by Megan Besing
Dusk took an eternity to fall, though when it came, it enveloped the terrain in deep shadows. He stripped the paint’s saddle and slinked into the canyon slowly, taking time to avoid the thousands of spines and barbs. The marshals’ murmured conversation reached his ears, though their words were lost. He smiled. They were probably talking about him. If they only knew how near he was.
Reaching the far end of the canyon, Del peered into the darkness beyond.
Not far off, the warm glow of lamplight pierced the night as it flooded through two cabin windows.
Chapter 14
Jolie’s skin crawled as Henry and Al slipped outside, each carrying bedrolls. Would Frank remain true to his promises, or would he expect a romantic evening? For the millionth time, she felt for the straight razor in her skirt pocket. Satisfied, she paced to the table and stacked dirty plates and silverware then dropped them into a tub of hot water. Returning, she retrieved the cast-iron pan as well.
“Where’s the kindhearted gentleman portrayed in your letters, Frank?” She pushed her sleeves up and scrubbed the first plate.
He leaned against the counter, arms folded. “He was a storybook character meant to draw a little mouse from her hole. That’s it.”
After years of Brand’s abuses, Jolie had become practiced at keeping her expression neutral. She dropped the plate in the clean water and scrubbed another. “There’s no gentleman in you?”
“If you’re expecting to be doted on, I’m not your man.”
“But you won’t let me go if I prefer not to marry you, will you?”
He laughed. “The mouse ain’t so stupid as she looks.”
No, not stupid at all. Dropping the plate into the rinse water, she searched the washtub for the sharp knife at the bottom. Finding it, she stared out the window. “So what’re you expecting to get out of this marr—”
Jolie’s question stalled as a face, streaked with blood, bobbed into view beyond the window—there, then gone again. She dropped the knife.
Del? He’d popped into view, finger to his lips, then disappeared. But it couldn’t be him. He’d been shot.
Frank grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”
Startled, she stared at him. “I…” She blinked away shock and rubbed her wrist against her nose. “I was going to sneeze. It’s so musty upstairs.”
He huffed. “Watch your complaining, or you might wind up there again.”
“I thought we agreed. You treat me like a lady, and I’ll—”
“I’ll revoke those terms any time I see fit.” He turned his back to the window, arms folded.
Certain her mind was playing tricks, she searched for the knife. “You have no idea how to relate to women, do you?”
“Never heard complaints before.”
If so, the women he’d seen were likely working women. A lady would complain vehemently at Frank’s treatment and expectations.
Del’s blood-streaked face appeared again, and she covered her mouth to stifle a gasp as he ducked from view.
Frank turned quickly and must’ve caught sight of Del, for he shoved past her. As he jerked the door open, Jolie grabbed the cast-iron skillet and, running after him, swung. A frightening clang sounded, and Frank sprawled through the doorway, unmoving. Her feet tangling with his, she also crashed into the wall.
Dazed, she tried to draw breath. Someone burst through the door and pawed at her. Panicked, she tried to raise the skillet again, though gentle hands stilled hers.
“Stop, Jolie. It’s me. It’s Del.” He hauled her into his arms. “You’re all right now.”
Jolie burrowed into his embrace. It had to be Del. There in his arms, she felt safe.
“I thought you were dead. Frank shot you.”
“Shhh…” Del pushed her back and removed his hat. “It’s just a graze. I got a real skull-thumper, but I’ll live.” He brushed his thumb across her swollen cheekbone. “What’d he do to you?” He braced himself for an answer he wouldn’t like.
She quirked a frail smile at him. “He hit me—right after I said I was helping you find the real bank robber.”
His gaze flashed to Lovell, anger building in his gut. “Is that so?”
Lovell groaned, and Del dropped to a knee beside him. “Jolie, find me somethin’ I can tie him up with.”
“Watch him closely.” She scrambled toward two narrow wooden bunks in the corner. “He’s got a Derringer up his sleeve.”
Awake but obviously dazed, Lovell clawed the floor planks as Del rolled him and checked his sleeves.
Once Del relieved Lovell of the weapon, he hauled him into a semiseated position by his shirt. “Didn’t your ma tell you not to harm a woman?”
Lovell leered Jolie’s way, evil in his eyes, before he turned to glare at Del. “Shut up, you sorry piece—”
Del struck—hard—sinking Lovell into semiconsciousness again. “You never hit a woman.” He wrestled Lovell onto his belly. “Particularly my woman.”
Across the room, Jolie flung open doors and drawers. “I don’t see anything to tie him with.”
Del’s eyes settled on the two bunks. “Move the mattresses.”
She shoved the nearest lumpy cushion onto the floor to reveal ropes crisscrossing the frame, then sawed through the fibers and tossed him a good length of rope.
As Del bound Lovell, she scooped a handgun from one of the crates, as well as a box of .45 bullets, and headed to the table. With practiced fingers, she easily spun the cylinder, ejected any spent shells, and reloaded it.
At his curious glance, she shrugged. “Frank took my Peacemaker when he shot you. Figured I’d take it back.”
“Good thinkin’.” Drawing Lovell’s arms behind his back, Del paused as he looped the rope around the downed man’s wrists. A ring adorning his pinky caught his attention. “Did you see this?”
“That and a whole lot more. You recall the brothers, Henry and Al Mabb, from your trial?”
“Yeah…?”
“They’re here. Asleep in the barn.”
Del’s heart seized. “You’re just tellin’ me this now?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “It just came to mind.”
As he bound the unconscious man’s wrists, she connected Lovell’s ring and the Mabb brothers being cozied up in the same cabin. While he tied Lovell’s ankles, she talked of the strange collection of steamer trunks and crates in the garret above.
Done, Del listened as he searched for a gag. A dirty dishcloth on the corner of the table caught his eye. “So the Mabb brothers are in the barn?”
“Yes.”
“And my roan, too?”
Her ice-blue eyes skated his way. “Unfortunately.”
Blast. It’d kill him to leave such a fine mount behind, but getting Jolie to safety was his top priority. Del dropped to a knee beside Lovell, rolled him onto his back, and shoved the dishcloth between the man’s teeth.
Suddenly, a bullet whizzed through the open door and struck a tin cup on the table. “Get down!” Del’s eyes darted toward a large form lumbering across the yard. He jerked Lovell free of the door and slammed it then dropped the bar into position to keep the intruder out. “Put out that lamp.”
Jolie blew out the flame, plunging the room into darkness and rendering Del momentarily blind. He left Lovell’s bound form in front of the doorway—another obstacle the Mabb brothers would have to overcome to enter the cabin.
“You all right in there, Frank?” a familiar voice called from outside.
“He’s a little indisposed just now,” Del hollered. Turning toward Jolie, he beckoned her nearer. “Stay low and bring me that pistol.”
Lovell roused, shook his head, and screamed through the gag.
“Who are you, mister?” the outside voice called.
As Del peered out from behind the flour sack–covered window, Jolie crawled over and shoved the Peacemaker into his hands. The bigger of the two Mabb brothers stood in the center of the yard, backlit by a lantern shining from the barn. No sig
n of the other brother.
“I asked you a question!” the voice bellowed.
The chilling metallic click of a gun’s cylinder rotating sent a shiver down Del’s spine. He spun to find Jolie loading a second weapon. Despite the darkness, he saw her shrug. “There’s more guns in the crate. Figured I’d get prepared.”
Heart hammering, he blew out a breath. “You scared me.”
Outside, the big man hollered and paced. The barn lantern highlighted his movements.
“Hey!” Mabb yelled. “Open up and come out. I won’t hurt ya.”
A whisper of sound from the cabin’s back side drew Del’s attention. He spun. Too late, he realized there was a second entrance—one he’d failed to secure. As the door shifted, Del launched himself at Jolie, pushing her to the floor. “Stay down,” he hissed in her ear.
She trembled beneath him but made no attempt to move.
Shadows shifted near the back entrance. From near the front door, Lovell screamed through the gag again. Outside, Al Mabb hurled taunts.
Del waited, nerves prickling with danger. Lord, keep Jolie safe. And me, iffen You’re of a mind. The dark shadow of a slim man eased in the back door, and Del took careful aim.
The Colt leaped in his hand, and the shadow jerked, fell back through the doorway. Del lunged for the door, slamming it with his shoulder. The cabin walls rattled with the force, and he slid the bar down to secure it.
A hail of gunfire rent the stillness. Bullets punched through the wooden walls and door. Glass shattered. Del hit the floor and belly-crawled toward Jolie, now huddled in a ball near the window.
When the gunshots stalled, she reared up and broke out a corner pane of glass. Firing once, then again, her aim shifted as if her target was moving.
Del peeked out as Al Mabb lumbered toward the barn, several guns in hand. The big man was probably out of bullets. Del also knocked out a windowpane and fired once as the man ducked into the barn.
Wood creaked at the back of the house as another volley rang out. Glass shattered and a bullet struck near Del’s shoulder. He fired once at the wall on either side of the back window. The second shot struck its mark as the shooter cried out in pain.
“You wanna keep doin’ this?” Del hollered.
More gunshots came from the direction of the barn.
One struck the window above, showering them with glass shards. Jolie covered her head. Del lunged toward her, shielding her from the shots with his body.
Lord, stop this. I don’t want Jolie hurt.
“US Marshals! Put down your weapons!”
Chapter 15
In the moments after the marshals called out, Del lit the lamp and laid out Jolie’s Colt, the other pistol she’d found, and Frank’s Derringer. As Jolie set the razor on the table, he looked away.
“You know I’m gonna be arrested, right? And probably you too, since you’re with me.” Jolie pressed her eyes shut. “Yes.”
A sudden pounding on the front door startled her, and she jerked toward the sound. “Inside the house…this is the US Marshals. Open up, real slow. Keep your hands where we can see ’em.”
Del pinned her with a concerned stare. “Do exactly as they say, and let me do the talkin’. The less you say, the less they can pin on you.”
Jolie’s throat knotted. She walked toward the middle of the room then realized someone had stationed himself outside the back window, barrel of a long gun pointed through the broken glass. Her head swam as she lifted her hands.
“Fellas, this is Del Adler. I’m givin’ myself up. Don’t want no trouble. Jolie Hilliard’s with me, and Frank Lovell’s tied up in front of the door. I’ll have to move him before I can let you in.”
“He’s tellin’ the truth, Benson,” the man at the back hollered. “There’s a body blocking the door.”
Jolie faced the front, flashes of movement at both windows drawing her attention. Undoubtedly, other lawmen ready to shoot them if need be.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Adler. You’re in enough trouble. We got guns trained on you and the woman from three directions.”
“I understand.”
“Move that body and step away. Keep your hands in plain sight.”
Lord, please…keep us safe from harm. She watched as Del dragged Frank’s bound form away from the door, blood smearing across the planks.
“He’s hurt pretty bad. You might wanna check on—”
“Keep quiet! No thief’s gonna tell us how to do our jobs.”
Del complied as he lifted the bar that secured the door. Silently, he backed away.
“Face the back of the house, both of you.”
Jolie turned as the man at the back window signaled they were clear. The front door creaked open, and after seconds, rapid footsteps beat across the plank floor. Someone shoved her face-first into the wall and cuffed her wrists behind her. Rough hands spun her around and pressed her back to the wall.
“Show me your hands.” A tall, dark-haired marshal held Del against the same wall, his forearm shoved against Del’s shoulder blades.
Del hiked his hands higher, wincing as the marshal pressed his gun’s barrel to Del’s ear. “Delany Adler, you’re under arrest.”
“I ain’t resistin’. Said I was givin’ myself u—”
“Please…keep talking.” The marshal cocked his gun and jammed it against Del’s head. “Give me a reason to put an extra hole in you.”
Jolie’s heart nearly stalled. “Pardon me…”
“Jolie, quiet…please.” Del’s voice rasped.
She eyed the man handling Del then the one beside her. A third, probably from the back, had entered and checked Frank’s pulse. Through the open front door, she saw Al Mabb seated on the porch, hands cuffed around one of the support posts.
“Pardon me.” Jolie gulped. “Who’s in charge?”
“Jolie!” Del spat her name.
The man holding Del holstered his pistol and reached for Del’s hand. “That’d be me, ma’am. Connor Benson of the US Marshals.” He drew Del’s right arm behind his back and cuffed it then twisted his left around also.
“Do you know who I am?”
Benson turned Del to face the room. “No, ma’am. And at the moment, I don’t rightly care.”
She met the lawman’s eyes, challenging him to listen. “My name is Jolie Hilliard. I’m the younger sister of Brand Hilliard, also known as Brent Hill.”
Benson twitched at her brother’s name.
“Now that I have your attention, I’d like to make a proposition.”
“What kind of proposition?” Benson eyed her.
She glanced around the room, suddenly uncomfortable. “Could we speak in private?”
Benson hesitated then patted Del down before guiding him to a chair he set in the center of the room. “Emory, c’mere and secure our little jackrabbit’s feet before he runs.”
“Yes, sir.” The deputy beside her dropped his voice. “Keep your back against this wall until you’re told otherwise.”
At Jolie’s nod, he stepped away.
“Kagan, how’s that fella?”
The one stooped over Frank shook his head. “There’s a fierce lump on his head and he’s been shot a couple times. Ain’t holdin’ out much hope. There’s another fella out back, already dead.”
“Do what you can for him. Miss Hilliard and I are going outside to chat.” Benson took Jolie by the elbow and, not unkindly, escorted her toward the barn. Inside, he faced her. “All right, ma’am, you have my attention.”
“Thank you.” She whispered a prayer. “Mr. Adler and I can provide you with several interesting facts that prove he didn’t rob that bank, and if you’ll listen with an open mind—and look for ways to help—then I’ll give you information to convict my brother once and for all.”
Benson shook his head. “No deal. Tell me what you have on Brent Hill and I might discuss helping Adler. All depends on what you tell me, though.”
Jolie inhaled deeply, mind churning, then squ
ared her shoulders. “If I can tell you exactly where his hideout is, the names of his gang members, and at least some of his crimes, would that be enough to help Del?”
“You’ve piqued my interest, ma’am. Yes, it would.”
The afternoon sun warmed Del’s shoulders as the old farm wagon the marshals found beside the barn rumbled into Meribah. They’d shackled Del’s hands to one side of the wagon bench and Al Mabb was shackled to the other. Between them, Frank Lovell clung to life, just as he had through the night. Kagan drove the wagon, Benson and Emory flanked it, rifles ready. At the back of the wagon, his roan and the other men’s horses were loaded with money and stolen goods found in the cabin and barn. Jolie brought up the rear.
News of their arrests had spread like wildfire. All along Meribah’s streets, townsfolk watched the wagon pass. Lord, iffen You’ll get me out of this mess, I promise I’ll never set foot back in this territory again.
As the wagon stopped outside the Meribah sheriff’s office, Del’s stomach churned with the thought of spending more time in a cell. Benson unhooked him from the wagon and led him inside.
Sheriff Waight looked up as they entered. “Caught him, did you?”
Benson grunted as he pushed Del into a chair near the sheriff’s desk. “You still got the ring Adler supposedly stole off the banker’s finger?”
Waight’s brows knitted together. “What d’ya want that f—”
The office door opened as Emory pushed Al Mabb inside. “I need the keys to your jail, Sheriff.”
Waight peered out the large window as his own deputies hurried up and, taking orders from Kagan, lifted Lovell down. They carried Frank inside, and Jolie trailed them.
Del attempted—and failed—to catch her eye.
“Thank you, Miss Hilliard.” Benson pointed. “Have a seat over there, please.”
The sheriff turned on Benson, spine stiff. “What’s going on here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Sheriff. There’s reason to question whether Del Adler committed that bank robbery.”
Waight’s face blanched. “Of course he did. I investigated it myself.”
“Good. You’ll be the one I direct my questions to…startin’ with where is the ring you say he stole?”
