on the hearth, and lay on the floor moaning and clutching his arm. Focusing through the black smoke at the end of her gun barrel, Grace prepared for another shot in case he rose.

  “The next one’s going through your heart.”

  Behind her, the door banged open so hard it shook the cabin walls.

  She jumped and spun around, pointing the revolver at the intruder.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Grace! Are you all right?” Joe stopped, hands raised, when he spotted the gun.

  The desperation in his voice and the concern on his face touched Grace’s heart, and she longed to fling herself into his arms, but she knew she had to stay alert. A groan came from the hearth and she whirled, her gun aimed at Plimpton once more.

  “What happened?” Joe eyed the man sprawled on the floor. “Is he the one you were after?”

  Her lips pinched in a tight line, Grace nodded.

  “You shot him?” Joe strode to the hearth where blood was pooling under Plimpton’s shoulder.

  “We had a tussle.”

  “What?” Joe looked up, and his hands balled into fists as he took in her disheveled clothes and puffy cheek. He rushed over to her, lifting her chin and tilting it to the light. “He did this?” he said quietly, trailing a finger lightly along her cheek and over the finger marks on her neck. Joe’s touch involuntarily set Grace’s pulse zinging, but she forced herself to keep her eyes averted and the gun trained on Plimpton.

  When his gaze reached her ripped bodice, Joe’s jaw clenched. “He didn’t —”

  “He tried.” Her throat had closed so tightly she could barely get the words out. She pushed away memories of Plimpton’s hands on her body. The disgusting kiss and his hands tearing at her clothes. Remembering it almost made her retch.

  “That bastard. That low-down, dirty bastard.” Joe strode toward the hearth, anger in every line of his body. “So help me, I’m going to —”

  “Joe . . .” Grace said in a warning voice, though part of her wanted him to beat the man to a pulp.

  He swung back his foot and booted Plimpton hard in the rear, and the criminal yowled, clutched at his bloody shoulder, and cowered.

  “You need a good kick in your —” Joe’s foot hovered over the man’s crotch.

  Plimpton’s face twisted in agony and he drew his legs up closer to his body. “No,” he whimpered. “Please.”

  “I already did that,” Grace said.

  “You did?” Joe turned to her, admiration temporarily sweeping away the murderous look in his eyes.

  “That’s how I got away.”

  Joe shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “Grace Milton, you are one amazing woman.”

  Grace had a hard time tearing her gaze from his, but Plimpton had fooled her before. She couldn’t take a chance he’d do it again. Joe followed her gaze, and his hand went to his own gun.

  “Why didn’t you shoot him dead? That’s what he deserves.”

  “Don’t —”

  “Anyone who would do that to an innocent woman doesn’t deserve to live.” His voice was low and filled with rage now.

  Grace stepped closer and laid a
hand on his arm. “He’s my bounty.”

  “You’ll get paid whether he’s dead or alive.” His eyes wouldn’t leave Plimpton now.

  “Joe, please,” she said, trying to think fast. “With your bullet in him, they may think I didn’t do it.”

  Shaking with anger, he finally moved his hand away from his gun. “If I had the money, I’d pay you the bounty for the privilege of killing this varmint.”

  “Actually,” Grace said, “don’t you think it’s fitting punishment for him to be brought into town by a woman?”

  Joe looked at her and grinned, but the fury didn’t leave his eyes. “That will be fun to watch.”

  “But . . . I can’t have you ride in with me.”

  “What?” He frowned at her.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Grace said, hastening to explain. “I only meant if we go together, everyone will think you caught him. You don’t know how it is, Joe. They treat me like I’m incapable.”

  Joe stood silently for a moment. “I see. But I don’t want to leave you alone with him. What if he tries something else?”

  “I don’t think he’s in any shape to do that, but we’ll tie him up tight to be sure.”

  Joe unholstered his gun and pointed it at Plimpton. “I’ll keep him covered while you get the rope.”

  Grace cleared her throat and gave Joe a look.

  “Oh, right. He’s your captive. I’ll get the rope. But if he so much as moves, shoot him through the heart.”

  “I think I can handle it,” she said with a small smile.

  “I know you can, it’s just that . . .” The love shining in Joe’s eyes made his message clear, but he swallowed hard. “If anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

  Too choked up to answer, she hoped her own eyes conveyed her appreciation.

  * * *

  A short while later, they had half-heartedly bandaged Plimpton’s shoulder with rags and trussed him tightly to his horse. Grace changed her bodice and packed her belongings while Joe cleaned the bloodstains from the cabin floor and patched the cabin roof.

  After Grace locked the cabin, she and Joe rode toward town together in the gathering dusk, and Plimpton shrieked and cursed as his horse bumped along behind. When they reached the end of the trail, Joe slowed and pulled up beside Grace. Bullet shied as Paint brushed against him, but he settled quickly when she talked to him. Joe leaned toward her, and she met him halfway. Their lips touched, but the ugly memory of Plimpton rose in her mind, and she broke away. All she wanted to do was scrub her lips to erase her queasiness.

  Joe’s glance — half puzzled, half hurt — made her ache inside. She needed to explain, but not here and not now. And she knew it wouldn’t be long before her passion for Joe outweighed any bad memories of Black Coat.

  With a curt wave, Joe dug in his heels and galloped ahead. “See you in town,” he called over his shoulder, a smile returning to his lips now. “I want to be there for the show.”

  Grace waited until she could no longer see the puffs of dust billowing behind Paint, then she emerged from the tree line and followed at a sedate pace, with Plimpton and his horse still following behind.

  When she reached Main Street, Emily came running toward her, shouting her name.

  “You got him!” the little girl called excitedly. “That’s the bad man who hurt Ma!” She turned and ran back down the street, yelling for her mother.

  Caroline came running to the doorway of the saloon. Across the street, some of the other widows hurried from the boarding house. They pointed and cheered as they saw Grace’s cargo, with Emily’s “hurrahs” being the loudest of all. Further down the street, Grace spied Joe leaning against a post outside the saloon. He winked, but rapidly resumed the look of a casual bystander.

  When she dismounted at the sheriff’s office, Caroline rushed over and took her hand. “Thank you. Oh, thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” She threw a loathing glance at the man slumped over the saddle of the other horse.

  But Grace did understand. Her experience hadn’t been as horrific as some of the widows’, but she’d never forget the sickening stench of Plimpton, his repulsive body on hers, the terror of being trapped, and his nauseating touch. Even now she shuddered, and disgust made her hands clumsy as she untied the ropes that bound Plimpton to his saddle. The last rope slipped from her grasp, and he plummeted to the ground. She made no move to stop his fall. He screeched when he landed on his side.

  The sheriff stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight and blinked at the crowd surrounding Grace. “What’s all this commotion?”

  “She caught the bad man who hurt Ma!” Emily’s shrill voice rose over the chatter.

  The sheriff’s gaze darted from Plimpton to Grace and back again. “You didn’t go after him all by yourself?”

  “Yes, she did,” Emily piped up again.

  “Deputy Clayton said there was no one else available to do it,” Grace reminded him curtly.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean for you to go after him.” The sheriff hoisted Plimpton to his feet, then gave Grace a stern look. “That was a foolish and dangerous thing to do.”

  Grace glared at him. “I’d say it was more dangerous to leave a man like that at large.”

  “She’s right.” One of the women moved to Grace’s side and put an arm around her. “You should be thanking her for her bravery.”

  “I’m impressed by her bravery, but she could have been hurt or even killed. Chasing criminals is no job for a woman.” He turned to Grace. “And especially not for a young girl like you.”

  She clenched her fists at her sides and tried to keep the irritation from her voice. “I’ve caught three criminals in the past few days. I think I’ve proved my skills.”

  “Three?”

  “Talk to Deputy Clayton in Tombstone. He’ll tell you I’m a seasoned bounty hunter. I took down a criminal as notorious as Doc Slaughter and I aim to get the rest of the Guiltless Gang too.”

  “That was you who shot Slaughter?” The sheriff’s eyebrows rose. “Heard it was some slip of a girl,” he murmured, shaking his head. “But you stay away from the Guiltless Gang. One stroke of luck doesn’t make you experienced enough to capture them”

  Emily frowned at the sheriff. “Grace is the best bounty hunter ever. She’ll get that gang, and I’m gonna help her.”

  Caroline pulled her daughter quickly to her side. “Emily, I don’t think —”

  “It’s all right,” Grace assured her. “Emily’s doing a wonderful job of studying the wanted posters,” she said, leaning down and resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s keeping an eye out for them in town, and she’ll tell me if she spots one. But that’s all — right, Emily?”

  Caroline smiled indulgently. “I’m sure she’ll do a fine job with that. She’s very observant.”

  The sheriff headed for his office, a moaning Plimpton in tow. “Guess you’d best come along, young lady, and get your reward.” He inspected Plimpton’s bandage. “Then I’ll send for the doc . . .”

  “No rush for that,” Grace heard one of the women mutter.

  A chorus of thanks and cheers awaited her when she emerged a short while later. The widows all clustered around her. Many of them tried to press some money into her hands, but she waved them away. The last to leave was Mrs. Burns. With tears in her eyes, she hugged Grace and handed her a gold piece for caring for the horses. She tried to refuse, but the widow pressed it into her palm and squeezed her fingers around Grace’s.

  “You use that toward catching that gang. It’s a shame when a young girl has to do a job our men should be doing, but someone has to keep this town safe, and to me you’re more than capable. You’ve proved that, young lady.”

  Emily sidled up to Grace as the widow left to head for her cabin. “You’ll get all those outlaws, won’t you, Gr
ace?” She gazed up at her with adoring eyes.

  “I hope so. I certainly hope so. Where’s your mother?” Grace was anxious to find Joe, but she had something she wanted to do first.

  “She had to go back to work.”

  “Let’s go find her.”

  They found Caroline scurrying back and forth in the boarding house, her arms full of dirty dishes. Grace helped her clear the tables and then handed Emily’s mother some money.

  “What’s this?”

  “I couldn’t get your horses back,” Grace said, “and this won’t cover your losses, but it should be enough for tickets to get back East.”

  When Caroline shook her head, Grace whispered, “This is no place for Emily. I want her to be safe.” Visions of her sister Abby brought a lump to her throat. “I’d like to give it to you, but if you can’t accept it, then think of it as a loan. You can repay me after you get back home. Just see that you’re on the next train out of town.”

  Tears sprang to Caroline’s eyes and she threw her arms around Grace. “You’ve been a godsend. I will never be able to thank you.”

  “The only thanks I want is knowing that you’re both safe.”

  Caroline’s smile lit up the dark room, and she bent down to hug her daughter. “We’re going home, Emily. Back to Nanny and Pappy. And uncles and aunts and cousins . . .”

  Emily danced around and then reached out and grabbed Grace’s hand. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you, Grace?”

  She opened her mouth to correct her, but Caroline gave her a warning glance over Emily’s head. “We’ll see, honey,” she said to her daughter. “Grace has some family back East, so maybe she’ll visit them and come see us too.”

  “You should come when we go! Then we can all go on the train together.” Emily looked at her mother. “When do we leave?”