Now and Forever

by Mary Connealy

  Tucker then saw where the Barnburner had joined the wider trail heading toward town, and he let his grulla lead the way. They rode along at a fast trot, Tucker unable to see any sign. The trail turned rocky and was covered with clumps of grass. He wondered if he was going to just end up in Aspen Ridge with no notion of whether he was on the right trail.

  They were nearing town when the grulla veered up a steep slope strewn with rocks. Tucker stopped and dismounted. He studied the land and saw a couple of those strange depressions in soft dirt.

  Patting the grulla’s shoulder, he peered up the hill. There were enough scuffs in the dirt to know the rider had gone up the rise. Mountains rose on all sides, but straight ahead was a saddleback between two peaks. No trail. His jaw set in a grim line, Tucker knew that was the only possible route.

  He mounted up and rode on. He could have checked for tracks, but instead he watched. No one, no matter how good, could stop a bullet fired from cover. He kept his gaze roving, constantly looking for any movement, anything out of place.

  He also kept a hand resting on the grulla’s shoulder, to feel for any tension in the savvy critter. The horse moved upward without a sign of nerves. Tucker trusted that more than what he could see.

  He was a long time reaching the point where the two peaks met at their lowest. At last he crested the mountain and looked down: a large corral with horses and cattle grazing. No sign of a cabin or a barn and certainly not a man.

  Whoever kept the animals in this place, tucked well away from any trail or home, would ride his own horse here and leave it, probably switch saddles, and bind up the hooves of one of the horses before riding out again.

  No one would recognize these critters even if the man and the horse he rode in on were known.

  Tucker studied the slope long and slow. Plenty of cover for a gunman. Trees and boulders, rugged gullies. If he could pick up a trail here, it’d lead to some real answers.

  He was at it for hours and found an easy walk to Aspen Ridge by a route that didn’t go over the saddleback. All his instincts said the man came in from town on foot, then rode out over the saddleback cut.

  But being sure wasn’t the same as finding a trail he could follow. Which left Tucker one choice. He had to take cover and wait hours, days, forever if need be. And that went against his instincts, because he wanted to be with Shannon, guarding her.

  And what if the Barnburner turned out to be Nev Bassett? He knew Tucker was on the hunt and would be wary when Tucker didn’t come back. So wary he’d probably stay far away from this place.

  Tucker found himself a spot to settle in where he’d never be spotted, no matter how careful the culprit was, but was it right to stay here?

  Should he ride home and act like he’d been bested, send Bassett on his way, then . . . what? He couldn’t both guard his homestead and keep watch here.

  Masterson would protect his home and his wife. Tucker trusted him, especially with the warning he’d given Ma. Bassett was the problem, and he was only the problem if he was the one behind burning the homesteads.

  It wasn’t the first time Tucker wished Caleb was close to hand, one of the few men on the earth he trusted.

  Tucker fumed over what to do, and finally his mind settled on someone else he could trust. It wasn’t a perfect answer, but nothing about this mess was perfect.

  He had to ride home and convince them all he’d given up. Then, once they headed home, Tucker had to ride back here fast. Because once he settled Bassett’s mind, and considering Bassett might not be the man he was after, then either he or whoever else it was who’d picked this hideout would be back. And probably soon.

  The Barnburner wasn’t a patient man.

  Tucker led the grulla away, hiding his trail with more care than he’d ever used in his life, hoping and praying that the man he was hunting couldn’t tell he’d been here.

  28

  It’s snowing!”

  “Shhh.” Tucker lay next to her. He reached around and pressed a finger to her lips. “I should have left you home.”

  Shannon clamped her mouth shut. Silently she promised he wouldn’t hear another word of complaint. Not after the fit she’d pitched to come along with him. Well, not a fit. He’d agreed after not much of a fuss from her.

  She even knew why. He didn’t like the idea of her staying at the cabin with Gage Coulter, even if the man did sleep in the barn, and Tucker’s very own mother, Sunrise, was there as a chaperone.

  Tucker hadn’t liked it, so he’d decided she could come, and that let Coulter sleep in the cabin where it was warm. Sunrise would help him guard the homestead and the sheep, and Shannon could take turns here with Tucker, keeping watch over the cattle and horses in this hidden corral.

  Shannon had warned Coulter about eating her sheep. He’d only grinned at her, but she was pretty sure he was teasing.

  Tucker leaned forward, less than an inch from her ear. “You sleep now,” he whispered. “After a while I’ll wake you to stand watch.”

  She hid a grimace. After she’d fallen asleep on guard duty, she was surprised he was willing to trust her again.

  He pulled her tight against him and tilted her chin so that their eyes met. “I’m trusting to my horse more than myself. The grulla will let us know if a rider’s approaching, so I might even risk sleeping myself.”

  Nodding, she looked out at the barely visible livestock across the mountainside. They stood with their heads lowered, some of them lying down, sleeping in the moonless, starless night. It was October now and getting colder every day. Clouds had rolled in, and light snow drifted down and scudded across the ground. Tucker had found a sheltered spot, and they were wrapped in thick blankets, sharing their body heat, but nothing could fully block the cold. Shannon suspected she’d have no trouble staying awake, no matter how tired she got.

  Kylie and Aaron had to leave if they wanted to get out before the heavy winter snows blocked the passes and made travel too dangerous. They wanted to go, but they never would until this man was caught.

  She thought of that silent man with the flowing cape, the way he’d turned and looked right at her. The way his eyes seemed to glow. Ghoulish. Tucker said he was a man with the makings to be a monster, and that agreed with everything Shannon had felt last night.

  She’d gone with Tucker with the promise she’d be quiet. Dear God, please help me to shiver as silently as possible.

  She snuggled as close to him as she could, felt his watchfulness, and knew she was in good hands. Though she was cold, she smiled as she closed her eyes, honored that her husband had brought her along.

  “Shannon.” Tucker barely breathed her name as his stomach twisted.

  Shannon jerked awake but was silent. Savvy woman. Tucker found he liked his wife more with every passing day.

  They’d been at this for three days now. They’d slipped out and gone home during the day, since the man they sought did his evil at night.

  Tucker shook his head. “He’s been here and gone. I missed him.”

  She went rigid in his arms, but beyond that she didn’t move.

  Tucker was furious with himself. But more than that, for the first time since he was a kid, he was scared.

  “How could he have slipped in and out without me noticing?” But he had. A horse was gone out of the corral. Yes, Tucker had been asleep. Yes, the night was black as pitch. Yes, there was no moon and heavy cloud cover. But Tucker slept light, and his ears were sharp.

  Beyond all that, there was the grulla. Nothing slipped past his mustang.

  Tucker had no idea how long that horse had been gone, but it was for certain not in the corral anymore, which meant the Barnburner was out tonight. And he’d already attacked Shannon’s homestead twice.

  “Let’s go.” Tucker had left Shannon’s horse hidden a few miles away, not trusting it to keep quiet like he did Grew. He was on the mare and had Shannon sitting in front of him within seconds. Tucker knew he was being a reckless fool, but he kicked the horse and tore
away. A soft snow sifted down and left clear tracks with every move they made.

  The man they’d sought left tracks too, right out of the corral and over the saddleback.

  Maybe this time, thanks to the snow, Tucker could track him, but he knew better than to expect it to be easy.

  Sure enough, the Barnburner’s tracks headed straight for Shannon’s homestead. Tucker had to beat him. Ma was there, along with Coulter. Both might be in danger. Because whoever this was had just done something Tucker would have said was impossible by getting in and out of that canyon without Tucker noticing.

  If the man was that good, then no one, no matter how careful, was safe.

  And here was Tucker carrying Shannon straight for him.

  Would the woman be watching again tonight?

  Oh, he hoped so. He found himself riding too fast. He, the most patient of men, was being a headlong fool in his eagerness to see if she’d be out and about.

  He’d made a decision the other night to leave her alive. Smiling at his own wisdom, he knew he’d done the right thing. He spent a few moments admiring his self-discipline. He even celebrated the shocking temptation to stay and hunt that woman. A temptation he’d resisted, of course . . . but he could enjoy the feel of it.

  And he knew exactly what had awakened that hunger to hurt the woman.

  That mule. When it bit him and he’d lashed out with his knife, the satisfaction of meting out pain to that ugly brute had unlocked something in his very soul. The pleasure of it. It was like switching on a light and finding a large part of himself that had always been in darkness.

  He’d done it to protect himself and also out of anger. He’d planned to do the same at the Tucker homestead, this time for the pleasure. But he’d been stopped by Tucker’s horse. He’d left the homestead in a rage.

  And then he’d seen that woman walking so innocently through the woods, all alone in the middle of the night. He’d begun to play with her. Following her, letting her know he was there, watching her fear.

  Even as he played his games, he knew there was no time for what he wanted. He’d already set the barn on fire, and that might’ve awakened someone in the house.

  But to take that moment and pause and look at her where she cowered in the woods . . . he’d terrorized her. It was glorious. Then he’d ducked off the trail and she’d walked right by him, so closely he could have reached out and touched her. He even followed her back toward the cabin just to watch her run. He’d seen her husband find her and knew he had to go, yet he’d vowed to himself there would be another time.

  They were on edge. They posted a watch. They’d saved their sheep twice now. They had that horse, a truly dangerous brute, and a man gifted with the art of silence couldn’t turn to gunfire.

  His common sense told him he should leave the Tuckers alone.

  He smiled. A less talented man might admit defeat.

  But Mrs. Tucker, Shannon, had just strolled along. Such innocence. Almost as if she wanted him to come for her. Longed to put herself under his power. He considered that. Having a woman in his power. Instead of just slashing away, stretching out the time. The danger of it, because she had people who would be coming for her, searching. The risk was so tempting it was hard to resist.

  And she made it so easy. If her behavior was an example of how well they handled guard duty, he could grab her and hide her just as he had the cattle.

  His breathing sped up, and his heart hammered. He felt so alive he wanted to laugh out loud. Instead he leaned closer to his horse’s neck and rode fast toward the Tucker place.

  29

  Look at that.” Tucker pulled on the reins with one hand while pointing at the ground with the other. He’d gotten Shannon to where her horse was hid, and they’d been riding fast from that point onward.

  “Tracks.” Shannon sounded grimly satisfied. “He hasn’t covered his horse’s hooves with rags. He’s not even trying to be careful. Are you sure this is the same man?”

  Tucker looked up from the tracks; they might as well have been shouting at him. “It has to be. We know it was him, because we followed him from those corralled animals. We know this is who came in there, silent as the tomb, and got himself a horse. Not many men with that kind of skill. In fact, I’ve never known a man with that kind of skill. And yet this isn’t his normal way. I’ve been wondering how he’d cover his tracks in snow. But I figured he’d either try or he’d give up rather than leave a clear trail.”

  “Is it possible he wants us to follow him?”

  Tucker looked hard at Shannon, thinking, wondering. He took her horse’s reins and led her off the trail. Was that it? Were they being led into a trap? If so, then it might already be too late.

  But if he stopped his headlong run for home, that left Ma and Coulter unprotected. They were well set to care for themselves, but the way this man had gotten his horse out of that corral without Tucker or the grulla noticing had been unlike anything Tucker had ever seen. He needed to be there to help, just in case.

  He stood in the depths of the woods, trying to decide what to do next, his senses opened wide. Listening for the sound of a ghost.

  The thrill changed from hot and excited to ice-cold control. Finally. There was greater power in control, though he delighted in how he could feel both.

  Slowing his horse, he pondered the obvious trail he was leaving behind him. Yes, he left tracks because of the snow, which was coming down steadily. Harder all the time, in fact. It would cover his trail within an hour. It was as if God himself was aiding him. No, not God. He knew God had no part in this. This was very much a deed in league with the devil.

  Tonight, he knew why the devil had rebelled. He knew why he’d wanted to feel the heady sense of a godlike power. He picked his moment and left the trail. This was close enough. He needed to find a place to hide the horse.

  It was simple. His horse concealed, he made his next move.

  It was the perfect night for a patient man to begin a new life.

  As Gage watched Sunrise vanish into the dark forest, swallowed up by the woods and the silently falling snow, he didn’t kid himself that he had a single skill better than hers, leastways none needed tonight.

  He’d known her for years and knew just how skilled she was in most things. He didn’t let it stomp on his pride that she could best him, but he did on occasion play a game in his head where he challenged her to contests in roping and throwing and branding a thousand-pound steer.

  First watch was his, second was hers. Now it was third watch, his turn again. But she told him she was rested and would share sentry duty. She’d slept enough to survive, but now she’d help him so the job could get done right.

  Sunrise let him know what part of the homestead she took charge of, so they didn’t run afoul of each other. Then she melted away silently, and Gage was left alone. Just him with his mostly unstomped pride.

  Gage settled into a spot deep in the forest that gave him a view of the barnyard. The snow was steady and yet not heavy enough to obscure things. Tucker’s warnings rang in his head. Sunrise had repeated them.

  He leaves no tracks. He never makes a sound.

  Shannon had called him “eerie.” She’d talked of how he’d vanished. Tucker spoke of the mountainside with that corral and the stolen livestock. No tracks in or out.

  That mule . . . Gage’s blood ran cold at the thought. He didn’t want a man running loose who’d do such an awful thing.

  Wind bounced the pine boughs, while the leafless trees reached in the air like skeletal fingers. Snow drifted and danced and left a smooth layer of powder over the ground. Tonight would be the exception. Tonight, if the Barnburner came, he couldn’t move without leaving a trail. Which was almost enough to make Gage go inside. The man was too smart; he’d never come tonight.

  Then in the darkness, a shadow shifted, solid and low to the ground, at odds with the movement of the trees around it.

  Keeping his eyes on that darkened position, Gage inched forward, mindfu
l of every step. He drew his gun quietly. The shadow flitted forward. A man. He put a tree between them. Gage moved faster, doing his best to be silent but not wanting to lose track of his quarry.

  He rounded the tree and saw . . . nothing.

  Gage froze in place. He studied the woods. The ground was too rough, with too many trees to let the snow fall evenly, so it wasn’t easy to read sign.

  He listened in the whipping wind for any sound out of place. With so much dancing in the breeze, his eyes—sharper than most—probed each shadow but found nothing.

  He had a choice. Stay here and hope the man hadn’t kept going and wait for him to reveal himself, or assume the man was heading for the barn, as he had been every other time he’d come.

  To give up on finding him here and head for the homestead risked giving away his position, a dangerous business when dealing with a man who took sick pleasure in killing.

  Gage wasn’t that deep in the woods. Rather than charge forward, he eased back and moved sideways until he could get an angle on the yard. He was on the far side of the river that ran on the west side of Shannon’s homestead, behind the tree line. He didn’t trust the thin trunks of the aspens, so he continued inching along until he found a massive oak. From there, he watched. Waiting for the intruder to break cover.

  Moments stretched. Gage settled in, determined to outlast the varmint. And it paid off. The shadow appeared again. The slightest movement revealed the man only a few yards away.

  So shockingly close, Gage couldn’t believe how silent the man kept himself.

  He wasn’t heading into the open. Instead he crouched and watched. This time Gage didn’t give him a chance to get away.

  Tucker was at heart a man of action. He could wait with the patience of a stalking mountain lion if need be, but to stand here in the drifting snow while his ma was in danger . . . no.

  “Let’s go. Mount up. We’ll follow those tracks as long as we can see ’em. If we lose them, we’ll decide then what to do.”