Badlands Legend

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  “Cara McKinnon.” Her name came out in a burst of surprise as Yale found himself staring into a face from his past.

  A face that had teased and taunted him every night for more than a dozen years.

  Chapter Four

  They stared at each other in stunned silence, while the two little boys looked from one to the other in puzzlement.

  “Mama?” One boy lifted the lantern higher studying his mother’s pale face.

  “I’m all right now, Cody.” She lowered the rifle and continued staring at the Yale as if he were a ghost. In a way, she thought, he was. A ghost from her past. Looking so much better than he had in her memory.

  Then he’d been a handsome, reckless boy in cast-off clothes and dung-spattered boots. Now that boy was gone. In his place was a man who looked every inch the successful gambler he was reputed to be, in his fine clothes and shiny boots. His eyes still glinted with equal parts danger and humor, though his face had more sharp angles, with that square jaw and lean, hollow cheeks. He was, if possible, even more handsome than anything she could have imagined.

  She had to mentally shake herself before she could speak. “This man is Yale Conover. We grew up on neighboring ranches back in Misery. My name is Cara Evans now, Yale, and these are my sons, Cody and Seth.”

  He studied them intently, trying to see Cara in her children.

  The older boy looked just like his mother. Coal-black hair and dark, serious eyes. Eyes that were assessing him with interest, and more than a little dislike.

  The younger one had dark hair as well, but with glints of gold dancing in the lantern light. Like his mother, his eyes were amber pools ringed with a darker shade of honey. There seemed too much sadness in them. A sadness that tugged at Yale’s heart.

  Cara’s voice brought his attention back to her. “What is this about, Yale? Why are you here?”

  “A band of outlaws is planning on taking over your ranch and using it as a hideout.” He marveled that he could still speak. The sight of her had his tongue tied and his brain muddled. “They’ve figured out that there’s no man here. Are they right?”

  Her tone was flat. “My husband is dead.”

  When she didn’t move he grew agitated. “I’m sorry for your loss. But don’t you understand? You and your children are in grave danger.”

  She took a step back. “How do you happen to know about this?”

  “Because I…” He hesitated, knowing whatever he said now would only add to her mistrust. “It doesn’t matter how I know. There’s no time to waste. They’ll be here by morning. You have to leave now and get to the nearest town.”

  “That’s not possible. Crescent Butte is more than fifty miles from here. All I have is an old plow horse and a small wagon. We’d be lucky to make ten miles a day.”

  Frustrated, he turned away. “Ten miles is a whole lot better than being here when the Fenner gang arrives.”

  “The…Fenner gang?” She blanched. “I’ve heard of them. Of what they’ve done to their helpless…” She glanced at her children, her attention suddenly sharpened. “Cody. Seth. Get yourselves dressed and ready to travel.”

  “What should we take, Mama?” the older boy asked.

  “Nothing more than is absolutely necessary.” Yale answered for Cara. “There’s no time.”

  Cara absently agreed with him. And though she seemed distracted, she quickly gathered a few things. A bearskin. A warm shawl. Some cooking utensils, which she piled into Yale’s waiting arms.

  She gave him a look of cool appraisal. “We’ll need the wagon. It’s out in the barn.”

  Yale was pleased to see that she wasn’t going to weep and wail and bemoan the fact that they were in peril.

  He turned away. “I’ll take care of it. You and the children can meet me out there when you’re dressed.”

  She nodded and watched as he let himself out the door and sprinted off the porch.

  A short time later, when he’d finished hitching the plow horse to the wagon, Yale walked back to the house calling, “We’re wasting time. You should be ready by now. We have to get moving.”

  He shoved on the door, but it didn’t budge. Caught by surprise, he nudged it with his hip, but it remained closed. Annoyed, he rapped a fist on the door. “Cara. What’s going on in there? What are you up to?”

  Her voice sounded muffled through the closed door. “I want you to leave Yale. Get on your horse and go.”

  “Go? What are you saying? What’s this all about?”

  “It’s about you. I only sent you to the barn to buy some time.”

  “Are you crazy? Why?”

  She stepped in front of the window. Cradled in her arms was the rifle. She’d changed into a faded gown of dull gray. Her sons stood several paces behind her, the younger one looking absolutely terrified, the older boy looking as angry and determined as his mother.

  Cara’s voice was clearer now, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “I figure there’s only one way you could have known what the Fenner gang was planning. They would have had to trust you enough to tell you.”

  “Cara, listen to me. You’re wasting valuable time.” He slammed a fist against the door. “Open this now. Or I swear I’ll break it down.”

  She shook her head. “The boys and I moved the table against it. You’ll never get through.” She took aim with her rifle. “Leave now, Yale. But before you do, tell me the truth. Are the rumors true? Are you riding with the Fenner gang now?”

  He gave a hiss of frustration. “It’s true that they took me in as one of them. I’m not proud of it. But none of that matters now. When I heard what they planned here, I came as quickly as I could to warn you, even though I had no idea it was you, Cara.”

  “Then I thank you for that, Yale. But you have to go now.”

  “What about you and the children?”

  She backed away from the window. “We’ll take our chances here. We have nowhere else to go.”

  “Your parents…?

  “They’re both dead.”

  He made a sound of disgust. “You can’t stay here. You don’t stand a chance against a dozen or more guns.”

  She was shaking her head and struggling not to weep. “Go away, Yale. I need to think.”

  As she turned away she heard the sound of shattering glass. She whirled and saw Yale, blood streaming from his hand, stripping away the shards of glass before climbing through the window.

  She lifted the rifle and took careful aim. “You stop right there or I swear I’ll shoot.”

  “Then you’d better do it fast.” He didn’t even pause. Instead he was across the room in quick strides. One hand snaked out, snagging the rifle from her hands.

  With a cry her older son sprang at Yale, his little fists flailing out harmlessly until Cara caught him in her arms and forced him behind her, where the younger one had taken refuge.

  She turned to face Yale, lifting her chin in defiance. “Go ahead then. Do what you want with me. But at least spare my children.”

  “What I’d like to do…” The bitter oath died on his lips when he caught sight of little Seth’s face, crumpled and tear-stained, peeking out from behind his mother’s skirt.

  He remembered the fear he and his brother and sister had faced when their serene lives had suddenly fallen apart in childhood.

  Without realizing it his tone softened, despite the frustration that seethed inside. “I came here to warn you of danger. If you want to hate me for being part of a gang, do it later. Right now you can’t afford to waste any more time. Let’s move aside this table and get to the wagon.”

  As he set aside the rifle and started toward the door he heard a distant sound like thunder.

  “I’m warning you, Yale. My children and I…” The words died in her throat when he lifted a hand and called for silence.

  Crossing to the broken window he listened intently while peering into the darkness. He turned. “They’re coming.”

  “Who’s…?” Her eyes widened. “I thought yo
u said they wouldn’t be here until morning.”

  “They must have found out I’d deserted and figured out that I was headed here.” His tone hardened. “How many guns do you have in the house?”

  “Just the rifle.”

  “Do you know how to fire it, or were you bluffing?”

  She stood a little taller. “I can shoot well enough to defend myself. If I’d wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead now.”

  He managed a quick smile. “Then I’m glad you spared my life. Get all the ammunition you have. Then find a place to hide the children.” He looked around. “Is there a root cellar?”

  She nodded.

  “That would be the safest place for them. And for you,” he added as she started away.

  Cara hesitated, then turned. “This is my fight, Yale. I have no intention of hiding.”

  “Suit yourself.” He was already busy moving the rest of her furniture out of the way and taking up a position beside the broken window.

  This hadn’t been part of the plan. But then, he thought, none of his life had ever gone as he’d planned. Why should this be any different?

  He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to find Cara standing beside him, holding up a pouch of bullets.

  Her voice was as soft as he’d always remembered. “This isn’t your fight, Yale. You don’t have to stay.”

  In the moonlight his gaze held hers. “I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

  “Why?”

  For a moment he had no answer to that. Though he’d initially intended only to warn this family of their peril, and then make good his own escape, everything had now changed. The moment he’d seen Cara, he’d known that he couldn’t walk away. Not again.

  He shot her that wonderful lazy grin that had the ability to warm her heart like no other. “Maybe because I’ve always liked playing the long shots.”

  For the space of several seconds she stayed where she was, seeing the boy he’d been and the man he’d become. Then, hearing the hoofbeats growing closer, she gathered her sons into her arms and murmured words of love and caution before lifting a trap door in the floor.

  “I’m not going, Ma.” Cody stood, feet planted, ready to resist. “I’m not leaving you alone with this man.”

  “Shh. Cody.” Cara brushed a kiss over his face. “I know you want to stay with me. But think about Seth. I don’t want him in any danger. I know if you’re with him, you won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “But what about you, Ma?”

  At his brother’s outburst, little Seth started whimpering.

  Seeing it, Yale walked over and knelt down until the little boy’s eyes were even with his. “You don’t have to be afraid, son.”

  Cody stepped between Yale and his little brother. “Seth doesn’t talk. He hasn’t since…”

  He stopped. Glanced at his mother, who said softly, “Seth hasn’t spoken a word since his father died.”

  “I see.” Yale looked beyond Cody to Seth. “Have you ever played hide-and-seek, son?”

  The little boy nodded solemnly.

  Yale smiled. “Think of this as a game. It’s your job to hide down there and stay hidden, no matter what you hear. Think you can do that?”

  Seth glanced at his brother.

  Cody spoke for him. “He won’t go unless I go with him.”

  Yale turned to the sullen little boy. “How about it, Cody? Want to help your brother play?”

  Cody glanced from the man to his mother, before giving a slight nod of his head. “I guess I can.”

  “Good boy.” Yale squeezed the boy’s shoulder, then tousled Seth’s hair.

  As Cody took his little brother’s hand and began descending the crude ladder, Cara called, “You can’t light a candle. And you’re not to come up here, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”

  The little boy nodded.

  “When it’s safe, I’ll summon you.” Cara tossed down blankets and pillows. “Stay close. But remember. If the voice calling you isn’t mine, you musn’t answer. It could be a trick to find you.”

  She waited until they were huddled together on the dirt floor of the root cellar. Then, regretting the fact that they would be left in the dark, she lowered the door slowly, before covering it with a rug.

  When she looked up she saw Yale watching her in silence.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For making them think this is a game.” Though there were tears shimmering in her eyes, she resolutely picked up the rifle, waiting for what was to come.

  Yale braced himself. From the thunder of hoofbeats, the gang was riding hard and fast. He knew them well enough now to expect that they’d come in with guns blazing, hoping to strike terror into the hearts of their opponents.

  He turned to the woman beside him and whispered, “Hold your fire as long as possible. That way they might be fooled into thinking we’ve already fled. Once you do open fire, make every bullet count.”

  Cara nodded and peered into the darkness. The trees outside danced and swayed in the night breeze, sending shadows flitting across the open spaces. Every little movement deepened her fear. But though her heart was thundering, and her palms damp with sweat, she stood quietly, watching and waiting.

  Suddenly the silence was shattered by a volley of gunfire that seemed to split the heavens and echo through the darkness. Cara stood up, intending to return the gunfire. Yale launched himself at Cara, knocking her to the floor, where he covered her body with his.

  He could feel the way she trembled as bullets sprayed the walls of the cabin, shattering the tiny bedroom window, splintering wood, ricocheting off the stones of the fireplace.

  His face was buried in her hair, his body pressed firmly to hers. He knew he was too heavy, but there was nothing he could do to ease her discomfort. He lay perfectly still, alert to any sound that might signal that the outlaws were about to storm the cabin.

  At long last there was a lull in the gunfire, and Yale eased himself up and crawled toward the window.

  Yale recognized Rafe’s voice just beyond the porch.

  “You think he got the widow and her brats clean away?”

  “Could be.” Will Fenner’s words were clipped. “Or he could be on the other side of that door, waiting for us.”

  Yale saw several horsemen slip from the saddle and start toward the cabin. Without a word he motioned to Cara, who crawled across the room to kneel beside him.

  “I’ll fire high, you fire low,” he whispered. “On the count of three.”

  Seconds later, the silence was shattered by more gunfire. This time it was the outlaws who were surprised. Two of the three men gave out cries as they slumped forward. The third man managed to crawl to safety, but it was plain that he’d been wounded.

  Will Fenner’s voice was high-pitched with fury. “Yale Conover, you just cost me two of my best men. Now you and the female are going to pay. Mark my word, Conover. You’re already a dead man.”

  Gauging the distance, Yale took careful aim and fired. The bullet whistled past Fenner’s head, causing him to drop to his knees with a savage oath.

  At his shouted command, the rest of the band fell back until he joined them for a whispered conference.

  Yale peered into the darkness, and saw the band of men break into two groups.

  He turned to Cara. “They’ll attack from both sides now. I’ll need you to fire first out this window, then through that one. Think you can do that?”

  She nodded. “Where are you going?”

  He pointed to the loft. “I need to get to the roof.”

  “There’s a tiny window. I’m not sure it’s big enough to get through.”

  He winked. “If it’s big enough for a cat, I’ll get through it. You just keep on firing until you’re out of bullets.”

  She waited until he’d climbed the ladder to the loft. Then she turned and took careful aim, waiting until the first man appeared at the broken window. The sound of his cries as
he fell had her shuddering. Then, shaking off the dread, she turned and fired across the room just as a second man started inside through the rear window. She blocked out the sound of his cry as she turned this way and that, firing again. And again. And again.

  She had no idea how long she’d been shooting. Nor how many men she’d faced. She knew only that her children were listening for the sound of her voice. She couldn’t fail them. She was all they had.

  It was the only thought that kept her going as the night air was filled with the sound of thunder.

  Up on the roof Yale crouched behind the chimney and took advantage of the fact that he could fire in any direction. He managed to drop three men before he realized his rifle was out of bullets. In one smooth motion he reached for his pistol and resumed shooting.

  The gang, taking fire from above as well as inside the cabin, had nowhere to hide.

  Suddenly Yale heard a shouted command and watched as the men fell back. From his position he could see that there were only six men left standing. He had no idea how many of the others were dead and how many wounded. But at least for now, the odds were a whole lot better than they’d been an hour ago, when the siege had begun.

  Slipping through the narrow window, he climbed down from the loft to check on Cara. She was still kneeling in the middle of the floor, waiting for the gunfire to resume.

  Instead, there was nothing but an eerie, unnatural silence.

  She looked up as Yale walked toward her. “Do you think they’ve given up?”

  He could see the light of hope in her eyes, and hated that he had to be the one to extinguish it.

  He shook his head. “They’re just regrouping. They weren’t expecting us to put up such a vigorous fight. Now they have to figure out another way to beat us.”

  “But there are less of them now. Don’t they know we’ll just keep beating them back?”

  “Cara.” He touched a hand to her arm. Just a touch, but he felt the heat sizzle through his veins.

  Instead of warming him, it chilled him to the bone to know that the old feelings were still there between them. It would have been easier somehow if he could have felt nothing. For he knew, without a doubt, that whatever tiny spark they might have coaxed into flame would be extinguished before it even had a chance to ignite. Their time together was about to end. Fenner would see to that.