by Bella Bowen
Homes lined both sides of the street. People gathered on their porches waited for her to meet their gazes. But she couldn't do it. She hoped they didn’t see her see her clearly as she passed. At the far end of town, she would find the livery stable and duck in there, where no humans wanted to pry into her thoughts.
She heard footsteps behind her. Probably just a bunch of folks headed the same way. She walked a little faster. After two cross-streets, they still never seemed to fall any farther behind.
She turned a corner. The footsteps followed, along with low laughter.
Chills shot up her spine. The holster attached to her thigh began to slip. She would have to stop if she wanted to get a hold of the gun. And if the top hook gave way, it would all fall to the ground.
She stopped suddenly and turned, prepared to bluff her way out of a confrontation if need be. It wasn't the first time young men had followed her. It wouldn't be the last. And bluffing was her only option, since she knew, deep down, she couldn't shoot any man any easier than she could have shot an animal she'd trapped. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t wave her gun around and make them nervous.
There were three of them. The middle one was a bit younger than the other two. And he looked familiar…
He pushed his hat back along with some shadows.
“Robbie's brother,” she said. “What are you doing all the way out here, Mr. Shaw?” She reached through the split in her skirt. The gun had slipped too far to reach without bending for it, and already she could tell Shaw was waiting for a reason to pounce on her.
He sneered. “Couldn't stay in Stark County, now could I? Not after you lied to the sheriff.” He took a few steps closer. His friends stayed a step behind.
“Stay where you are, Mr. Shaw.”
He laughed. “Why is that? You think a little scream is going to save you here?”
She smiled. “As a matter of fact I do.” She bent lower. The gun had swung around between her knees. She fumbled for it.
Shaw lunged at her and knocked her into the dirt, landing on her with a grunt before rolling to the side. The air left her lungs in a whoosh. She gasped for breath in stunned silence.
They were in an alley. No one around to help.
The swine felt for her mouth and forced his fingers inside. He pulled down hard, crushing her lip against her bottom teeth. Stuffing a rag against her tongue, he filled her mouth before she had the chance to bite him. He yanked her to her feet, and one of his friends put a cloak around her shoulders, then a hood over her hair while she struggled to get her hands apart. But they were already tied together in front of her.
Shaw and another man took hold of her upper arms and forced her to walk forward down the alley. When she dragged her feet, they lifted her, never missing a step.
She tried to dig in and use a deep groove in the path to catch her feet on. They jerked her past it. The last hook on the holster failed and the comforting weight slid away. The gun knocked against her ankle and was gone.
Horses appeared in front of them. A fourth man sat on one of them.
“Thrown over the saddle, Miss Tanner, or sitting up in it,” Shaw growled. “Which do you prefer?”
She wondered if anyone would come to her rescue if they saw her slung over a horse. But it was dark. There was a good chance no one would be able to tell what they were seeing.
She nodded at the saddle. They helped her climb into it, then Shaw scrambled up behind her and took the reins.
“Looky here, boys,” he said close to her ear. “I got myself a Diamond Springs Bride and she didn't cost me a penny.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jake tried to be gentle.
At least three of the women asked him to dance at precisely the same time. The opening strains of a waltz only made them all more anxious to be chosen. And about fifteen gentlemen were deciding just how gentlemanly they were required to be while tarring and feathering him.
“Ladies,” he finally shouted. “I'll sit this one out, if you don't mind. I think I'd like a drink of punch first...”
The flock of women turned like birds and ran for the table where Miss Turner had been only a minute before.
Where did she go?
He ignored the men coming toward him and looked at Fontaine. “Where is she?” His voice barely traveled over the music.
Fontaine started searching the room.
Jake looked for Mrs. Carnegie, expecting her to round on him for being interested in Elizabeth after all, but she was worried too.
“Don't just stand there,” she shouted. “Go find her!” She pointed to the door beyond the table.
He didn't need any more prompting, but a hand held him back. “Excuse me, sir,” said the short man at his elbow. “I believe you've just insulted my Martha—”
“I'm after Elizabeth, you fool.” He shook the man off and then had to wade through the flock of brides.
“Which one is Elizabeth?” someone asked behind him.
Jake shrugged off the hands clutching his arms and with one last exasperated push, which may have sent more than one woman to the floor, Jake reached the table. He pulled it around behind him as he went to block any pursuers, then he crashed out the door.
He paused to get his bearings. To the right led to the main road and a crowd. She might have gone to the left and around the building, but more likely, if she were upset at seeing him, or at whatever Mrs. Carnegie might have said, she would have run down the street that ran east away from the hall. So he hurried that way.
Two boys were poking sticks into the darkness beneath a porch.
“Did a woman go past here in the last few minutes?”
They pointed their sticks further east.
“Thank you.”
A block farther down, he asked again and got the same reaction. At least he was headed in the right direction, but if she made it to the stables, she might have gotten on horseback and returned to the ranch where he wouldn't be allowed to trespass.
Another block down and a small mob of men were gathering. Holsters and guns were strapped to legs that were already moving.
“What's happening?” he asked the first man he overtook.
“Three fellers were chasin' after one of Carnegie's gals,” he said.
Elizabeth!
He should never have taken the time to pacify Mrs. Carnegie. He should have marched into the hall and swept Elizabeth into his arms as soon as he’d realized she was there. If he had, she wouldn’t be in danger now.
It horrified him to think of how close he’d come to leaving town. After he’d arrived, thoughts of her had been so overwhelming, he’d abandoned all hope of finding happiness with any other bride from Diamond Springs Ranch. He’d been foolish to even consider it. But his departure was delayed by the little procession arriving for the dance. Thankfully, he’d stopped to watch.
The shock of seeing her again, perched on the front of a wagon seat next to Fontaine, had stolen his ability to reason. Once he’d calmed, his only thought was to placate the one person standing in his way—Mrs. Carnegie. And coaxing his way into the town hall seemed the only route around the woman’s defenses. Instead, he should have stormed the place and let Elizabeth know how completely she’d filled his thoughts, his heart, and his vision for the future. If he talked quickly, he might have said it all before being tossed out of the place.
But there would be no chance to tell her such things if they didn’t find her…
A bit farther down, a young man waved and headed back their way. The mob of twenty hurried to intercept him. The kid pointed at the first break between buildings. “They've stopped her down there. Wrapped her up in something dark. It’s hard to see her now.”
Jacob turned to the men behind him. “You men,” he said quietly, “box them in. Don't let them get out the west end.” He then told the rest, “You all hurry on ahead and block the south exit. I’ll take the alley and herd them toward you.”
Everyone nodded and ran off. Those heading t
o the south crossed the alley as quietly as possible. Jacob headed down the center of it. About three quarters of the way, he came across a gun in the dirt. It was loaded. He tucked it into his belt at his back and hurried on.
Four horses stood at the end of the alley. The band was already mounted.
“I got myself a Diamond Springs Bride,” one of them said, and she didn't cost me a penny.”
“Is that so?”
Jake’s voice spooked one of the horses and the rider looked frantically back and forth while his horse spun in a circle. He tried to locate Jake with a shotgun poised over his arm. Jake's gun jumped into his hand and he shot the devil. The body flung to the ground and the horse finally stopped spinning. Another man took off east, toward the mob guarding the south entrance. At least ten shots went off, almost in unison, and then all was silent.
“Hold your fire or the girl dies,” said the one behind a saddle. Jake assumed it was Elizabeth sitting in front of him. The cloak she wore was black, which made details hard to make out. He could never risk a shot with the bastard sitting against her.
“What girl?” Jake demanded.
“This one.” The fool pulled the hood back and it fell away revealing a very frightened Elizabeth.
“Ah. All right. I'm holding my fire,” he said cheerfully.
The fourth man kept moving his horse, keeping Elizabeth's body between Jake and himself.
“Get his gun,” said one behind her, and the other man slid off his saddle and came up underneath the neck of Elizabeth's horse.
“Toss them both on the ground,” he said.
Feeling the weight of the other gun at his back, Jake obeyed.
“Keep those hands up.”
Sudden movement on the other horse drew Jake's attention. Elizabeth kicked her leg over the horse's head and slid to the ground. Then she took off running. Her captor clamored to the ground and went after her with his pistol still in his hand.
“Uh, uh uh,” taunted the fourth man. He hadn't so much as glanced away from Jake when Elizabeth ran.
If Jake lowered a hand, he was dead. He wouldn’t be much help to her then. But there was still hope; she was she draped in black. She could hide until he got to her.
He and the gunman stared at each other, waiting. He could tell the moment the other man decided there was nothing to lose by killing him, and nothing to gain by letting him live.
Elizabeth screamed. He took advantage of the distraction and rushed forward. The man grinned and shot him, but he felt nothing before his shoulder slammed into the other man’s stomach. They hit the ground together. He raised up and pulled back his fist to strike, but the gunman’s eyes stared up at the night sky. Unseeing.
Jake’s hands searched his own gut, but there was no blood, no wound.
An older gentleman hobbled his way toward Jake, a cane in one hand, a rifle resting on his shoulder.
“Hate to shoot a man in the back,” he said. “But I think it's best I didn't wait until he turned around.”
Jake turned and fled back up the alley.
He could barely make out the edges of the buildings against the black, moonless night. He had to rely on his sense of hearing to tell him the alley was empty.
When he reached the high street he listened. There was a voice singing from the east. He followed, not knowing what else to do.
The coward was singing for Elizabeth to come out, taunting her, trying to frighten her into giving herself away.
She whimpered, poor girl.
The man laughed in triumph.
Not far now. Jake walked as quickly as he could without making noise.
“Why, Elizabeth,” the man teased. “Why couldn't you have just given me the kiss I asked for?”
“B-b-because I was saving my first kiss for my husband.”
Their conversation came from the right. There was a scuffle, followed by the very precise cocking of a pistol.
“No!” Jake screamed and ran for them.
The gun fired.
It was too late.
“Elizabeth!” he cried out.
The darkness was complete. Shadow on shadow. Until the bastard moved, Jake wouldn’t know which way to move.
“I'm here,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Someone lit a lantern in the stables farther down. Jake could see her backed up next to a rain barrel. A body lay at her feet.
Jake hurried toward her. She held up a hand to stop him, so he paused a few feet away. That hand was shaking, as was the gun hanging from her thumb.
The man on the ground choked, trying to speak.
Jake squatted to listen.
“Who are you?” the man whispered.
Jake didn’t hesitate. “I'm the husband.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Sheriff!” Charlie Willot, the frantically appointed temporary deputy, banged on the door again.
Jake tensed in his position against the wall of the sheriff’s office.
Zollinger closed his eyes for a second and then hollered, “I said, nobody comes in here!”
“But Sheriff, it's Mrs. Carnegie!”
Zollinger's red face darkened even more. “Escpecially not her!”
“Devlin!” The woman sounded close to tears, something Jake would have never expected. “Devlin, please!”
Zollinger rolled his eyes and lowered the revolver he’d kept trained on Jake for the past half hour, trying to force him to leave. He mumbled unintelligibly and went to the door.
“Not one word,” he warned.
Jake nodded and bit his lip, then holstered his own weapon. He intended to send her a comforting wink and glanced at Lizzy, locked inside the first cell, but she wasn't paying any attention. The woman needed to be held, that was for damn sure. And he hoped Mrs. Carnegie could talk some sense into Zollinger or Jake would have to hurt the man to get Lizzy out of there.
The Carnegie woman slipped through a narrow opening of the door, summarily ignored both of them and hurried to the cell.
“Elizabeth, sweetheart, don't worry. Don't you dare worry, do you hear me? We're going to get you out of there in a few minutes and get you home.” She turned and lowered a dangerous look at Zollinger. “Isn't that right, Devlin?”
The sheriff shook his head. “It's not that simple, Gen. She shot a man. The man was unarmed. She knew he was unarmed because she took his weapon. She's already admitted it. I have to hold her and send for a judge.”
“That's balderdash, and you know it,” she argued. “She was defending herself, in the dark, from a man who was trying to kidnap her and worse.”
Zollinger gestured with open hands, supplicating. “Gen, please. God help me, I should have never taken this job. But it's my duty and I'll do it. If she hadn't confessed...”
“Then let me take her home. I won't let her out of my sight until she's vindicated.”
“No.” Jake said simply, unemotionally, though it was the opposite of what he was feeling at the moment. “She's leaving with me. No backwoods judge—”
“Wait!” Gen grasped her skirts excitedly. “Call Judge Van Fleet! He still owes me...” Her hand flew to cover her mouth, but apparently the damage had been done. Something about her words made Zollinger jump.
He gave the woman a dark look and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
She went to him then, no longer avoiding him, ignoring him. She put her hands to his chest and forced him to look at her. “Devlin, please. This isn't about us.”
There was another banging on the door. “Sheriff!” Charlie made it sound like whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be received well. “You've got to let Perry in now!”
“Peery Steed? For hellsakes, why?”
“On account of he wants to make a confession.”
Zollinger took hold of Gen's wrists and lifted her hands from his chest, but he didn't let go. He just turned his head toward the door. “What does he want to confess to?”
“Well... He says he needs to confess to killin' that Shaw fellow.
”
~ ~ ~
All told, there were twelve men who came forward and insisted they alone killed a bastard named Shaw. Some descriptions of how Shaw was disarmed got pretty elaborate. The gun was handed over to Miss Tanner, but her shot missed the man. Some men would have been happy to take the glory for saving the woman, but all of them were content just to see the innocent young lady go free.
Zollinger assumed his usual frown when he opened the cell.
Jake held his arms open and plead silently with Elizabeth to come to him.
She looked at him for just a heartbeat, then stepped over to Mrs. Carnegie. The two women hurried to the door, but Zollinger laid a hand on it and stared at the woman who obviously tormented him. “We will talk about this, Gen.”
She gave a reluctant nod.
He opened the door and they stepped out to a cheering crowd.
Zollinger stared at Jake. “Don't just stand there. You make sure they're not bothered on the way back to the ranch.”
Jake moved to the door, then he couldn't help asking, “Don't you want to come along?”
Zollinger bent over and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a low drawer. He set it on the desk with such force, Jake was surprised it didn't shatter.
“Want?” The man shook his head. “Want is a very tricky word around here, my friend. And I think you're about to learn that for yourself.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lizzy was roused out of bed two mornings later by the rarely sentimental Mrs. Gusdavisson. Apparently, when one killed a man, one was only given a day to recover.
“Out of bed, Lazybones,” she grunted. “I need your sheets and you need to cook my breakfast, eh?”
The rest of the household treated her much the same that day, with no special consideration at all, for which she was truly grateful. Moping around in silence had done her no good. Even a hot bath hadn't helped make her feel clean again. Getting back to work at least felt right.
Each time the image of Jacob Montgomery popped into her thoughts, she beat it out with a rolling pin or an iron pan, whichever she had handy.
