by Janis Jakes
“Good. And is he headed there now?”
“Yes. He rode out of town. Along with the sheriff, his deputy, and a half a dozen or more men.”
“Perfect.” Luke patted Laurence on the back. “You’ll get the exclusive story. I’ve got to hurry—”
“Don’t you mean we have to hurry.”
“Laurence, I don’t want your blood on my hands.”
“You don’t think I can take care of myself?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” He pulled a small derringer from his coat pocket. “I am armed.”
Luke grinned. “Shoot someone with that little thing, and it’ll only make them mad.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone. I only want to stop them from doing away with me.”
“All right. You can come but stay out of the way. These men are dangerous. Don’t let them see you, or they’ll kill you.”
“You’ve made your point. Now let’s get on with it.”
Luke followed a good distance behind Clovis Caldwell, Sheriff McGregor, the undercover deputy, and the other men. He’d lured them to the Valley of Bones—a place he knew well and trusted would give him the upper hand.
After traveling for an hour with the sun blazing across the West Texas sky and the hot wind in their face, the men finally stopped. They stood in the middle of a small valley where bones lay about—it was the place where the Indians burned their dead horses.
Luke sat in the saddle at the crest of the ridge, examining the terrain. After a silent prayer, he flicked his reins and moved down the rocky path into the sunken valley. He’d instructed Laurence to remain out of sight, no matter the outcome. Even though they argued and bantered back and forth, he did not want anything to happen to the man.
Luke drew his horse to a complete stop in front of a stranger. “Are you Clovis Caldwell?”
“So, we finally meet.”
Clovis was a tall man—much taller and older in appearance than the sheriff. He sat rather regal in the saddle with muscled legs wrapped around his horse’s belly. Fine clothes covered his form in tailored perfection. Silver hair lay in thick waves against his scalp. From all appearances, he was a man of means. Only the brittle coldness in his eyes hinted at the depravity of his soul.
Luke’s gaze shifted toward the sheriff. “McGregor.”
Sheriff McGregor twirled a grain stem about his mouth, maneuvering it from one side of his lips to the other. “Howdy. Again.”
Luke glanced at the undercover deputy, hoping for some sign of recognition but receiving nothing that brought him comfort. The kid was too young to be on an assignment. Barely old enough to be out of school. Why had Theo sent a boy to do such an important job?
“And you are?” Luke asked, determined to play his part well.
“Don’t matter about him,” Sheriff McGregor spat. “You’re gonna die today, mister. There ain’t any need to go makin’ new friends.”
Clovis exhaled. “Never was one for being subtle, were you McGregor?”
“Why am I going to die?” Luke asked. His calmness rattled the men around him. They expected fear. That’s what they were used to getting when they intimidated people. He wasn’t afraid, but neither was he foolish. He intended to control the outcome to the best of his ability. There was more at stake than his life. He had Billie Jo to think about. “Is it because I know the truth—that you were the one stealing the gold from your own bank—not Billie Jo or Malcolm?”
Clovis snickered.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” McGregor taunted.
“Billie Jo’s trying to keep a noose off her neck,” Clovis said. “She’d say anything to spare her life. She and I both know she’s guilty.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Dead men don’t get an opinion,” Clovis replied.
The undercover deputy pulled his gun. “Want me to end this right now?”
What is he doing? Trying to get me killed?
“Not yet.” Clovis took control with ease. “I already told you. I need to know where she’s hiding.” His gaze pierced Luke’s own. “So unless you’d like to die really slow—“
“Why do you care?” Luke asked. “If you’re innocent, let her go. Her crimes will catch up with her. Of course, if you’re trying to hide something, I can see why you might want to find her and make sure she never talks.”
“I’ve not got anything to hide.” Clovis didn’t even flinch.
Luke glared. “You took that gold, didn’t you? It was a brilliant plan. Get innocent people to work for you and then steal the miners’ gold but blame the only other person who had access to the vault.” He chuckled. “I’ll hand it to you. Not everyone could’ve come up with something that smart.”
Clovis’s chin dipped downward. A smugness lifted the edges of his lips, so faint that Luke would not have noticed if he’d not been looking at every expression and movement. Luke shrugged. “If I’m going to die anyway, then why not tell the truth?”
“I’m not telling you anything. Why should I?”
Luke glanced from Clovis to Sheriff McGregor. “Or were you the mastermind behind the theft? I didn’t peg you for the smart one, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re the one who came up with the idea in the first place.”
Clovis chuckled, the sound grating against the tension in the air. “You don’t think McGregor could pull this off, do you?”
Sheriff McGregor’s chest puffed outward. “Wait a minute—“
Just as Luke figured. Clovis Caldwell’s ego wouldn’t let him ignore the bait. There was no way he would let McGregor or anyone else take credit for his conniving.
“I did take the gold,” Clovis continued, his eyes opened wide in a mad stare. “I’ll take even more if I want, and if anyone gets in my way—“
“What’s got into you?” Sheriff McGregor asked in a scolding tone. “Now ain’t the time to go confessing.”
“The man’s as good as dead,” Clovis declared. “We’ll leave his body here. Everyone will think the Comanches got him.”
“I’m not the least bit concerned about him,” McGregor exclaimed, his face now splotchy with anger. When Clovis only stared, the sheriff continued in a rage. “You think you’re the smart one? Well, I think it takes a real idiot to confess in front of a group of people—unless you plan on killing every single person here.”
Clovis lifted his gun out of his holster and shot the sheriff in the chest, killing him instantly. McGregor rolled out of his saddle onto the ground.
The deputy’s face paled.
Luke stared in stunned silence.
The posse behind them tugged on their horse’s reins—backing up several paces. A couple of the men put their hands on their gun handles.
As much as Luke tried to prepare himself, there was no way to prepare for the unpredictable madness of a man consumed by greed. He prayed Laurence would not scream or take off running for the hills. If he did, he’d be as good as dead. Hopefully, he was as shocked as the rest of them and remained petrified in disbelief.
“Like I was saying before I was interrupted—” Clovis straightened his coat jacket with his free arm, leveling his gun on Luke. “I ordered the sheriff to shoot Malcolm dead. But that doesn’t concern you. You’re not getting out of here alive.”
“I beg to differ. You’re the one not getting out alive.”
“You’re going to stop me?” Clovis chuckled. “Did you not witness what just happened to McGregor?”
“I won’t do anything to you.” Luke looked up onto the ridge of the hillside. “But they might. You’re on animal burial grounds, and my Comanche brothers don’t take kindly to your disrespect. They’re watching you right now. All I have to do is give the signal.”
“What signal?”
“Are you sure you want me to show you?” Luke taunted, looking upward into the hillside once more. “If I do—“
“You think I’m stupid enough to turn around?”
“No.
I think you’re stupid enough to sit right where you’re at and get an arrow in the back. Just like you deserve.”
Clovis turned around to look at an empty hillside. When he did, Luke leaped forward in the saddle—knocking him off his horse and sending them both crashing to the hard ground. Luke straddled Clovis, pinning his arms to the ground—squeezing his wrist until he screamed and released the gun.
“What are you waiting on?” Clovis wailed in fury at the men with him. “Kill him!” Not a single man moved. “Cowards! Every one of you! Shoot him!”
“Not after you shot the sheriff,” one man said. “No telling which one of us would be next. Come on, boys. Let’s get out of here.”
Clovis let out a loud curse into the air.
Luke lifted him to his feet, wrestling his hands behind him.
The undercover deputy stepped forward with rope and tied Caldwell’s wrists behind his back in a hard knot. “That was a close one,” the deputy said.
“I thought you were going to kill me back there.”
“Just playing my part.”
The man was better than Luke had given him credit. Maybe Theo did know what he was doing.
Shock darkened Clovis’s features as he stared at the young deputy. “You’re with him?”
“Yep,” Luke said with a firm bob of his head. “Let’s head back to the jail.” He turned toward the undercover deputy. “Can you carry McGregor’s body on your horse? I don’t want to leave it here for the buzzards.”
Laurence appeared from behind a tree, his voice quivering. “I’m all right. Yes, I’m all right.” He pointed toward Clovis with a trembling finger. “And you, sir, deserve a noose around your neck.”
Clovis remained silent, a sense of defeat surrounding his formerly pompous demeanor.
“Finally—“ Luke fixed his gaze upon Laurence Magellan. “Something we can agree upon.”
25
Billie stood outside in the fresh air and sunshine, discussing the possibility of expanding the garden. It was not easy running a house with so many boys, and she’d already talked to Uncle Rupert about hiring someone later on to help with the cooking and cleaning. For now, she enjoyed working herself into exhaustion. It was the only way to keep her mind from coming undone with thoughts and hopes that would never come to pass.
A golden glow dusted the hillside in quiet beauty, and though she wanted to stay in the mid-afternoon breeze and relax, there was more work waiting. Her eyes lingered upon the road that led to their ranch. She’d settled into her routine during the last few months, but her heart still longed for what might have been with Luke.
The practical side of her soul said to leave it alone. The emotional side demanded she pull it out and examine every second of every memory for some hint of what their life could have been like if he’d stayed. At times, she let her emotions have their say, but for the most part, she kept busy.
The boys adjusted and even thrived in the routine, in part because they all knew ahead of time what they’d do every day. Aunt Matilda spent her hours telling funny stories from her childhood, shelling pecans, snapping peas, canning peaches, and teaching the young men to read from the Bible. It gave her tremendous joy, which blessed Billie’s heart as well.
Billie arched her back, stretching out the tightness that knotted the muscles along her spine. She’d about scrubbed the hide off her fingers from cleaning sheets earlier in the day. The boys didn’t seem to mind rolling around in the dust then carrying the dirt and grime into bed, but she intended to change that habit.
“From now on,” Billie began, talking to her uncle. “I want the boys to all wash in the stream before getting into bed. I’ve never seen such filth, and I have several brothers, so don’t tell me this is normal. If it’s too cold for them, they can take a bath indoors.”
Uncle Rupert laughed, shrugging his shoulders as if he’d got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I don’t know about that, Billie Jo. Sunday is wash day. If I tell them every day is wash day, we might have a mutiny.”
“At least they can wash their hands, faces, and feet before crawling into bed. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
“I admit, these boys lack proper hygiene. Maybe we need to add a class on that subject to the schedule?”
“You know, that’s a great idea,” Billie exclaimed. “I’m surprised I didn’t think of it.”
Uncle Rupert shook his head, laughter spilling from his lips.
“We can teach them about—” She stopped in midsentence, staring down the road. She couldn’t make out the rider, but a familiar horse moved toward the entry gate. Her heart slammed into her chest. “Uncle Rupert. Is that—“
“I believe so.” A wide grin busted across his lips. “I told you he’d be back.”
Billie remained planted right where she stood. Uncle Rupert made some excuse then disappeared inside the cabin. Her stomach twisted and turned in excitement while her knees melted like taffy in the hot August sun.
She reached out, braced against a tree, and spoke out loud into the heavens. “Dear Lord, let this be what I long for or make my heart grow numb. I can’t do this again...”
~*~
Luke rode his horse down the path in slow motion—swaying in the saddle and determined not to rush the moment. He’d done such a good job of convincing himself that he and Billie should not be together, he feared she’d done the same.
As he neared the cabin, he noticed her outside. Sheets hung nearby on a makeshift clothesline—the cloth flapping in the breeze. Several chickens roamed about the yard, pecking at the ground.
Luke’s heart thrashed about. He’d looked down the barrel of many a gun without flinching. He’d stood toe-to-toe with some of the vilest outlaws alive. And yet, the thought of the conversation he was about to have with Billie Jo unnerved him. His insides turned to water.
Even from a distance, her hair shimmered in the sunlight and a hopeful expression rested upon porcelain features. Her countenance should give him courage, but the opposite happened. His insides shriveled up into a marble at the mere sight of her.
Had he been gone too long? Did she belong to another? Was she only eager to see him because she longed to hear news about her accusers, and whether her name was cleared?
Luke drew his horse to a halt near her. He slid out of the saddle then stopped, wondering what he would say. Before he could think another thought, Billie rushed toward him, a smile upon her lips and tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.
His arms drew her up against him—inhaling the fragrance of her hair and succumbing to the softness of her flesh. She pressed into him, her cheek against his chest and her arms locked behind his back.
“You’re alive!”
He nuzzled her ear with his lips, whispering her name. “Billie Jo…”
Her hands moved around to rest upon his chest as dewy eyes, the color of the bluest skies, searched his face.
Any remaining resolve collapsed. “Billie Jo, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I don’t want to leave you. Not ever again. Will you be my wife?”
Her entire body rose and fell against him. “Yes…”
He lowered his lips to her own, tasting the sweetness of love—the kind of love given with abandon. The kind of love that let him know that his life would never be the same, and he’d be a better man because of it. At that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past pain. Not the job he left. Nothing. Because nothing compared to what he felt for Billie Jo. His kiss deepened, and he heard a sweet groan sift from between her lips. He could hardly wait to make her his—all of her.
Cheering erupted from behind him.
Luke drew the kiss to a tender close. He looked over his shoulder, seeing all twenty or so boys standing outside their cabin—clapping, whistling, and laughing.
“Looks like we get to plan a wedding, boys,” Freddy called out.
~*~
“My name is cleared?”
“Yes. Clovis Cal
dwell is in jail, awaiting trial. Sheriff McGregor is dead—murdered by Clovis in front of a handful of witnesses.”
“Justice is served,” Uncle Rupert said, taking a sip of coffee. Aunt Matilda refilled his cup, adding a bit more to her own before returning to her seat.
“I can finally write to my parents and not worry about their safety.”
“I made a special trip to Justice City so I could let your parents know you were safe,” Luke said.
Billie lay her hand upon his. She was grateful for such a thoughtful act.
“Now you’ll have to write them about the wedding,” Aunt Matilda said. “I’m sure your parents will want to be here. And your brothers, too.”
“Along with Abigail, Henry, my father. And my aunt Louise.”
“Whatever compelled that man to think he’d get away with it?” Uncle Rupert scratched his head. “He already had so much.”
“Isn’t that how greed works? It demands more and more.”
Uncle Rupert nodded his head. “That is true, young man, and now, I’d like to go over something with you—something I think you’ll like.”
Billie’s insides tighten. She wasn’t sure how Luke would react to Uncle Rupert’s plans. Would he be thankful and see it as a gift from God, or would he feel offended—as if no one thought he could take care of his future wife. She moved to the edge of her seat, fingers grasping the cushion.
Uncle Rupert’s brow twisted downward in thought. “Matilda and I aren’t exactly spring chickens. We want to do less and less around here. But we need a young married couple who’d be willing to take over the ranch and raise about twenty or so boys. Do you think that’s a chore you’d like to take on?”
Luke sat up straighter. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair that you worked for this your whole life, and then to put someone else in charge—“
“I’m not putting someone else in charge. I’m giving you the place. God gifted me with this property for the boys’ ranch. As a good steward, part of my job is to find the next person to take over—someone who loves the ranch and the boys and will take good care of them.” He beamed. “I think God brought the right couple to me.”
