She stepped closer, and a hand touched his upper arm, tentative. “I’ll be all right, Monty. And careful. I just…need to be there. It’s my fault all this happened to begin with, I need to take care of it.”
He looked back and studied her. “How about if you bring the sheriff when he gets here? You can show him the route you took to begin with. I’m assuming Leonard’s following both our tracks.” At least that way, if they rode into a trap, she’d be in the second wave. And safe.
~ ~ ~
MONTY SCANNED THE tree line that surrounded three sides of the clearing they rode through. They’d settled into pairs. He and Jacob in front, Nathan and Jesse just feet behind. Each with a rifle in one hand, aimed at the woods around them. It’d been slow going for the first few hours, Leonard’s trail had veered a few times from the path he and Grace took. And it’d taken time to sort his tracks from those of the local ranchers and their cow hands.
With their tracks so fresh, Grace and the sheriff shouldn’t have the same trouble. If Santiago had been able to find the lawman right away when he reached town, Grace and the sheriff would likely catch up to them within an hour or so. His gaze followed the set of shod tracks in front of them, but he kept his ears strained for the whistle Grace had promised to send out before they approached.
They were just entering another copse of trees when that whistle sounded. Even if their trail had been obvious, this was sooner than he’d expected. Had they just raced to catch up without any concern for safety? The muscles in his shoulders tightened as he strained to make out the forms behind them through the trees.
Grace’s outline sent such a flurry through his chest, the knot in his stomach balled tighter. He offered a tense smile as she brought her mare to a stop beside him.
“Miss Harper filled me in on your excitement.” The sheriff’s loud whisper broke through his thoughts, and Monty turned to face him. “Any idea how much farther ahead he is?” The man’s long mustache twitched with each word.
Monty glanced up at the dusky sky. “Close I hope. We need to catch up to him before dark or it’s gonna be a lot harder to follow the trail. Saw fresh droppings in that last field, so I’m prayin’ he’s not far.”
The sheriff nodded. “Let’s get to it, then.”
Monty allowed the man to take his place at the front beside Jacob, while he dropped back to ride with Grace in the middle of the group. As they wound deeper into the woods, he kept as constant an eye on her as he did scanning the area around them.
She had a white-knuckled grip on the reins with her left hand and the pistol in her right. Did it shake, or was that the motion of her horse? The tense profile of her jaw and poker-straight back spoke quite a bit about the state of her nerves.
He eased his horse closer. “It’s going to be all right, Grace. God has this already planned out.” The words were as much for him as for her, but a quiet reassurance filled him as he spoke. If only he could take her hand and infuse the same confidence into her.
She glanced at him, her gaze catching on his as vulnerability flashed across her face. The dusky light in the woods masked her eyes, but he could imagine the intensity there. “How can you know that?”
It was the first time she’d asked a question about faith, and she’d not picked an easy one. Monty inhaled a breath. “For one, He says in the Bible He has control of what happens to us. But He’s proven it to me so many times. I know God has this already worked out for our good. The hard part is the trusting.”
She brought her gaze forward, and he couldn’t read her profile. Was she hearing any of it? Or were her nerves so tied up, she couldn’t focus? He knew she’d been raised in a Christian home, but there was a sight of difference between memorizing the catechism and trusting God as you’re walking into the fire. Did she have the connection with the Father that would make that kind of faith possible? Be with her, Lord.
The faintest sound drifted from ahead.
“Stop,” Monty whispered, and reined in. There it was again. An animal tromping through the leaves of the forest floor.
“Spread out in a U shape and see if we can surround him.” Monty issued the command in a low tone as he reined his gelding to the side. Too late, he realized he probably should have waited for the sheriff to give orders.
But the men—and Grace—obeyed. Even as his senses heightened for the attack, he realized the plan carried Grace the opposite direction from him. He wouldn’t be close by to protect her. No. Should he call her back to him? Have her switch places with Nathan? She’d be angry as mama cow at weaning, and probably wouldn’t do it. Lord, protect her.
With effort, he pulled his focus back to the work ahead, weaving his horse through the woods at a jog and fighting off branches. He kept Jacob just within his sights ahead.
If only they could get close to the man without him hearing. That wasn’t likely, though. Not with a pack of six horses charging through the woods. Their only possible hope could be surprise and the fact that Leonard would have to weave around the same trees they did. But if he had a head start…
Within minutes, a figure appeared through the woods ahead and to the right. A bay horse.
Riderless.
“He’s on foot!” Jacob’s cry pierced the air as Monty glimpsed a figure darting away from the animal.
He pressed his gelding faster. Ducking and bobbing as branches struck.
A shot rang through the air. The blast came from somewhere up ahead, but it was impossible to tell who had fired it.
Monty reined in at Jacob’s horse, and leapt to the ground. His friend had already dismounted and crouched behind a tree. Monty found a spot behind a neighboring oak—a good stout tree at least three feet thick.
“Did he fire the shot?” His whisper carried the distance to Jacob.
“Yeah. Felt the breeze from it, so I figured this was a good place to face off.”
“Where is he?”
“Behind that cypress tree about thirty feet over.”
So close? It was a miracle Monty hadn’t been shot riding up. He forced in a deep breath. What now? Peeking around the trunk, he spotted the cypress Jacob must have meant. A huge sprawling thing with an impression in one side where Leonard must be hiding. The way he was tucked into the tree’s indentation, he was shielded on three sides. They’d have trouble getting into a position to shoot him out without getting shot themselves. If the man had food and bullets to last him, he could hole up there for days.
Maybe they could talk him out. It’d be worth a try. Monty gathered his nerve and a breath.
“Leonard?” His call resonated through the woods, as everything settled into silence except the hard breathing of the horses.
“Who’s there?”
The voice came smooth, self-assured. Like a seasoned gambler confident in the cards he held. Monty ground his teeth.
“I’m sheriff in Seguin, and you’re under arrest.” The sheriff’s voice rang out before Monty could answer. Good. Let the lawman do things nice and officially.
“What charges could you possibly have against me? I’ve done nothing illegal.”
Monty’s gut clenched as anger sluiced through him. A snarl drifted from Jacob, but Monty sent him a glare. They had to keep their heads through this or someone would get hurt.
“Arson. Attempted murder. Destruction of property. Should I keep going?”
“I’m afraid, sir, you have the wrong man.” That voice was so suave it made Monty’s stomach roil. What a slimy, two-faced snake.
“You are Leonard Fulton, are you not?” The sheriff—always so steady and matter-of-fact.
Silence for a moment. “I am. Although, I’ve not done those things you accuse me of.”
Liar. Monty dragged in deep breaths to still his pulsing temper.
“What’s your business in these parts?”
Monty shifted from one foot to the other. Did the sheriff plan to talk the man to sleep? Because this conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere helpful.
“I’m looking for my sister. After our father died, she lost some of her faculties and ran away. I’m trying to bring her home to safety.”
A strangled sound—half snarl, half war cry—echoed from what had to be the direction of Grace. “You mean my father. He was nothing more than a victim to you. You murdered him to take the diamond, but when that didn’t work, you’ve hunted me down like a prize bearskin. Only now you’ve caught yourself in your own trap.” The venom in her voice was unmistakable.
“Grace?” For the first time, the weasel’s voice wavered from its suave security.
Monty peered around the tree. If the sheriff could keep the man’s attention occupied, maybe he could get to a better position. There was a scattering of larger trees in the area that should be enough to cover him.
He turned to catch Jacob’s eye and motioned his path. “Cover me,” he whispered just loud enough to carry.
“You have thirty seconds to come out with your hands up.” The sheriff spoke again. “Else I’ll give these men the high sign to come in and get you.”
Their chances would be much better if Monty could get a better angle. Inhaling a deep breath, he lunged from behind his oak and sprinted to a pecan about ten feet away. Adrenaline coursed through him as he reached his goal and peered around the edge to the cypress hiding their target. He could just see the edge of black cloth in the tucked in the nook of the tree. Possibly enough exposed to nick the man, but not enough to do real damage. But a few well-placed shots would certainly spook him.
Raising his Winchester, Monty sighted down the rifle’s barrel and waited for his cue.
“This is your last chance, Fulton.” The sheriff again.
The fabric tucked behind the Cypress shifted. Was the man planning to run? Monty would drop him at the first movement. There was no way Leonard Fulton would roam free to torment another person. Especially not Grace.
A shot ripped through the air, tensing every one of Monty’s muscles. The cloth disappeared—the man must have pressed himself closer to the tree.
Monty aimed into the wood just to the side of where the shirt had been and pulled back on the trigger.
Bark around the spot exploded. A sharp cry of surprise blended with the echo of the bullet. Leaves rustled at the base of the tree, dropping Monty’s focus down to the two boots peeking out.
Perfect. He called out to the man, “Throw out your guns first, Fulton, then step out with your hands raised. Else I’ll pick your toes off one by one.”
A brief moment of silence followed, and Monty cocked his rifle.
“I’m coming out.” Leonard’s unsteady voice was followed by a pistol tossed through the air. It settled about five feet away from his tree.
“Throw the rest farther,” Monty called.
A rifle landed a few feet past the handgun.
“Your knives and any other weapons.”
A hunting knife came next. “That’s all.”
Monty didn’t move, but kept the rifle aimed. “You sure? Cause if I find you’re hiding something, I’ll use it on you myself.”
“Wait.” The slimy invertebrate was whining now, but he threw out another smaller handgun. “That’s everything.”
“Come out with your hands straight up.” Monty fingered his trigger, but forced himself to relax his white-knuckled grip some.
A lean man stepped from behind the cypress. His mussed brown hair and wiry mustache looked like he’d started the day with pomade, although the hair spiked out in tufts now. His tie and waistcoat peeked out from under a fitted black dress coat. What a dandy.
“Boys, I’m comin’ out to apprehend the man,” the sheriff called. “Don’t shoot me.” Smart man with five cocked guns pointed at the scene.
Leonard kept his hands away from his sides as he sent Monty an evil glare. Then he glanced toward the oncoming sheriff.
Monty relaxed his grip on the rifle and rotated one shoulder to loosen a cramped muscle. The sheriff approached Leonard, metal cuffs already in hand. Out of the corner of Monty’s eye, another figure appeared beyond the sheriff.
Grace.
He raised his head to tell her to get back, but in a flash, Leonard spun and aimed a tiny handgun at Monty.
An explosion ripped through the air.
Monty ducked as a cold sensation blew past his face. He jerked his rifle back up and sighted down the barrel.
“It’s mine!” Leonard’s scream echoed as he whirled and aimed the pistol at Grace.
Fear coursed through Monty as he squeezed his trigger, but his aim was off.
More shots exploded. Screams rent the air.
Grace.
He cocked again and raised the rifle to fire, but the sheriff lunged toward the criminal and took him down in a heap. More yells echoed as the lawman flipped Leonard like a sack of flour, onto his stomach with hands twisted behind him.
“My arm!” Leonard cried.
With the ruffian on the ground, Monty jerked his gaze away and searched the spot where Grace had been.
Nothing.
His heart pounded in his ears and he sprinted toward the place she’d been standing. “Grace!”
When he reached the spot, he whirled, eyes searching every direction. “Grace!”
“Monty.”
The voice clutched his chest, and he spun to face it.
Grace stepped away from a tree, like an angel shimmering from the heavens.
He was striding toward her before he realized it. Running.
She lowered her gun and nearly threw herself into his arms. He clutched her tight, dragging in deep breaths and soaking in the blessed scent of relief.
It was long moments before he could pull himself away, even to look into her face. But when he did, the exhausted relief—the edge of fear—clenched his heart in a powerful fist.
He pulled her close again, squeezing his eyes tight. She was safe. She was safe. He had to repeat the words over and over in his mind until the claw in his chest loosened its grip.
Grace let out a shuddering breath, then eased herself away. “The others… We need to help.”
The cold that rushed in to replace her warmth felt like another blast to his chest. He tucked her into his side, and together they turned to face the group clustered around the form on the ground.
The sheriff kneeled atop Leonard, both knees pressed into the perpetrator’s back as he worked the key into the locking bar of the manacles. Nathan and Jesse hovered over the pair, rifles trained on the man still writhing under the lawman’s grip.
The blighter wouldn’t have another chance to do more damage. He’d left marks deep enough already.
Monty glanced over at Jacob, watching the scene from a distance with his own rifle still aimed and ready. The tight expression in every one of his features said it’d take some time for him to wind down from the ordeal.
As he and Grace stepped closer, the sheriff shifted his weight off the man’s back. “There. That should hold nice and tight. Any other weapons we need to know about, Fulton?”
“No, but my arm,” Leonard moaned, his eyes shut as the side of his face pressed into the leaves and dirt of the forest floor. “I’m shot.”
A rip in the man’s coat showed crimson soaking the cloth underneath. The man was still breathing just fine, though. He’d be all right for a while.
As the sheriff searched for any other hidden weapons, Monty looked up at his men. “Jesse, keep your gun pointed at him until the sheriff tells you different. Nathan, fetch the man’s horse. Unless we’d rather have him walking back, which is fine with me.”
“Horse is lame.” Leonard’s words were barely decipherable with face pressed into the ground.
Nathan stepped back. “I’ll go check him.”
If Leonard’s horse wasn’t able to carry him, how exactly could they get the man to town? Unless some of them stayed out here in the woods overnight and hoped the animal was better in the morning. That would depend on the severity of the injury, though. He could easily believe Leon
ard had pushed the horse too hard for the conditions. The horse could have stepped in a snake hole in the dim light of the woods and broken a leg.
“I guess we can put him on my horse. I could ride with you.”
He turned at Grace’s soft words. She’d be willing to let the man use her horse after all he’d done to her? Not that he was complaining about the thought of having her tucked behind him all the way home. That might be the best possible way to travel, now that he thought about it.
He scanned her eyes for any hint of fear. With the darkness falling deep in the woods, shadows threatened her eyes. What he could see was only bravery, though. “Maybe. Let’s see how bad the animal’s hurt.”
Night had overtaken the forest completely by the time they were all mounted and heading home. Fulton’s horse seemed to have only a stone bruise, but it was enough to slow their ride to a crawl as the animal limped behind.
Fulton was strapped onto Grace’s mare, with his hands in irons and a gag firmly fixed over his mouth. That’d been the only option to get the man to quit blabbering. The sheriff rode on one side, with a firm grip on Fulton’s reins. Jacob rode guard on the opposite side, his rifle across his knees and a hand within easy reach of the trigger. Nathan and Jesse rode up front, scouting the trail and blocking in Fulton in case he tried to do something really dull-witted.
Monty tightened his grip on Grace’s hands as they encircled his waist. Her head rested on his shoulder, body pressed against his back. The steady reassurance of having her there—safe—was just now starting to ease the tension in his muscles.
Could this whole awful ordeal really be over? He breathed out a long, cleansing breath.
Thank you, Father.
Chapter Nineteen
GRACE STEPPED ONTO the porch in the pre-dawn darkness and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. It’d been a couple hours since she’d ridden back to the ranch yard with Monty and Mr. O’Brien. Nathan and Jesse had agreed to accompany the sheriff to town to make sure Leonard was locked up tight.
She was supposed to be sleeping now, collapsed into exhausted slumber like the rest of the household. But she couldn’t bring herself to face the bed yet. Seeing Leonard had called up too many emotions she’d worked hard to squelch. That grimy feeling she always had when he looked her way. The day he’d come riding back to the ranch with Papa’s lifeless body.
The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl Page 14
