“Leave the room,” she finished his sentence and sent him a sheepish grin. “I won’t.”
He checked the window one more time, planted a loud kiss on her cheek, and closed the door with a decisive click. Pulling the key from his pocket, he locked the door and then checked the handle to be sure Charlotte was secure.
Ethan crossed the street to the café, passing the two men who leaned against the wall. Neither of them paid him any mind which eased his concerns some. But it still nagged at him. Why would two grown men spend so much time holding up that wall? Didn’t they have anything better to do?
“I brought your dishes back.” He handed the basket to a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and an apron tied around her trim middle.
“Would you like breakfast?” she asked.
“Yes, please, breakfast for two in the basket. I’d be much obliged.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt and lifted his eyebrows in question.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get you a cup of coffee, and your food will be ready in fifteen minutes or so.” The woman hurried away and returned with the promised beverage.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Ethan took a seat that allowed him to watch the street. He kept a constant sweep up and down the road, and nothing seemed amiss except for those darned men.
When he returned to the hotel, he kept his eyes turned from the watchers. No sense letting them know their presence had him a bit spooked. He entered the building and hurried to their room. Truth be told, he didn’t like leaving Charlotte alone.
He knocked.
“Who is it?” Charlotte’s voice warbled on the other side of the door.
“Ethan. Open the door.”
“I’m so glad you’re back. It’s scary here alone.” She clasped her hands together at her waist.
He pulled her into a hug. “I’m back, and I brought breakfast.”
Charlotte took the basket and soon they were eating bacon, scrambled eggs, buttered toast and fried potatoes.
“We have some time before I need to return the basket and saddle the horses.” He watched as Charlotte’s eyes darted to the window. “Let’s play some cards.”
The next two hours passed as Ethan taught Charlotte how to bluff, bet, raise and fold. Ethan laughed. “Every time you bluff, you twist your hair around your finger. It’s called a tell.”
She threw her cards at him. “Ethan, that’s cheating.”
“No, that’s watching.” He gathered the cards into a neat pile and returned them to his pocket. “It’s close to eleven. I’m taking the basket to the café and going for our horses. I’ll be waiting for you outside at eleven-thirty.” He retrieved a pocket watch from his vest and laid it in her hand. “I know ladies like to be late, but not today. Eleven-thirty. Hear me?”
“I’ll be there.” Charlotte held the watch clutched in both hands and tight to her bosom. “I won’t be late.”
Ethan nodded. “Come give me a kiss, little girl.” He held her tight against his chest relishing her soft heat. Their lips touched lightly, offering promises of more to come, and Ethan left his girl behind.
He dropped off the dishes and fetched their mounts. Ethan tied the horses to the hitching post and sat in a chair by the front door of the hotel and waited. At eleven thirty, Charlotte emerged with her bundle of clothes clutched in her hands.
“We’ll lead the horses down to the ferry,” Ethan said as he helped Charlotte down the stairs and handed her Devil’s reins. “It’s about half a mile.” He squeezed her trembling hand and shot her an encouraging smile. “Don’t look around. Just walk slow and calm.”
She nodded, and they strolled down the street for all the world looking like they were headed for a Sunday picnic.
“Hey, mister,” one of the men standing near the ferry called to Ethan. “You and the lady want to cross?”
“Yup, we surely do. The lady, me and our horses,” Ethan replied. He laid a reassuring hand on Charlotte’s back.
“That’ll be two dollars. Fifty cents for each horse, and fifty cents a person.” A young man approached Ethan with outstretched hand. “Where y’all heading?”
Ethan dropped the coins in the man’s hand and hesitated before answering. Well, maybe the guy likes to talk, nothing more, nothing less. “The Hernandez hacienda about fifty miles south.”
“I know the place. Nice family. Big ranch.” The money fell through his fingers to the ground. He bent to retrieve it. When he straightened, he drew closer to Ethan and whispered a quick message.
Ethan squinted a long look at the man. He pulled Charlotte to his side and planted a soft kiss near her ear while repeating the man’s words and adding a few of his own.
“Come on and get your horses settled on the raft, mister.” The raft operator walked away and motioned for them to board.
“Wait here, Charlotte. I’ll take the horses on first.” He spoke softly to the horses, encouraging them to climb aboard the rocking platform. When they were settled, he extended his hand and pulled Charlotte aboard.
“How long before we push off?” Ethan asked.
“Five minutes,” the young man replied. He pointed at the other man on the raft. “That’s Caleb. I’m Luke. We’ll pull the raft across.” Ethan surveyed the pulley system. He’d crossed the Rio Grande a few times, but he always swam his horse across. This would be a lazy man’s way to navigate the border of water, a man who wasn’t expecting trouble, that is. Luke’s quick message had been a reassuring one, but he didn’t know how far he could trust it.
“Two more minutes,” Luke said. “Caleb, untie the raft. Looks like no one else is coming with us.”
Caleb knelt at the back of the raft and worked on the large knots. As he stood to toss the rope onto the shore, the two watchers emerged from a nearby copse of trees.
“Hold up, mister. You got two more for the crossing.” They leaped onto the raft causing it to sway while small waves splashed at the bank. The horses shifted uneasily.
Luke approached the arrivals, “All right. That’s fifty cents each.” He held out his hand, and the coins clinked as they hit his palm. He transferred them to his pocket. The two men took hold of the rope. “On the count of three, pull. One, two, …”
The raft surged away from the bank as Luke kept up the count. Ethan moved Charlotte to the side of the raft putting their horses between them and the late arrivals. They lurched ahead on Luke’s three count and after a short while had spanned half the river.
Tension drained one tiny degree from Ethan’s shoulders. Maybe those fellas just needed to cross. Maybe they had nothing to do with Charlotte or her father. He could see their boots on the other side of the raft, and he kept a close watch. When those boots made their way to the front of the raft, he pulled Charlotte behind him.
The two men cleared the horses and approached. Their hands rested on the guns nestled in their holsters. They stood with feet spread for balance. Wicked confidence gleamed in their eyes.
“Sheriff Ford,” the taller one began, “we ain’t looking for a fight, but we got a job to do.”
“Who might you be?” Ethan moved his own hand to his gun.
“Well, I reckon our names don’t matter much, but Mr. Weaver hired us to find his daughter and take her home. Now, we know that’s Charlotte Weaver you got tucked there behind your back. We’d be mighty grateful if you’d move aside. Her father misses her.”
Ethan heard Charlotte snort. “Let me have a word with the little lady.” He turned his back to the men, leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. “We aren’t getting to the other side without a fight. Now, Luke said they’d been sent to help us, and I surely hope he meant it. I want you to move to the back.” He glanced over her head and locked eyes with Luke who gave one sharp nod. Luke and Caleb stepped in front of Charlotte, creating a wall of masculine defense.
“The lady doesn’t wish to return to her father’s house,” Ethan said through gritted teeth.
“Now, that’s a shame because sure enough that’s
where she’s headed.” The man reached for his gun and lifted it from its holster. Ethan surged forward and knocked the gun from his hand. It skittered across the wooden planks. Ethan landed a heavy blow to the man’s face and felt his nose crumple. Blood rushed down the man’s chin, but he rounded his own arm and connected a solid blow to Ethan’s right temple. Light pulsed behind his eye as he staggered backwards. His opponent tackled him to the raft straddling Ethan’s body. He landed a quick blow to the right side of Ethan’s chin causing his chin to snap to the side. In quick succession, he landed another blow, this time to Ethan’s left side, and his head flew in the other direction.
Ethan redoubled his efforts to push the man off his chest. His face took another punishing blow, and he twisted to avoid the next. The weight was lifted from his body and through squinty, blurry eyes he saw Luke pull the man up and away. Luke had his arms wrapped around the man and they struggled in a jerky dance for dominance. The horses shied and reared, confused and afraid of the pandemonium. Luke broke free and shoved the assailant into Devil’s rump. The horse kicked out in his fear sending the man, bleeding and flailing, into the Rio Grande.
Ethan rose to his feet and attempted to shake the mist from his brain. He stumbled. His legs were heavy, his brain fogged, but he needed to reach Charlotte.
The second assailant dove for the gun lying on the deck, spun, and shot. Ethan looked wide-eyed at his shoulder where blood pumped through his shirt and created a blossom of crimson.
“Ethan! Ethan!” Charlotte’s frantic shouts echoed from a distance he couldn’t cross. He took a backwards step to regain balance, but the deck now covered in water and blood was a slippery danger. His feet flew up; his body flew down toward the edge of the raft which met his head with a furious blow.
Water cool and blue welcomed him. Darkness called. His vision deserted him, and he sank into a world of stillness—black, deep and dangerously dark.
Chapter 17
Charlotte
“Ethan! Ethan!” Charlotte teetered close to the edge of the raft, screaming and shrieking her distress. Dropping to her knees, she stretched, stretched, stretched toward his sinking body. Her fingers scrambled and scratched at the collar of his shirt. The material was in her grasp before the body turned until he was standing upright in the water, and he was gone. Like a door slammed shut, water closed over his head.
“Help me,” she wailed. “Help me.” Her pulse pounded and fear ran a race of electrifying jolts through her body. Charlotte kept her eyes on the river as it swallowed her man.
Thuds of fists hitting flesh raged on behind her, and the horses continued to stamp their displeasure. She heard one more mighty crack as bare knuckles smashed into bone, and a body hit the deck of the raft.
“I’ve got this one. The other ones drowned. Maybe he’ll wash up further down the river.” Luke pointed at Charlotte. “Go help the girl.”
Caleb jumped on one foot and then the other in a demented dance to remove his boots. “I’m going after Ethan. His boots have filled with water, and they’re pulling him down.” He pulled his shirt over his head and dove, straight and sharp, into the water.
Tears streamed down her face as she watched Caleb slice through the water. His arms were a windmill pulling him forward. He paused where the water had closed over Ethan’s head and peered below the surface. He dove.
Her hands pressed over her mouth, and sobs wracked her body in painful waves. “Please. Please. Please.” Her single word was prayer, a whispered incantation.
Caleb broke the surface and inhaled a quick breath. He dove again. Straight down. His feet were the last thing Charlotte saw as he disappeared. When he popped up again, he dragged Ethan’s body behind him. His head was lodged in the crook of Caleb’s arm as he kicked his legs and propelled them to the raft.
Charlotte grabbed at Ethan.
“Let me.” Luke knelt beside her. He reached his arms under Ethan’s shoulders and pulled. Caleb pushed at his legs until Ethan lay stone still on the deck.
Charlotte put her ear close to Ethan’s mouth. “He’s breathing,” she choked.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” Luke pulled his shirt off and stuffed it under Ethan’s wet one. “Hold that. Keep pressure on it.”
Charlotte rose on her knees and placed pressure on the wound. She looked behind her to see one of the men her father sent was subdued. His hands tied with rope. The other had disappeared under the water.
“Keep an eye on him.” Luke handed her his gun. “Caleb, help me pull the raft back to Langtry. Ready. One, two…” and the raft lurched back toward the dusty, little town. His count was quick and the raft soon scraped the bottom in shallow water.
“Can we leave you alone with Ethan?” Luke asked.
Her red-rimmed eyes were bleak as she considered Luke’s request. “Where are you going?”
“I will take this varmint to the sheriff. I don’t want to give him any chance to get away. Caleb will run for the doctor.”
“All right. Please be quick. Ethan needs help.” She continued to hold the shirt to his wound, but it was saturated with blood.
Luke jerked his head toward town and her father’s man marched with Luke’s gun aimed at his back.
“I’ll get the doc.” Caleb pulled on his boots and launched himself from the raft and ran.
“Help is coming, Ethan,” Charlotte crooned. “Hold on. Hold on. We’ll get this sorted out.” She maintained a stream of soft words to Ethan’s steady stillness.
When the doc arrived, he pulled the shirt away. “I seen worse,” he muttered. He pulled Ethan’s eyelids back and peered into their unresponsive depths. “You boys carry him to my office. I gotta get that bullet out.”
Luke took Ethan’s feet, and Caleb his shoulders. They lifted Ethan and carried him to town. With one hand, Charlotte clutched Ethan while the other one dragged her wet skirts out of the dirt.
Doc opened the door to his office and pointed at a table. “Lay him there.” He turned his attention to Charlotte. “Your man is in a bad way. I’m sorry to tell you that, but I don’t sugar coat the truth. First, that bullet has to come out. Now, he’s lucky to be unconscious. He won’t feel a thing.”
“How long will he be unconscious?” Charlotte asked.
“The hell of it is, I don’t know. Head injuries are unpredictable. One day? Two? A week?” He paused. “Some never wake up. Wait in the other room while I see to the bullet.” He motioned toward the door.
Charlotte sat, rocking back and forth in her grief. Her face was the shade of a white-washed wall, her eyes wild and staring.
Luke returned with a bottle of whiskey. “Drink this, Miss Weaver. You’ve had quite a shock.”
The bottle hovered near her hand. “I’ve never had strong spirits,” she said.
“Well, I think it might help.” Luke wiggled the bottle in her direction.
She took the bottle and gulped. Then coughed and coughed again. Luke patted her firmly on the back, but a little color bloomed in her cheeks.
“Before the fight began, Ethan told me you came to help. Why? Why would you help us?” Charlotte took a smaller sip of the whiskey before returning the bottle.
“I work for a woman named Esperanza Murray.”
“Esperanza Murray. I don’t know her,” Charlotte replied.
“She’s a good friend of your step-father, Joaquin Hernandez. Señora Murray has a big ranch this side of the Rio Grande. Señor Hernandez wrote and asked her to watch for you, to help if you were in trouble. We’ve been watching the crossing every day.”
“Those men were hired by my father. He is an awful man. He used me to…” Her eyes brimmed with tears and soon they trailed down her face and dripped onto the front of her dress. Her life in his home had been a lie, and it hurt. She hadn’t been his treasure. She’d been the source of his treasure. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought, to admit her father used her to blackmail her grandparents, and used he
r to get money and political favors.
“We’ll take Sheriff Ford to Señora Murray’s ranch.” Luke reached over and gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze. “You are safe now.”
Charlotte watched the door, waiting for the doctor and praying for Ethan. When it opened, she jumped to her feet. Ethan lay under a sheet—still, silent, pasty white.
“Will he be all right?” Her voice trembled; her legs shook; her heart plummeted.
“The bullet’s out, and his arm is in a sling.” He shrugged. “As long as there isn’t an infection, that wound will heal. As I said before, I don’t know when or if he’ll regain consciousness. Do you have a place where he can rest?”
Luke spoke up, “I’ll take him to the Murray ranch. The señora is expecting Miss Weaver. Sheriff Ford was her escort.”
Charlotte’s throat closed in gratitude. How normal he made it sound. As if their wild ride over open range was an every-day occurrence upon which a young woman might embark.
“Good.” The doc brushed his hands on the side of his pants. “I’ll come check on him tomorrow.”
“Miss Weaver,” Luke began, “stay with the doc and Sheriff Ford. I’m going to get a buckboard and blankets.” The door shut with a click, and Luke’s boots rang with a hollow clunk as he strode up the boardwalk.
Charlotte took up vigil next to the bed and lifted Ethan’s hand to her lips. “What can I do?”
The doc joined her in silent contemplation of the quiet form on the table. “Talk to him. No one knows for sure, but he might hear you. Lift his shoulders or prop pillows behind him and spoon water and broth into his mouth. It would be best for him to stay hydrated and nourished as much as possible.”
“I will. Thank you.” She rubbed his hand between the two of hers. “I’m here, Ethan. I’m here,” she whispered in his ear. She pulled a chair next to the bed and rested her head on the mattress next to the quiet body.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Luke entered. “I have the buckboard, and Caleb to help me move Sheriff Ford.”
Treasured (Lonestar Love Book 2) Page 13
