by Merry Farmer
“Their horses will panic.” Lawson’s face lit up. “Let’s do it.”
Luke glanced to Travis. Eden was his and the idea was his, but for all intents and purposes, the cattle were Travis’s. A real leader knew when to rely on the strengths of others.
“We’ll need an insane amount of luck for this to work,” Travis said, but already Luke could see the flash of decision in his eyes.
“We’ll make our own luck.” Luke nodded.
The plan was set. Travis nodded and sent Lawson off to the left to let Mason and Cody know. Luke adjusted his hat to sit tight on his head, then turned and circled around to ride back to Eden’s side. Behind them, the Briscoe Boys were closer still, so close Luke was beginning to be able to tell them apart. He gestured for Oscar to ride up and join them.
“We haven’t got much time,” he said, fast and serious. “We’re going to start a stampede. Turn them to the right, confuse the Briscoes. Eden, stay behind the herd or inside of the circle once they start to run themselves out.”
“But I can fight,” she said. “I’ve got my guns.”
And Luke didn’t believe for a moment that she would use them against her own brothers, no matter how evil they were. “Can you shoot from the saddle? Over a distance?”
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“Then do what you do best. Pick them off from a distance, and let us go in close.”
Panic stretched the lines of her face. “Luke, if you end up in danger, if you get hurt—”
“Then I know you’ve got my back,” he finished. “You’ve always got my back.”
Her lips worked, pursing and opening like she had more to say, but she kept it to herself. At last, she nodded.
“What if we—”
Oscar’s question was snapped off as one of the Briscoes fired another shot at the herd. It ricocheted off the ground and bit into one of the cattle’s backsides. The injured animal let out a horrific cry and bolted forward. All of the cows around it panicked and burst into action as well. Oscar cursed under his breath, but Luke grinned with fatal humor.
“Nice of them to get things started for us,” he growled, ready to fight. “Let’s go!”
If the constant walking of the cattle that Eden has listened to for the last few days was like rumbling around her, the moment the herd broke into a run, stampeding, it was like thunder every way she turned. It was only right. Every time she’d looked over her shoulder for the last hour—making out first Braden and Bert’s faces, then Brent himself, then several of her cousins—she had felt the approaching storm. That didn’t prepare her for the terror of over two hundred cattle rampaging.
“Get around them!” Luke shouted. He waved and pointed to both her and Oscar.
She hesitated for only a second before kicking her horse to a run through the swirling cloud of dust in back of the charging herd. One minute the bulk of the herd had been right beside her, the next it was almost completely in front of her. She didn’t have time to yank up the scarf around her neck to cover her face and ended up tasting dirt, breathing it in.
There wasn’t time to be distracted by coughing either. Shots fired from the back of the cloud, and by the time she made it through and twisted to get her bearings, the Briscoe Boys had launched into a full gallop, guns blazing. She recognized Bert’s whooping cry, Brent’s wordless shouts. Her blood ran cold, but the ice turned to steel in her veins.
Gripping her Winchester for all she was worth, she tugged on her reins to turn her horse toward the front of the stampede. Luke had told her to get in front of it, to use the herd as a shield once they were able to get the cattle to turn and circle around. Frustrating though it was, her life had been saved by doing exactly what Brent said more times than she wanted to count. It was better to listen to Luke than to go rogue.
She questioned that thought almost as soon as she had it. As more gunshots fired—some from ahead of her now—confusion rose up to choke her more than dust. Everything was a blur of movement. The thick, black and brown bodies of the cows blended with clouds of dust. She couldn’t make out who was riding or even what direction they were riding in as her friends zipped past her, hollering. All she could do was point her horse forward, keeping the speeding chuck wagon in sight as a guide, and hope it knew where to take her.
“Eden, this way!”
Luke’s shout snapped her out of growing panic. She risked sticking her head up to find him. He rode far to the side, shouting and waving his arms at the cattle. When had they ridden so far in front of the herd?
It didn’t matter. Through the confusion, she could see Travis and Lawson up ahead, shouting and gesturing like wild men. It made no sense. Then again, the lead cattle were beginning to veer to the right.
Purpose caught hold in Eden’s brain once more, and she urged her horse to gallop on to the back of the growing curve. She sailed past Luke, and then Mason, who pulled their mounts up and charged for the back of the stampede. There was so much noise that Eden couldn’t make out what was the thunder of cattle and what was gunshot and shouting. All she knew was that she had to get in back of the herd.
By the time she galloped past Travis, the majority of the cattle at the back had arced into a huge curve. She could just make out Lawson—on the far side of that curve now—urging the beasts to run in a circle. They followed his direction—miraculously—turning and turning in on themselves until the force of so much forward motion swerved in on itself in a spiral. Eden gasped as the cattle in the center of the circle ground to a stop, standing and lowing as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
She only had a heartbeat to marvel at the speed with which the stampeding cattle calmed themselves. Shots rang out from the vast, torn up plain they had just galloped across. She tugged her mount to a stop and lifted in her saddle, pushing her hat off so that she could see more clearly. About a quarter of the herd had dashed off in a dozen different directions and now dotted the landscape as they continued to run. The men on horseback, however, were converging in a spot fifty yards behind the bulk of the herd.
Shots rang out. Smoke rose up from rifles on both sides. Eden wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, panting and coughing as she scanned the unfolding scene. Brent rode in the center, behind the others. Braden charged ahead, firing as his horse galloped. Fool. His aim was terrible when he tried that trick. She swallowed at the thought. All the better. Bert hung back by Brent’s side. Her cousins fanned out, slowing their horses to a stop and firing.
Eden was almost ready to sit steady in her saddle to wait things out when a cry split the air and Mason fell from his saddle.
“No!” Cody shouted. He jerked his horse around and charged toward his brother. Eden didn’t hear the gunshot, but she saw him jerk as he too was hit. Billy and Luke saw and shouted with enough ferocity that Eden felt it across the distance.
Without hesitation, Eden raised her Winchester and took aim. “Arms, legs, miss the horse.” Her old mantra echoed in her head as she let out a breath, squinted down the barrel of her rifle, and fired at one of her cousins, Blane. The crack and jolt of the shot, the smoke and the spent cartridge flying was so familiar it calmed her. Blane jerked to the side, dropping his rifle as he clapped a hand on his arm, twisting and falling off his horse.
“One,” she said, voice little more than a croak, and stood in her stirrups.
She swung her rifle around, aiming at another cousin, her Uncle Bo’s oldest, Butch. Her muscles tensed, she held her breath. “Arms, legs, miss the horse.” Again her rifle banged as the shot released. Butch lurched to the side, clawing at his thigh and spilling from his horse.
Like lightning, Eden picked out another cousin, Ted, the black sheep. Her courage faltered and she let out a whimper. Ted used to say he wanted to be a schoolteacher, that the only person who had ever treated him nice was the wizened old booby who they’d made fun of every day back in their one-room schoolhouse in Missouri. Ted had been sweet on a girl who had tried over and over to be Eden’s friend. She’d
been too scared to accept that friendship, and eventually the girl moved out West with her family. The flood of memories hit her in the blink of an eye. Ted hadn’t wanted this any more than she had. She couldn’t shoot him, she couldn’t shoot him, she couldn’t—
A crack sounded, and Ted tumbled off his horse. Eden screamed. Frantically, she searched for which of her new friends had shot him. But no, Billy was too far away, Mason and Cody were on the ground. Oscar was close to Ted, but he was turned in the wrong direction. In the wrong direction?
She clenched her jaw, whipping to pick Brent out of the mass of confusion. Her brother had just pulled his revolver up, as if he’d fired a shot. He was looking straight at Ted. Ted must have hesitated, not killed Oscar when he could. A surge of pride in her cousin filled Eden.
It died a heartbeat later as Brent shifted to face Luke and fired without a second thought. Luke jerked to the side.
“No!”
Orders be damned. Eden kicked her horse into a flat run, darting straight toward the heart of the conflict, straight toward Brent. Even the stray, confused cattle that wandered into her path couldn’t stop her from charging. If Luke was hurt—or worse—she wouldn’t be responsible for what she did.
“Brent,” she cried out as she drew close to the heart of the conflict.
Butch and Blane rolled in the dirt, clutching the limbs that Eden had shot. Ted lay face up not far to the side, grimacing in pain. Eden thanked God that he wasn’t dead. Mason lay motionless several yards beyond, Cody crouched over him, blocking Eden’s view. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or not. Braden and Bert continued to shoot at Oscar, Billy, and now Travis, who had galloped up to the scene on her heels. Was he protecting her?
She didn’t have time to wonder. Luke had righted himself in his saddle, though dark red stained his left sleeve. Brent raised his revolver to fire at him again. The shot missed, but Eden screamed anyhow.
“Eden, get back!” Luke ordered.
He took his eyes off of Brent. With a sneer, Brent took aim a third time.
Eden pulled her horse to a stop and raised her rifle. “Arms, legs, miss the horse,” she whispered, took aim, and fired.
Brent dodged to the side, deliberately or by luck it was hard to tell. It didn’t matter; his attention veered away from Luke and landed straight on her.
“Bitsy Briscoe,” he shouted.
Oscar and Billy stopped fighting and whipped toward her. Braden and Bert lowered their weapons. The whole, chaotic scene went still.
“Bitsy Briscoe,” Brent repeated. “Who do you think you are?”
Eden gasped for breath, her Winchester still raised and pointed at her brother. She could fire, but she had a bad feeling she’d shot the last bullet in her rifle’s magazine. Her arms shook too hard for her to get a good shot off anyhow.
Luke wheeled his horse around and drew a revolver from his belt. He aimed and cocked it at Brent, fury scarring his dirty face. A half second later, Braden and Bert’s guns clicked to ready. More snaps and clicks followed as everyone raised and pointed their weapons.
“No,” Eden shouted. “This is between me and my brother.”
Confused glances snapped to her from both sides. She did her best to ignore them. Her attention was focused completely on Brent, on his wicked sneer, his grubby face—a face that could have been handsome, if it wasn’t filled with so much hate. Even when he looked at her, his kin.
“Itsy Bitsy,” he laughed, the sound a sick grumble. He shook his head. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know, sweet little sister, that no one walks away from me?”
“I told you then and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any part of this gang or this family anymore.” She cursed her voice for shaking as she made her declaration.
Brent continued to chuckle as he settled into a seemingly relaxed posture on his horse. “You can’t escape blood,” he said, opening his arms. “You can run all you like and change your name as many times as suits you. Heck, you can marry as many dummies as you want and even pop out a few kids of your own. But you’ll always be mine, my blood, my kin.” He cocked his head to the side. “Come to think of it, any kids you have will be my blood too.”
“No.” She shook her head, Winchester still aimed in spite of her fear. “My babies will be Luke’s babies. I’m his now. I never was yours.”
Brent shook his head. He gestured to Luke, who tensed like a tiger, hand flexing on the handle of his gun. “See that blood on his sleeve?” Brent said. “It’ll be all over the rest of him, and all I have to do is lift a hand. One of the boys will shoot your sweet husband dead before he can so much as blink. And you know why?”
Eden ignored his question. “You do and I’ll shoot.”
“Because they’re mine too,” he answered as if her threat meant nothing. “Bert?”
To Brent’s side, Bert shifted his already cocked revolver to point at Luke’s head.
“You wouldn’t,” Eden sobbed.
Bert squirmed in his saddle, eyes darting between Eden and Brent, face pinched in panic.
“Only a coward threatens women,” Luke snarled, keeping his gun aimed squarely at Brent. Fury rippled off of him, but so did strength. He leaned toward Eden, unable to run to her or draw her to him. “Only a demon threatens his sister.”
“Yeah?” Brent shrugged. “Only a fool crosses a Briscoe.”
“Then call me a fool,” Luke said, “Because I will die ten times over and take you down with me if you so much as sniff in her direction.”
Brent’s chuckle sent shivers down Eden’s back. “You think you stand a chance against me?”
“Yep,” Luke answered. “I think I stand more of a chance. Because I love this woman.”
Eden gasped, her rifle lowering as her arms went weak.
“I love her like I’ve never loved anyone before,” Luke went on. “She was brave enough to come out here and marry me without knowing a thing about me. She married a restless boy, and made me into a man. And men protect the women they love. They shelter them from harm, give them reason to wake up and try for the best every day. They keep them safe, even if it means losing their own life. So don’t you go telling me that Eden is yours, because you wouldn’t know the meaning of real love if it was written across the sky in flames.”
Brent’s smug grin melted into a deadly sneer. His hand flexed around his gun, and even though he kept it lowered, Eden knew he was ready to fire at any second. Her lips trembled as she scrambled to figure out how to tell Luke, but Luke spoke on.
“Eden tells me you shot her brother, Branch, in cold blood because he wanted out, wanted to lead a godly life, like she did.”
From the ground where they were watching, Eden’s cousins flinched. Braden’s expression hardened to bitterness, but Bert’s contorted to misery. All in the blink of an eye.
“You can threaten us all you like, but Eden has a new life, a new purpose,” Luke went on. “End of story. I’ll give you ten seconds to put away your guns and walk away for good, or else I’ll do what I have to to make sure my wife is free of her past forever, and may God have mercy on both of our souls.” He paused, then said in a loud voice, “One. Two. Thr—”
It happened in the blink of an eye. Just as Eden had feared, Brent raised his gun and fired. A flurry of other gunshots sounded at the same time. Eden flinched, dropping her rifle as gun smoke swirled into the air around her.
A heartbeat later, Brent curled over his horse, dropping to the ground. Braden flinched to the side, dropping as well.
Eden screamed and jerked toward Luke, but to her surprise, he still sat tall and strong atop his horse, no smoke curling up from his gun. It took her frantic mind a moment to grasp who had fired—Bert, Butch, and Ted. Braden writhed in pain in the dirt. Brent was still, a pool of blood forming under him.
Eden gaped, her stomach turning. At the same time, an odd lightness filled her chest. Free. The word repeated itself over and over in her head. Free, free, free. She turned her head up to
the sky, thanking God for the blessing.
When her glance lowered to meet Bert’s eyes, she saw the feeling of freedom reflected there. Bert’s tormented grimace was gone, replaced by pale, wide-eyed shock. That shock softened to regret so deep it lined Bert’s eyes with red. Eden felt tears sting at her own eyes.
“Go on and live your life…Eden,” Bert all but whispered. “Go be happy. And…and God be with you.”
Beyond words, all Eden could do was nod as tears drew lines through the dirt on her cheeks. She couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat. But for once, it wasn’t fear and sorrow choking her, it was joy—the joy of putting the darkness of her past behind her forever.
Bert turned to their cousins, still on the ground. “Can you ride?”
The three of them grunted and groaned, but pushed themselves to their feet. Now that he was up, Eden could see that Ted had been hit in his shoulder. All three of her cousins managed to limp and drag themselves to their horses. Butch hauled a still-groaning Braden up over the back of one of their horses, and Ted and Blane managed to load Brent’s body over his mount.
“Wait, they shot Mason and Cody,” Billy argued. “They should face the law.”
He lunged forward, gun still drawn.
“No.” Travis stopped him. Billy was so used to following orders from Travis that he froze in his path and turned to Travis in confusion. Travis shook his head. “If Eden says they go, then they go.”
“But…but they’re outlaws,” Billy protested.
Her cousins had all made it to their horses. Bert gave Eden one last nod before they nudged their horses into as fast a retreat as they could manage in their beat up state. As relieved as she was to wash her hands of the Briscoe Boys forever, her heart ached for the family she’d lost. The trouble was, she’d lost them a long time ago.
“Let them go,” she said with a sniffle. “They’ve suffered enough already, and chances are they have a lot more suffering ahead of them.” It was bad enough that she had to live with the part she’d played in Brent’s schemes, but the rest of the boys had killed men, hurt people. It was far harder for a man with goodness buried at his core to live with himself knowing that, living free, than to face it locked up in a cell somewhere. She prayed that God would help them to find ways out of that darkness.
