by Howe, Cheryl
The young gunslinger studied Lorelei and Corey. “If you’re from around here, you should know better than to wind up in Coyote Pass.”
“Come on, Buster. He just wanted a drink for his wife and boy. You don’t want to go shooting up women and children, do you?” Archie put another bottle of whiskey on the counter. “Have a drink on me and finish your cards.”
The gunslinger strolled in Corey and Lorelei’s direction.“If you had a few less drinks on the house, Archie, maybe you’d learn how to pick your friends better. How old’s this kid?”
“Thirteen,” said Lorelei before Braddock could answer. “Almost fourteen,” Braddock followed up, wondering if the gunslinger were blind enough to believe Corey was his son. He should have stuck with the hired hand story.
Behind him he could hear a bottle being uncorked, a drink being poured.
“I told you that Sullivan fella wasn’t my friend. He just wanted a game, had his own cards. I didn’t introduce him to Mulcahy. I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Archie said.
The gunslinger—Buster, the bartender called him—stared hard at Corey, then turned back to Lorelei. “You look much too young to have a child that old, ma’am. You’re a girl yourself.”
Lorelei returned his flirtatious smile. “Thank you.” Braddock marveled at the acting ability of both brother and sister. They hadn’t even flinched when Archie had mentioned Corey’s name. Luckily, Buster had his back to him and Archie was too busy drinking to notice Braddock tense. “Son, take your mother outside. This is no place for her.”
“Yes, Pa.” Corey’s voice sounded higher than usual. Whether the change was intentional or just a result of plain terror, Braddock didn’t know. But it sounded good.
“Proper or not, I’ll just faint if I get back into that heat.” Lorelei removed her bonnet and fanned herself with it. “I’m fine here, sugar.”
He’d warned her not to do this. “What about the corrupting influence on our son, dear? He’s too young to be in a saloon with gambling and spirits and God knows what else.” Braddock laid on the Southern drawl so thick he almost choked on it.
Archie poured himself another drink. “There’s no whores here. Not anymore. All the girls left after Mulcahy’s men tore up the place looking for that Sullivan. I don’t care if a gambler offers to give me half the pot, I’m not trusting anymore slick talking—” The bartender stopped in midsentence, then glanced across to Corey.
Braddock turned back to the bar. This was a bad time for Archie to sober up. “I need a drink.”
Archie’s attention returned to the bottle of whiskey. “Me too.” He filled both glasses to the rim. “Here’s to your health.” He gulped the whiskey without pause.
Braddock rolled his glass between his fingers as he turned back to Buster.
He had placed his booted foot in a chair and leaned over to leer at Lorelei. “I’ve got a room in the back. It’s on the shady side and catches a nice breeze. You’re welcome to put your feet up, if you’ve a mind to.”
Braddock slammed his glass down on the bar and reached for his guns before he could think clearly. “Over my dead body.”
“That can be—” The gunslinger swallowed his words and stopped himself in mid-reach when he turned to find Braddock already had both guns drawn.
He slowly raised his hands to his ears. “You don’t draw like no rancher.”
The back of Braddock’s neck itched. He had momentarily forgotten about the third man, the one at the table. The one who, judging by the sound of the click, was now pointing a Springfield rifle at his back.
“He ain’t no rancher,” said the third man.
Buster lowered his hands. “Good, then he won’t mind if I take his wife for a little ride.” He grabbed Lorelei’s wrist and hauled her to her feet.
Braddock squeezed out a single shot, striking Buster in the shoulder.
“Son of a bitch! The bastard shot me.” Buster clutched his shoulder with his opposite hand, momentarily forgetting about Lorelei.
She scooted back against the wall, blocking Corey with her body.
Boots alternately crunched then dragged in the dirt, marking the rifleman’s approach. The sound and the fact that Braddock hadn’t already been shot in the back confirmed his suspicions. Braddock knew the Springfield well. The old confederate weapon had only one shot and was cumbersome to reload. It was known for its accuracy, but only if the shooter had a steady hand. The man with the rifle didn’t. He was wounded. That was why he’d let his younger, more inexperienced friend confront the newcomers. When they’d walked in, the way that he had held his cards close to his body gave him away. The rifle’s weight would soon be unbearable to lift.
The closer the rifleman came, the better his chances. Braddock contemplated swinging around and firing before he got close.
“Shoot him,” cried Buster. “I’m bleeding bad.” He wilted into the chair Lorelei had abandoned.
“No more shooting, Larry. I mean it. Let these folks go on their way. Buster had no business messing with his woman. No business.” Archie sounded on the verge of tears.
“Have another drink, Archie,” said Larry, the third man. “’Cause there just might be some shooting. But that’s up to you, fast draw. You think you can swing around and pop one off before I can shoot you?”
Braddock let his center of balance sink to his knees. “I know I can.”
“I know you can, too.” The shuffle of his boots stopped and a chair scraped as Larry sank into it. “But can you get me before I get her?”
Braddock shifted his weight and swung his aim to Larry. The man had fallen into a barrel-backed chair. His rifle leaned on the armrest and the sight was centered on Lorelei. Braddock tensed short of pulling the trigger. His hand ached from the strain of stopping the motion.
Larry laughed, but it quickly turned into a racking cough. “Better get out of the way, Buster,” he said when he caught his breath.
“I’m hurt,” cried the younger man.
“Move!” yelled Larry.
Buster slipped to the floor like molasses oozing from a split tin.
“I can’t watch you shoot a woman. I’ve seen too much bloodshed. I can’t see this. Don’t shoot her.” Archie sounded desperate, but Braddock didn’t have the luxury of paying him any attention.
Neither did Larry. “Let’s see that son of yours. Get out from behind the woman’s skirt and take your hat off.”
“Don’t shoot the boy. That’s worse than the woman.” Archie had started to cry in earnest. “Don’t shoot the kid.”
“Shut up, Archie,” growled Larry. “If that boy’s thirteen then I’m twenty-five. Let’s see your face, son.”
Corey moved away from Lorelei without Braddock having to tell him to do so.
“I’m a bounty hunter,” Braddock said, trying to draw the attention back to himself. “The name’s Braddock. Heard of me?”
Larry glanced his way, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to alter his aim. “Matter of fact, I have. I’ll have to make sure I kill you before I’m done.”
Lorelei shoved Corey farther away from her in a flurry of motion that raised dust. “But he’s the one you want, isn’t he?”
Corey stumbled. “Lori!”
Braddock’s gaze swung to Lorelei. What in the hell was she doing now?
“Go ahead, shoot him,” she cried. “He’s not my son. I can’t fool you.”
Larry kept his aim on Lorelei. “You never did, lady. I’m not going to shoot him. Not until we settle something between us. We understand each other, don’t we, Corey?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can tell me, or you can talk to Mulcahy, and he’s real mad. He’d love nothing more than to strip the skin off your back.”
“I don’t know anything, Larry. I swear.”
Buster propped himself up with the help of his left elbow. “Is that the little son of a bitch we’ve been looking for?”
“Yep,” said Larry.
“That’s not Corey Sullivan,” said Archie. “He’s not thirteen.”
“Neither is this one. Talk to me, Sullivan, and I’ll see you get out of here alive. That’s better than you deserve. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be drinking it up instead of crawling into holes to die.”
“You’re not going to die. You look healthy to me,” said Corey.
“Let’s just even up now, and I won’t take a potshot at your mother over here.” Somehow Larry found the strength to lift his gun to eye level, his aim clearly targeted at Lorelei.
Before Braddock could decide to take the risk and pull the trigger, a bullet whizzed by his right ear. He heard the explosion at the same time the shot knocked Larry back, forcing the rifle to slip from his grip.
“I couldn’t let you shoot a woman, Larry. Not after Lila. She was just a girl. You shouldn’t have treated her like that,” whined Archie. “Shouldn’t have done it.”
Braddock pivoted on the balls of his feet and shot Buster in the center of the chest as he fumbled for his pistol with his left hand. Obviously he was right handed and hadn’t learned to use his other hand. He never even cleared the gun from the holster.
Braddock turned back to Archie, not sure of the man’s state of mind, but the bartender had disappeared.
“Get his guns,” Braddock directed Corey, pointing his pistol at Buster.
He leaned over the bar to make sure Archie wasn’t reloading in order to pick them all off. Archie had slid to the floor, the shotgun beside him, and was sobbing into the hands that covered his face.
“Lorelei, see to him.”
Braddock knelt beside Larry, who lay flat on his back, gasping for breath. His hat had fallen, and his long silver hair slithered across the dirty floor like a dozen grass snakes.
“I was already dead,” he said through half-opened eyes. “Where’s Mulcahy?”
Larry grinned despite the film of blood over his yellow teeth. “Ask your son.”
“He says he doesn’t know.”
“You’re a dead man when you ride with that one. They’re going to get him.”
“Why didn’t you shoot him when you had the chance?”
“Greed dies hard, I guess.”
“Where’s Mulcahy?” Braddock tried again.
Larry coughed. Braddock rolled him on his side to keep him from choking on his own blood.
Corey leaned over Braddock’s shoulder. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, Larry. I told you I wasn’t signing up to kill people.”
Larry opened his eyes. “But you’re fine with gold, aren’t you lad—bloodstained or no.”
“I didn’t want anyone to get killed. I wouldn’t have signed up if I knew.”
“Well, do yourself a favor, O’Sullivan. Give it back afore it’s too late.” Larry’s slight brogue deepened as his voice grew more faint. “Wait. It is too late. I’ll be seeing you soon. Aye, lad.”
“Tell me what you know, Larry.” Braddock tried one more time.
“I need a drink,” mumbled the outlaw.
“I’ll get you one as soon as you tell me where Mulcahy is.”
“Get me a drink, you bastard. I’m dying,” he rasped.
Corey brought a glass of whiskey to Larry’s lips. “I’m sorry, Larry. I really am.”
Larry choked on the drink and coughed up more blood than liquor. “You’re all right, O’Sullivan. To tell you the truth, I’m glad it’s over. I’m going to sleep good tonight.” Then Larry laid his cheek against the dirty marble and closed his eyes.
Braddock turned to Corey. “You’ve got some explaining to do, kid, and you’re giving back your share of the gold.” Corey’s eyes widened. “I didn’t get a share. I ran. I don’t know what Mulcahy’s telling them.”
Braddock shook his head. “If that’s true, if Mulcahy’s using you to cut the rest out, you’re a dead man. I can’t protect you.”
Lorelei suddenly loomed over them. “The other one’s dead, too. Archie says there are more coming and we should get out of here.”
Braddock reholstered his gun. Larry curled in on himself as he clutched his midsection. Whether he was dead or not, they couldn’t wait around.
“Let’s go.”
Corey set the bottle of whiskey within Larry’s reach before he got to his feet. Braddock couldn’t help but notice that the kid looked to be on the verge of tears himself. He gave Corey a shove and wished someone had beaten him at an early age.
Lorelei blocked their path to the door. “We have to take Archie with us.”
Braddock strode toward the door, dragging her with him, pretending he didn’t hear.
She yanked from his grasp with a surprising amount of strength. “He helped us, and they’ll kill him when they find out. He’s already been beaten up.”
“No one’s going to tell who killed who.”
“We have to take him. He saved my life.”
“He can’t ride. He’s too drunk.”
“He can ride with me,” Corey spoke up.
Braddock ground his teeth. Corey Sullivan, do-gooder by day, stagecoach robber and card cheat by night. Not a good combination. “No.”
“He has his own horse,” argued Corey.
“Where?” Braddock could use this information. He wanted Lorelei on a better mount.
Lorelei spoke up. “There’s a stable behind the saloon. You get the horses, and I’ll get Archie.”
Braddock opened his mouth to argue, but decided not to waste his breath. “Corey, gather up our horses and meet me in the stable.”
He strode toward the door, then stopped, turned back to Corey. “Don’t try to run. Mulcahy’s men are near, and you can’t cover your tracks worth a damn.”
“He won’t run,” said Lorelei. “Just hurry.”
Corey’s sick pallor convinced him, rather than Lorelei’s pledge. One thing the kid had said was true. He didn’t like bloodshed.
Braddock sprinted to the stables, wondering how such a solitary man had gotten stuck with such a needy group of misfits.
CHAPTER TEN
The sun dipped behind the rock strewn horizon. Soon darkness would overwhelm them, but Lorelei had no desire for rest. She couldn’t put enough distance between her and Coyote Pass. Gentle splashing as they waded against a shallow stream covered the desperate huffs of the horses, but did little to sooth her jangled nerves. Her heart still thudded to the beat of hooves as they rode for their lives.
She shifted, but like the borrowed gelding she rode, the saddle was several sizes too big. Every jar of the horse seared up her spine. At least her attempts to focus on the bouncing red landscape that rushed by saved her from recalling the vivid horror that had taken place at Coyote Pass. But there was one thing she refused to forget.
Corey hadn’t been telling her the truth. His story about innocently being sucked into the outlaws’ scheme fell away in shreds. Coyote Pass wasn’t a place you stumbled upon, and those awful men knew her brother.
Shoving Corey to distract the man with the rifle had been too easy. Fury had floated over Lorelei like a red, gauzy veil. She hoped Corey had believed she meant it when she told Larry to shoot him.
But she had known Larry couldn’t shoot Corey. She had seen his arm shake with his effort to hold the gun on her. Moving the heavy weapon in Corey’s direction would have taken the last of his strength. She could have retrieved her weapon and fired before Larry had a chance to aim accurately at Corey. But none of her efforts had been necessary.
Lorelei stiffened her back, ignoring the pain in every muscle of her body. None of the horror at Coyote Pass had needed to occur.
Corey would finally tell her the truth if it was the last thing he did.
They left the stream without Lorelei’s notice. The taste of dust alerted her to the change in terrain. Smoky blue twilight draped around her like a cool silk cloak. In the distance, the silhouette of trees guarded the top of the mesa. Luckily the horse she rode picked his way up the rock incline, guiding her to their destin
ation without assistance.
Braddock glanced over his shoulder, silently checking her progress. She stared through him, unable to muster up enough energy for a reassuring smile or a nod of her head. His frown deepened before he sat forward in his saddle again. She was tired of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. Things hadn’t been fine for a long time.
Under the shelter of trees, her mount dutifully halted beside Braddock’s horse. She tried to swing her leg up and over her saddle horn, but her leg wouldn’t cooperate. She checked to see if her foot was stuck.
Christopher gripped her waist and pulled her effortlessly into his arms. “This gelding’s a little big for you.”
She sank against him, not trusting her own feet to hold her. “I need to switch with Archie. We’ll just have to tell his mare I bite back.”
A muffled thud drew their attention. Corey had tried to help Archie dismount, but the pair had landed in a tangled pile instead.
“Can somebody help me?” Corey grunted.
Braddock steadied Lorelei, then rolled Archie off her brother. Unable to face Corey just yet, Lorelei forced her feet to move and hunted for a place to set up camp.
What had she accomplished by trying to protect her brother from Braddock? He had every right to handcuff Corey. What would have become of them if they had met those men from Coyote Pass without Christopher?
For the first time, she truly wished she had stayed back in Kentucky. This was no life for her.
That was what she would do. She would leave here and let Braddock do what he wanted with Corey. She’d ask to borrow the money for the fare. Then maybe she could erase the images of red rock, dust, and blood from her mind forever.
When she heard her name called from far away, she realized she had wandered deep into the shelter of trees. Not wanting to be found, she ducked under the bent shadow of a twisted juniper. Each time Corey shouted her name, he sounded more desperate. She slid down the tree, too tired to stand.
Then Christopher’s voice rang through the night like a sudden thunderclap. Lorelei waited, listening to the sound of their footsteps veering away from her. She feared he wouldn’t call her name again.
