by Linda Broday
He fumbled for his gun only to find the holster empty.
Dirty water washed the bloody grit from his eyes, and the rush of cold helped him think clearly. He managed to reach under the neck of his shirt for his Bowie knife and slid it from the sheath.
He rose, slashing the air. The angry mob scattered from reach. Light from the sun’s rays glinted on the steel blade. Roan held the weapon firmly and backed against his horse as a shot rang out. Luckily, the shooter missed, the bullet kicking up a spray of dirt near his feet.
Spitter lunged, and Roan hooked him under one arm, throwing him into the horse trough, shattering the wood. Water gushed out around their feet. The man sputtered but didn’t get up.
Spying his Colt on the ground, Roan picked it up and leveled it on the group, putting his knife back into the sheath. The men beat a hasty retreat. Someone else fired, and a bullet went through Roan’s Stetson, his hat jumping on his head. His Colt roared, spitting orange fire, sending a bullet into the knee of the man who’d fired his gun. The rabble-rouser went down. Another shot, and a piece of hot lead separated a boot, probably taking off the man’s toe in the bargain.
A scream rent the air.
“The next person who even blinks will get a bullet to the heart.” He delivered the steely warning, spitting blood.
“You’re not the law around here!” yelled one brave soul from the back.
“Maybe not, but my friend and I are leaving, and we’re taking those stolen cattle.” Backing up, he untied Hardy Gage. “Are you hurt?”
Hardy shook his head, holding his stomach. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Pain wracked Roan’s body as he used the last of his strength to put his feet in the stirrups and pull himself into Shadow’s saddle. “Come after us, and I’ll finish this once and for all. I guarantee you’ll lose.”
“We ain’t done with you yet, boy!” yelled Spitter from the mud.
Roan glared at his tormentor. “I’d watch the shadows if I were you. One of these days, I might just be there.”
“Tell McClain he’ll never get the rest of his cattle,” said a booming voice from inside the saloon.
That confirmed that they knew the whereabouts of the herd. Roan was tempted to force an answer from these people, but he wasn’t in the best shape and neither was Hardy. If they didn’t leave now, they might not be able to get away at all.
Curses followed as he and Gage returned to the holding pen. He wiped away the blood trickling down into his eye and pointed his Colt at the guard. “Live or die. Your choice,” Roan snapped, his voice as hard as steel.
The man moved aside, then watched helplessly as Gage herded the stolen cattle out and onto the path leading back toward the Aces ’n’ Eights.
Shadow tossed her head, seeming as anxious as Roan to be rid of the town of Piebald.
Now, if he could just stay in the saddle. Yet each mile severely tested his determination.
Duel and the cowboys still worked at the section of downed fence when Roan arrived, clutching the mare’s mane with the last thread of his strength. They stared in disbelief, moving aside so the stolen beeves could go back into the pasture.
With a shout, Duel hurried to help him from the saddle. Sharp pain swept through his body as his boss and Hanson eased him and Hardy to the ground.
Roan glanced up at him with a grin. “We got the cattle back.”
“Good job,” Duel answered, hollering for someone to bring water.
Hardy cussed a blue streak, holding a water canteen. “That mess in Piebald needs a lawman.”
Someone dabbed at the cut above Roan’s eye, though it didn’t stop the trickle of blood. Fire burned all the way down his body. He concentrated on the thin clouds overhead to take his mind from the agony.
He told his boss what the man inside the saloon had yelled as he was leaving. “They’re either directly involved or they know where the other cattle are being held. I wanted to stay and force the answer out of them, but I was in no”—he inhaled a shaky breath—“shape. Gage either.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gage declared. “I’m ready to go back and whip some bastards.”
“No, I’m glad you came on,” Duel answered. “I’ll take some men and go find them. But first, I want to get you both to the house before you pass out on me.”
* * *
Marley’s heart pounded when Roan appeared through the trees with her father and some of the hands. He was bent over, clutching his gray mare’s mane. She dropped the wash she was hanging on the line and yelled for her mother, then she raced toward him, fighting the strangling in her throat.
When she reached him, he tried to smile. “I’m fine, Marley Rose. No need for a fuss.”
Her father eased Roan from the saddle, and she knelt in the dirt beside him. “I have eyes. You’re in awful shape.”
Between Duel and Hanson, they half carried Roan into the house while Hardy staggered behind.
Marley’s anger rose. The cuts and bruises on Roan’s body were clearly visible through the ripped strips of his bloody shirt.
“Fix Roan up first,” Hardy insisted. “They seemed to take pity on the old man.”
Marley put her hands on her hips. “Then why are you holding your stomach?”
“Aw, Marley Rose, it’s nothing that a little rest won’t help.”
“You’ll both get looked after,” Duel said firmly, settling the argument.
While her mother examined Roan, Marley hurried to collect their medical supplies. Roan’s gray eyes followed her. She yearned to kiss away his pain and take away his sadness.
She shot a glance at the triplets asleep in a bed in the corner and willed them to stay silent. Thank goodness the children weren’t home from school yet either, so they weren’t underfoot. Matt would be right in the thick of things otherwise. Roan Penny was still his hero.
“What happened, Papa?” she asked.
Duel ran a hand through his hair. “Rustlers again. He and Hardy tracked them to Piebald. From what I can see, they were lucky to have ridden out.”
No one had to tell Marley how lucky he was. It appeared someone had meant to kill him.
Jessie laid down the washcloth. “I’m pretty sure you cracked a rib or two. I’ll bind them, but first I need to stitch the cut over your eye, Roan. It’s going to hurt.”
“Do whatever you need to,” he answered. “Marley, Rube was in Piebald along with the stolen cattle.”
“I can’t believe you found him. What did he look like?” She handed her mother a needle and watched her thread it with catgut.
“Well, I didn’t exactly see him—at least not that I know of. I was too busy dodging blows and then bullets. But a man at a holding pen told me Rube was at the saloon.” He wiped his good eye. “A man inside the saloon yelled for us to leave and then fired a shot.”
“I don’t know how you got those cattle back,” Duel said, “and dodged bullets. Are you sure you’re made of flesh and blood?”
Roan chuckled. “Pretty sure. I bled a lot for someone who doesn’t have any.”
Marley reached for Roan’s hand, being careful to avoid his scraped knuckles, while Jessie stitched the cut over his eye. Marley winced each time he flinched when the sharp needle met his tender flesh. If only she could do something. Anything. But all she could do was stand there and hand her mother what she needed.
“And, Marley,” Roan said, “Gentry was also there—in the company of Virginia Creek.”
She frowned. “It’s odd how they keep showing up together. Why is that, you think? Even though they have different last names and Silas Wheeler insisted they aren’t married, they sure keep each other company a lot.”
“I guess she could be his sister.”
“Maybe.”
At last Jessie wiped her hands. “It’s the best I can do. You probably need to
see the doc in town.”
“Thank you for fixing me up, Mrs. McClain, but I don’t have time for a doctor. I’ll be fine.”
“Roan, you’ve escaped death more times than I can count,” Jessie said. “One day you may not. You need a safe, quiet job.”
“I warned him against taking on a whole passel of fired-up potlickers alone, Miz Jessie.” Hardy Gage grinned. “Roan here gave that God-blessed town hell.”
“They took exception to me, not the other way around,” Roan grunted. “I would’ve found the wire-cutters, too, if the bas”—he flushed, dodging Jessie’s and Marley’s glances before quickly amending—“varmints hadn’t tried to drown me in a horse trough. I’d lay odds that the rustlers were the very ones who started the fight.”
“I’d swear on a stack of Bibles.” Fire shot from Hardy’s eyes, then he winced when Jessie felt around on his stomach.
Duel gazed out at the pasture land. “It doesn’t surprise me that Piebald harbors the thieving bunch. Those folks never had any law.”
Fear struck Marley. More trouble bore down on them like a thick, black cloud of locusts.
“The boys are saddling up, Boss.” Judd stood, hat in hand. “We’ll get back the rest of the herd.”
Marley watched her papa’s expression darken, saw fury climb into his amber eyes.
“I’m riding in a few minutes—with or without them.”
“I’m going with you,” Roan insisted.
Hardy tried to rise only to have Jessie hold him down. “Me too. I’m just fine.”
Jessie glared. “You’re not going anywhere. You probably have bruised kidneys.”
“I reckon I do, but—”
“No buts, Mr. Stubborn.” Her mama was more than a match for the old ranch hand.
Marley’s stomach clenched as she watched her papa take a box of shells from the top of a kitchen cabinet. He grabbed his Winchester carbine from the rack next to the door. “I’d love to have both of you, but I’d sure appreciate it if you’d stay behind with a few men and protect the women and children. No telling what that gang will do next, and Gentry’s still lurking.”
Roan opened his mouth to object but closed it again. “We’ll keep everyone safe.”
Satisfied, Duel’s arm stole around Jessie’s waist, and he pulled her close. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Be careful.” Jess tipped her head for a kiss.
“Count on it.”
“Please don’t test my knitting skills. Besides, I don’t have a lot of catgut left.”
“Can’t promise. Depends on the mood of Piebald’s riffraff. Leave a light on for me.”
“Always.” Jessie cupped his square jaw tenderly.
With a heavy heart, Marley watched her father and Hardy disappear. Anything could happen. It took only a single glance at Roan’s bloody, torn shirt lying on the floor to remind her of that possibility.
Her mother convinced Hardy to lie down in the bunkhouse and bound Roan’s cracked ribs tightly. Muscles flexed in his brawny upper arms and rippled across the portion of his chest left bare of the wrapping. He met Marley’s worry and tried to summon a wry smile, as if to say getting the snot beat out of him was all part of some grand design. Only he’d come too late to convince her of that.
The dark bruises and cuts told of the thrashing he’d gotten. Tears for him stung the back of her eyes.
God, how she loved this man.
Twenty-five
Light streamed through the kitchen windows of the ranch house. Marley couldn’t take her eyes from Roan. Once again, he’d met death and won.
His blue-gray gaze warmed her. “I worried you—again. Sorry.”
She threaded her fingers through his. “I guess I just have to get used to it. I have a feeling you’re not one to sit on the sidelines when trouble calls.”
He grinned. “Maybe you want to back out?”
“Nope. All your adventures simply give me more things to write stories about.” She glanced at the scraps of ruined material on the floor. “I think I’d best stock up on shirts, though, at the rate you’re going through them.”
Galloping hooves interrupted them. Marley went to the window. “It’s Sheriff Bagwell and his deputy from Tranquility.”
Roan grabbed his hat and hobbled to the door, Marley following close behind.
Duel and his men had been ready to ride out. He swung around. “Sheriff, you’re in a big hurry about something.”
Bagwell leaned his arm on the pommel. “Had news that couldn’t wait about that kid your man Roan Penny shot. He lived in San Saba exactly as you thought.”
“What was the news?” Roan asked.
“You look like you’ve gone a round or two with a bear,” the sheriff remarked.
“Yeah, but I’m in one piece. Found rustled cattle, and the men tried to keep me from bringing them back.”
“Why did you come, Bagwell?” Duel asked. “Me and the boys are riding to Piebald to round up a bunch of rustlers.”
“Mind if me and my deputy come along? Sounds like you’re in need of someone to make some arrests.”
“Shoot, Truman, you don’t need to beg. You’re welcome to come.” Duel stood in the stirrups and thundered, “Now tell me why the hell you rode out here. I’m burning daylight.”
“The boy’s last name was Coburn. He’s the brother of Sheriff Coburn over in San Saba. I came to warn you that the man is itching to get even.” Bagwell turned to Roan. “He’s especially wanting your hide. But then, I’m guessing you aren’t surprised.”
Marley sucked in a troubled breath. Coburn wasn’t going to let this lie. She remembered his expression that morning at breakfast in the Latimer Hotel dining room. His dislike for Roan had been written on his face for all to see. And his sneer that Roan must’ve found her in a brothel still rang in her head. But she knew Coburn didn’t have the courage to come here and face her father. His type of cowardice was more the kind that hid in the shadows, killing from the darkness when no one could see his face.
A layer of ice encased her. Trouble refused to leave their door.
“There’s bad blood between us,” Roan admitted. “But it’s news to me that he had a brother.”
Worry lined her mother’s face. “Duel, honey, what if Coburn comes while you’re gone? We have to think of the children.”
Her father dismounted and pulled Jessie against him. “I don’t think he’ll be brave enough to come here. He’ll wait and waylay us when we’re off the ranch. Have Roan pick the children up from school and keep them home until this blows over. I’m also leaving Judd Hanson and four other ranch hands. With luck, I’ll be back before sunset.”
Jessie straightened. Marley admired that about her mother. Jessie was made of stern stuff, and though she might fear things, she stiffened her spine and bravely carried on.
“We’re fine. Locate the stolen herd and come back to me.” She raised her face for a kiss.
Duel mounted up, and they galloped toward the lawless town.
Roan put an arm around Marley. “Do you think you can find me a shirt? It’s a little chilly wearing nothing but bandages.”
“Of course.”
Roan’s nearness melted a bit of the ice inside her as they followed her mother into the house. Before long, Marley had him in another shirt and he was out the door. He’d decided to get the children from school early, even though it was only noon. It was time to circle the wagons and hunker down.
She went about chores that waited for nothing—diapers to wash again, floors to sweep and mop, and soup to get on. The children would be hungry the moment they got home from school.
And they were. They gobbled up everything in sight. Marley didn’t complain though. She was glad they were safe at home where she could watch over them. She’d just settled down in her little house with a tablet and penci
l to jot down a story that had come to her when she heard a mule braying outside and people shouting.
Marley ran out to see Granny Jack and her mule. The woman’s silver hair was half up and half stringing down around her shoulders. Her glasses were nowhere to be seen. “Granny Jack! What’s wrong?”
“Trouble,” the old woman answered as Roan helped her from the animal.
“Come inside.” Marley put an arm around her and led her inside the main house to a chair in the kitchen. Several kids peeked around the door, whispering.
Roan sat opposite Granny at the table. “Tell us what happened.”
Granny rubbed red welts on both wrists. “A man broke into my house and tied me up, that’s what. I’ve been at his mercy for several days. The bastard stomped on my glasses and put my cats out in the cold. I spat in his eye first chance I got. I finally got away this morning after he left. I wish I could kick him right in the you-know-where!”
“Can you describe him, Granny?” Fury danced up Marley’s spine. The very nerve to treat a harmless old woman like this!
“I sure can.” Granny’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “He was as skinny as a willow sapling and tall, real tall. Had these beady little raccoon eyes. Spoke like he had a mouthful of gravel.”
Chills raced through Marley. “Will Gentry.”
“Yep.” Roan’s face hardened. “That’s how he disappeared. He holed up at Granny’s.”
“Who the heck is Gentry?” the old woman asked, taking a cup of tea that Jessie handed her. Granny saucered it before sipping.
One of the babies began to cough, the sound rattling in her small chest. Jessie patted Granny’s back. “I need to tend to Edith. If you need anything, dear, Marley will get it. Don’t you even think about going back to your cabin.”
“That sounds awful croupy to me, Jessie. Put a mustard poultice on that little darling,” Granny said as Jessie hurried to the next room to get the triplet. Then the old woman turned her attention back to Marley. “Now tell me who Gentry is.”
“Duel just told me that Will Gentry is my real father.” Marley leaned closer. “I suspect you knew about this. You hem-hawed around when I asked you that last visit.”
