“Someone who told him to come out here.” Slate swept his hand around the scrub-cedar-dotted fields that showed outcroppings of rock. “Someone who set up this meeting.”
“And then killed him.” Cassidy turned to Slate. “It would have to be someone in the vicinity.” She stared at him. “Slate, it has to be Rusty. His office is right by the courthouse.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.” Slate agreed.
“Then Rusty knows where Amanda and Dray are.” Cassidy’s voice had taken on a note of excitement. “Surely he wouldn’t do anything to them.”
“A man who’s killed once…” Slate didn’t want her to get her hopes up.
“Let’s go,” Cassidy said, already moving toward the truck. “Let’s go to his office and see if we can make him talk.”
Slate was right behind her when his eye caught something bright on the ground. He bent to pick it up, only to discover it was a piece of tin, a tab from a drink can.
“What is it?” Cassidy had stopped and turned around to watch him.
“It’s no—” He bent closer to the ground. The tire impression was hard to distinguish, but once Slate made it out in the grass, he knew what it was. He straightened slowly.
“This old road, does Cole Benson still own property on it?”
He could see his question had caught Cassidy by surprise. She shook her head. “I don’t know. When he bought Blue Vista, he never mentioned the old Benson place again. The land was poor. I assumed he sold it. Why?”
“I may be jumping to conclusions, Cassidy, but the tracks here are from a dual. I know plenty of ranchers own them, but Cole Benson also has one.”
Cassidy hurried back and bent to examine the grass that had been crushed down by the double-wheeled vehicle. “My God, Slate.”
“Is it possible?” he asked her.
Cassidy took a deep breath. “I had thought of Cole earlier, in regard to the bank robbery. But it just seemed so unlikely.”
“That he would frame me to get me out of the way so he could win the rodeo purse?”
“But there was no guarantee he would win, even if you were out of the competition.”
“But he did.”
“Yes, he did.”
He steadied Cassidy against his side. Cole had become her neighbor, and in some ways a close friend. She would also know that Cole’s machinations had been directed not only at money and the ranch land, but also at having her.
“Lucky was working for Cole, wasn’t he,” she said tonelessly. “He did set the rock slide, and he must have seen me putting the gun in the safe. He was the one who shot at Joker, and at you. He wasn’t trying to kill you, he was trying to drive you away.”
“Cole knew that once we joined forces and began poking at the bank robbery, we’d eventually figure it out. Or my memory would come back and I’d remember that he was in the bank with Dray the day of the attempted robbery.” Slate was certain now that it had been Cole Benson in Dray’s office. When the truth was told, it would probably be Cole who shot him, not Dray.
“He was?” Cassidy asked. “You never said.”
“I didn’t remember everything until earlier today. There was a man in Dray’s office. I saw only the back of his head.” Slate’s smile was a bitter twist. “Even now, when I can remember it perfectly, I can’t say that it was Cole because I never saw his face. It was him, though. I’m certain of it.”
Cassidy thought for a moment. “Cole has no way of knowing what you saw. I’m sure he thought if he could get you out of town, you’d move on, make a life where old memories weren’t important. Even if your memory did come back, if you’d started a new life, you wouldn’t be inclined to come back to Comfort and dig up the past.”
“And when I didn’t leave, he decided to take care of me another way.” Slate thought of the near misses that had occurred in the last week. “And you got caught in the backlash. Cole never meant to frame you for Lucky’s murder. It was my gun, and the wedding ring should have been in my possession since we never married. He’d planned it carefully, but it didn’t work right.”
Cassidy suddenly pushed away from the truck. “If Cole still owns the property out here, there’s a chance that might be where he’s holding Amanda and Dray.”
Slate caught her excitement. “You’re right.” But his enthusiasm was immediately dampened by another thought. “If he has Dray and Amanda out here, he’s going to be armed. And this time he won’t care if he kills us.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cassidy could tell that Slate was chomping at the bit, but they’d both agreed that they had to wait for Sheriff Owens and the deputies. She could hear the sirens in the distance, and she knew that Clyde Barlow and Karlie had sent the lawmen out to the murder scene.
The old Benson house was well fortified, and if their suspicions were correct, Cole had already killed one man. Cornered, Cole might not hesitate to kill again. If he was holding Dray and Amanda as hostages, there were too many risks involved in trying to rush the small log house tucked against the side of a cliff.
Cassidy remembered the house well. It was a regular fortress. In her opinion, only a show of great force would convince Cole to give himself up and release Amanda and Dray. With lawmen surrounding the house, he might realize that escape was hopeless. That was the scenario she prayed would happen.
Sheriff Owens shot her a black look as he walked up, but he had no time to argue with her—Slate bombarded the lawman with the facts they’d uncovered.
Leaning against the truck, Cassidy listened as Slate and the sheriff went over the fine details of the past events. Cassidy chose to stand back and let Slate handle it. It was, essentially, his story to tell. He’d suffered the five years in prison, unjustly accused and convicted.
A strong wave of love washed over her as she heard Sheriff Owens’s apology and his admission that he’d been easily led to pin the blame on Slate. But it was the way Slate stuck out his hand and shook with the sheriff that made her feel she might truly burst with love and pride. A lesser man would have been petty and aggrieved. Not Slate.
She walked over to them. “Well,” she said, “what’s the plan?”
Owens looked at Slate. “Your hus…Slate, here, says he’ll slip in the back of the cabin if my men and I can divert Cole’s attention to the front. I’m hoping Cole will see reason and surrender, but if he doesn’t, then Slate can try to get the hostages out. I think it’s a good plan.”
Cassidy thought otherwise, but she nodded. “Okay. I think we’d better get a move on it.” She glanced pointedly at the sun, which was hanging in the tops of the cedars.
“Let’s go.” The sheriff signaled his men and they caravanned to the small side road that disappeared around a curve between rocky land that was covered in dense cedar growth.
“Slate, I’ll go with you,” Cassidy said.
He almost refused her, but he nodded, handing her the gun the sheriff had given him.
“I don’t like this,” Owens said, handing Slate another automatic. “She should stay here with me.”
“I’ll stay behind a tree,” Cassidy reassured him. Only she knew the truth about the back of Cole’s cabin. The back door was bolted from the inside with a stout wooden bar. The only way in was a small bathroom window, and Slate was too broad-shouldered to fit through it. If anyone got into the back of the house, it was going to be her.
“Keep her out of bullet range,” Owens warned Slate.
Cassidy smiled and reached for Slate’s hand. Together they ran west, then north, cutting through the trees and moving as fast as they could. Sheriff Owens had given them fifteen minutes to get into position before he alerted the occupants of the cabin that they were surrounded.
As they darted and slipped through the woods, Cassidy finally accepted that Slate’s name would be cleared. No one could give him back the five years, but Sheriff Owens had agreed to do everything in his power to set the record straight.
Cassidy saw the dim outline of the cabin befor
e Slate did, and she put out a halting hand to still him. The dark wood and stone seemed to be a part of the cliff. The trees surrounding it were so thick that she could move within ten feet of the house and still retain good cover.
She waited for Slate to notice the way the house was built.
“There’s only one window,” he said angrily. “It’s so small I can’t—”
“That’s why I came,” she said.
Slate turned to her. “You knew!”
“I used to come out here sometimes to work with Cole’s mother’s mare. It was before I started at Three Sisters. I remembered how odd it was that the house had only that small back window. It opens into the bathroom. There is a back door, but they have it bolted with a four-by-four. You could never break it down.”
“But you think you can get in the window and open the back door for me?”
She could see Slate wasn’t impressed. “I can. And I intend to.”
“Cassidy, you can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
She let him finish, and then she went to him. She placed her hand against his jaw and felt the slight roughness of his beard. “I have to, Slate. And I know you understand why. Amanda was once my very good friend. If there’s a chance I can help her, I have to try.”
Before Slate could respond, the sheriff’s amplified voice came from the front of the small cabin. “Cole Benson! This is Sheriff Owens!”
“We don’t have time to argue,” Cassidy said. “You can boost me up to the window. That would be a big help.” She didn’t wait for his answer but closed the distance to the house. When she felt his hands around her waist, lifting her so that she could push the window open and grasp the sill, she knew that whatever faced them in life, they’d work together as a team.
Straddling the sill, she smiled down at him. “I’ll open the door,” she mouthed, and disappeared into the house.
The small bathroom was dimly lit by the setting sun, but as Cassidy inched the door open, the hallway was dark as a cave. She listened carefully but heard no sound of occupancy. For the first time she seriously considered that they’d miscalculated. Perhaps Cole wasn’t involved. Perhaps if it was him, he’d taken Amanda and Dray somewhere else. Perhaps they were dead.
That last thought threatened to paralyze her, but she forced herself forward into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Now she had only memory and what she could feel with her hands to guide her.
She remembered the layout of the house. It was small and compact, and, four steps along the hall, she felt the door to the den. Opposite was the kitchen. Or she could continue straight ahead to one of the two bedrooms. As she remembered the furnishings, she thought the bigger bedroom was the smartest choice. If Amanda and Dray were confined, that would be the easiest place to restrain them.
It also put her near the back door.
Testing each step before she put her whole weight on it, she eased along. Her fingers found the solid four-by-four timber that was used to bolt the door. Very carefully she started to lift it.
The wood was wedged tightly, and Cassidy gritted her teeth, using all of her strength. At last she felt it begin to move.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her or see the dark figure that stood in the hallway watching.
“Who’s waiting outside the door?” Cole asked softly.
Cassidy felt a jolt of fear so intense she thought she might die, but her heart continued beating and she turned to confront the man who’d been her neighbor, someone she’d considered a friend.
“Where’s Amanda?” she asked as calmly as she could.
“I can’t believe you’re so concerned about someone who betrayed you, who lied and ruined your life. It was Amanda’s greed that gave me the opportunity to set Slate up. She embezzled, and Dray tried to cover for her.”
Cassidy saw the gun in his hand. It was dark and deadly, and she could hear the threat in his voice. Her own gun was tucked in the back of her waist, but to reach for it might be a deadly mistake. “The sheriff is outside, Cole. We can all talk this through. The past is over and done. No one can give Slate back the time he spent in prison. We can talk it all out.”
“No amount of talk can give Lucky Hill back his life.” Cole smiled. “He thought he could blackmail me. I knew he was a greedy fool, but I didn’t think he was that stupid.”
“There’s no escape for you, Cole,” Cassidy said. She had to be strong. She couldn’t afford to show how frightened she was.
“I have hostages. Enough to spare in case I have to kill one or two.”
“Then Amanda and Dray are still alive?” It was the first hopeful thing she’d heard from him. “Where are they? Can I see them?”
“See them? You’ll be joining them shortly.” His voice turned bitter. “This could all have ended differently. You were coming around. You were beginning to care for me. I worked to make you care, and you were beginning to. You owe it to me. I won. I beat Slate in the bronc riding. I bought the land that you loved. Everything that you wanted. I became everything the people in Comfort honored. If Slate hadn’t come back, you would have loved me. I deserve love. No matter what anyone said, I deserve to be loved.”
Cassidy had only her instincts. “I could never have loved you that way, Cole. Whether Slate came back or not, I would have always loved him.”
“You were getting over him. If he hadn’t come back—” He angrily bit off the last of the sentence. “He’s out there, isn’t he? He’s the one outside the door, waiting to come in.” An edge of cleverness seeped into his tone. “So we’ll open the door and let him in. I might not get away, but I’ll have the satisfaction of taking him to hell with me.”
Before Cassidy could stop him, he swept the timber out of the way and pulled the back door open. Cassidy started to cry out, but Cole grabbed her, his hand covering her mouth. “One word and I’ll go in there and put a bullet in Amanda’s head. You understand?”
Cassidy could barely breathe, but she managed a nod. Cole held her in front of him with his arm around her throat, and he loosened his grip enough for her to breathe and talk. He had given her a clue into his thinking. “You deserve love, Cole. But love is given. You can’t force someone to love you.”
“Not even my own mother,” he said, his angry voice growing loud. “I was never good enough. Never smart enough. No matter how hard I tried.”
Cassidy started to deny it, but thought better of such a move. She changed directions. “You blackmailed Amanda and Dray. You even blackmailed Clyde Barlow. And you pulled Clyde deeper into it by helping him sell Three Sisters and skimming off part of the profits. You are very smart, Cole. There’s no doubt about that.”
“Living in a small town has its advantages. If you watch closely enough, you can learn people’s innermost secrets.”
He was proud of his actions. Cassidy felt disgust. She’d seen the hard edge of Cole before, with his workers, with his attitude toward the range horses. But she’d never dreamed how deep his cruelty ran.
“Look!” He forced her to look out into the night. To her horror, she saw Slate moving from tree to tree. He was nothing but a black shadow, but she recognized him. “Should we wait until he comes inside? I want him to see you in my arms.”
Cassidy twisted, trying to free herself, but it only made Cole tighten his hold. She forced herself to relax. She had one chance. The hallway was so dark that Cole hadn’t noticed the gun in her jeans. She eased her hand behind her back and gripped the handle. The waistband of her jeans prevented her finding the trigger, and she moved her fingers millimeter by millimeter, trying desperately not to alert Cole to what she was doing.
His attention was focused on Slate. Cassidy struggled to find the gun’s trigger as she watched the man she loved draw ever closer to his death. She started to call out, but Cole’s arm was brutally clamped on her throat, almost choking her into unconsciousness.
“Watch, Cassidy,” Cole said.
Her finger found the trigger just as Slate shifted from the l
ast tree and started toward the open door. He assumed it was safe to enter, that she’d opened the door for him. She could see that his gun was drawn but aimed at the ground.
She had no choice. Angling the gun barrel away from her own body, Cassidy pulled the trigger. The gunshot was so loud, she wasn’t certain if she’d hit Cole or not. The repercussion had snagged the weapon deeper in her jeans, but she felt Cole’s grip loosen and she took the opportunity and jerked free.
Whirling around and drawing the gun, she aimed at Cole only to see him stagger and fall back against the wall. Then Slate was beside her, his own weapon trained on Cole as he pulled her against his side and held her.
“Drop it,” he ordered Cole.
“Damn you both,” Cole answered as he let his pistol clatter to the floor.
“Come on, Sheriff,” Slate called out.
The front door burst open and lawmen swarmed the house. They found Amanda and Dray, tied and gagged in the big double bed, and released them. Someone hit a light switch and Cassidy found herself staring at Cole, who leaned against the wall. A bullet wound in his left thigh bled profusely, but he made no attempt to staunch the flow. One of the deputies applied a tourniquet and forced him to sit.
“Good work,” Sheriff Owens said as he motioned for Dray and Amanada to be cuffed and taken to one of the patrol cars.
As the couple passed Cassidy and Slate, they stopped. “We’re sorry,” Amanda said. “I know that doesn’t undo what we did to you, but you’ll never understand how sorry we are.”
Cassidy found that, at the moment, she had nothing to say. Maybe later, when the pain was less raw.
Shaking Slate’s hand and patting Cassidy on the shoulder, Sheriff Owens said, “You two should head home. Come by the office in the morning and I’ll have Rusty there. We’ll begin the process of clearing your name, Slate. Make it at nine.”
“We’ll be there,” Slate said.
NITA CLAMPED THE LAST garland of flowers around the porch railing and stood back. “Magnificent,” she said.
Cassidy nodded, smiling but a little teary. She’d done this once before with a woman she’d loved like a mother. At that thought, she looked out at Slate, who was coming in from feeding the weanlings, and talking to Joker over the fence. They’d brought the stallion home, and so far, Joker had taken a rare delight in tormenting all of the ranch hands. But Slate loved him.
Remember Me, Cowboy Page 22
