The Lawman's Betrayal

by Sandi Hampton

  She put the binoculars to her eyes, then sucked in a breath. After a moment, she handed them back.

  “You recognize any of them?” Wes asked as he stowed the glasses back in his saddlebag. “Any of them look familiar?”

  “No, but then I didn’t know many of Roy’s, er, friends.” She paced nervously around the glade.

  He could tell something was bothering her. An attack of conscience? “What’s the matter?”

  His words seemed to startle her. She looked at him as if surprised to find him there. “Huh?”

  “I said what’s the matter? You seem troubled?”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Now that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. Strange men are out there, watching and waiting, circling like vultures, wanting to kill me for no fault of my own. Why should I be troubled?”

  “Oh, they don’t want to kill you—not yet anyway—not until they find the money.” His words were cruel, but she needed to know what lay ahead for her. He wouldn’t sugar coat it just to allay her fears.

  She moved to stand in front of him. “Tell me, Marshal, just how much money are we talking about?”

  “Well, they got about $20,000 from a bank in Tuscon, another $10,000 from a Wells Fargo job, about $50,000 from train robberies, and several thousand more from a few military payrolls. The list goes on and on. Probably about two to three hundred thousand—or maybe more.”

  She staggered backward and plopped down on a boulder. She cradled her head in her hands, a sob escaping her lips.

  He could almost feel her pain. For the first time since he’d started this job, Wes believed maybe she hadn’t known of the full extent of her husband’s criminal dealings. As the tears came, he told himself the tears could easily be a ploy. She wouldn’t be the first woman to use tears to get her way.

  Awkwardly, he patted her arm. “We’d best be going.”

  “I need a few minutes alone. Okay?” With a hesitant smile, she walked away and disappeared into the trees.

  The news had hit her hard. Wes chewed on his bottom lip, trying to be objective. It was hard to stay neutral when he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, kiss her until the tears were gone.

  When she returned, her eyes were dry, her lips pinched in grim determination. “I’m ready, Wes.”

  “All right.” His admiration edged up another notch. She had strength and courage at odds with the slenderness of her body, yet a strength that didn’t lessen her femininity. “Let’s ride.”

  Chapter Four

  As Naomi climbed into the saddle and followed Wes, she chastised herself for her weakness. She thought she had no more tears, yet here she was bawling like a baby. During the three long years behind bars, she’d done her share of weeping. The amount Roy and his gang were said to have stolen staggered her. How many lives had they ruined? How many hopes and dreams had they stolen? And how many lives had they taken? It would be unrealistic and naïve of her to think no one had been hurt—or killed.

  Wes had ridden ahead of her, giving her time to pull herself together. She studied his handsome physique, wondering what his real motives were. Was he really just a nice guy—’serving and protecting’ her? Or a bloodhound hot on the trail of stolen money?

  Or both?

  He angled in the saddle and glanced at her, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. She nodded she was okay.

  When the sun reached directly overhead, Wes stopped at a small stream, dismounted, and motioned for her to dismount. She slid from the saddle and led Jo down to the water. As the mare quenched her thirst, Naomi knelt, scooped up water in her hands, and splashed it over her face and neck. It dribbled down her chin onto her blouse, but she didn’t care. She stood and studied her surroundings. Not a single cloud marred the azure blue sky. The bright sunlight glistened off gold and brown hills while clumps of green trees dotted the landscape. The vast prairie stretched endlessly. She smiled to herself. She loved the openness—the feeling it brought. No walls to hold her prisoner. No one to tell her what to do, where to go and when. Freedom—what a wonderful word—what a wonderful feeling.

  Only the threat of the men following them dampened her spirits, ruining the beauty of the day.

  Noises behind her grabbed her attention. She turned to see Wes making a fire. She tethered Jo’s reins to a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree. She found the coffee pot, filled it at the water’s edge, and walked back to the campfire.

  “I know it’s a little hot for coffee,” he said with a smile, “but I’ve got a hankering for some. How about you?”

  As usual, his smile turned her knees to jelly. How could she be attracted to a man who believed her guilty of horrendous crimes? And who was with her only to glean information from her? But his smile drew an answering one. “No thanks.”

  “We’ll camp here about an hour to let the horses have a breather.”

  “You mean so I can have a breather?”

  Another dazzling smile. “Yeah, you too. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “I think I will.” Then, remembering the three men following them, a frown touched her lips. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep guard.”

  She nodded. There was no doubt in her mind that U.S. Marshall Wes Cooper could take care of himself—and her. After finding a soft grassy spot, Naomi sprawled on the ground, leaned back against a tree trunk, and closed her eyes. With conscious effort, she forced all thought from her mind. Within minutes, she was asleep.

  Immediately, the dream came again. Confined by its jagged edges, Naomi fought it, yet couldn’t free herself of its shackles. At the same time, she looked for that elusive message she was convinced it contained. Voices came out of the darkness of her mind, sending shivers running down her spine. Blood was everywhere, the floor, her clothes. She heard Roy call out to her, warning her, telling her she was in danger. Then his image faded. “Roy…wait, don’t go…please wait.”

  “Naomi, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  Strong hands shook her. “No, no. Don’t go.”

  “Naomi, it’s me. Wes.”

  She forced her eyes open. Wes knelt beside her. “What—?”

  “You were dreaming.”

  Then she remembered. “Yes, yes, I was.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to slow her racing pulse. “Sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for.” He stood and stretched his hand out to her. “Time to ride.”

  She grabbed his hand, his flesh warm against hers. He pulled her to her feet. “How long did I sleep?”

  “Close to an hour, but not a very restful sleep I’m afraid.”

  Naomi glanced at the distant hills. “What about our friends?”

  “Not a peep out of them, but I’m pretty sure they’re still out there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “I just know it, that’s all.” He motioned at the coffee pot. “You want some coffee?”

  “No thanks. Just some water.” She walked to her horse and grabbed her canteen. Even though the water was tepid, it refreshed her. As she climbed into the saddle, Wes poured the rest of the coffee onto the fire and kicked dirt over it. He vaulted into the saddle and led the way out onto the trail.

  About an hour later, he slowed his horse until she was at his side. “You okay, Mrs. Brecker?”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “So it’s Mrs. Brecker now?” When he didn’t respond, she massaged her pounding temples. “I’m fine, just a little bit of a headache, but I thank you for asking.”

  “Must have been a pretty bad nightmare. You were screaming, thrashing around—calling out your husband’s name.”

  Naomi knew he was fishing for more information, so she played dumb. “Was I? I never seem to remember the dreams.”

  “How long you been having them?”

  She locked gazes with him. “Oh, I reckon it to be about three years now.”

  “I see.” He pointed at the ridge. “They’re back, getting more bra
zen by the minute.”

  Naomi glanced in the direction he pointed. Three riders silhouetted darkly against the blue sky sent her heart pounding. “If they’re trying to spook me, they’re doing a damn good job.” She glanced at Wes, studying his strong profile. “They’re like vultures, circling and waiting...waiting.”

  “They do seem to be waiting…on something…or someone.”

  Naomi sucked in a deep breath. “But who would they be waiting on? Why?”

  “Don’t know. It’s just a hunch.” He angled in the saddle, glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the area. “Haven’t seen any sign of anyone else though.”

  “But who would it be?” she persisted.

  He shrugged. “Hard to say. Your husband had a lot of unsavory friends.”

  “So you keep reminding me.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice but failed. “Like I told you, I don’t know any of them.” Hot tears scalded her cheeks. She swiped her hand across her face, hating her weakness. “I don’t know where the money is, I swear it.”

  “Maybe you do, but you just don’t realize it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Maybe you heard Roy say something, or saw something, maybe you just didn’t understand what it was, maybe you read something…”

  “You’re as bad as them. Just leave me alone.” She kicked the mare with her heels, sending her mount surging forward.

  “Naomi, wait. That’s what they want to do—spook you into making a mistake. Come back.”

  As his words sank into her confused mind, she slowed her horse and glanced up at the ridge. It was empty. When he caught up to her, she sent him an apologetic look. “You’re right. That was a very stupid thing to do. You just made me angry. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’ve been through a lot the last couple of years. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “Yes,” she sent him a tearful grin, “you should be.”

  ***

  Wes’s admiration for Naomi again edged up a notch. She’d fought her emotions to keep a level head about her—and had won the battle. The more he was around her, the more he began to believe in her innocence.

  Or she was the best damned actress he’d ever seen.

  The riders up on the rim had disappeared, their absence sending the hair on the back of his neck straight up. He pulled his rifle from the boot, checked the ammunition, then did the same with his revolver. Beside him, Naomi followed suit.

  “We’ll be in the foothills tonight,” he said. “We’ll start looking early for a place to hole up and make camp. We need to find one to cover our backs—so they can only come at us one way.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Her voice shook, and he glanced at her. She was trying so hard to put on a brave front. Roy Brecker had definitely been a fool.

  By late afternoon, he’d found the perfect spot to defend. A cavern etched into the base of the mountain proved to be ideal. A small rockslide had covered one side and a portion of the front, leaving only two areas to defend. In the back, water dripped from the stones, forming a clear pool.

  “We’ll eat early,” he told Naomi, “so we won’t have to light a fire later and give them a better target. There’s some dried branches right outside if you’ll get them while I take care of the horses.

  “All right.”

  “Just don’t wander off. Stay where I can see you.”

  She sent him a shaky grin. “Believe me, I won’t go far.”

  After she left, Wes watered the horses, then tethered them in the back where gunfire wouldn’t spook them—and where they couldn’t be stolen. Hearing a noise behind him, his hand went to his gun. Naomi entered the cavern, her arms full of firewood, a smudge of dirt on her face. When he caught her gaze, he nodded at a small clearing between a jumble of rocks. In minutes, he set coffee to brew, put bacon in the pan, and opened a can of beans. He knelt by the fire, ladled food onto a plate, and handed it to her. “Not much of a meal. I had hoped to get us some fresh meat, maybe a rabbit or two.”

  “It’ll do,” she answered with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “Any meal I have out here, with no prison bars, is a good meal.”

  “I guess so.” He filled another plate, stood, and ambled to the entrance. As he scanned the area, he ate quickly. “We might get lucky tonight—the moon’s full. They won’t be able to get close to us without showing their ugly mugs.”

  “Good.”

  After another cup of coffee, Wes extinguished the fire, then looked around for the best vantage point. Two rounded boulders which formed a vee proved to be ideal. He propped his rifle up between the two. After finding his extra ammunition, he settled in for his watch.

  Naomi joined him, rifle in hand. “Where do you want me?”

  “It’s early. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll call you if I need you.”

  “All right. I’ll spell you at midnight.” She bent low, scurried to the saddles and grabbed a blanket, then returned to his side. Wrapping the blanket around her, she leaned against the boulders.

  “Naomi,” he said, liking the sound of her name on his lips, “go lay down over there near the horses. You can’t rest like that.”

  “Yes, I can.” She wiggled around a few minutes until comfortable, then she stared up at him for a few minutes. “How did you get that scar?”

  He laughed. “Well, I’d like to tell you that I got it during some great act of bravery, but it wasn’t. Years ago, I got into a fight with a friend of mine. He knocked me into a window, and I got cut. Simple as that.”

  “What was the fight about? A woman?”

  Wes laughed softly. “Don’t even remember. We’d both had too much to drink that night.”

  “You still friends?”

  “Yeah, at least I think so.” He thumbed his hat back. “All right. I answered your question. Now answer one for me. If you’re not going back to Gila Bend for the stolen money,” she opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger. “Hear me out. Your husband is gone, so why go back?”

  “My question wasn’t personal. Yours is.” Her eyebrows drew together. For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally she spoke.

  “There’s something I have to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to find my husband’s killer—and whoever framed me for his murder.” Her mouth firmed into a hard line.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You might be putting yourself in more danger.” He nodded toward the ridge. “As if our friends out there aren’t enough.”

  “I don’t care. I won’t be able to rest until I find out who it was—and why.”

  “Probably one of his gang,” Wes countered. “That’s the only logical explanation.”

  “You mean, if I didn’t do it.”

  He shot her a grin. “Yeah.”

  “At least you’re honest about it. Well, while it may be the only logical explanation, I don’t think it was one of Roy’s gang.” She scrubbed a hand across her brow. “I’ve had a long time to think about it. All Roy’s men wanted, then and now, is the money. Right? They knew I wasn’t part of the gang, that I didn’t know anything, so they wouldn’t care what happened to me. Right? Whoever framed me wanted me out of the picture for good.”

  “But who?”

  “I don’t know—yet.”

  “Is knowing worth your life, Naomi?”

  “My life is already gone. It was taken from me. I lost everything, including my freedom for three long, long years. So if I lose my life…” She shrugged. “What will it matter?”

  “Don’t talk like that. That’s crazy talk. You’re still young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why, you can even marry again.”

  “Not a chance. You married, Marshal?”

  “Nope. Why?”

  “Just wondering. It still baffles me that I thought I knew Roy, lived with him for over two years, then found out he was a complete stranger, living a double life. How do you liv
e with someone, yet not really know them?”

  “Beats me.”

  She leaned back against the rock and closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

  “Naomi?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “But you can’t—”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “All right. I guess I can take a hint.”

  Fifteen minutes later, her light snores told him she was asleep. A warm feeling washed over him, one he wasn’t very familiar with. He tucked the blanket under her chin. With his finger, he traced the line of her cheek, her skin soft against his rough, calloused hands. When he realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand back. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the sun, yet still not filled out from her time in prison. He felt protective of her, not just because he was supposed to investigate her and find the stolen money and guns, but because she seemed so…vulnerable…and another emotion he didn’t want to name.

  Where was that objectivity he prided himself on?

  She stirred in her sleep, thrashing and muttering a few unintelligible words. Had her nightmare come again? He could make out the word Joe. He worried his bottom lip. Who the hell was Joe? He couldn’t remember anyone by that name in Brecker’s gang. To his surprise, jealousy rose in his throat unbidden and unwanted. He cursed under his breath.

  A rustling in the bushes at the entrance had him grabbing his rifle. After a moment, he dismissed the noises as night critters scurrying about. The full moon lit the entire countryside, clearly illuminating the surrounding area. The outlaws, or whoever they were, would be stupid to try to sneak up on them tonight.

  About midnight, Naomi stirred. “Is everything all right?”

  “Quiet as a field mouse.” He pulled his watch from his pocket. “Twelve o’clock.” He raised his eyebrows. “To the minute.”

  “At the prison,” she said with a wry smile, “the guards did a bed check every night at midnight. I got so I could tell the time within five minutes.”

  He chuckled. “Well, go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

  “No. It’s my fault that you’re in danger. They’re after me—not you.” She sat upright and stretched.