by Anna Zogg
Ellie studied Will, but he didn’t appear to believe Guy’s story.
Pursing his lips, the foreman held one finger in the air. “Ah, I think you heard about the hunting party I’m getting together tomorrow. Mrs. Johnson said we’re getting low on venison.”
“We’re cutting calves tomorrow.” Will glowered at him. “And since when do you go hunting?”
The question hung heavily in the air.
Guy said nothing as he scratched his neck. “Guessin’ from now on, I’ll do it when I want.”
Ellie sucked in a quick breath. Guy was openly defying his boss?
Will planted two fists at his hips. “What’d you say?”
“You heard me.” Guy’s lip curled. “I don’t need your permission.”
“That’s it. You’re fired.”
“What if I don’t wanna be? How ’bout I fire you?” The foreman’s sneer appeared to push Will over the edge.
“I want you off my land. Tonight.”
“Ya mean, my land? I’ve slaved for you twelve years. I’ve earned it.”
“Why you...” Will charged the man.
Before Ellie knew what happened, Guy drew his gun. She shrieked, slapping hands over her ears as the boom reverberated in the room.
Will staggered back. When his clothing blossomed red, she screamed, “Daddy!”
* * *
“Was that gunfire?” Pete’s gaze met Rhett’s.
From their distance, the popping sound seemed to have come from inside a building.
A cold hand clenched Rhett’s gut. It was happening. The evil premonition that had dogged him for days was now playing out.
When his friend rose, Rhett clasped his arm. “Wait.”
Someone emerged from the bunkhouse, yelling a question. Two people joined him in the yard. In the uncertain light, Rhett couldn’t tell who was who. The clouds, intermittently covering the moon, further disguised their identities. Someone stepped off the porch and approached the group. Strident voices rose, proving they were arguing. Another man, coming from the back of the house, ran toward them.
Several minutes passed while the crowd backed toward the bunkhouse. Two men appeared to be herding the others in that direction.
Bartow’s cronies—Rhett had no doubts. The foreman now appeared to be in control.
But what of Ellie? And her uncle?
“Let’s move closer.” Rhett didn’t need to warn his friend that they couldn’t risk being seen. Even in the uncertain light, he could tell that a couple men now carried rifles. And he didn’t need to be able to see their faces to know that only the foreman’s friends had them.
He and Pete made their way down the hill until they reached the field where Sugar had been pastured. Using hand gestures, Rhett indicated they should move toward the blackened building. They progressed steadily toward it. So far, they remained undetected.
But that was likely because all attention was focused on what was happening at the main house. Several times, three of the four henchmen gathered to consult with each other, then move back into what appeared to be prearranged posts—two at the front of the house, one at the rear. The fourth took up station by the bunkhouse.
Rhett and Pete reached the burned-out house. A whoosh above startled Rhett, but it was only an owl, disturbed by their presence.
His friend grinned, white teeth flashing in the dim light. “Still don’t like birds?”
“Only for dinner,” Rhett whispered.
Pete clapped him on the back.
With care, they made their way up to what used to be the building’s second story. Balancing on a great beam that hadn’t burned completely, they had a good view of the yard.
“I count four men.” Pete kept his voice low.
“Bartow’s closest friends.” Rhett took a minute to explain who the people were at the ranch.
“Marshall and his niece are in danger,” his friend concluded.
Rhett could merely nod, refusing to believe that Ellie was the one who got shot. Even so, worries clouded his thinking.
Pete gripped his arm. “Look.”
Below someone rushed toward the corral full of horses. From the man’s gait, Rhett determined it was the old cook. A shout rose. The crony who was guarding the bunkhouse—Dietmeyer?—ran to intercept him. With one blow, he felled Cookie. Blade joined Dietmeyer to stand over the prostrate man. They seemed to reach some agreement because Blade grabbed the cook and dragged him toward the house. They disappeared inside.
That meant at least two injured people.
“I need to get closer.” Rhett didn’t realize he had whispered aloud until he felt his friend’s hand on his shoulder.
“We go together.”
“Bring some of your food.”
“For what?” Pete spread his hands.
“The dogs. We don’t want them barking.”
His friend pulled something from a coat pocket—jerky. “I never travel far without some.”
“That’ll do.” He studied Pete. “Remember that promise I exacted from you earlier? About not endangering yourself?”
After shrugging out of the heavy coat, his friend rolled up his sleeves. “What promise? I don’t remember saying nothing.”
Rhett sucked in a slow breath.
Pete’s eyes glittered in the low light. “Trust me, my friend.”
“I do.” Rhett’s throat tightened. “With my life.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What kind of monster are you?” Ellie shrieked as Guy blocked her from going to Will.
The foreman merely scowled at her.
From across the great room, she stared at Will, prostrate on the floor. Face ashen, he clutched his bloody thigh. Red bubbled up through his fingers. Next to him slumped Cookie, hand clasped to his gory head. Earlier, Blade had dragged in the elderly man and shoved him next to Will. He stood sentry over them.
“I need to attend to them. Now.” Ellie’s voice rose despite herself. Since pleading wasn’t working, she tried to push past Guy.
He grabbed her wrist and shoved her into a chair so hard that she yelped.
“And I said no.” Guy stood over her, mouth hard. “Try that again and I’ll make you sorry.”
She shrank from him.
Why wouldn’t he let her tend to the men? Every time Will groaned, she thought she would scream. Cookie whimpered. With his palm pressed to his head wound, he rocked as though trying to escape the pain.
She rubbed her sore wrist. “Will’s going to bleed to death.”
This time Guy grinned. “Then you should thank me. He’ll die quicker. Well, quicker than from consumption.”
Overwhelmed with that possibility, Ellie buried her face in her hands.
“What do you want us to do, boss?” Blade posed his question to Guy.
“That’s what I’m deciding.” His tone contained an element of satisfaction as he rested his muddy boot on a bench. “What’s going on outside?”
“Whitey’s in the yard. All the ranch hands are in the bunkhouse. Hoskins is guarding ’em.”
“Have them roll a couple barrels in front of the door. Just to make sure. Where’s Dietmeyer?”
“I just sent him to ride perimeter.”
“Find him. Tell him not to wander too far.” Guy’s gaze passed between his three captives. “And tell Whitey to hunt up the old woman. I don’t want her causing trouble.”
“Got it.” Blade strode out of the house.
The foreman went back to musing.
Ellie gripped the armrests of her chair, fighting to calm herself. “Why won’t you let me help Cookie? Or Will? For pity’s sake, let me do something.”
“You speaking about your father?”
Ellie blinked. “What?”
“You ain’t gonna pretend he’s jes’ your unc
le now, are ya?”
Her mind remained blank.
He swiveled and drew closer. Hands pressed to the armrests, he leaned into her face. “You called him ‘Daddy.’ Don’t try to deny it.”
She had?
“And since I know,” Guy said, straightening, “that changes a few things.”
Ellie shivered, not merely because she had accidentally betrayed her and Will’s relationship. The glee in the foreman’s voice terrified her.
“I don’t...” She gulped, trying to form words as she glanced at Will. “I don’t know for certain if he’s my father.”
“Don’t matter.” Guy paced back and forth in front of the injured men before stopping in front of Will. “Did you make Ellie the heir to your ranch? The other day when you rode alone to town. Did you make it official?”
When the injured man ignored the questions, Guy kicked his wounded leg. When Will cried out in pain, she leaped from her chair.
“Stay.” Stabbing a finger in her direction, Guy glared at her.
Knees shaking, Ellie sank down.
The foreman squatted in front of his former boss. “You get that I’m serious? When I ask you a question, you answer. Is she your heir?”
Teeth gritting, Will merely glared at him. Several seconds passed before he nodded.
“You talk to a solicitor?”
Again, Will nodded.
“Good.” Guy rose. When he turned, his smug expression caused Ellie to shrink back into her chair. “It’ll be easier to keep all this nice and legal.”
She shivered when he stationed himself in front of her.
“You want to watch ‘Daddy’ bleed to death, or are you willing to negotiate?”
Her chest felt as though a boulder rested on it, making every breath torturous. “What—what do you want?”
“For you to say one tiny word. ‘Yes.’” He tilted his head as though waiting.
“You can have the ranch. I’ll sign—sign anything. Just let me save him.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Will shake his head and mouth no.
But what was a ranch in comparison to him? Now that she knew he wanted her as a daughter—that he loved her—she would not risk losing him.
She met Guy’s gaze. “He’s more important than anything else.”
His eyes narrowed. “You keep telling yourself that.” Backing away, he jerked his head in Will’s direction.
Did that mean she could tend his wound?
She rushed to her father’s side. Kneeling beside him, she pried his fingers away from his thigh. Blood gushed from his wound. She immediately pressed her palm to it to slow the bleeding.
“No, Ellie.” His voice rasped. “Don’t...don’t agree. To anything.”
She choked back tears. “I can’t lose you.”
The front door banged open and Blade strode in. “Found her. I locked her in the root cellar.”
They could only be talking about Mrs. Johnson. In an instant, Ellie came up with a plan. But would the housekeeper cooperate?
“I need her.” Ellie raised her voice.
Guy turned to study her.
“I can’t do everything myself. I need her help.”
He turned back to his man. “Bring her. But first...” He grabbed Blade’s arm. “Tell Whitey to go get the preacher.”
Ellie gaped at the men.
Blade’s eyebrows shot up. “Someone needin’ burying?”
“Maybe.”
“What if he won’t come?”
The foreman hooked one thumb at his waist. “Whitey’ll convince him. But tell him not to harm the preacher.” When his crony scratched his head, Guy added, “We’re gonna have ourselves a lil’ wedding.”
* * *
Rhett and Pete made it to the barn without being seen. The dogs had been no trouble, especially when they smelled the jerky Pete had. They wolfed down the chunks of dried meat.
“Good boys.” Rhett kept his voice low as he patted each one, but he wouldn’t allow them inside the barn. Someone would notice their absence.
From the upper story, they watched the ranch yard. A tap at Rhett’s shoulder drew away his attention. His friend pointed to the corral, where a man grabbed a horse, then leaped into the saddle. Rhett squinted, but the minimal light didn’t help much. Looked like Whitey.
“Git up.” His cry spurred the horse into a gallop. He thundered out of the yard, heading toward Casper.
“Should I follow?” Pete’s whisper cut through the dark. “Stop him?”
Rhett considered the situation. “No.”
They needed to stick together until they found out what was happening inside the house. Though he didn’t know where Whitey was going, or why, nothing was more important than Ellie.
If the man was riding to Casper, they had about four hours before the man returned. Not much time.
Rhett kept his voice low. “We need to find a way into the house.”
“Agreed. Plan?”
“With Whitey gone, only three of Bartow’s men are left.” As he spoke, he studied the yard. Blade remained on the porch. “Hoskins is guarding the bunkhouse. Looks like he barricaded the door.”
So the other ranch hands wouldn’t interfere?
“Dietmeyer’s around somewhere.” Rhett calculated that the henchman wouldn’t be far.
“What about Marshall and his niece?”
“In the house. Likely with Bartow.” Rhett’s idea took shape. “We take out his cronies first.”
“All right.”
Even as he spoke, he knew his plan was risky. What if the foreman called to one of them for a report? Or checked on them?
Give me wisdom, Lord. I need direction.
Though Rhett could not see, the God of the heavens saw all. And He could be trusted.
The clop-clop of a horse sounded in the yard. Dietmeyer rode by the porch and, still mounted, chatted with Blade. From where Rhett was, he couldn’t understand what they were saying. A little while later, Dietmeyer nudged his horse toward the bunkhouse. But he kept his horse to a walk, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Him.” Rhett spoke to Pete as he pointed to Dietmeyer. “We capture him. Quietly.”
Pete’s teeth flashed in the dark. “Consider it done.”
Together, they scrambled down from their post. Before they left the barn, Rhett grabbed some rope.
Maintaining their distance, he and Pete kept the mounted man in sight when he stopped to speak to Hoskins. With hand gestures, Rhett indicated that Pete should stay away from the bunkhouse windows. He didn’t want one of the ranch hands to look out and see them. No telling how they would react.
After a few minutes, Dietmeyer moved on. He checked on the stables, then the granary, never dismounting. When he rode toward the barn, Pete gripped Rhett’s arm. Take him here? he seemed to be asking.
Rhett shook his head. The man was too close to the yard. Someone would hear the scuffle. He pointed toward the hills.
As they moved away from the buildings, they kept an eye on the rider. Because his path was unpredictable, Rhett readied himself to take him out when the opportunity came. Dietmeyer meandered on the yard’s fringe before urging his horse to move farther afield, checking the corral and then wandering along the fence lines.
Rhett determined the perfect place for an ambush outside one pasture, beside a small knoll, but Dietmeyer had to be lured there. Rhett indicated the spot to Pete, then pointed to his own lips. Teeth gleaming, Pete nodded in understanding before he slunk away. Rhett clambered over the knoll. Slowing his breathing, he forced himself to be patient. An eternity seemed to pass.
Finally, the sound he was anticipating came—the mewling of an injured animal. He smiled when he recognized his friend.
As planned, Dietmeyer followed the noise. When a rustle, directly below Rhett, s
ounded in the dark night, he tensed. After a quick look, Rhett launched himself from his hiding place, knocking the rider off his horse. Their brief scuffle ended when Rhett pinned him and held a knife to his throat.
“Make a sound,” he hissed, “and you die.”
Dietmeyer’s eyes widened, their whites stark in the uncertain light.
An out-of-breath Pete showed up seconds later to help bind and gag Dietmeyer. A short while later, they secured the trussed-up man in the burned-out building.
“I’m going to ask you some questions.” Rhett got close so Dietmeyer could see his seriousness. “Tell the truth and live. If not...” He held his knife so that the blade flashed.
At his nod, Pete unbound the man’s mouth.
Rhett came within inches of Dietmeyer’s face. “Tell me what’s going on at the ranch. Everything.”
The cowardly man needed little urging to blurt all he knew. After Pete replaced the gag, they huddled together to plan.
“We have to move fast.” Rhett considered how much time they had and how much they must accomplish before Whitey’s return. Somehow Rhett and Pete would need to incapacitate two other men without alerting Bartow inside. And soon.
However, Rhett hesitated to leave Dietmeyer. Even with the bindings, he had no guarantees the man would not escape. Instinct urged him to leave Pete behind, to guard him. But Rhett needed his help with the men at the ranch.
I will not take a life, Lord.
Not unless absolutely necessary.
“I can tie him in such a way that he’ll not want to escape.” Pete’s quiet suggestion seemed to indicate he read Rhett’s mind. “A rope’ll go here,” he said, pointing to his own neck and then feet, “and there. Every time he moves, the noose will tighten.”
Encouraged by the news, Rhett nodded. “Good. Then the plan might work. But I’ll need some of his clothing.”
Pete chuckled. Once upon a time, Rhett had told him about a game he had once played as a half-grown man—“borrowing” a soldier’s coat to infiltrate the fort in the darkness.
Wearing Dietmeyer’s clothing, Rhett would be able to get into the yard without raising suspicions. He could take out Hoskins by himself, but the next part involved his friend.
