by Linda Warren
“This is crazy. Did you tell him Rachel is in a hospital in Temple?”
“Mom’s not telling him anything. She just wants the sheriff off our property and you in hiding.”
Egan stiffened. “I’m not running. I didn’t do anything. They can check it out at the hospital. Who’s claiming I dragged Rachel from the car?”
“The sheriff wouldn’t say. He’s demanding to talk to you.”
Egan turned toward the door. “Well, then, that’s what he’s going to get.”
Paxton and Phoenix stood in front of the door. Paxton was broad shouldered and muscled. He was a bull rider and tough, as was Phoenix, though Phoenix was smaller in size. It’d been a long time since Egan had fought Paxton, but anger was building inside him like steam from a kettle and any minute he was going to blow and take anyone with him who was standing in front of him. Fate was too cruel for words. Today he wasn’t in the mood to let the fickle cousin of the devil ruin his life for a second time.
“You’re not leaving, Egan,” Paxton said, straightening his shoulders for a fight. “Mom’s orders.”
Egan stared into dark eyes much like his own. “I’m not running like a coward, Pax. You got that? You either move or I’m going right through you.”
“We don’t need to fight among ourselves.” Quincy moved to stand between them. “Mom’s upset about this, Egan. She doesn’t want to see you go to jail again.”
“I don’t, either, but I’m not hiding out like a criminal. Mom has to understand that.”
Quincy lifted his shoulders and nodded to Paxton. His brother stepped away from the door, as did Phoenix.
Paxton pointed a finger at Quincy. “This is on you when Mom rains holy hell down on us.”
Egan walked out the door and down the steps, leaving his brothers arguing. But he didn’t take many steps before he knew they were right behind him. Jericho wasn’t in sight and Egan wondered about that. His friend was very protective and Egan figured he’d be leading the charge to hide him.
At the back door to the big house, he stopped short. Jericho stood there with a shotgun in his hand. Egan had just gone through this with his brothers and he was growing tired of fighting a losing battle.
“Step aside, Jericho. This is my business and I can handle it. I’m not that scared kid I was fourteen years ago.”
“I’ve got your back, man.”
“I know and I appreciate that. But right now I need you to back me up when I say I haven’t done anything. I need you to stand beside me and support me. And that means I’m not running. I’m not hiding. I’m facing whatever hell is waiting for me.”
Jericho nodded and Egan went through the back door. His parents had built the log house about twenty years ago. It had six bedrooms, five baths and plenty of room for seven brothers to grow up in.
The large kitchen was decorated in candy-apple red, with black granite counters and pine cabinets. The table sat ten and had long benches on each side. Everyone had a place. His father had crafted the table himself because he’d wanted one big enough to seat his whole family. Dinner together was a must for his parents.
Voices could be heard from the den. Egan stopped for a moment to listen, figured it was best to know what he was walking into.
“You’re not taking my son, Sheriff. You’re on private property and I want you to leave.”
“Miss Kate, I’ve known you all my life and I promise you I will be fair with Egan. I just want to talk to him and investigate what has happened to Rachel Hollister. According to a witness, he was the last person to see her.”
“Let me make myself clear. You’re not taking my son off this ranch. I will die before I let you railroad him once again.”
“Miss Kate—”
“Your promises mean nothing to me. Judge Hollister has too much power in this town.”
“I understand your concern, but—”
“You heard the lady, Sheriff. It’s time for you to go.” That was Grandpa Abe, who’d taught John Rebel and his sons how to ride, rope and be cowboys. There wasn’t anything Egan’s grandpa didn’t know about ranching, and he’d spent all his life here on Rebel Ranch. He’d turned over the reins of the ranch to his son many years ago. These days Grandpa was sailing close to senility. He was still a tough old bird and never bent to any man. A few women, but never a man.
The sounds of guns cocking echoed from the timbers of the house. Egan peeped around the corner and saw his brothers and Jericho standing near the French patio doors with guns in their hands. Damn! He had to stop this.
“Tell your boys to put their guns down.”
“My sons are in their home and have a right to do as they wish.”
“You’re making this hard, Miss Kate. Hiding Egan is not going to help him. I need to find out what happened to Rachel Hollister. That’s all I’m asking, for just a few words with Egan.”
“Then why bring a warrant?”
The sheriff paused and his mother picked up on it. “Like I said, Judge Hollister has too much power and I can’t trust anything you say.”
“You can, Miss Kate. If Egan is innocent, I will bring him home safe and sound. If not, he has to face the consequences. My gut instinct is saying something odd is going on here. But I have to talk to Egan to sort everything out.”
The clanging of the steel doors, the roar of raucous laughter and vile cuss words echoed through Egan’s head. He couldn’t go back to prison. This time it would kill him. He’d told Jericho he was stronger, and now he had to prove it, because he had nothing to hide. He was innocent. The last time he’d been, too. But he couldn’t let that thought drag him down. He stepped away from the door frame and walked into the room like the strong man he was today.
“No, Egan,” his mother shouted, motioning for him to go back. His brothers stepped forward, preventing the sheriff from reaching him.
Egan pushed through a wall of solid muscle and hard bones to face the sheriff. He appreciated his brothers’ willingness to fight for him, but he had to do this alone. As he stood there, he could feel their breath on his neck.
Staring at Wyatt, he said, “Rachel Hollister is in a hospital in Temple. She was taken there by a medical helicopter early this morning.”
“What happened to her?”
Egan told the story as he knew it. He didn’t lie or embellish.
Wyatt placed his hands on his hips. “She was attacked by Isadore McCray’s dogs?”
“Yes. I had to shoot four to keep them from killing her.”
Wyatt reached for his phone on his belt. “I have to call the hospital to verify this.”
“Go ahead.”
Egan glanced at his mother and could see she was unhappy. Kate Rebel was about five feet two inches tall, with graying brown hair. All her sons feared and respected her. She’d grown strong from adversity and she had continued the ranch legacy their father had started. They all knew their mother ruled.
At times, her voice was gentle and soft, encouraging and supporting them. Other times, it could stop them in their tracks and make sweat pop out on their foreheads. Above all that, Kate Rebel protected her sons with a vengeance.
Wyatt shoved his phone back into its case on his belt. “Your story checks out. Rachel is in the hospital, but she’s sedated and can’t tell her side of the story.” He looked at Egan. “Until I can talk to her I’m asking you to come with me peacefully, no handcuffs. I have a warrant and I can’t ignore that, but I promise you justice this time.”
“How much is your justice worth, Sheriff Carson?” his mother asked. “A phone call from Judge Hollister?”
“If Rachel verifies Egan’s story, I will release him immediately.”
“You see, Sheriff, I’m not that trusting. My son is not leaving this ranch.”
“You heard her,” Grandpa said.
“Mr. Rebel, I have an eyewitness and a warrant and—”
“Funny thing about eyewitnesses.” Grandpa pulled off his worn cowboy hat and scratched his head. “Back in 198
9, an eyewitness said I was shacked up with Clive Gundry’s wife down at the We-No-Tell-Motel. Ms. Gundry was a fine-looking woman and any man would be as happy as a pig in slop to shack up with her, but you see, it wasn’t me. Didn’t keep the rumors from flying like dust in a windstorm, though. Didn’t bother me, but it sure gave people something to gossip about. If you want the truth, you need to do a little investigating and stop harassing innocent people. Ol’ Clive, he come after me with a shotgun and—”
“Abe, this has nothing to do with now and Egan, so please be quiet,” Egan’s mom said.
His grandfather bristled. “Do not tell me to be quiet. I was here long before you, missy.” His grandfather and mother were not the best of friends, but tolerated each other for family harmony. His grandfather’s stories were known to be long and filled with half-truths, and what he’d forgotten he made up. The older he got, the less sense his stories made.
To keep the conversation from getting out of control, Egan turned to his mother. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ve done nothing wrong and soon the sheriff will see that.”
“Egan...”
His mother wasn’t having any of it. But he had to be strong this time. Being stronger than his mother might prove his biggest task. “I’m not twenty years old anymore and I’m not scared. I have to do this my way. Please understand that.” He walked toward the front door and Wyatt followed.
“If you hurt my son, Wyatt Carson, I will come looking for you!” his mother shouted after them.
Wyatt tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
RACHEL FLOATED IN and out of consciousness with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Egan, don’t let me float away.
His etched-in-stone features were fuzzy. His scowl hazy. But the feeling radiating from the image in her head was comforting and made her feel secure. She’d known Egan only a couple days. Was it possible to know someone that easily and so quickly?
Her body ached and her leg burned. She moved restlessly in the bed. Where was Egan? She needed to see him. “Oh,” she moaned, feeling disoriented.
“Rachel, are you awake?”
She knew that voice. It had comforted her at the most stressful time of her life. It was her best friend, Angie. Her brother’s wife now.
“Angie...”
“Hey, it’s good to see you. How are you feeling?”
Rachel opened her eyes. Angie was older, but she looked the same: blond hair, golden eyes and a serene facial expression that endeared her to everyone.
They hugged and Rachel held on for an extra minute. Angie was the good part about coming home. Drawing away, Rachel glanced around the sterile room. “Where am I?”
“In the hospital.”
Sinking back against the pillows, she murmured, “We made it.” Lethargy settled over her and her eyes felt heavy. Egan had to be in the hall and she couldn’t wait to see him—to thank him. All she had to do was open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate.
“Rachel.” Angie’s voice wafted through the memory of Egan and she was helpless to respond. Something was pulling her down, down, down, and she gave in to the relaxing feeling as she drifted back to sleep.
* * *
THE DRIVE INTO TOWN was made in complete silence. Egan was in no mood to talk and Wyatt respected his wishes. The sheriff pulled into his parking spot at the courthouse. A knot formed in Egan’s stomach. He was innocent, but there was that niggling feeling that this could go very wrong.
His uncle, his mother’s only brother, Gabe Garrison, who was just a year older than Egan, was waiting in the sheriff’s office. He was a lawyer in Horseshoe and Egan relaxed at the sight him. His mother had made a phone call.
Gabe slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry. This’ll be over in no time.”
Egan hoped he was right.
Wyatt was talking to Stuart, who quickly left. The office was the same as Egan remembered: a drab outer room with three desks and filing cabinets shoved up against the wall. Wyatt’s desk was situated in a corner and more private.
“What’s up, Wyatt?” Gabe asked when the sheriff walked around his desk.
Wyatt picked up a pad and a couple pencils. “Let’s go into the interrogation room, where we’ll have more privacy.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Gabe told Egan.
“I have nothing to hide and want to tell my side of the story.”
The interrogation room was small and claustrophobic. Egan told his story once again and Wyatt wrote it down. Every now and then he’d ask a question.
“Izzy sicced his dogs on Rachel?”
“That’s what she said. I was getting water. When I returned, four dogs were on her. She beat at one with her hairbrush, which probably kept him from killing her.”
“Why would Izzy do such a thing?” Wyatt asked.
“How would he know that?” Gabe interjected.
“I’m just trying to understand how this happened.”
“Really, Wyatt?” Egan said. “Everybody knows Izzy’s not dealing with a full deck. I was tracking dogs because they’re killing our baby calves. He’s trained those dogs to kill and something needs to be done.”
“I’ll get to that later.” Wyatt doodled with the pencil. “What was Rachel doing so far from the main highway?”
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
The phone rang in the outer office and Wyatt got to his feet. “I have to get that. It’s Sunday and I’m short on help.”
“As far as I can see, we’re done here.” Gabe stood. “You have nothing to hold Egan on, except the word of a man who would like to get back at the Rebels.”
“Sorry, I can’t let Egan go until I talk to Rachel.” Wyatt hurried into the office and Egan and Gabe followed.
While Wyatt dealt with the problem, Egan glanced to the left and saw the holding cells. His life could change once again in an instant. But he wasn’t going down without a fight.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Judge Hollister charged in. Egan hadn’t seen the man in fourteen years, and all the anger and resentment that had built up in him rose to the surface. The man had aged. He had to be in his sixties now, with a thatch of gray hair and a scowl Egan remembered well.
Egan stood straight, his back rigid, his demeanor as serious as if a gun were being held to his head. This man would not take him down again.
Judge Hollister flung a hand at him. “Why isn’t he in jail?” The question was directed at Wyatt, as he hung up the phone.
“Can I help you, Judge?” The sheriff was cool as a winter breeze.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Wyatt. Why is that man not behind bars? I presume you served the warrant.”
“I’m not arresting anyone until I investigate this case further.”
The judge’s eyes bugged out. “Are you disobeying a judge’s order?”
“No.” Egan stepped forward, unable to stay quiet any longer. “You see, Wyatt has honor and integrity—unlike you.”
“How dare you...”
“Oh, I dare. You like to teach people lessons, don’t you, Judge? Well, I learned a big lesson when you sent me to prison. Innocence doesn’t mean a thing when you’re facing a narrow-minded, bigoted judge.”
“You—you...” The older man stammered and his face turned red in indignation.
Hardy came through the door. “Dad, what are you doing here? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“What?”
“Rachel’s in a hospital in Temple and we have to go. Why haven’t you answered your phone?”
The judge patted the pockets of his suit jacket. “I guess I left it at the house when I took off in such a hurry. Is Rachel okay? What did he do to her?”
Hardy grasped his father’s elbow and led him toward the door. “Let Wyatt do his job.”
“Did you hear what that man said to me?”
“This is none of your business, Dad, so please stay out of it.”
“Rachel is my daughter and you’re the DA. You need to make sure Wy
att does his job like he’s supposed to.”
“Wyatt knows how to do this job, and neither he nor I appreciate you manipulating the system.”
“Your sister was kidnapped. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“Yes, and I’m on my way to hear her side of the story. Until then, no one is going to jail.”
Knowing Hardy wasn’t a clone of his father, Egan had a whole new respect for the man.
The judge grumbled as they went out the door.
Gabe looked at Wyatt. “We’re done here.”
Just then Ira McCray, his oldest son, Gunnar, and Izzy McCray walked in, and through the window, Egan could see trucks pulling up to the curb. The Rebels had arrived.
It was far from over.
Chapter Six
Egan’s family filed in one by one, his mother in front and Grandpa and Jericho trailing behind. For some reason, that angered Egan. Years ago he had needed their support, but he was a man now and could stand on his own two feet. He didn’t have time to think about it further. His mother and Ira eyed each other. Enemies, face-to-face. The tension was so thick, Egan could slice through it with his knife.
Wyatt was quick to defuse the situation. “Ira, you and your family can come in here.” He held open the door to the interrogation room.
“That’s him, Sheriff.” Izzy pointed a finger at Egan. “He had that girl. I tried to help her, but he killed my dogs and shot at me. Lock him up. He’s the one.”
“You lying—”
Gunnar got in Egan’s face. “Are you calling my uncle a liar?”
Egan stood toe-to-toe with him, the smell of stale peppers on Gunnar’s breath turning Egan’s stomach. “That, and a lot more.”
“You Rebels are troublemakers.”
Egan’s brothers surrounded them and Gunnar moved back, as did Izzy.
“Ya gonna pay for my dogs!” Izzy shouted. “They was good hunters.”
