by Linda Broday
“Where?”
“Down by the horses.”
Luke shook free of the grasp and wiped his bloodied lip with a shirtsleeve. “See? Told you I was going to check on the mounts and that’s what I did.”
Distrust and suspicion blanketed the room.
“How come you think he’s lying?” Cuny asked.
“Because I know pretty boys like him. Don’t trust ’em.”
“For God’s sake, you’re not going to buy this, are you?” The staring clan seemed far more eager to begin the polka music. The gun hanging from Luke’s hip brought a bit of comfort.
Creede snarled, “You see anyone else, Frenchie?”
“Only that girl, Glory Day. Was going to love her up real good.” He glared at Luke. “Till he cracked my skull.”
“You got anything to add, Kidd?”
“I didn’t see anyone out there except Frenchie. Don’t know nothing about a girl. Maybe she got lost in the rain and wandered up. Hell, I don’t know. It’s common knowledge she’s sole provider for the family. Maybe she was out hunting. Those plum thickets are home to all kinds of wild game.” And ugly varmints like Frenchie, he added to himself.
“All right, boys, we’ve got a job to do.” Creede righted the overturned table.
Frenchie snarled, “Not until I get me some satisfaction. This ain’t done.”
“I say it is for now. Set your differences aside. After the business with the stage is over, you can beat him to a bloody pulp for all I care.”
A sneer that would make any mother sorry she ever birthed such a miserable piece of humanity curled Frenchie’s lip. The man shoved past, giving one last warning. “I’m gonna kill you, pluck out your eyes, and feed you to the crows.”
Luke returned the level stare. “Name the place. One thing you’re gonna find is…I don’t die that easy.”
* * *
Jack Day gasped for what air the dank penitentiary offered. He vaguely heard Dr. John Fletcher enter the hospital ward. Few noises managed to be heard over the moans of other dying patients.
An occasional scream pricked his sanity and made him wonder if the sound came from him.
Chills shook him.
“Good morning, Jack.” Dr. Fletcher put a stethoscope to his chest. “Nurses tell me you had a bad night.”
“Doc, has my Ruthie come?” He could barely get the words past his chattering teeth.
Fletcher smoothed the quilt back over him. “She will. You can’t give up hope. You hear me, Jack?”
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”
“In all honesty, your strong will to see your family is all that’s keeping you alive. You let go of that, you’re a goner.”
“Wonder what’s keeping them. They should’ve come by now.” Urgency swept through him. He grasped the doc’s hand. “Are you sure you wrote those letters? You weren’t just humoring me?”
“On my oath as a physician, I sent every one.”
A fit of coughing left a trail of blood on the sheet.
Damn the person whose lies sent him here!
They’d robbed him of more than time. Keeping him apart from those he loved angered him most. Why the frame-up? Didn’t make a lick of sense. He’d never wronged anyone.
“After I’m gone…will you please tell my Ruthie how much I loved her?” Defeat tormented him. He’d lost.
“You have my word.”
Dr. Fletcher turned to his female assistant and spoke in a low tone. He concentrated on their voices. It was important to know the crux of things.
“He won’t last the night, I’m afraid. A pure miracle if he does.”
“Then we don’t want to waste what food there is on him.”
The doctor grabbed the woman’s arm. “You give this man whatever he requires. Comfort him in his last hours, be it with drink, sustenance, or a kind word. That’s what we do. If you can’t do that, I have no need of you.”
* * *
Duel’s galloping horse faded into the distance. Luke’s brother had wasted no time unhitching the pair from the wagon after Glory sketched the details. Perhaps help had arrived too late, though she sensed a definite shift in their favor. In her heart, she knew this McClain would do everything in his power to make everything come out the way it should.
She formed a silent prayer he’d get there before Foster managed to carry out his dastardly plan.
Hope and Mama were out back finishing up the wash. A remarkable change had occurred in their mother, especially the surprising vitality that replaced usual apathy. Marley Rose’s and Lily’s squeals came from the next room where Patience entertained them.
Glory held the small infant and tried to imagine his face. But her mind kept wandering to places it shouldn’t go.
“Don’t worry.” Jessie McClain patted her hand. “My husband won’t let anything happen to him. Next to Duel, Luke is the toughest, most decent man I know.”
The telltale break in the woman’s soft voice said much about her feelings for both brothers.
“This is extremely hard for you. Despite my short acquaintance with Luke, I can’t bear to think about the outcome. If something happens to him… Knowing, caring for both, I imagine would double the pain.”
“I love them—Luke as well as Duel.”
Pain radiated through Glory’s chest. What if something happened to either man?
She gripped the sleeping bundle tighter. “You never said what brought you to Santa Anna.”
“We came to tell Luke their father, Walt McClain, died.”
“I’m so sorry.” She remembered his pride when he spoke of his family. “How devastating for Luke.”
How would news of Papa’s death come? she wondered. Certainly not by anyone familiar or who would have great care of their feelings.
“Yes, it shocked us all. Walt slipped, fell down a ravine, and was crushed by falling rock. We didn’t know Luke’s whereabouts until we contacted the Ranger battalion in Waco. It seems Luke came through there a few weeks ago to empty his savings from the First Bank and Mercantile. He told them he was trying to clear up some things here in Santa Anna.”
“His savings?” The weak question barely managed to get through her stiff lips.
That’s how he paid the banknote!
It hadn’t been blood money at all. A thick lump settled in her throat.
“Luke had been putting aside some money for his own plot of ground.” The settee shifted when Jessie rose. Her footsteps moved toward the parlor window. “Whatever he needed the money for must’ve been mighty important to throw away his dream of owning a parcel of land. You know? A man doesn’t think he’s much of anything without property to call his.”
He thought the Day family worthy of the sacrifice.
Love swelled side by side with the ache.
They owed him a tremendous debt. One Luke never meant to collect. His gift came with no strings. Glory knew all about shattered dreams. Men didn’t have a monopoly on such. And that he gave of himself, willing to risk his very life, to make theirs easier, told the depth of his heart.
Why hadn’t he explained? He’d let her think the worst.
“Did the men in Waco tell your husband that someone framed Luke and he lost his job as a Ranger?”
“No. Forevermore! How that must’ve eaten at Luke.” Jessie paced back and forth along the length of the room. “I learned last year the true measure of his conviction. He believes he received a calling much like something religious men get from on high. Duty and honor for upholding the law flow in his blood.”
Glory’s thoughts whirled to that night he had shared his deep shame. “He was obsessed with clearing his name. I now know the one who did the framing and it may be…”
Jessie’s fierce hug brought comfort and strength. “Don’t even think that. It won’t be too
late. It won’t.”
“You’re right. We must look on the bright side.” A thin smile wavered on Glory’s lips before it decided to stay. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.”
Understanding filled the gap between them. The woman clearly couldn’t disguise the love and admiration she had for the youngest McClain brother.
“Did Luke tell you how I arrived in the family?” Jessie asked.
“He didn’t talk a lot except to say he missed you all very much and that it had been a while since he visited.”
“I think his sworn duty to the Texas Rangers almost did him in when he had to arrest his own sister-in-law for murder.”
“A mix-up, I’m sure.”
“If only it had been.” Heavy sorrow seeped between the words. “The fact is, I did shoot and kill Jeremiah Foltry, my husband at the time. It was no accident. Although he did unspeakable things, I didn’t hold out much hope that a court would listen. Hanging appeared a sure bet. But Duel persuaded Tom Parker to help us and here I am. The reason I’m telling you this is—miracles do happen. Just when life looks darkest doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. Duel and Luke are mule heads, that much I’m sure. They also have strength and ability like few men I’ve seen.”
The startling revelation left Glory reeling. Although she’d only met the woman a few hours ago, she recognized a kindred spirit when one came along. Jessie could only have had provocation of the worst kind to have harmed any living soul.
And Luke? Arresting her must’ve torn his guts out. What a thing having to choose among family, duty, and honor. All three as sacred as breathing.
Her thoughts leaped to that night they’d spoken of epitaphs and tombstones.
He gave generously of himself to make the world a safer place. He lived well and loved hard. He will be missed.
Glory blinked back tears. He would indeed leave empty holes. More than he knew.
“What a horrible time. You must’ve been so scared.” Her voice broke. Scared seemed too weak for the needles pricking her insides this day. She was downright petrified.
“That’s all behind me now,” Jessie said. “I have a love unlike anything I’ve known, the most wonderful husband a wife could ever want, and little ones to watch over and shape. I suppose I had to go through the worst to get to the best. At least that’s my observation anyway.”
Glory prayed for that same miracle here.
Baby Ethan stretched from his nap and made little mewling noises. She wished she might see him.
“Do the children resemble your husband?”
“Good heavens, I certainly don’t see how they could. Our children, including the three oldest at home, are all orphans. Duel and I are unable to have babies of our own.”
Heat rose to Glory’s face. “Forgive me for prying.”
A musical laugh sprang forth. “I’ve learned it doesn’t make any difference who brings them into the world. What’s important is the love you give them once they’re here. I get immense satisfaction from watching them grow and learn, knowing I can help turn them into the people they become.”
“Each of us has our own cross to bear, I suppose.”
“No one is perfect. If they give such an impression, I remind myself it’s only skin deep. Secrets lurk within us humans.”
Glory contemplated her words. She’d been far too narrow-minded and prudish. And now stricken by blindness. The perfect stranger who’d appeared from the blue had irritated her with his meddling, but kept a roof over their heads anyway. It appeared that she might never get to thank him for his unselfish efforts.
Despair tasted like a mouthful of thick mud on her tongue.
Ethan whimpered and a second later let out a lusty cry. Jessie lifted him from her arms. “He’s hungry. It’s all right, my darling,” she cooed.
“We have fresh milk from just this morning in the crock beside the sink. I’ll show you.”
“I hate to trouble you. I brought along a supply of canned to use. Ethan doesn’t mind. He’s not as finicky as Marley Rose, who drank goat’s milk or nothing at all.”
“It’s no bother. Our Bessie gives the sweetest milk.”
* * *
Noon arrived with still no word. Glory tired of listening for approaching riders. They gathered around the table, feeding hungry stomachs. However, eating held no interest for her. She didn’t care if she ever ate.
“I wish I had a little brother or sister,” Patience whined. “Someone like Marley Rose or Lily. They’re so cute.”
“Mine sissie,” Marley Rose stated emphatically.
The smaller girl jabbered, shaking her finger.
“Yes, darling. Lily is your sister, no doubt about it,” Jessie answered.
Mama laughed. “You wouldn’t think they were so much fun if you had to take care of them every day, Patience, dear.”
“I would too. I’d never complain or get tired of playing with them. I’d take them for walks and fishing and even let them hold Miss Minnie’s kittens.”
“Mine kitty?”
“No, sweetie, the kitties belong to Patience,” Jessie said.
“No. Mine.” Marley let out a squall.
Patience gave a loud sigh. “I’ll let you have one if you’ll just be quiet. Okay?”
That’s what Glory thought. Hadn’t taken Squirt long for the new to wear off.
“I’m sorry. She’s not normally this way. It must be unfamiliar surroundings. I think my husband would shoot us if we took another animal home with us. We have enough trouble taking care of the goat, dogs, horses, and the like, not to mention the snake Marley dragged home and made into a pet. Duel gripes that we have enough to fill Noah’s ark.”
Glory let a half smile settle into place. They’d best warn Luke about the snake before he went for a visit. He and slithery things had nothing in common. The memory created a thickness in her throat. That is, if he survived today. She’d give anything to lengthen the odds.
“Patience, why don’t you take the girls to the barn when they finish and let them see the kittens?” Hope suggested, collecting the dishes from the table.
Ever the peacemaker, her middle sister.
Then, she heard the sound she’d been expecting. She never knew hoofbeats could be so sweet.
Twenty-nine
Damn this blasted heat!
Sweat dribbled from Luke’s forehead onto his arm.
Hidden as he was from sight of the road at the base of Bead Mountain, not a breath of wind could reach him.
Or maybe he should blame it on jumpy nerves. The way Creede, Frenchie, and the boys looked at him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention told him they had something up their sleeve. It couldn’t be of the good variety.
He eyed the mare and wondered if he’d meet a hail of bullets if he hightailed it.
The idea had merit, as it promised to help him live to a ripe old age. That’s when he heard the rumble of the stage.
Too late. Story of his life. Not enough time to get word to the captain…and most soul-wrenching of all, failure to take care of Glory and free her father. Too late. Everything too late.
There was nothing left to do but fight with everything he had. It was up to him to stop this bunch. Right here. Right now.
A Ranger never gave up, never shirked from a fight, and never gave less than he took. Such a vow would benefit everyone, no matter their persuasion. Yep, even with an uphill battle, he bet he could put these thieving murderers to bed with a pick and shovel if that’s the way they preferred to go.
Bad seeds each and every one of them. A swift glance located the men who lay in wait.
All except Creede.
Now where in hell had he disappeared to?
Cotton-pickin’! No time to search. Luke pulled his Colt from the holster and checked the cylinder. Cartridges filled
all six chambers.
Six chances to stop the group of bad hombres.
A gambler’s odds.
He slid the Colt back into place and eyed the rifle in the scabbard. If he could keep it near, it carried a full load. From experience, a man in battle could lose sight of both horse and weapon. It was crucial to aim carefully and shoot well if he wanted to walk away from this. The mare skittered when he swung into the saddle.
Dust rose beneath the team of six. They’d rounded the last curve and headed into the narrow basin. He tensed.
Do or die, heaven help him, this was it.
Lefty rode out as planned, shooting into the air.
The driver sat rigid on the seat as did the passengers Luke glimpsed through the window of the carriage.
Double damn!
So much for hoping it carried nothing but payroll. The horses stretched out upon hearing the blast. They didn’t stand a chance of outrunning the black-hearted bunch. The driver couldn’t know about the stacked odds. Luke drew a bead on Lefty and watched the man tumble off his horse. He galloped toward the others.
A volley of shots burst from inside the stage as the remaining gang came from hiding with pistols blazing.
They raced alongside the speeding carriage.
Luke aimed and Cuny hit the dirt. Four shots left in the forty-five.
Then, things took a turn for the worst when the driver caught a bullet and flew from his perch onto the dusty road. Luke set his jaw, jerked his rifle from the scabbard, and opened fire on the murdering bunch.
Someone grabbed the rigging. He recognized Bill. The man would have the conveyance stopped in a matter of seconds.
Just as Luke took aim, a bullet whizzed past his ear, splintering the door of the carriage. Leaning from his saddle, Frenchie eyeballed him again and squeezed the trigger. The muzzle spat an orange flash.
For once, Miss Gut Twister moved as if she had a lightning bolt on her tail. A cluster of live oak shielded Luke. He jerked off the eye patch. From cover, he surveyed the carnage.
Shots continued to erupt from the coach interior.
Didn’t make rhyme or reason the strange way they burst forth. Whoever it was didn’t know beans about making their shots count.
