“Ed, I don’t want to kill anybody,” Clancy put in.
Ed faced him, clearly irritated. “Then you won’t get a share of the money, either.” He picked up the briefcase and again walked back to James, where the other two men stood. “You boys agree? Clancy can leave, but he gets no money. Are you two with me?”
“Hell yes,” one replied. The other nodded.
Grant could see both men had been hired from the dregs of Central’s lawless and jobless, men who would do anything for a few dollars.
Ed moved his cocky gaze to Clancy again. “How about it, Clancy? You with us or not? Don’t forget what Grant here did to me—what he’d do to you if the situation arose. You said yourself he’s a rich bastard who needs his nose straightened.”
“You shut up about my father!” James shouted. “I’m tired of hearing your lies. Even if it’s true, you don’t kill a man and his son in cold blood for something like that!”
Grant’s heart was torn at the sight of the boy, his clothes torn, his eyes bloodshot. Apparently Ed had waited for him in Denver, pretended they were still friends, offered to take him up to Central himself. How devastated James must have been when he realized the truth. Grant’s only hope was that they would stall long enough to give Cole time to get here, or maybe Clancy would do something about this.
Ed glanced back at his other two men, then met Clancy’s eyes again. “Of course, my friend, you know the real truth here is that I can’t just let you go if you want out of this. I can’t leave anyone behind who might tell someone what happened here today.”
Their eyes held knowingly, and Clancy swallowed. “I’ve come this far with you, Ed. I guess I might as well go all the way,” he said, dashing Grant’s hopes that the man might try to help.
Ed smiled victoriously, then turned defiantly to Grant. “I’ll give you two minutes to say what you want to your son before he dies,” he said. He folded his arms and waited, and Grant stepped closer, barely able to speak for his grief.
“I’m sorry, James. I was so proud and excited about your coming to Central. I had an office all set up for you.” He stopped and choked back a sob, wiping at his eyes with his jacket. “I’m so damn sorry about all of this. I never thought one misunderstanding could lead to this.”
“Misunderstanding?” Ed walked past him and stood beside the crate. “It was more than a misunderstanding, Grant Breckenridge. It was deliberate theft, and because of it, my son is dead. I see the horror in your eyes, Grant, the devastation, the heartache, and it warms my heart!” Before Grant could say another word, he kicked the crate out from under James.
“No!” Grant screamed. He started toward James, but Clancy grabbed him from behind. Then from out of nowhere, Grant heard a gunshot and James’s body fell to the ground, the noose still around his neck but only a short piece of rope hanging from it.
“What the hell—” Clancy said, letting go of Grant.
Another shot … then another. The two men who had been standing near James went down. “Cole!” Grant whispered. He threw himself over James. Two more shots cracked through the crisp, cold air. Then all was quiet.
Grant raised himself up and looked around. All four men were down, Ed Foley writhing in pain. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. He looked down at James, who was gasping for breath, and he quickly ripped the rough rope from around the boy’s neck, tossing it aside. The rope had left an ugly red burn mark, but his son was alive. Grant pulled him into his arms and stayed on the ground with him a moment, holding him close. He looked up at the dangling rope, the end of it in shreds. He realized then that Cole Parker had shot through the rope as soon as Ed kicked the crate out. How many men in the whole country could shoot at a tiny target like that? Only Cole Parker could do such a thing, and he would be indebted to the man the rest of his life.
Father and son finally managed to get to their feet, arm in arm.
“Dad, I couldn’t believe it when Ed told me what he was going to do.” James wiped at his eyes. “If this is what it’s like out here all the time … maybe I’d better go back to Chicago.”
Grant gave him a hug. “It’s not always like this, James, but things like this are why we need educated young men like you out here, helping bring law and order to cities like Central.” He turned and hugged the boy again, hardly able to believe he was alive and all right. “My God, I thought I’d lost you!” He held his son tight for a few minutes before gathering his senses.
“Dad, what happened here?” James let go and looked around. “They’re all dead. I think even Ed Foley is dead. Who did this?” Grant turned to look for Cole, wondering why he hadn’t come out from wherever he’d lain in wait.
“His name is Cole Parker, and he’s the best shot anyone has ever seen. I hired him to follow me up here. I knew he was the only one who could help, but I sure never thought he’d have to shoot through a skinny rope to save your life.” He scanned the surrounding rocks. “Cole! Where the hell are you! Come on out and meet my son!”
There was no reply, and Grant began to feel uneasy. “I don’t understand.” He walked away from James. “Stay there and rest. I’ll get you back to town as soon as I find Cole, and we’ll explain all of this to Sheriff Watson.” He turned and smiled at the boy, never loving him more. “You’ll get a hell of a welcome, James. You just wait.”
Grant walked up toward the distant rocks, calling for Cole. Finally he noticed a leg sticking out from behind a boulder. He ran up to the spot to find Cole sprawled face down over a large, flat rock, unconscious, his rifle still in his hand. A stream of blood ran out from under him, over the rock, dripping onto the ground. “My God,” Grant muttered. “James!” he yelled louder. “Get up here and help me! He’s hurt!” He looked back down at Cole, rolled him over and yanked off his jacket. He tore open his shirt to see what looked like an ugly knife wound in his left side. “Jesus,” he muttered. He quickly wrapped his shirt around Cole’s middle, using the sleeves to tie it tightly to help stop the bleeding, but he worried the man had already lost too much blood.
He realized this must have happened when Cole tried to stop the man who’d been following him. He put his own jacket back on, and by then James reached him. “That’s him?”
“Yes, and we’ve got to get him to town before he dies. We owe him a lot, James. It looks like he was wounded farther back on the trail. He told me someone was following me and he was going to take care of it. I can’t believe he managed to shoot you down from that noose. He saved our lives. Now we’ve got to try to save his. Get his horse.”
James, still badly shaken and hurting himself, staggered over to Cole’s horse and brought it to Grant. Grant took down the canteen and told James to take a quick drink. The young man gulped some water and handed the canteen back to Grant who poured some water over Cole’s face.
“Come on, Cole. Wake up. We’ll help you mount up. You’re too big and heavy for us to get you on that horse ourselves.” He leaned down, slapping Cole’s face as he began to wake up.
“Addy,” he mumbled.
Grant felt a stab of jealousy, but it didn’t matter now. The man deserved to be with the woman he loved. “You get yourself on that horse and you’ll be with her soon enough,” he said.
Cole opened his eyes, stared blankly at Grant for a moment, then looked past him at James. “Your … son?”
“My son. You saved his life, Cole, and for that you’re a free man.” He stood up and took hold of Cole’s hand. “Come on.”
It took every effort for Cole to get to his feet. He put his arm around Grant’s shoulders for support, then grabbed hold of the pommel of Shadow’s saddle. “I … can’t …” he muttered.
“The hell you can’t!” Grant took hold of his arm. “Do you want to leave Addy Kane to me?”
Cole turned his head to meet Grant’s eyes. “You sonofabitch!”
Grant grinned. “I am, aren’t I? So you’d better get on that horse and get to town and live, Cole Parker.
You don’t want Addy Kane left all alone in Central, do you? She’s waiting for you, Cole. Don’t disappoint her.”
Cole breathed deeply, still hating Grant Breckenridge but knowing a new respect for him. “Your boy’s … okay?”
Grant nodded. “He’s okay.”
Cole turned and managed to get one foot in a stirrup. Grant and James helped push him up onto the mount, and Grant took the reins and led the horse down to where his own mount stood. “Go get one of those other horses for yourself,” Grant told James. “We’ll bring men back later to see about picking up these other bodies and getting your things.”
James nodded. “Dad, who’s Addy Kane?”
Grant smiled sadly. “One hell of a woman,” he answered.
Cole clung to his horse’s mane, telling himself to hang on. Addy. Yeah, Grant was right. She was one hell of a woman, and she was waiting for him. What a bitch it would be for him to go and die on her now.
Twenty-Nine
The headlines of the Register were huge. JAMES BRECKENRIDGE KIDNAPPED! HANGED! In smaller letters underneath, SAVED BY COLE PARKER!
Cole was the talk of Central, and a hero. Addy did not doubt he would have a huge funeral if he died … a man who was supposed to already be dead. She could only pray that would not become a reality.
She sat watching him now, still not quite over the shock of how he’d looked when she first came to see him. Grant was keeping him in a bedroom at his home, had hired a woman to watch and wait on him whenever Addy could not be there to do it.
She was grateful to Grant for bringing Cole here, where she could visit him without anyone wondering why. People thought she was coming here to visit with Grant, that she was merely concerned about Cole because of the wonderful thing he’d done for Grant and his son.
All anyone in town could talk about was the fact that Cole had saved James’s life by shooting at a thin, swinging rope from a seemingly impossible distance. Not only had he made an amazing shot, as well as killed all those who had tried to murder James and Grant, but he had done it after being severely wounded himself. Addy had heard the story herself a hundred times, and poor James had been asked to tell it more often than that. He, too, was a celebrity, and the young man had built Cole into such a hero that Cole couldn’t be more accepted in this town than he was now.
But would he ever know about the praises that were being sung about him? Doctor Jonesboro had done all he could, cleaned the wound as best as possible, stitched it. That had been a week ago. Then the dreaded infection had set in. Addy had never seen a man in such agony. Through it all Cole had slipped in and out of consciousness, always asking for her when awake, so often that Grant had had to explain to the doctor that he and Addy had become “friends” on their trip west. He had made the doctor promise to keep the news to himself.
“Cole Parker doesn’t deserve any bad gossip,” Grant had told the man. “He and Addy became very close and I accept that. Cole saved her life more than once on the trail here.”
It didn’t matter to Addy whether or not Dr. Jonesboro understood. All that mattered was whether he was good enough to save Cole’s life. She still shivered at the memory of helping the man cauterize the wound to burn out the infection. She still remembered Cole’s pitiful cries of pain as he bit down hard on a piece of rawhide. Dr. Jonesboro claimed that he was doubly in danger because not only had the infection weakened him, but he simply had lost too much blood. If he could live until his body managed to replenish what he had lost, he would probably be all right. “A man his size, it takes time,” he’d told her.
Yes. A big man, with a big heart. That was the real Cole Parker, not the man she’d met robbing a bank in Unionville.
Grant had kept his word, was actually being very gracious to both of them, insisting on the best care for Cole, allowing her plenty of time alone with him. She had seen a side to the man she wasn’t sure existed, and she didn’t doubt that the incident over his son had taught him a good lesson about what his ruthlessness and greed could cost him. But she was not surprised that he had managed to charm his way out of any responsibility for Ed Foley’s behavior. Grant was simply the poor victim of a crazy man’s whim. Addy didn’t doubt he’d deserved to suffer that way, to know the kind of pain he’d caused Foley; but for any man to ruthlessly hang an innocent young man like James was too horrible to comprehend.
She reached over and dipped a rag in cool water and wrung it out, then placed it on Cole’s forehead. The room was cool, but he looked hot, perspiration on his face. He groaned when he felt her touch, opened his eyes.
“Addy,” he said in a near whisper. “You didn’t go away.”
She smiled through tears. “Since two days ago?”
He frowned. “That’s the last time … I was awake?”
“I’m afraid so.” She gently washed his face. “How do you feel now?”
“I don’t know. Just weak. But the pain isn’t so bad now.”
“That’s good. Doc Jonesboro said when the pain goes away it usually means the infection is gone. Now you have to lie still and let your blood build up more before you try to do anything. I’m just glad to see you awake and talking sensibly. You’ve been delirious most of the time.” He had yelled for Patty in those moments, flailing his arms, reaching up into the air for his little girl.
Grant had seen his burned arm once, had seemed genuinely touched. “I didn’t know it had been that awful,” he had commented about how Cole lost his daughter. The man had a new respect for Cole, and that was good.
Cole moved slightly. “You’ve probably put up with too much,” he said in a weak voice. “You should go home and get some rest.”
“I can’t rest until I know for certain you’ll be all right.” She set the rag aside and leaned over him, kissing his cheek. “Do you want some water?”
“Yeah.” Cole watched her turn and pour water from a fancy pitcher into a glass. The pitcher reminded him of where he was. He had a vague memory of someone telling him he was at Grant Breckenridge’s home. He looked around the room, fancy wallpaper, velvet curtains … he looked at Addy. She was a natural in a place like this, but she didn’t want Grant Breckenridge or his fancy house. She wanted Cole Parker. She leaned over him again, holding out the water and slipping a hand under his head, helped him raise up slightly so he could drink.
He swallowed some water, realizing his constant thirst was from loss of blood. He was not going to let this wound get the better of him, spoil all that he’d aimed for these last few weeks. “Did Grant … keep his promise?” he asked, unable to clearly remember all that had happened or been said since the incident over Grant’s son. He had only little flashes of memories … holding his rifle steady in spite of pain and weakness, pulling the trigger, Grant’s son falling from the tree where he’d been hanged … Grant making him get on a horse, telling him something about living for Addy … voices … someone crying … terrible pain …
“Yes,” Addy answered, setting the glass aside. She took his hand. “He’s been wonderful. He’s a very grateful man, and so, of course, is James. He still can’t get over what you managed to do in spite of being wounded. Neither can the whole town. You’re a hero, Cole, an absolute hero. You’ve been in the Register, and people have come here asking about you. We can start seeing each other now, just like we planned. We can be together, Cole.” She squeezed his hand. “But you have to live. Don’t die on me now. We’ve been through too much together to get to this point. It’s been a long journey for us both, but now it’s over.”
It all seemed too good to be true. Grant happened to come in then to check on Cole. Cole kept hold of Addy’s hand as the man came closer, and when he was able to focus clearly on Grant’s face, he was surprised at the look there, one of genuine concern. The man smiled.
“Well, you’re awake! And this time you look as though you have your wits about you. You’ve been pretty incoherent, Cole.”
“I’ll get … out from under your
feet soon as I can. Thanks for … putting me up here.”
Grant sobered. “A small enough attempt at thanking you. I’d never be able to do a good enough job of that the rest of my life. I want you to know I’m giving you twenty-five percent of my shares in the Jamesway, and any help I can be business-wise, just let me know.”
Cole shifted in bed, winced with pain. “I don’t want anything except Addy. I just want you to keep your promise … to leave her to me … and to never let on who I really am.”
Grant frowned. “I told you that would be part of the bargain. I have to say, Cole, that at the time I was only saying it to save my son, but now I say it out of a genuine respect for you and Addy. It took guts to come there and do the job after being wounded like you were.”
“They’re all dead?”
Grant nodded.
“And I’m not … in trouble with the law?”
“Hell no! All the proof the sheriff needed that you did right was to listen to James tell him what Ed Foley did to him. He’s got the burn marks on his neck to prove Foley tried to hang him, and he saved the piece of rope to show people where it had been torn in half by your bullet. The damn piece of rope is actually on display in town, and so were the bodies of Foley and his men before they were actually buried. It was like a circus out there, people standing around gawking at the bodies, stories floating around about you.”
To Cole’s surprise the man’s eyes suddenly teared. “When you saved my son, Cole, it was like saving my own life. There is no price a man can put on a thing like that, but I intend to give you a damn good reward, and any help you need getting settled once you’re out of bed, I’ll give it. I’ll never be able to thank you enough, and when you’ve had a chance to get to know James better, you’ll know you did the right thing. He’s one thing I’ve done right in this life, a son to be proud of. He’s not the bastard his father is.”
Cole could not help a wry grin. “He’ll learn.”
Grant broke into a smile. “You saying you agree I’m a bastard?”
Until Tomorrow Page 40
