by Smith, Bobbi
When Rachel appeared in the doorway, Pete moved past Joe to take her hand and help her descend. She smiled at him, finally feeling safe now that they were back in town.
“You were carrying a gun with you today?” he asked.
“After the other night at the Last Chance, my mother wanted me to carry it with me to make sure I was safe,” she told him. “And it’s a good thing she did.”
Pete looked down at Rachel and managed to smile. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” Joe interrupted Pete’s moment with her to speak with great sincerity. “We owe you a lot. I don’t think we would have gotten away from them without your help.”
“Miss Rachel was great,” Jacob chimed in, grinning proudly up at his new friend. “Maybe she should start riding shotgun on your stagecoach all the time!”
“I don’t know about that, but you were wonderful,” Eve agreed, giving her a hug.
Rachel was embarrassed by all the praise. “I’m just glad we were able to get away.” She noticed Hank walking off with Nick and asked, “Is Hank going to be all right?”
“He should be. His wound didn’t look too serious. I think the outlaws are in a lot worse shape than we are,” the stage driver answered.
“It’s just good that you made it back safely,” Pete said. “Now, where did you say they tried to ambush you?”
Once Joe told him the exact location, Pete was ready to get his posse together.
“I’ll see you later, Rachel,” Pete said.
“Good luck finding them,” she told him.
Pete hurried off. He wanted to get on the trail as quickly as he could while the outlaws’ tracks were still fresh. If some of the gunmen had been wounded as the driver had said, there was a good chance he could catch up with them and bring them in. He wouldn’t stand for any outlaws terrorizing his town. He was going to see that justice was done.
The news of the stagecoach’s return and the attempted robbery reached Rachel’s parents quickly. They rushed over to the stage to check on Rachel, Eve, and Jacob.
“You’re all right!” Anne embraced her daughter. “I was so terrified when I heard the news!”
“We’re all fine,” Rachel assured her, wanting to calm her parents’ fears. As soon as her mother released her, she went to hug her father, too.
“Thank God,” Martin offered up.
“Thank God, indeed,” Eve repeated. “If you hadn’t suggested that Rachel accompany me to bring Jacob home, we might not be alive right now.”
“We’re glad you’re all here, safe and sound.”
“So are we,” Rachel agreed.
Martin looked over at young Jacob. “Welcome to Dry Springs, Jacob.”
“Jacob, this is Reverend Hammond. Miss Rachel’s father,” Eve quickly made the introduction.
“Is it always this exciting in Dry Springs?” Jacob asked him, looking around at the crowd of people who’d turned out.
“Thankfully, no,” Martin told him. “But now that you’re here with us, things just might get livelier around town.”
Jacob smiled at him.
“Are you ready to go home, Jacob?” Eve asked her grandson.
He looked up at her with a look of pure love in his eyes. “Yes, Gramma. Let’s go home.”
“I’ll send your bags over later,” Joe told Eve and Rachel as they started to leave.
“Thanks, Joe, and let me know how Hank is doing.”
“I will.”
“Rachel, thank you for everything,” Eve said.
They were surprised when Jacob impulsively threw his arms around Rachel and hugged her tight.
“Thanks!”
Rachel hugged him back, then watched as they started off, hand in hand, toward Eve’s home—the elderly widow and her orphaned grandson, ready to begin their new life together.
“What about you?” Martin asked his daughter. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered as she and her parents turned toward home.
Chapter Seven
The first week of the month was almost over, and Clint’s frustration had grown during the three days he’d been in town. He’d been keeping a constant lookout for anyone or anything suspicious, but had found nothing. He was beginning to wonder if the gang’s plans had changed.
Clint realized he had to be patient and wait it out, but it wasn’t easy for him.
He wanted revenge.
Clint was sitting at a table in the back of the Last Chance when older man ran into the saloon.
“Have you heard the news?” the man shouted to anyone who’d listen.
“What news, Ira?” Trey demanded. He knew it had to be serious from the way Ira was acting. It wasn’t often he got this excited about anything.
“The stage was robbed! Hank was shot! He and Joe just pulled into town. They’re down by the sheriff’s office!”
“How’s Hank? Is he dead?” Trey asked, worried.
“No. From what I could see, it looked like he just got hit in the arm,” Ira answered.
Clint was instantly alert. He wondered if this was the work of the Tucker Gang—if this was the way they were going to announce their arrival in the area. As casually as he could, Clint got up from his table and went outside to see what was going on. He joined the crowd in front of the sheriff’s office and listened to the talk around him to see if he could learn any details about the robbery.
“You mean there was all this shooting and the robbers didn’t get away with anything?” one man repeated in astonishment.
“That’s right! They didn’t get a cent!” another announced proudly. “That preacher’s daughter was on the stage, and she was carrying a gun!”
“Rachel had a gun?” someone else asked, shocked.
“That’s right, and from what I heard, she was damned good at using it, too! She helped run them off. Without her, this would have been a whole different story. As it is, Hank got winged, but he still managed to hold his own.”
Clint tensed as he listened to the conversation. It had troubled him to learn Rachel had been on the stage, but when he found out she’d been carrying a weapon, he was torn. Logically, he told himself all that mattered was that Rachel was back home safe, but knowing the threat she’d faced during the robbery attempt disturbed him. If it had been the Tucker Gang and they’d known she was armed, they wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her if they had managed to stop the stage.
The thought of Rachel being harmed by the bloodthirsty outlaws tore at Clint. He tried to deny his feelings. He fought against the rage that threatened to overwhelm him. He reminded himself over and over that he had no time for any emotional involvement with anyone.
He must not care about Rachel.
He must not care about anybody.
He had to be cold and calculating.
Clint kept his tone easy as he asked, “Where did it happen?”
“About five or six miles out of town,” the man answered. “Sheriff Reynolds is getting a posse together to go after them. Joe, the stage driver, said at least one of the outlaws was wounded—maybe two of them. With any luck, Sheriff Reynolds will be able to track them down and bring them in.”
“So none of the passengers were hurt?”
“That’s right. They all made it just fine—Eve and her little grandson and Rachel.”
Moving away from the crowd, Clint went to the stable. He could lose no time before riding out to start tracking the would-be stage robbers. He had to find out if this was the Tucker Gang. This aborted robbery didn’t sound like the work of the deadly gang, but he had to be sure. He rather hoped it was them, for then he would know he wasn’t wasting his time and that he was on the right track.
Clint got his horse, then returned to the hotel to gather up his things. When he rode out of town a short time later, he was surprised to find that Sheriff Reynolds still hadn’t gotten his posse organized. In a way, he was glad. The longer the lawman took, the more time he had to check things out
on his own.
Clint rode to the site of the attack and found the outlaws’ trail much more easily than he’d expected. It was getting late as he started after them. He made sure to cover his own tracks, for he didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing. He was puzzled, though, by the fact that he still hadn’t seen any sign of the posse. He wondered why it was taking the sheriff so long to get organized.
When darkness finally claimed the land, Clint made camp reluctantly. He slept little. The prospect of possibly being so close to the killers left him restless and anxious for the new day to dawn.
At first light, Clint was on the trail again. He believed he was making good progress, and then at noon he made a gruesome discovery. Wrapped in a blanket, lying in the brush, was the body of one of the gunmen.
Clint didn’t recognize the man. He wasn’t anyone he’d seen on the wanted posters. He checked the body for some kind of identification, but found nothing. He considered burying him, but decided against it. He left the body where he’d found it, knowing the sheriff was in pursuit and would want a look at the dead man, too.
The previous day, Clint had thought he’d had a chance of closing in on the outlaws, but now, unburdened by their wounded, dying partner, the two remaining outlaws were able to travel much faster. Still, Clint didn’t give up.
As the day aged, Clint noticed threatening clouds beginning to gather on the horizon. He concentrated on his tracking, trying to cover as much ground as he could and hoping the bad weather would pass over him. But just at dusk, a heavy downpour started up. Before long it was scouring the land.
Clint sought what shelter he could find in a rocky outcropping and passed a miserable night. He feared the trail would be lost because of the rain, and the following morning he discovered that it had, indeed, been washed away. Disgusted, he went over the area carefully, searching for some clue to the direction in which they’d ridden. His search proved useless.
Disappointed, but knowing there was no point in trying to find something that wasn’t there, Clint decided to ride for town. He took a different, more circuitous route, for he didn’t want to risk running into the posse.
It was late in the day when word of the posse’s unexpected early return spread through the town. A crowd began to gather in front of the sheriff’s office, anxious to learn what had happened. Since the posse had returned so quickly, the townsfolk expected to find that Sheriff Reynolds had caught the outlaws and brought them in.
Eve was at the general store with Jacob when they heard someone outside shouting the news.
“Gramma! We gotta go see what happened! We gotta go find out if they got them!” Jacob insisted, grabbing her hand to draw her from the store.
“We’ll be back,” Eve called out to the shopkeeper as she left with Jacob.
They were hurrying down the street to join the others when Jacob saw Rachel and her mother come out of another shop.
“Miss Rachel!” Jacob hollered. He let go of his grandmother’s hand to run over to speak with her. “They’re back!”
“Hi, Jacob,” Rachel said warmly, then asked, “Who’s back?”
She looked up at Eve, who’d finally caught up with him.
“The sheriff and the posse!” Jacob explained.
“Already?” Rachel’s eyes widened at the news. She was impressed that Pete had caught up with and arrested the outlaws so quickly. “That was fast work.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it either,” Eve said. “That’s why we’re going over to the jail. I want to find out what happened.”
“We’ll go, too,” Anne said. She wanted to know for sure that the gunmen were under arrest and wouldn’t be a threat to the community anymore.
They joined the crowd waiting in front of the jail for Sheriff Reynolds to come outside and let them know what had happened. It wasn’t long before he appeared.
“I see you heard we were back,” Pete began.
“How did it go? Did you get them all, Sheriff?” someone called out.
“We tracked the outlaws for almost a full day, and then we found a body on the trail. The man had been shot several times.”
At the sheriff’s announcement, Jacob looked up at Rachel, his eyes wide. “Do you think he’s the one you shot, Miss Rachel?”
At Jacob’s question, almost everyone in the crowd turned to look at Rachel.
“I—I don’t know.” She was horrified to think she might actually have killed someone.
Anne reached out to her daughter and took her hand supportively. She could well imagine what Rachel was going through.
“What about the rest of the gang?” another man asked.
Pete looked out at the townsfolk and told them, “They got away.”
“What do you mean, they got away!” the man demanded. “Why didn’t you stay after them?”
Pete turned a cold-eyed glare on the man who’d dared to criticize his decision to call off his pursuit of the outlaws. “Whoever these gunmen were, they hadn’t succeeded in robbing the stage and they’d lost one of their men.”
“But they shot Hank!”
“Yes, they did, but it was only a flesh wound, and he’s going to make a full recovery.”
“You should have kept after them!”
“You should have brought them in!”
Pete was getting angry with their demands. “I didn’t want to put the posse at risk, chasing down a couple of worthless outlaws. And besides, a storm was brewing. I figured it would wash the trail out on us even if we did stay after them.”
“But who’s to say they won’t come back? Who’s to say they won’t try again?” someone asked, frightened that the gunmen were still on the loose.
“They’re long gone,” Pete told them.
“How can you be sure?” another challenged him.
“I’m sure. Things are back to normal now. You can go on about your business. Everything will be fine.”
Summarily dismissed, the uneasy crowd disbanded. They weren’t happy with the lawman’s decision not to try to bring in the gunmen, but there was nothing they could do about it.
“What’s he gonna do, Gramma? Is the sheriff going back out after them again?” Jacob asked, confused.
“No, darling. Sheriff Reynolds thinks the bad men are gone and they won’t be back.”
“Good. I’m glad,” he replied, sighing in relief as he followed his grandmother back to the General Store.
Anne could tell Rachel was upset, so they went straight home. They didn’t speak until they were inside the house. Only then did Anne embrace her daughter.
Rachel had tried to be strong on the walk home, but now, wrapped in the safety of her mother’s arms, she gave in to the torment that filled her soul.
“What if I did shoot him?” she asked tearfully. “What if I was the one who killed him?”
Anne kissed Rachel’s cheek and hugged her even tighter. “We will never know whose bullet killed the outlaw, and it doesn’t matter. He was trying to kill you.”
“I know, but—”
“What matters is you’re safe. Think what would have happened if you hadn’t been able to defend yourself.”
“But Papa always says—”
“Rachel.” Anne’s voice grew stern as she drew back to look her daughter straight in the eye. She knew her husband always preached love, not hate. Peace, not violence. But Rachel’s very life had been at stake. “What you did was very brave. You acted in self-defense, and in doing so, you not only saved your own life but you helped to save Eve and Jacob and Joe and Hank, too. I’m proud of you, darling. Never doubt that for a moment.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I am.”
Anne gave her another hug, and then Rachel went upstairs to her bedroom to be alone for a while. It had been one thing to know she’d fired the gun at someone. It was another to learn that that person had died from gunshot wounds.
Rachel lay on her bed and buried her face in her pillow as memories of that horrifying day threatened
to overwhelm her. She remembered the danger they’d faced as the would-be robbers fired on them, and how terrified she’d been that young Jacob or Eve might be shot.
Rachel drew a shuddering breath as she fought to control her runaway emotions. It was a terrible truth, but she finally accepted that her mother had been right. If she hadn’t taken the gun with her on that fateful trip and been brave enough to use it, they might all have been killed.
It took a while, but Rachel finally managed to find some peace deep within herself. She prayed she would never find herself in a situation like that again.
Chapter Eight
As Clint rode slowly back into Dry Springs, he noticed some kind of activity going on at the far end of town. It looked like a fair or picnic of some kind, but other than that, nothing seemed to have changed during his absence. Riding to the stable, he left his horse there, then went to the hotel.
“Nice to have you back, Mr. McCullough,” Mr. Lofton said as he gave him a room key. “Will you be staying with us long?”
“I’ll be here for at least a few more days,” Clint answered.
“Good. Make sure you visit the Festival,” he encouraged. “We have it every year, and it’s going on right now. There’s a dance later on tonight, too.”
“So that’s what all the excitement is about. I saw the crowd and wondered what the attraction was.”
“Folks come from miles around.”
“So why aren’t you down there?” Clint asked with a grin.
“Somebody’s got to take care of business.”
“I guess that’s right.”
He went up to his room and dropped off his things before heading over to the Last Chance. He was surprised to find that the saloon was quiet. Since it was late Saturday afternoon and the Festival was going on, he’d expected it to be busy.
“Where is everybody?” Clint asked Trey as he walked up to the bar.
“At the picnic. Business will pick up later once the dancing starts. It always does,” Trey told him. “Where’ve you been these last few days?”
“I had some business I had to take care of. How’ve you been? Has the preacher man been back to give you any more trouble?” he asked with an easy smile, wanting to direct their conversation away from himself.
