“Hey, Jack,” he said to the first one he reached, crouching down next to him. “Everyone in place?”
“Hey, Tucker. Yep. Jim and Matt found their way above the Short Branch Saloon just like you said they would.”
Looking across the street, Tucker saw the two men on the roof of the notorious bar, their rifles aimed at the street below.
“And Max and Bob, they’re on the roof next to ‘em, and they got there through the saloon as well. You were right. I watched ‘em walk in. Everyone’s so drunk in there they didn’t even notice, and the rest of us are up here, just like ya wanted.”
“Good work,” Tucker said, studying their various positions. “See that fella in the gray suit?”
“Yep.”
“I think he’s the leader, and the one in the red shirt and black hat, the one slowly walkin’ toward the coach, I’m pretty sure he’s one of ‘em.”
“Got it,” Jack said. “Lemme go tell the boys.”
“Wait, where’s the bag?” Tucker asked urgently.
“Here,” Jack replied, hefting a leather pouch from his opposite side.
Tucker glanced at his watch. It was two minutes to three o’clock.
“Go tell them I’m lettin’ it fly.”
As Tucker opened the case, Jack, keeping low, scrambled to his mates, and a moment later Tucker saw him pull a small mirror from his pocket and flash it across the street. A flash was returned; it was time.
Lifting the open bag over the edge of the building, Tucker turned it upside-down and a mass of dollar bills began floating to the ground, dancing on their journey when caught by a waft of air. Someone screamed that money was falling from the sky, and in seconds it was total mayhem.
Tucker and his posse kept their eyes focused on the coach, and as the run for the bills began, it was easy to see who the armed thieves were. Totally taken off guard, they were left behind by the regular folks chasing the miraculous windfall. Tucker quickly counted six gunmen, including the man in the suit.
Then it happened.
The well-dressed man drew his gun and began striding quickly toward the coach. The sound of a rifle blazed through the air, and as the shot sent the citizens scrambling for cover, the man teetered for moment, then fell to the ground. Tucker’s plan was working exactly as he wanted; draw the people away from the coach, then have them run for cover when the first shot was fired.
Moments later a pistol shot crackled from the rooftop across the street, then another and another. The band of thieves didn’t know from where the shots were coming, but they were now completely exposed, and as Tucker watched each of them hit the dirt, he was amazed at the skill of Duke’s gunmen. The dramatic, perfectly executed ambush was over in less than a minute, and all the culprits had been hit.
Chapter Seventeen
As the last of the dollar bills lightly touched down, a deathly silence settled over the street. Duke’s men had been ordered to leave as they’d arrived, unseen, and Tucker watched them disappear from the rooftops. But he was staying put. He wanted to see who would appear to check on the downed thieves. The minutes ticked by, and people started cautiously moving back into the street. Several were brave enough to pick up the scattered money, while some headed for the safety of their homes, but no one appeared to help those who had been shot. None of the bodies had moved, the evildoers were indeed dead, and deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, clutching the bag, he climbed back through the window and moved swiftly down the stairs. Bragg would soon be on the scene, and Tucker was surprised he’d not yet appeared.
Peering around the back door, a distance away he saw a few people loitering, probably folks who had run behind the buildings for cover. They didn’t look up, so he began walking toward Sam’s Mercantile. As he passed them they paid him no notice, and once at Sam’s back door he knocked three times. Sam was quick to answer, and moving into the dim storeroom, Tucker gratefully put down the bag and sat on a crate.
“That was quite a ruckus,” Sam remarked.
“Some foolish men tried to rob the stagecoach,” Tucker declared, “but their thievin’ days are over.”
“Dang,” Sam muttered. “You wanna a drink?”
“You betcha.”
“I figured,” Sam replied, and turning to a crate behind him, he picked up a bottle and poured a splash of whiskey into two glasses, handing one to Tucker.
“Here’s to you,” Sam declared, raising his short, fat tumbler. “I don’t who you are, but I’m sure glad you came into town, you and that priest friend of yours.”
“Thanks,” said Tucker, downing the welcome liquor in one gulp. “How do you know the priest is a friend of mine?”
“Stands to reason. You two make a mean team. You tell him he’s welcome here anytime.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Tucker replied. “I’m just gonna wait a bit, then I’ll be outta your hair. The fun and games are over for now. You can open up whenever you want.”
“I have your shawl wrapped up nice.”
“The what? Oh, the shawl! How much is it?” Tucker asked, reaching into his pocket.
“No, no!” Sam protested. “I’m not takin’ your money.”
“Now, Sam, I’ve gotta buy it. I can’t give a lady a present I didn’t buy. It wouldn’t be right.”
“You almost bought it with your life!” Sam exclaimed.
“Not even close, now tell me how much or I can’t take it with me.”
“Two dollars and seventy-five cents,” Sam said, sighing resignedly.
“Here you go,” Tucker said, handing him four dollars. “The extra is for lettin’ me use this place, and don’t even think of arguin’.”
“Tucker, I—”
“Go open your door,” Tucker said, cutting him off. “You’ve gotta business to run.”
“Help yourself,” Sam said, pointing to the bottle. “As much as you want.”
Tucker watched him walk away, and pouring himself another shot, he sipped it slowly. The ambush had gone off even better than he’d expected, but there was no going back to stay in the cabin. He was pondering when to retire Father O’Brien when he heard the sound of Kenny Bragg’s voice. The glass still in his hand, he moved to the door and listened.
“Everythin’ quiet here, Sam?” Tucker heard Bragg ask.
“Here, sure, up the street though, sounded like the bullets were flyin’. What happened?”
“The stagecoach was about to be robbed when a bunch of citizens took it into their heads to become the law. Not a good idea.”
“Were they hurt?”
“Nope, but it’s not their job,” Bragg growled, “and it made some folks real mad.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam remarked. “Is there somethin’ you wanted, marshal?”
“Conan McGill says ya got a good look at the stranger who attacked him and the guard he had sittin’ here. Is that right, Sam?”
“Not much of one. It all happened real fast, and he had his hat low over his face.”
“Have ya seen him since?”
“Nope, he hasn’t come in again.”
“Ya seen the priest?”
“Nope.”
“Ya don’t know much, do ya, Sam?”
“Not about what you’re askin.”
“Ya gotta lotta influence around here, you and a few others. McGill ain’t goin’ nowhere. Best come to terms with it before there’s more bodies in the street. We can have a peaceful town again, but ya gotta play ball.”
“That man is already takin’ fifty percent of my earnin’s!” Sam exclaimed. “Seems to me I’m already playin’ ball, though I gotta tell you, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up. How’s a fella supposed to survive?”
“I’m here to tell ya he’ll negotiate that tax. If you and Frank Barlow and the other business folks see reason, this can all be worked out.”
“Marshal, what’s happened to you? You’re supposed to be the law around here.”
“Sometimes, Sam, it’s bett
er to take the money and know when yer beat, and it’s a whole lot healthier as well. McGill is real sore about that robbery gettin’ fouled up just now, and he ain’t gonna take it lyin’ down. Trust me, after this weekend Duke Baker is gonna find out McGill means business, and if Duke don’t fall in line he’ll be sleepin’ in a wooden box. I’ve said my piece, and if ya know about his stranger and his priest friend, it’s best ya tell me come Monday mornin’. I’m talkin’ to all the business folk on the street, so ya might wanna have a town meetin’ and decide what y’all wanna do. Be smart, Sam.”
Tucker heard the sound of Bragg’s feet stomping out the door. Things had come to a head, and he assumed Bragg had been talking about the fire McGill was planning to set at the cabin on Saturday night, but was that going to be just the beginning? Was McGill planning to then head up to Duke’s house and threaten him?
“You heard all that?” Sam asked, walking through the door carrying a package wrapped in pink paper.
“Yep.”
“What should I do? I’m at a loss,” Sam muttered with a heavy frown.
“Have the meetin’. It’ll keep things calm around here if they believe you and the others are thinkin’ about playin’ along, but be careful. There might be folks who are already on McGill’s side and are gonna report back. You gonna have to seem like you mean it.”
“That’s gonna be tough,” Sam muttered. “Frank’ll wanna skin me. I should tell him what I’m doin’.”
“I’ve come to respect that stable owner, and you might be right about him, but is it worth the risk?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Don’t tell them they should fall in with McGill, just say you’ve been thinkin’ about it, but also thinkin’ about pickin’ up and headin’ outta here. Sittin’ on the fence will buy you till Monday, and your friends like Frank won’t get all riled up.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I can pretend like I’m sittin’ on the fence, ‘cos the truth is, I am, and I have been.”
“I’ve gotta go, but keep the faith. Bragg was right about one thing. It’s all gonna be over this weekend, but for McGill, not Duke Baker. I’m gonna slip out the back. Lock the door behind me, and thanks for the drink.”
“Don’t forget this,” Sam smiled, handing him the package.
“Ah, right, thanks. I sure don’t wanna leave that behind.”
Handing Sam his glass, Tucker moved quickly through the storeroom, cracked open the door, and finding the back area empty, he ducked out and moved between the buildings toward Main Street. On his way to Duke’s he’d pick up Ranger and the other geldings, and tell Duke he’d switched his horse with Father O’Brien and sent him on his way dressed as a civilian. The horse was a small detail, but Tucker had learned the small details could trip you up, and people were often identified by the horse they were riding.
Scanning the street, he saw no sign of Kenny Bragg, but he approached the livery stable with caution. Moving inside, Tucker found Frank Barlow working alone, and he looked worried. It probably meant Bragg had already had come by, and he wished he could give Frank some words of comfort.
“Hey there,” Frank said, seeing Tucker walking toward him. “Glad to see you safe. That was some gun battle I heard.”
“Yep. I wasn’t anywhere near it, thank the good Lord.”
“You ready to pick up Slick?”
“Sure am. Where’s Billy?”
“When the lead started flyin’, I sent him home to stay with his ma,” Frank said wearily. “She’s gettin’ more nervous every day. Billy even has to do the shoppin’ now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tucker frowned. “Maybe things will turn around soon.”
“I’m hopin’. There’s a priest, seems like he’s been causin’ a lotta trouble for…”
“For?”
“I’ve already said too much,” Frank muttered. “I’ll get Slick ready. Nice horse. Reminds me of one of the horses over at Tall Tree Ranch. Duke Baker’s place.”
“Tall Tree Ranch? Duke Baker?” Tucker said, pretending he didn’t recognize the names.
“Duke Baker. He’s a big rancher here. I go up to his barn and shoe all his horses. I know ‘em all.”
“Ah,” Tucker nodded.
“Don’t worry,” Frank smiled. “I’ve got yer back covered. Just keep on doin’ what yer doin’, and if I’m guessin’ right, you’re friends with that priest, so tell ‘im thanks from me. I’ll go get your horse.”
Tucker didn’t respond, but he wasn’t surprised. His cover usually lasted more than just a few days, but things had happened fast in Spring Junction, including his sudden and startling connection to Dolly. He looked down at the package in his hand. The last time he’d bought a woman a gift, it had been a birthday present for his mother.
“Here ya go,” Frank declared, leading Tucker’s horse from the barn.
“Thanks, Frank,” Tucker replied, hoisting himself into the saddle.
“I dunno which way you’re headed, but if you were plannin’ on visitin’ the Baker house, if you go out that back gate, you can ride over that hill and you’ll see a trail forkin’ to the left. Hit that, and it’ll take you right there. Might wanna go out the back gate anyways. I reckon the town might be a bit wild after that ruckus with the stagecoach.”
“Might do that then,” Tucker nodded.
Walking in front of him, Frank opened the gate and touched his fingers to his hat in a goodbye salute. Tucker rode out, grateful he was still alive. The cabin though, was history. There was no going back there now, which meant staying with Duke. A smile crossed his face; that would mean being around Dolly. He pushed his horse into a canter. He couldn’t wait to see her.
Chapter Eighteen
The men had returned with news of the great success; no one had suffered even a scratch, and better still, they hadn’t been seen. Not a soul had any idea who had perpetrated the ambush. Rarely did Duke invite his workers into his home, but he brought them into the foyer to celebrate. The whiskey flowed, and Maude and Betsy arrived with platters of food. Watching from the landing at the top of the stairs, though Dolly was happy to hear the good news, there was still no sign of Tucker and her worry was growing. Not wanting to make her way through the crowd of rowdy men, she trotted down the servant’s staircase and made her way to the kitchen.
“Where are you off to?” Maude asked as Dolly headed for the door. “Things are more dangerous than ever. Don’t go far.”
“I won’t,” Dolly assured her. “I just need to look down at the valley and see if Tucker is on his way back here.”
Dolly could be willful and stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. After such a defeat, she had no doubt McGill would be as mad as a peeled rattler, and she had no desire to be anywhere near the cabin or the town. Hurrying to the side of the house, she peered over the field and beyond the thicket, and much to her joy she spotted Tucker riding his big dark bay gelding, and leading her father’s two other horses. As he drew closer she noticed he had his saddlebags and a bedroll with him.
“Oh, my goodness,” she muttered, “he must be going to be stay here now.”
She walked swiftly to the gates to greet him, and as she stood under the arched entryway to wait, he raised his arm and waved. Her heart began to pump, and she wrung her hands together impatiently. He was safe, he was back, and he would soon be taking her into his arms. How she longed to rest her face against his chest and feel his powerful hold as he wrapped her up and cradled her.
“Where is everyone?” he asked as he reached her.
“In the house celebrating with my father. He almost never lets the workers in, but he did today. Maude and Betsy brought in plates of food, and he opened up his best whiskey.”
“That’s a fine buncha men,” Tucker remarked. “They deserve it.”
“But what about you? Was it like I heard? Did you get away without anyone seeing you? Why do you have your saddlebags and bedroll, and why did you bring all the horses up here?”
She rattled of
f her questions in a rush, and as he dismounted, he held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Whoa there. Let’s go into the barn and take care of these boys,” he grinned, handing her the lead ropes of the two horses he’d been ponying up the hill, “then I’ll tell you what happened, though there isn’t much to tell.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” she replied, staring at him, wondering how he could be so calm about everything.
Taking her father’s horses through the barn, she released them into a large corral, then hurried back inside, anxious to hear all the news.
“So tell me,” she insisted as she watched him carry his saddle across the aisle to rest it on a bale of hay. “What happened?”
He turned and looked at her, then wordlessly grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him.
“Tucker,” she whispered, “someone might come out here!”
“You think I care?” he breathed, then plunged his mouth onto hers.
Dolly’s heart leapt in her chest, and as he crushed her lips with demanding urgency, her body responded, pressing against him as her arms clung around his waist. Her dream flooded her brain, and as the fire of desire raged through her veins, she abandoned all modesty.
“Please touch my breasts,” she begged in a mumbled plea, pulling back and staring at him with hungry eyes. “Please, Tucker, please unbutton my dress and put your hand against me.”
Her ardent request sent the blood rushing through his veins, and already aching with need, his cock surged to life.
“I’d like nothin’ more,” he managed, “but it wouldn’t be right. We haven’t even started courtin’, not in the proper way.”
“Like you said, you think I care?” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. Waiting and waiting. I don’t want to wait another second, and besides, you’ve already seen half of me naked.”
“You’re makin’ this real tough,” he grunted, immediately visualizing her beautiful bottom, “but I’m gonna say no. Not ‘cos I don’t want this, ‘cos I gotta hankerin’ for you real bad, but this isn’t gonna happen in any barn, and…”
Tucker's Justice (Wild West Cowboys Book 1) Page 14
