Burying her face against his neck, she relished the feel of his arms around her before he stepped away and glanced at the clock.
“The last thing I want to do is leave you right now, but I’ve got to go. Kade will wonder what happened to me as it is.”
“I’m sorry, Lars. I shouldn’t have…” He silenced her with a long, involved, passionate kiss. One that made her knees tremble and all thoughts fly out of her head except for him.
“I’ll come to you as soon as I can, but I don’t know when it will be.” He hurried to shrug back into his coat and brushed a hand down the front of his vest. “If you need anything, anything at all, call Aundy, Ilsa, or Caterina. Promise?”
“I promise.” Marnie tilted her head and studied him, then straightened his tie and adjusted the collar on his shirt. “There, that’s better.”
He settled the derby back on his head at a rakish angle and dug a toothpick from his pocket, settling it between his lips. “Do I look like a devil-may-care gambler?”
“I believe you do, sugar. Just make sure mine are the only lips that touch yours tonight. I know exactly what goes on in those card rooms, you know.”
“I know and I don’t want any lips close to mine except these two very luscious ones.” Lars plucked out his toothpick and kissed her again with a fervency that left them both breathless. Tenderly rubbing his fingers along her whisker-reddened chin, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to shave before I come back, too.”
Marnie smiled and walked him to the back door. After looking outside to make sure no one was watching, he slipped toward the alley and gave her a brief wave before he disappeared around the corner.
Keep him safe, please, Lord.
Chapter Nineteen
Seated at a table in one of the town’s most popular card rooms, Lars pretended to nurse a shot of whiskey while keeping one eye on the door and one on the men sharing his table.
Grateful the numbskulls didn’t recognize him as the U.S. Marshal who’d been poking around town, he immersed himself in the role of a professional gambler. He’d been keeping to himself the past few weeks, letting the scruff on his face grow. His disguise of a happy-go-lucky gambler with an affable smile was a drastic change from the serious, stern persona he generally showed to those who frequented the saloons and card rooms.
Kade had it on good authority three of Bowman’s Gang were coming to town looking for a good time. Bob Newberry’s father assured the deputy his son needed to “kick up his heels” after spending a few months in Idaho working a mine claim where he supposedly made a rich strike. Lars and Kade assumed Bob and his so-called friends wanted to celebrate their recent robberies, since Bob’s mining claim didn’t exist.
With plans to arrest all three of them, Lars wanted to see if any other members of the gang joined them for an evening of fun before he hauled their sorry hides to jail.
He relished the thought of bringing in Melton even more after hearing Marnie’s tragic story. If it wasn’t for the greedy killer, Marnie might still be living a life of leisure in Portland. If she were there, though, she’d no doubt have a high society husband and probably a baby or two of her own. Conflicted by the direction of his thoughts, Lars brought his attention back to the card room.
One of the deputies sat in the shadows of the back corner, dressed as a dirty farmer wearing manure-streaked overalls and a ragged shirt. His stench was enough to keep everyone far enough away they wouldn’t recognize him. Kade kept an eye on the door from the outside and would wander in after Newberry and his friends arrived. A deputy from a neighboring county sat at the bar, conversing with one of the saloon girls.
The men at the table appeared impressed with his card shuffling skills. Lars dealt them out so fast it was impossible for the drunks seated around him to see what he was doing, which is exactly what he wanted.
Manipulating the cards made it easier for him to keep an eye on who was coming and going. He glanced up and observed Bob Newberry stroll in with two men who looked so much alike they could have been twins. Slightly shifting in his chair, he watched as they stepped up to the bar and ordered their drinks. In no time, the three men downed their drinks and ordered another round then wandered over to a table where a lone man waited, not far from where the deputy nursed a mug of sarsaparilla.
“About time you three showed up. I plan on fleecing you out of our hard-earned money,” the man said, lifting his head long enough Lars recognized him from the photo he found at Webster’s place. He was one of the men they’d been unable to identify.
“It was hard-earned,” one of the brothers said, looking down at his drink. “To our fallen comrades.” He held out his drink in a toast. The other men clinked glasses, then downed the contents and motioned for one of the girls working the floor to bring them another round.
Lars noticed Kade slip in the door and take a seat at an empty table. Despite his size and formidable presence, the deputy had a talent for blending in when he needed to.
Continuing to play cards, Lars listened to the conversation taking place at Newberry’s table. When it became evident they weren’t planning on anyone else joining them, Lars gave Kade a look that let him know he was ready to make a move. Inconspicuously, the deputy in the corner touched the brim of his filthy hat in their prearranged signal.
Unsteadily rising from his seat, the deputy weaved away from the corner table and bumped into Bob Newberry and one of the brothers, falling on top of the table.
“Hey, get out of here. You stink to high heaven.”
The deputy pretended he’d passed out while the men looked around for someone to get the supposed drunk off their table.
“You fellas mind packing him out? I don’t want him stinking up the place,” the bartender called to them and tipped his head toward the hall leading to the back door. “Leave him in the alley. I don’t want him scaring away my customers tonight.”
With no volunteers to do the job, the outlaws got to their feet and took a leg or an arm, carrying the deputy toward the door.
“Here, gents, let me get the door,” Lars offered with a congenial grin as he rushed to open the door to the alley.
“Obliged,” Newberry said, walking through the portal and tossing the deputy into the alley. The deputy rolled over and pointed his two pistols in the gang members’ faces as Kade rushed out the door, blocking their entry into the card room. Lars stepped out to block an escape down the other side of the alley.
“I’d appreciate it if you boys would drop your weapons and come along peacefully,” Lars said, holding his guns on the brothers.
“Aw, Kade, what’s the problem?” Newberry turned to the man his father considered a friend. “We ain’t done nothing but a little drinking and card playing.”
“How about bank robbery, train robbery, shooting innocent bystanders, holding up stagecoaches? Any of that sound familiar, Bob?” Kade asked, taking a step closer to the young man. “Maybe murder, conspiracy, assault, and disturbing the peace will ring a bell with you.”
“Well, shoot, you done figured us out.” Newberry bumped an elbow into one of the brothers. “But since there’s four of us and only three of you, I guess you’re outnumbered.”
“You might be right, except for the matter that the lawmen in this alley don’t care if we take you in dead or alive. You can make the choice right now.” Kade’s voice sounded friendly but the gleam in his cold green eyes was deadly. “Isn’t that right, Marshal?”
“That’s a fact.” Lars used the butt of his revolver to thump the head of the brother standing closest to him, felling him to the ground. “I’m not asking again. Drop your weapons and get on your knees or I’ll shoot all of you in the head.”
Newberry dropped to the ground and began to whine but the other two slowly pulled out their guns and tossed them aside. Kade and the deputy cuffed them while Lars fastened handcuffs around the wrists of the man he’d knocked out.
Lars hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder and carried him to the end of th
e alley where a wagon waited. The deputy with the dirty clothes ran down the street to change while Lars and Kade gagged the four men and divested them of their remaining weapons hidden in their boots and waistbands. Swiftly binding their feet, they tied them down in the wagon bed then covered them with a tarp.
The deputy returned, wearing clean clothes and smelling much better. He climbed up on the seat of the wagon while the deputy from the neighboring county appeared, mounted on a horse. “Ready to go?”
“Yep. Take them to the train station in Stanfield. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you and don’t let them out of your sight until you deliver them to my contact in Portland.” Lars looked from one deputy to the other.
“We’ll get them there.” The mounted deputy tipped his head and touched the brim of his hat as the wagon pulled out on the street.
“That was pretty smart to move them out of town undetected. The rest of the gang won’t know we’re on to them that way.” Kade walked with Lars back toward Caterina’s restaurant.
“I’m going to change, then head out to Webster’s place. If you and the sheriff can keep an eye out for Melton Feldts and Ed George, we’ll have all the gang in custody before they can cause any more harm,” Lars said, rushing in the back door of the restaurant and up the stairs before Kade could reply.
As he changed his clothes, his thoughts drifted to the way Marnie fussed with his tie and collar before he left her apartment, using them as an excuse to touch him. The taste of her, sweet and rich like the chocolate she enjoyed so much, made his mouth water as he recalled their ardent kisses.
He couldn’t believe what she’d shared with him after seeing Melton in the photograph. No wonder the poor girl thought she didn’t deserve a happy life. To lose both her parents so young, see her aunt murdered and have no one believe her, then suffer unthinkable abuse from a man who just wanted her money, it was a wonder she hadn’t turned into a hardened criminal.
But she was soft.
Soft-hearted. And so soft to hold.
Abruptly reining in his thoughts, Lars had to keep his focus on the task ahead or he’d fumble this opportunity to bring in the Bowman Gang once and for all. If they hadn’t missed any members of the gang, there were three left to arrest.
Running to the livery, Lars saddled Viking, tossed his saddlebags across the back of the horse, and raced out of town.
Riding hard, he pulled Viking to a stop twenty minutes later in the stand of trees across the road from the Webster’s cabin. No light shone in the front window or from the bedroom, so he had no idea if the children were there alone or not.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary around the yard, but something didn’t feel right.
Lars left Viking in the trees, making his way across the road and around to the back of the barn. Cautiously opening the small side door, he stepped inside. Although it was dark, he’d been in the barn enough to be able to feel his way along. He patted the cow on the rump as he passed her stall then heard something moving in the back.
The rustling sound increased and a knife flew through the muted darkness, grazing Lars’ left arm.
“I’ll shoot you dead if you try anything else, but I’d prefer to take you in alive.” Lars’ voice was quiet but authoritative.
“Don’t shoot. I ain’t gonna make it ‘til morning no how.” The voice sounded weak and in pain.
Lars moved to the front of the barn, lit a lantern and carried it down the row of stalls. As he neared the back of the barn, he held the lantern in his bleeding left arm and trained his gun on a man who sat propped against the door of the last stall. A horse Lars hadn’t seen before shifted restlessly in the next stall over.
“Webster?”
“Yeah, it’s me. You him?” Webster asked as Lars holstered his gun and knelt beside him, assessing the damage.
The man was far beyond saving, reeking as he did of gangrene.
“Him? Who?” Lars looked around for some way to make Webster more comfortable.
“The man who took care of my young’uns.” Webster grimaced in pain. “I checked on ‘em a few times, although they didn’t know it. I knew someone was bringin’ ‘em food and choppin’ wood.”
“I tried to look after Sadie and Noah. They’re good kids.”
“They are,” Webster said, barely able to nod his head. “They take after their ma.”
“I can take you to the doctor in town,” Lars offered, trying to lift the sticky, rancid rag Webster had pressed over his midsection. “What are you doing out here? Do the kids know you’re here?”
“No. I rode in after dark.” Webster feebly pushed at Lars’ hands. “Leave it be. I don’t want them growing up knowing their pa’s rottin’ in jail. It’s better for them this way. Just bury me next to my wife.”
Solemn, Lars peered at Webster’s fatal wound.
“Take care of them.”
Lars nodded his head. “I’ll watch over them.”
Webster coughed then looked at Lars with glazed eyes, barely nodding his head.
The outlaw drew one last ragged breath and died.
Lars stood over the man and said a prayer for his soul before dragging him into an empty stall. He found a blanket still tied behind the man’s saddle and used it to cover Webster before shutting the stall door. The kids didn’t need to run out and find their pa before Lars had a chance to bury him.
In the lantern light, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. A few hours until dawn.
Relieving Webster’s horse of its saddle and bridle, he took time to brush down the animal and make sure it had feed and water. He walked back across the road, led Viking to the barn and gave him water and a measure of feed.
He removed his hat, jacket, vest, and shirt, leaving them on his saddle then took a shovel out behind the barn where he’d noticed a plain wooden cross near a tree. After digging a grave, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Leaving the shovel in the pile of dirt, he went to the pump by the barn and washed off then took a long drink of cool water before standing and finger combing his damp hair.
Afraid of waking the children if he made too much noise, Lars opened the door to the rickety shed and hauled empty boxes to the cabin door then carried a few into the barn. He packed the tools he could find in the lantern light and recalled Webster’s hidden gun. He retrieved it from the box of broken tools, stowing it in his saddlebags. His boot bumped into a bucket of rusty nails and he noticed a loose board in the wall. When he pried it free, he discovered where Webster had hidden the money from his share in the robberies. A box full of cash was covered by bits of straw.
Webster’s saddlebags turned up his share of the funds from the most recent robberies. Lars shifted things around in his saddlebags, leaving one side empty to carry all the cash.
Gathering the eggs, he set them in the house and took the milk pail out to the barn. Lulu gazed at him with sad eyes, so Lars rubbed her neck before milking her.
He carried the bucket of milk to the house as the first fingers of light streaked across the sky and heard the children stirring.
Sadie ran out of the bedroom followed by Noah, coming to a halt when they saw him near the sink.
“What are you doing here?” Noah asked, hurrying over and leaning against his leg.
“I need to tell you both something.” Lars pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, motioning for Sadie and Noah to come to him. After settling a child on each leg, he wished he didn’t have to be the one to tell them their father was dead. “Your Pa’s gone.”
“He’s been gone for a long time.” Noah traced his fingers across one of the scars on Lars’ chest.
Lars forgot he’d yet to put his shirt back on. With a shake of his head, he glanced first at Sadie then Noah. “It’s not that kind of gone, son.”
“He ain’t coming back, is he?” Sadie gazed at him with eyes too old and haunted to belong to such a little girl.
“No, honey, he isn’t coming back.” Emotion clogged his
throat as Sadie threw her arms around his neck and began to cry.
Noah joined her and Lars held them, giving comfort to the children of the man he’d watched die just hours earlier. His only consolation was that he hadn’t shot him. If the children ever asked, and he hoped they never would, he could honestly tell them their father died of gangrene.
“Is my pa dead?” Noah asked, snuffling and rubbing his eyes.
“Yes, Noah, he is.”
“How do you know? Maybe he just went off to do another job,” Sadie said, wiping at her wet cheeks with trembling fingers.
“I know, Sadie.” Lars looked at her for a long moment then cleared his throat. “I was there when he died and he said to tell you how much he loved you and how proud he was of both of you.”
Sadie’s look was questioning. Her pa had never told either of them he loved them or was proud of them while he was alive, but she remained silent.
“I’m going to take you to town. You two can’t stay out here alone anymore,” Lars said, hugging both children before setting them on their feet. “Hurry and get dressed while I make some breakfast, then we’ll head to Pendleton.”
“I need to milk the cow,” Sadie said, standing with her hands on her hips, watching him.
“I already milked Lulu and gathered the eggs, too. Get dressed and you can set the table.”
Instead of doing as he said, she tugged a chair over to the cupboard where her father left his whiskey and stood on tiptoes to reach it.
The girl set it down on the counter and pointed to his arm. “You better pour some of that on your arm.” She marched out of the room and shut the bedroom door behind her.
Standing over the sink, Lars sucked air through his teeth as he poured whiskey over the cut Webster made with his knife. He’d forgotten about it, but Sadie was right. He needed to clean the wound before it became infected.
One more shot across his wound emptied the bottle of whiskey. He left the bottle on the counter and used a clean rag to dab away the fresh blood dripping from it.
Marnie (Pendleton Petticoats Book 4) Page 24
