First things first.
He lowered himself to the couch and picked up Gayle’s papers and started putting them back in the box. Melissa could take the box with her, but he and Jason were staying put. He just had to convince her of that.
By the time Melissa came back, he had his strategy laid out. At least he hoped so.
Melissa beat him to the punch. “Can I talk to you? I want to explain.”
“Sure.”
She walked into the room and lowered herself down to a sturdy chair next to the couch. “I wanted to tell you everything I learned. I don’t want you to think I’m hiding anything from you.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s not going to change my mind.”
She held up a hand, a plea to stop and hear her out.
He supposed he owed her that much. And he had to admit, he’d like some answers. “Go ahead.”
She filled him in. When she got to the part about a gang members being the ones trying to kill him, he raised his hand for her to stop. “So if they are so dangerous, how does going back to Denver help?”
“You can identify the men in the car. Help us figure out who we’re looking for. And I can protect you.”
“You’re protecting me right here.”
“I need to take the boxes back. I need to make sure Sanchez is put away for life for what he did to Gayle. I need to find out about the rest of Calhoun’s investigation and clear Jimmy’s name.” She paused, as if giving him a chance to join her commitment.
He had to give her credit. She’d told him exactly what she intended to do. It was time for him to do the same. “Listen, Melissa, as much as I appreciate you trying to keep me informed, and as sorry I am about your mentor, I have to do what’s right for Jason. He’s more important than anything that is playing out in Denver.”
A dog barked out near the barn.
Nick cocked his head. He hoped it wasn’t a grizzly nosing around for garbage or horse feed to fatten up on before fast approaching hibernation. “And what’s right for Jason is to stay here at the ranch.”
The dog’s barking grew more alarmed.
A bad feeling pricked the back of Nick’s neck.
Melissa moved to the edge of the couch. “Is something wrong out there?”
Nick reached under the lamp’s shade and switched off the light. “Better check.” He crossed to the front window. Stepping to the side of the frame, he split the blinds with his fingers and peered outside.
At first all he saw was darkness, save the glow of a nearly full moon. The barn hulked in the distance, locked up tight, the yard light shining over a vacant yard. He could see the big trash Dumpster, safely surrounded by tall grizzly fence. Horses stirred in the corral, none showing the fear a grizzly or black bear would inspire. “It looks like the dog is just—”
Something stirred closer to the house, on the other side of his pickup. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the difference between movement and shadow.
“What is it?” Melissa whispered from just behind his shoulder.
Slowly Nick’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. He could make out the silhouette of a man crouching behind the truck. Something shifted in the sagebrush beyond the corner of the house. Another man. And this one…this one held…
His throat went dry. “Melissa, go get Jason. Do it now.”
“NICK?” MELISSA FLINCHED at the tremble in her voice. She was a trained officer. She knew how to control her emotions, do what needed to be done. She didn’t feel rattled and weak. She took charge.
So why had the alarm in his voice sent a tremor through her she couldn’t control?
“Get Jason. Go.”
“What’s going on?” She brought her hand to her hip. Her fingers brushed her holster and the rough grip of her gun.
“There are men out front. At least two. One is carrying an assault rifle.”
Assault rifle? Melissa’s heart stuttered in her chest. “We need to call 911.” She snapped open her holster and drew her pistol. Not that a handgun would be much good against an assault rifle.
She pounded back the thought and started for the door leading to the common areas of the house and the guest rooms.
Nick grabbed her arm. “I’ll call. Get Jason. He… he’ll handle this better with you.”
She closed her mouth without saying a word and started across the den. She could hear the thunk of Nick’s strides behind her, veering off to the master bedroom. Melissa slipped into Jason’s room. Moonlight glowed from the window above his bed.
She knelt down and eyed the tiny lump under the covers. “Jason? Buddy? Time to wake up.” She peeled back the comforter to reveal the little guy, fingers twirling in his hair, thumb securely in his mouth. A tightening sensation gripped the base of her throat.
Swallowing hard, she slipped her hands underneath the sleeping boy and gathered him toward her. He reached for her neck, and she held him tight against her chest. A thick blanket lay on the bed. She grabbed it and wrapped it around him. Pushing to her feet, she scurried from the room.
Nick met her at the door, a rifle in one hand. He glanced at Jason, then back to Melissa. “There only seems to be the two of them.”
At least that was good news, even if they were still outgunned. “You call the sheriff?”
“He’s on his way, but there isn’t a chance he’ll get here in time to be much help. I don’t want the two of you around when they decide to make their move.”
He wanted them to leave the house? “It seems like it would be safer in here than outside.”
He gave his head an abrupt shake. “Not once the fire starts.”
“Fire?”
“I’ve been watching them. One is toting around a gas can. One guess as to what he intends to use it for.”
That changed a lot of things. She shifted her grip on Jason, getting ready to hand him off to Nick.
He gave his head a shake. “No. You take him out the back. Make for the barn.”
“When they start the fire, they’ll be looking for us to run.” And no doubt they’ll be looking to take them out with the assault rifle when they did.
“That’s why you’re going to be gone before the fire starts.”
“Me?” She couldn’t have heard him right.
“You and Jason.” He held up the hunting rifle. “I’ll keep them distracted until you get away.”
“It’s my job to protect you. You’ll take Jason. I’ll stay.”
He shook his head, as if he couldn’t even consider such a thing. “I know how to shoot. Spent most of my life with a rifle in hand.”
“There’s no place for chivalry here. I’m not some weak female. This is my job. And you’re all Jason has.”
He paused for a moment, then turned away from her. “I’ll grab you a coat. It’s cold out there.”
“Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
“Jason has a stronger bond with you.” He strode across the room and pulled open a closet door. Grabbing a shearling coat off one of the hangers, he carried it back to her. “I know the lay of the ranch in the dark. You don’t. Even if you can hold them off and get out before they manage to burn down the house, you aren’t going to know where to go. Are you?”
She hated not having an answer.
“That’s why you’re taking Jason and getting out of here now. Before things get crazy.”
She pulled in a shaky breath. She didn’t like having to rely on anyone to take care of her, certainly not cowboy Nick Raymond. But he had a practical point. And if they were going to make this work, she couldn’t waste time arguing about it. Jason’s life depended on what they did next.
She took the coat from Nick’s hand. Adjusting Jason from side to side, she slipped into the sleeves and pulled it tight around her. “I go to the barn. Then what?”
“Throw a saddle on Bernie.”
Bernie? It took her a second to connect the name with the horse Jason had been riding this afternoon. She shook her head. She’d had her first lesson
in saddling a horse just a few hours ago, and now he wanted her to do it while he was having a shootout with men carrying assault rifles?
He looked her straight in the eye. “You can do it.”
The way he said it, she almost believed she could. “Once I have the horse saddled, then what? Wait for you?”
“Don’t wait. Ride straight past the pen where we were this afternoon. Follow the path. There’s a cabin a few miles out, near the waterfall. We use it for overnight trips into the mountains. I’ll meet you there.”
And if you don’t show? Melissa didn’t say it, but the thought ran through her mind all the same. At least if they’d stayed in Denver, she could call for backup. Out here, they were on their own.
She and Jason would be on their own.
“Wait till I get off a round to make your move.” Nick leaned forward as if taking one last look at the son he’d searched for all these years. Straightening, he thrust the shotgun into her hand, spun on his heel and bounded up the steps with his rifle.
Melissa watched him go, maybe for the last time.
Holding the boy against her shoulder and her weapon in one hand, she slipped out the back door to wait for the first crack of gunfire.
Chapter Eight
Nick crept across the hardwood floor of one of the second-floor guest rooms. Reaching the window, he slid up the sash, staying low so he couldn’t be seen from below. He’d tried to convince Melissa he had this plan in hand, but in reality, he was far from sure it would work.
He squinted into the darkness. The men he’d seen from downstairs had moved closer to the house. From this vantage point, he could see that one had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder and both carried gas cans. They sidled along the front, closing in on the porch. Even now, he couldn’t get a clear shot. Once they were under the porch overhang, he wouldn’t be able to see them at all.
Time to make his move. He just hoped he could keep them busy enough so they didn’t have time to round the house and intercept Melissa and Jason.
He slipped the barrel of his rifle through the open space between window frame and sash. He looked through the sight and picked out a spot as close to the men as he could get. At this angle, a hit would be miraculous. But at least he could send them scurrying for cover.
Taking a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger.
The crack echoed off the mountains. The men below swore and ducked for cover.
Nick fired another round then pulled the rifle barrel back just inside the outer window frame. He couldn’t see any sign of the men. He held his breath, listening for a hint of movement from below.
He just hoped to hell Melissa had made her run for it. As long as she reached the horse and got Jason and herself to safety, this would all work out. He let out the breath he’d been holding and pulled in another. His pulse thunked in his ears, seeming almost as loud as the shots had been. A porch light flicked off, then another. Darkness cloaked the yard. Nick stared into the black night, willing his eyes to adjust to the glow from stars and moon.
A shot exploded from below. The upper sash shattered. Glass rained down.
He jolted back from the window. Shards of glass covered his shirt. He brushed his fingers through his hair and across his face. They came back sticky with blood.
Damn. He couldn’t feel any pain. Adrenaline had likely numbed it. He had no idea how badly he’d been cut. But it didn’t matter. He needed to keep the pressure on the men. He couldn’t let them have the chance to circle the house. Not until he was sure Melissa and Jason were safely away.
He wiped his hand on his jeans and brought the rifle to his shoulder. If he rose high enough to see below the window, he would be visible to the man with the assault rifle. He would likely be dead before he could squeeze off a round. He would have to fire blind and hope the sound itself would force them to stay behind cover.
He fingered the trigger and pulled. The crack rang through the room and echoed through the darkness outside. He squeezed again. And again.
An answering shot crashed through the room. Wood splintered from the window frame. Nick dove to the floor.
Gunshots roared from outside, one after another. Wood, drywall and glass rained over him. Dust filled his throat, choking him.
The shots stopped. Nick gathered his rifle. If it was him down there, he’d have the window lined up in his sights, waiting for the first sign of movement to squeeze the trigger. It was too risky to take another shot from this window. He had to get out of here, find another position.
The scent of gasoline mixed with the scent of gunpowder and construction dust.
Oh hell. He needed to find another shot, and he needed to do it now.
Keeping low, he crept from the room, glass crunching under his boots. He made it to the hallway before another round came crashing through the window. He broke into a run and raced past three doors. When he reached the fourth guestroom, he slipped inside and moved to the window.
Nick inched up the window’s lower sash and leaned close to the opening. Nothing but the low murmur and sporadic whinnies of horses moving nervously in the corral broke the night’s still. Nick raised his head slowly above the bottom of the window frame and peered into the darkness.
His eyes searched for something to latch on to, a spark of flame, a shadow, a rustle of movement. Seconds passed. All he could see was endlessly swimming blackness. He strained to hear voices, movement or breathing from the men below.
A sound reached him. Faint and growing fainter. But Nick knew what it was. Footsteps. Running away. He was sure of it. But it wasn’t a retreat. Far from it. They were circling the side of the house…and heading straight for the barn.
MELISSA FOLDED THE WESTERN saddle’s fender up to the seat and slipped the stirrup over the horn to hold it. Taking a deep breath, she heaved the monstrosity up to her chest and took a run at poor Bernie.
The gelding didn’t flinch. The saddle landed on the pad she’d balanced on his back. She grabbed on to it, trying to keep it from slipping over the other side.
So far, so good.
Adjusting pad and saddle so they were straight, she released what Nick had called the off stirrup and raised the near one. Now to strap the thing on. Hands shaking, she fitted the latigo strap through the big ring buckle on the end of the girth. She yanked the strap up, bringing the girth snug against the horse’s belly. Then gritting her teeth, she pulled it as tight as she could and secured the metal prong in the leather strap’s hole.
Another loud crack echoed through the night.
Her hands jerked, as they had with every gunshot. Jason let out a whimper.
She blotted her worries for Nick from her mind and craned her neck to see the boy. He was curled up on a rectangular bag of pine shavings. Thumb and fingers in their customary positions, he looked as if he wanted more than anything to crawl into a stall and hide.
Precisely what she wanted, too.
She plastered what she hoped was a reassuring smile to her lips. “It’s okay, Buddy. We won’t have to listen to that much longer. We’re going to ride right out of here. Won’t that be fun?”
He nodded, but he didn’t look like he thought any of this was remotely fun. She had to admit, neither did she.
She brought her attention back to the horse. A bridle. That’s what she needed next. She left the animal snapped in cross ties and darted back into the tack room. Hooks lined one wall, every one holding a bridle. For a second, she just stared at them. She’d recognized the saddle Nick had thrown on Bernie’s back this afternoon, but she didn’t have a clue which bridle he’d used. She remembered Nick adjusting the straps so the bit would hit the horse’s mouth in the right place. If she didn’t pick one that fit the horse, how in the world was she going to adjust the straps so it did?
She gasped in a breath and grabbed one that didn’t have a metal bit at all, just a rawhide loop that looked like it fit around the horse’s nose and a prickly rope that stood in for reins.
She returned to t
he horse and slipped it on his head. The contraption didn’t look that different from the leather halter he had been wearing. She hoped it worked.
“Let’s go, Jason,” she said in the lightest voice she could manage. After checking the saddle to make sure the girth was still tight, she picked the little boy up and hoisted him onto the seat. Grabbing the rope, she led the gelding outside. Now to get on herself.
She looped the rope over the horse’s head. Facing the horse’s tail, she twisted the stirrup around and placed her boot inside like Nick had shown her.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel came from the direction of the house.
Her whole body seemed to leap on its own. Nick?
Gunfire exploded from the house.
Not Nick. Nick was still in the house. The footsteps weren’t his.
The figure of a man rounded the corner of the barn. Shorter and slighter than Nick, he wore a black jacket and baggy jeans. In his hand he held a semiautomatic pistol.
Still balancing on one foot, Melissa reached for her gun. As she brought it up, gunfire spat again from the direction of the house.
Gravel and dirt sprayed into the air right in front of the gunman’s feet.
He shimmied back, half running, half throwing his body back toward the barn corner.
Melissa searched the area where the gunfire had to have come. She could only see his silhouette, but she’d know those broad shoulders and cowboy hat anywhere. “Nick!”
“Go, go, go!” he yelled. He raised the rifle to his shoulder again and fired.
She vaulted herself onto Bernie’s back. She missed the saddle’s seat, landing on the edge of the cantle and slipping to the flat skirt behind. It took a second for her to settle behind Jason. Holding the rope in one hand, she looped her other arm around the four-year-old and grabbed the saddle horn. Taking a deep breath, she brought her legs hard against the horse’s side. Go forward. Go forward.
Bernie leaped forward into a bouncy trot.
The gait jarred up Melissa’s spine. Her seat slipped with each jolt, her body listing to the side. She squeezed harder with her legs, half kicking this time.
A Rancher’s Brand of Justice Page 7
