by Ivy McAdams
“That’s right,” the outside voice bellowed. “You know me just fine.”
The Boss spun in a slow circle and clutched Clara close to his chest. “What the hell do you want?”
“Keep both eyes open. Trust me.”
The Boss shook his head with an irritated roar, but Clara’s nerves were alive.
Both eyes open.
She looked to the door again but couldn’t see past the doorframe from her angle. Then her gaze jumped to the nearest window. The one behind the desk where Ace had spied on her when she’d scoped out the bank.
And she saw him.
Perched atop the roof of the neighboring building, half-hidden by a brick wall. His rifle was fit to his shoulder, pointed in their direction.
Trust me.
She drew in a slow breath and stilled her body. No movements. Barely a breath.
“Last chance, Ethan,” the voice outside the wall shouted. “Let her go.”
The Boss’s jaws flexed and clenched. “Never. She’s mine. If you want her, you’ll have to show your face.”
“I already have.”
The window exploded when the bullet hit, and there was no time for anyone’s reaction before the Boss jolted behind her. His hand fell away from her. The revolver drifted down to rest against his body as he staggered back a step.
Clara hissed in a breath as she leapt away from him, turning back to watch him hit his knees on the floor and slump over. The back of his jacket was ripped apart, dark red oozing across the exposed shirt and skin beneath. She turned her eyes away with a grimace and found the twins watching her in disbelief.
One lifted his rifle, and she ducked to the floor. Footsteps thundered through the side door, followed by a frenzy of shotgun blasts. She pressed her hands tight to her ears as she curled near the leg of the desk.
When the gunshots subsided, she looked up to find Mason standing in the doorway. The twins were crumpled to the floor. She huffed out a ragged breath, but there was no time to feel relieved.
Mason lowered his gun and waved her over. He grabbed a dropped moneybag and rushed for the door. Clara followed, hauling a bag up onto her hip as well.
The thing had to weigh more than a person. She could barely move holding it, but she managed to shuffle along behind Mason and out the door.
The alleyway was a disaster.
As they rushed across the space between the buildings, her eyes moved frantically.
Jeremiah stood at the back of the building, and he tipped his hat to her as she ran by. Seeing his face brought her memory back to life, and she realized it was his voice she’d heard while inside. He must have been working with Ace for the final shot, and she stared at him as she passed, overwhelmed with relief that it’d worked.
Beyond him, Nelson lay at his post, unmoving, and she could tell by the odd angle of his body that he was done. Nearby a Croaker body was stretched across the dusty ground. She averted her eyes and ran. Through the next set of buildings, she found most of the rest of the gang.
Jack and Clay were mounted up, moneybags strapped in behind their saddles. A couple of other horses were loaded down and ready to go. Otis sat in the dirt and hissed over his leg. The brown pants were ripped and stained dark. A gunshot. He rocked back and forth, cradling his knee.
She grimaced as she passed, dumping her bag of money on the ground in the middle of them.
There was one very important person not present.
“Where’s Ace?”
“Not back yet,” Jeremiah said as he came up behind them.
Clara’s adrenaline spiked again. She pointed around at the rest of the men. “You get this shit out of here. I’m going back for Ace.”
“Clara, we can’t―” Clay started, but she spun around on him with fierce eyes.
“Get out of here before the Law gets here. You think the entire town doesn’t know what’s happened already?”
His jaw was set, but he didn’t respond.
“I’ll stay with you,” Mason said.
She pointed a finger at him, jabbing it toward his chest, but he brushed her off. “I’m not leaving you here. Your weapon is gone. You’re defenseless.”
“I don’t need a weapon. The Croakers are gone.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone. So, let’s get a move on.”
Mason was moving without waiting for her answer. Rather than fight him further, she turned her attention back to the gang.
“Get out of here,” she said.
Jeremiah took Otis by the shoulders and hauled him off the ground. The idiot flailed and hollered as the big dark-skinned man set him on his horse. Then Jeremiah took a fistful of Otis’s shirt and threatened his life if he didn’t stop yowling like a cat. Jeremiah gathered the remaining bags of money, secured them to his horse, and the group was off.
Clara watched over her shoulder as the four of them, and one extra money horse, made a beeline for the edge of town. Then she dug in her toes as she and Mason ran for the tailor shop next to the bank.
Around the back, a metal ladder secured to the wooden wall led to the roof. Ace was just fumbling down the last few rungs.
Clara threw herself at him, catching him around the waist.
“Are you okay?”
Mason’s arms went under his shoulders to haul him to his feet, but Ace let out a pained roar that twisted Clara’s stomach in knots. Mason jerked his hands back and leaned over to examine his leader.
Beneath Ace’s jacket, most of the left side of his shirt was sticky with blood.
“Oh shit,” Mason muttered.
Two bullet holes in the shoulder of Ace’s shirt were one of the most horrifying things Clara had ever seen. She leaned into him, taking some of his weight, and clenched at his hand.
“Ace,” she murmured.
He looked at her, his eyes not as bright and alert as normal. There was a cloud hovering in them. A weakness. She drew in a hard breath and rested her forehead to his.
His hand was on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for saving me.”
The soft hum in his throat was his only response.
“I know you’re hurting,” she whispered, “but we’ve got to get out of here.”
He nodded, nearly losing his hat.
“Come on.”
She leaned into him while Mason propped his good arm over his shoulder, and they limped into the alleyway.
Loud voices drifted from the main street and the front of the buildings. People shouting as they entered the bank. They were all far too close.
“Mason, go get the horses,” Ace grunted.
The man’s white hat popped up as Mason frowned at him. “But you―”
"I'm not hobbling back to camp."
Mason stood silently for a moment before nodding. “Right.”
He helped them move across the alleyway and prop up against a building, then he disappeared.
Clara knelt next to Ace and pulled the bandana free from him neck. She pressed it against his wounds, grimacing when he winced.
He leaned his head back against the wood paneling with a ragged breath. His skin was paling, and Clara swallowed a painful knot.
“Ace, I’m not sure riding back like this is a good idea.”
“I’m not either, but I don’t know that I have much choice.”
“We could see a doctor here.”
Ace’s chest heaved in a grunt of laughter, which only made him wince again. “We just robbed the damn bank, Clara. I can’t go to the doctor.”
“I saw the Croakers come in the bank and shoot those people. I saw them take money out of that safe too. It was unfortunate we got caught up in their crossfire.”
Ace’s cloudy eyes sharpened as he stared at her. “You’re a brilliant woman, Clara. That must be why I love you.”
She hadn’t thought she could feel a rush of emotion that topped everything she’d experienced that morning, but his words lifted her higher than she’d ever imagined. Her lip
trembled as her hand moved up to cradle his face.
An energized warmth spread through her body, dancing in her stomach and tickling her heart. The surge of love within her was only matched by the relieving lack of fear. She’d been so convinced that love would never be a risk she could take again. She’d never put herself in the position to be used again.
But her relationship with Ace was different. She trusted him. Fully. He’d just shot a man to save her life, for Lord’s sake.
The thought hit her like a brick wall.
“Was that man, that had me in the bank. Was he…?”
Ace cleared his throat as he slid his hat free of his head. “That was my brother Ethan.”
Clara pressed her fingers to her mouth with a gasp, squeezing his hand. “Ace. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head slowly, avoiding her eyes as he replaced his hat. “He was a bad man, Clara. I wish it hadn’t come to that, but there was no way the both of us were going to walk this green Earth if anything had happened to you.”
She leaned into him, resting her forehead to his, both shrouded beneath the brim of his hat. “Ace, you are bigger than the mountains and more vast than the open prairies. I’m so lucky to have you here with me.”
He gazed at her, a spark of life returning to his eyes. It gave her renewed hope.
“I love you, Ace.”
He tilted his head an inch and captured her lips against his cool skin. She breathed him in fully, overcome by her new reality. She was alive, happy, and she loved Ace Van den Berg. Leader of an outlaw gang. A man hellbent on helping his family. No matter the cost.
And now she had to help him.
“Sit tight,” she whispered as she stood and walked back into the alley.
“Clara.” There was an edge of panic in his voice.
But she didn’t have time for fear at the moment. If he didn’t get some help, the worst could happen. And she wouldn’t allow that.
The front of the bank had become a chaotic mess from the sound of it. A steady buzz of voices, horses moving about and whinnying, loud shouting back and forth.
Clara marched down the path, finally finding movement approaching on the bank’s other side. A sheriff deputy was walking toward the alley, and she waved a hand in the air before she could think twice. A cold hand gripped her lungs, but she couldn’t stop. Ace needed her.
She rushed at the deputy. “Please help! We need help.”
The deputy moved toward her at a brisk walk. She’d explain to him just as she’d told Ace. They’d been innocent bystanders and needed assistance. No reason to worry.
Except when the deputy drew closer, the fist around her lungs tightened.
Deputy Bullock sneered as he pulled his revolver.
Chapter 19
Ace’s pale face leaned against bars dividing his cell from Clara’s, and she clutched at his fingers.
“Let me in there,” she growled at Deputy Bullock over her shoulder. “Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in if he dies?”
“Do you know how much trouble you’re in now?” the man scoffed. “Already wanted for a past murder and adding on new deaths and a bank robbery?” Bullock blew out a long whistle. “I’d hate to be you.”
“You don’t have evidence for a single charge of that,” Ace grunted.
Bullock narrowed his eyes from the chair he sat in near the front of the open-floor jail. “You don’t know.”
“I do know. Clara didn’t kill anyone or steal anything. She has no weapon and no money.”
Bullock rolled his eyes. “Details.”
“And she’s not wanted for murder in Hollard.”
The deputy’s body tensed, and he leapt up. “She is. I hate to break things up between the two of you but your new little lady friend here killed her late husband. There have been wanted posters up for months.”
“That’s not what her posters around town say.”
Bullock paused and raised an eyebrow.
Ace nodded. “They just describe her as a missing person. That her family is looking for her. I wonder why you didn’t realize that the other day. Or tell the sheriff about it.”
Bullock narrowed his eyes. “The posters may not describe her as the murderer she is, but I know.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, confidence oozing out of his pores. “I knew Lloyd. He was a good man. Stolen away from friends that loved him.”
Clara rolled her eyes. “You’re all fools.”
The man ground his teeth at her as he strode up to her cell.
“You won’t get away with this,” he sneered. “Ain’t no way a judge gonna let you walk for murder. I’ll supply all the evidence they’ll need.”
“Like what?” she spat. “The word of a buffoon?”
His eyes narrowed. “Murder weapon. Witnesses. Whatever it takes.”
She gaped at him. “You have no evidence on me.”
“I’ll have whatever it takes.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, though not from fear but unbridled rage. She slammed her hands against the bars in front of her. "You won't spin your lies around me."
“What, you going to kill me too?”
His eyes danced, a teasing smirk on his face.
Her fingers clenched around the bars, and she shook them.
Bullock laughed.
Sheriff Sean McGowen cleared his throat at the front of the jail.
Clara's head popped around in surprise. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, but just to rest her eyes on him brought on a wave of emotion.
The sickening doubt and shame were still there, but an even greater sense of relief and love surged in.
It’d been years since she’d seen her father. Years since she’d hugged him or had a conversation. Him and her entire family. The very thought of it broke her heart.
He approached slowly, his eyes searching her with a small dip in his brow. He looked as if he might break into tears, and she assumed he might be living the same realization as she was.
It’d been much too long.
When he’d reached the corner of her cell, her father finally looked away and regarded Bullock. “What’s going on here?” he drawled in an interesting mix of a frontier dialect and the lilt of an Irish cadence.
“I brought in that woman they’d been looking for over in Hollard for murder.” Bullock stood taller, puffing out his chest. “Clara Martin.”
The Sheriff’s body stiffened as he moved along the cell to the door, displacing his deputy with a huff.
“I’m afraid you are mistaken,” the Sheriff said. “This here’s Clara McGowen.”
The men’s eyes met, and Bullock’s widened.
“But she’s…”
“...been missing nearly a year,” the Sheriff replied. “Thanks for bringing her home.”
Bullock’s face was set in a firm line, fire burning in his eyes. But Clara’s father dismissed him with a flick of his hand.
“What are you doing standing around in here anyway? The bank’s been robbed. On duty, sir.”
While Bullock sulked and stomped toward the front, the Sheriff opened the door to Clara’s cell, and his eyes met hers.
With nothing left in their lives to separate them, Clara’s resolve broke, and she stepped toward him in a rush. Underneath his thick red mustache, his mouth split into a warm smile, and he opened his arms to wrap her up.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, feeling the flood of tears threatening.
“My Blossom, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.”
She nodded into his shoulder, snuggling deep into his embrace.
“You have no idea how much we’ve missed you,” he said. “Your mother will be so happy to see you.”
She clung tighter to him, heart throbbing and trembling all at once.
After a long breath of holding onto one another, he leaned into her hair and whispered. “I hear you’ve gotten into some trouble.”
The very words broke her in two, and a wash of tears flooded ou
t. Her father held her close, rubbing a hand over her back until she’d quieted down again.
“I also heard a good many details about what led to such things. I do believe it was your neighbor there that came to enlighten me.”
Clara glanced over her shoulder at Ace still leaning against the bars between their cells, watching her with his beautiful brown eyes.
“It was,” she murmured, a new swell of love in her chest upon staring at him. “And he needs help.”
“Let’s see to him then.”
Clara hurried over, feeling as if she had a new army on her team as her father unlocked the second cell. She nearly knocked Ace into the bars when she leapt on him, hands on his face and neck.
“How do you feel? You should probably lay down,” she whispered.
His hands on the small of her back touched her delicately, like a feather. His weakness unnerved her.
Her father crossed his arms in the doorway. “Looks like a couple bullet holes there.”
Clara froze, staring up at Ace.
“You didn’t have anything to do with that robbery in town just now, did you?”
She hesitated, sliding her hands down from Ace’s face and turning to look at the Sheriff. “I saw those Croaker men ride into town while I was standing outside the doctor’s office. Next thing I knew, those lunatics were shooting up the place. One got Ace.” Her hand found his and squeezed. “I suppose we’re just lucky we got out alive.”
Her father regarded her silently for a long moment before he nodded. “Thank goodness for that. And thank goodness for you, Clara. I’m so glad you’re home.”
She smiled, a radiant warmth spreading beneath her skin.
“Let’s get this fella bandaged up properly, and I’ll take an official statement from you, my dear,” he said as he stepped away to pull a bottle of whiskey and a box of first-aid supplies off the back wall. He handed them to her and turned to head to the front of the room again.
She helped Ace to sit on the floor against the bars, set the supplies aside, and proceeded to slide the buttons free of his shirt. As she peeled the bloody garment away, Ace’s chest shook in a low chuckle.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he said, staring up at her with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re a free woman now.”
