Now and Forever

by Mary Connealy

  The need to protect Shannon was honorable, but the hate for the one who’d taken her was nothing but the ugliest kind of sin. That didn’t stop him from picking up the trail and rushing after the man with a burning fury.

  Tucker had been tracking for only a couple of minutes when he heard a shriek.

  Shannon.

  It wasn’t a cry of pain; it was anger. Shannon, fighting mad.

  It brought him to his senses. He was running wild, and that shout helped him to regain control. Shannon wasn’t unconscious, and the man who had her might well think he’d knocked Coulter out, along with Ma, and drawn Tucker away. He didn’t know he was being pursued or he’d have done something awful to Shannon to silence her. If Tucker was careful and quiet, the man might not hurt her before he could get there.

  “Let me go!” Shannon, definitely. Then a cry of pain.

  Tucker moved faster, no longer checking for tracks but aiming straight for that voice. He heard the sounds of a tussle about a hundred paces ahead, though it was hard to judge distance in the forest. The sound guided him. He prayed with all his might that Shannon would be careful, that she would do nothing to shove the madman over the edge and make him strike a killing blow.

  A man grunted, followed by a dull thud. Tucker could picture a fist landing on Shannon’s delicate flesh. Resisting the urge to charge forward in a blind panic, Tucker did his best to be quick but quiet.

  The wind blew and covered little sounds. He was mindful to avoid low branches and thick underbrush as he moved, picking up speed where he could. At last he saw a flicker of movement ahead as someone darted across a gap between two huge trees, then disappeared.

  It was them. He narrowed the distance until he saw them more clearly. Shannon hung upside down, tossed over the shoulder of the fast-moving man. He was wearing a strange-looking cape that hung down nearly to the ground, with a hood pulled low over his face.

  She writhed, kicked him in the chest, and battered him with her arms, swinging sideways. The man veered around a tree, and for a few seconds Tucker lost sight of them. Then he saw them again. Shannon was still hammering the man, the same thudding sound from before. It was her hitting him, not the other way around.

  The man had one hand firmly gripping the waistline of her britches, but a punch made him nearly lose his grip so that she hung further down. Shannon reached for the back of her britches, clawing at her belt. In the next instant, something shiny came free from her belt.

  Tucker’s fiery little wife had started carrying a knife.

  She brought the knife up even as Tucker raced toward her.

  Gripping the knife with both hands, she raised it over her dangling head and brought it down with all her strength right into the back of her abductor’s leg.

  The man let out a high-pitched scream of agony and staggered backward. He lost his grip on Shannon, who fell headfirst to the ground, hit and rolled. She sprang to her feet and sprinted away.

  “Shannon!” Tucker yelled. He saw her stop just as he launched himself at the Barnburner and leveled him. He flipped the screaming man onto his back and slammed a fist into his face.

  The blow knocked the strangely woven hood off.

  Tucker gazed into the broken, bleeding face of Hiram Stewbold.

  Hiram’s scream turned from pain to rage. He whipped out a wickedly sharp knife. Tucker grabbed Hiram’s right wrist as the knife came down, punching Hiram again and again. The man twisted against Tucker’s hold on his wrist with surprising strength.

  Despite his weak appearance, Stewbold had wiry muscles and was slippery as a greased weasel. But what this man had in mind for Shannon powered Tucker’s fists.

  Finally Stewbold went limp, and the knife fell to the ground.

  Shannon came up beside Tucker and dropped to her knees beside him. He looked away from the land agent to his tough little wife.

  A thousand thoughts went through his mind. A thousand words he wanted to say. The first ones that made it out of his mouth were, “When did you start carrying a knife?”

  “Sunrise gave it to me a few days ago. She helped me sew a hiding place for it into my britches, too.”

  Tucker chuckled. “She is about the best ma a boy ever had.”

  Sunrise came walking up to them a moment later. “I am making her a dress from buckskin next. She cannot live out here in such skimpy clothes.”

  “But I like my britches, Sunrise.”

  “Call me Ma. And britches are not proper. But I will make you leggings instead. You will be comfortable.”

  “Ma, you’re still bleeding.”

  Nodding, Ma swiped at the blood on her forehead. “Did I hear you say my daughter stabbed the man who tried to steal her away?”

  “I most certainly did,” Shannon answered for herself. She sounded very proud.

  Ma smiled at Shannon. “I did too. And of course Tucker landed his fists. I think we all managed to hurt him. The women slowed him down so that Tucker could catch him.”

  Coulter showed up next and looked down at the man Tucker was still sitting on. “Stewbold?” He shook his head. “You telling me that city boy caused all this trouble?”

  “He looked like a city boy, that’s for certain,” Tucker replied, “but he moved through the woods like no one I’ve ever seen.” He lifted a fold of Stewbold’s cape. “And this—it’s like he’s wearing grass. He could just drop to the ground and vanish. It hid his scent, too. That’s why my grulla missed him.” Tucker grabbed Stewbold’s grass cape and ripped it off of him. “Ma, take this.”

  Sunrise held up the garment, turned it this way and that, then pulled one of the bell-shaped sleeves inside out. It was coated in blood. She tucked her fingers through a gaping hole in one sleeve. With a scowl she said, “This is where I got my piece of his cape, and I also managed to cut him. I knew it.”

  “This is a bloodthirsty side of you, Ma.”

  That calmed her down some. She shook her head at him as she balled up the garment. “I want to look at this and see what it is made of.”

  “Shannon, take these.” Tucker’s search of Stewbold revealed a hideout knife and a six-gun. Handing the weapons to his wife, he hoisted the varmint over his shoulder, taking unfortunate pleasure in not being one bit gentle. Blood flowed from the stab wound in the back of Stewbold’s leg as well as from his arm. Neither wound was deadly, but they sure enough hurt, and Tucker wasn’t all that proud of the grim satisfaction that gave him.

  “Let’s head back. I want him tied up tight and locked in a jail cell in town. Until then I’m not taking my eyes off him for one second.” Tucker strode toward his cabin. “Coulter, you got your horse hidden around here somewhere?”

  “Yep, I always leave him tucked back in the woods.”

  “Are you up to finding Stewbold’s horse? And I left Shannon’s mustang and my grulla nearby. Once we get the horses gathered, we can ride for town.” Tucker explained where the two horses were tied up. “My mare won’t let you handle her, but if you untie her, she’ll come home on her own.”

  “I’ll see if Nev is up to riding. And Aaron’s gonna have to go back to being land agent.” Coulter picked up his pace and soon left them behind.

  31

  I don’t trust the lock on that jail cell door,” Tucker said from his chair in Erica’s Diner.

  Shannon noticed that he’d picked a spot so he could watch the jail. It only had one door and no windows. There didn’t seem to be a way for Stewbold to escape without being seen.

  Gage lifted his coffee cup. “You’ve really let that guy spook you, Tucker. He’s still unconscious, and he ain’t going anywhere.”

  Myra hurried over with the coffeepot. The woman was taking very good care of them—while she flirted with Nev. They were the only ones there. Too late for breakfast and too early for dinner, though she’d fed them well. Her ma, Erica, had given birth to a strapping baby boy just the night before, so Myra was on her own working the diner.

  Marshal Langley was grumbling about leaving his
wife and son to watch over the prisoner. It was his job, of course.

  “And we can’t just hang him.” Nev cut Tucker off before he could suggest it again. “We’ve got to have a judge and jury. Besides, all Stewbold really did was burn down some barns.”

  “He probably took money from Boyle to inform him of available homesteads,” Gage growled.

  “The animals in that corral I found were most likely stolen,” Tucker said. “Now, that’s cattle rustlin’ and horse thievin’. Those are both hanging offenses.”

  “I say hang him.” Coulter accepted the filled coffee cup. “Thanks, Myra.”

  “Let me carry that heavy pot for you, Miss Myra.” Nev had a besotted look on his face. He got up from the table and took the pot that Myra had carried many times.

  “Thank you so much.” She handed it over as if it weighed a hundred pounds, then smiled and batted her lashes at him like she’d just had the wind blow a cloud of dirt in her eyes.

  He traipsed after her as she led him into the kitchen.

  “I have a feeling,” Shannon said to Tucker and Gage, “that we aren’t going to get any more decent service now.” Then she added, “My main worry is, if he goes to prison for a while, how can we be sure he stays there?”

  Gage said, “Yeah, a hanging is mighty permanent.”

  “It stands to reason that if he did something we think is bad enough to hang for, then he did something bad enough to keep him locked up for.” Tucker went to take a sip of coffee, then realized his cup was empty and turned to frown at the kitchen. “Myra left without giving me a refill.”

  “I’m gonna go see how to rustle up a judge.” Gage swallowed the last of his coffee in one gulp. “Bo wants Stewbold taken care of fast so he can get back to his new son. I’ll ride out to find the circuit judge if I have to.”

  “When you get back, come on out to our place and let me know when the hangin’ is gonna be.”

  “You want to come to the hanging?” Gage acted like he expected Tucker to show up.

  Tucker flinched. “No! I don’t want to watch a man hang. Not even a coyote like Stewbold. I just plan on keeping a mighty close eye out until I know it’s safe.”

  Shannon knew her husband was a watchful man on the best of days. She’d had a taste of living with him when he was on edge. She hoped the judge got to town real soon.

  Nev came out of the kitchen beaming like the rising sun. “Myra just said she’d marry me. Now I need to see about claiming a homestead. And I might see about being the land agent, too. At least until a new one can get sent in. If Aaron vouches for me, maybe they’ll give me the job permanently.”

  Shannon took a long drink of her coffee to hide her solemn expression. Nev was grinning like a schoolboy, and Shannon had no great liking for him or for Myra. Both of them had caused trouble for Shannon and her family. But they seemed to have straightened up of late, and neither of them had been behind this latest trouble. She hoped they were turning into decent citizens.

  “I don’t want any more homesteaders.” Gage showed no signs of covering up his feelings.

  “You can have our place,” Tucker offered with a smile. “Our sheep too.”

  Shannon spewed coffee across the table. Nev had been across from her before he’d left with Myra and was now on his way back to his seat. It was a good thing he hadn’t gotten there yet or he’d’ve been soaked.

  Coughing until she thought she’d choke, Tucker pounded her on the back until her breathing started going in and out as it should. Finally she turned on him. “You can’t give away my homestead and my sheep! How could you—?”

  “Nev can’t have it.” Gage cut Shannon off. “If you give it up, I’m buying it.”

  “Honey,” Tucker said, looking all confused, “you know I’ve got a cabin up in the mountains.”

  “But you said you’d stay with me.”

  “And I will. Of course I’ll stay with you. But that’s where I live, so you have to come home with me now that my leg’s better. And there’s no way to get your sheep all the way up there. We’d have to carry them up one at a time, and that’d take forever. And besides, it’s steep. We’d no sooner get them up there than they’d roll all the way back to the bottom of the mountain.” He seemed completely befuddled, almost addled. Like a man who’d taken one too many blows to the head.

  Nev and Gage had been knocked out. Sunrise too. And Stewbold had dropped Shannon on her head.

  Not Tucker. Of all of them from last night’s madness, he was the only one to come through without a scratch. Which meant he was saying all this in his right mind.

  Which meant . . .

  Shannon felt her heart break. Sunrise . . . no, Ma. Ma was right. Tucker was going to drag her up to that mountain cabin, then go back to his trapping, which meant he’d be gone all the time, for weeks and maybe months. He’d stop in, probably spend the winter with her, then leave her with a baby to birth and raise on her own.

  Her hand flexed, and it was all she could do not to rest it on her belly. Maybe there was a little one on the way already. Maybe she could begin her lonely mothering right away.

  “I don’t want to live on top of a mountain,” she told him.

  If he was going to leave her behind, then she wanted him to leave her behind down here where her sister was close, where her sheep were close. Where her land, her very own land, was solid beneath her feet, rather than live in a cabin resting on some land that no doubt stood on end rather than lay flat like land was supposed to. Why, one good stumble and she’d roll down the mountain just as surely as her sheep.

  “But where else can we live, Shannon? That’s where my cabin is. That’s my home. You’ll get up there and I know you’ll love it.”

  “And you’ll go back to trapping.”

  Tucker shrugged. “That’s how I make my living.” He patted his waist. She knew he kept his year’s earnings in a little pouch right there. He made good money trapping.

  “Which means you’ll leave me alone in that cabin while you wander far and wide.”

  “I’d have to be gone some. My trap lines have to spread out if I want to gather enough pelts to support us for a year.” He still seemed confused, like he just didn’t understand what the problem was.

  Shannon had just survived one of the hardest nights of her life. Now the morning was shaping up to be even worse, because she wasn’t going to live in an isolated cabin, hoping each day that the man she loved would care enough to come and spend a few days with her. She was terrified of the thought of being stuck up there on the mountain in a blizzard, giving birth all by herself. What if she died and her baby lived? There would be no one to care for the child. One terrible thought after another flowed through her mind. She couldn’t stand it.

  Instead of talking to Tucker, she looked at Nev, then at Gage. “Neither of you can have my land, my cabin, nor my sheep.” She stood from the table, looked at Tucker, and said quietly, “You go on and live in your mountain cabin. I’ll live here in mine. Come visit when you’re in the area.” She turned and left.

  “Shannon, you can’t—”

  The door slammed and cut off whatever else he said. If there was more.

  She brushed past Marshal Langley.

  “Mrs. Tucker, I need you to—”

  Shannon didn’t stop, didn’t respond at all. She leaped onto her horse and rode for home.

  Fighting for control, she was well out of town before the tears started to flow. She looked back just once to see if Tucker was coming after her. That made her a fool. A fool who hoped things could still work out.

  Tucker wasn’t there. He hadn’t jumped on Grew and come riding after her. She thought of the way he lived with his guns all hanging from his body, his knives hidden in pouches and pockets. He even carried every cent of his money with him at all times.

  If he was of a mind to, he could leave right from town. There was nothing he needed to come home for.

  She wondered if he’d be back next summer and if she could be good-natured
about it.

  Maybe she’d never see him again.

  The tears came faster. Her vision was so blurred she hoped her horse knew the way home.

  Tucker launched himself at the door and threw it open. He slammed into Bo Langley’s chest and hit so hard he bounced off and landed flat on his backside.

  “Tucker, it’s you. Good. I need to talk to you.”

  “Not now, Bo. I’ve got to—”

  “I’m turning Mr. Stewbold loose.”

  Tucker dodged around Marshal Langley, ready to run after Shannon, when those words hit him. He spun back around. “What?”

  Coulter came up beside him. “Let him go? But he tried to kill Shannon. He hit me over the head. He’s a dangerous man, Marshal.”

  “You dropped him off at the jail while he was still unconscious. You made your accusations and left. Now that he’s awake, he’s telling me a different story. And I don’t see much sign of him being a threat to anyone. He’s a hardworking, upstanding citizen. If I don’t have some kind of sworn statement from the both of you, at least two witnesses, I’ve got to let him go. I saw Shannon riding out of town. I’d like to hear what she’s got to say too, but she’s gone. Where’s Nev? I’d like to talk to him, hear his side.”

  “That’s right, Nev can do this, and then I can go.” Tucker looked around. “He and Myra were just here. They must’ve gone back to the kitchen.”

  “So Nev was there to witness it when you caught Stewbold? Because from what you said earlier, I thought he stayed back at your homestead. He can still tell me what he saw. Did he witness Stewbold hit Gage or Sunrise or snatch Shannon?”

  “No. He wasn’t up to chasing after us.”

  “So Stewbold hit Nev, too?”

  “Actually I hit Nev,” Gage said.

  Bo arched one bushy eyebrow at Gage and asked, “Did you see Stewbold hit you? Did you see him at all?”