Behind her the men began to bicker over the card game. She looked at them, and one of the cowboys caught her glance and grinned. He winked with a leering eye. She shuddered and turned away.
How could Papa owe Uncle Kenton so much money? He was asking for a fortune. Papa had a lot of property, and he never seemed to lack for cash, but surely he didn’t have that much. Suppose Uncle Kenton was lying?
She went to the stove and opened the door. Ashes and charcoal filled the bottom of the firebox.
“You ain’t going to light a fire, are you?” asked Buck. “It’s hot enough in here already.”
True, the day promised to be a scorcher. The gloomy log house offered some shelter, and Isabel had found it much cooler inside than out when Eli Button had pushed her back through the door.
She straightened and looked over at the card players. “How else do you expect me to cook?”
Uncle Kenton dealt the dog-eared cards rapidly. “Leave her alone. I’m hungry.”
“Well, make it a little fire,” Buck muttered, picking up his hand.
“Ain’t there a fire ring out back where Sammy cooks sometimes?”
“Shut up, Red. I don’t want her outside where they can see her.” Uncle Kenton leaned back and studied his cards.
The man with carroty hair scowled but said no more on the matter. She found only a few sticks of wood in the box by the stove. No one offered to fetch her any kindling. She cleared her throat.
“Would there be more firewood about?”
“In the lean-to.” Kenton nodded toward the door at the back of the room. “Eli, go with her.”
“Thought you wanted me to keep guard.”
Kenton swore and shoved his chair back, scraping the floor. Isabel’s pulse pounded. She shrank toward the back door.
“Go on,” he snarled. “I’m right behind you. Let’s have some of that pie you served me and your daddy.”
She gulped. “I’d need mincemeat. Do you have—”
“No, we ain’t got mincemeat. I shoulda had the boys raid your larder when they grabbed you. Get moving.” He nodded toward the door.
Isabel turned and walked the three steps to the door made of weathered boards. She swung it open and peered into the lean-to. A stack of firewood on one side of the door reached to her waist. Straight ahead was daylight. She could see part of the corral, and a ways from the house, where the land sloped sharply upward, a dilapidated outhouse.
“Quit lollygaggin’.”
She chose an armful of sticks from the woodpile and carried them past him, back into the kitchen. It would be a shame to heat up the place.
She dropped her load into the wood box and moved a crusty frying pan, a tin cup, a filthy towel, and a box of shotgun shells from the top of the stove to the workbench and knelt on the rough board floor. At least they had matches handy. When the kindling caught, she put a few sticks in and closed the stove door. The men ignored her as she bustled about to start a pot of coffee and get their dinner cooking.
At the back of the bench, she found a jug of molasses. A golden powder half filled a small, unmarked tin. When she sniffed it, her nose tickled. Ginger. She was halfway to a pan of gingerbread. Baking powder? Hmm. She poked about, setting dirty dishes into the dishpan. She’d probably have to wash those or the men wouldn’t have plates enough to go around. She picked up the box of shotgun shells. Uncle Kenton apparently kept his supply of ammunition on a shelf beyond the table. If the boxes there were full, these men were prepared for a fight—or a siege.
“Hey, boss.” Eli turned from the window. “Sammy’s coming—”
The front door burst open. “Mr. Smith!”
“Right here, Sam.” Uncle Kenton folded his cards and laid them facedown on the table. “What’s the matter?”
“You know you told me and Chub to watch the hills out back?”
“Sure did. So why ain’t you out there?”
“‘Cause I seen people up there. With guns.”
“Whyn’t you come in the back door then?”
Sammy spit on the floor. “I didn’t want to get shot at.”
Uncle Kenton and the other two cowboys stood. “They’s that close?” Red asked.
Sammy nodded. “Looked to me like they was sneaking closer. Wilfred’s still out near the barn watching ‘em, and Chub’s out beside the wagon. I told them I’d come in and report to you.”
“Those men out near the road are still there, too,” Eli said from beside the window.
Kenton strode to his position and peered out. “You mean to tell me Cyrus ain’t gone to get the money?”
“I don’t know if he went or not,” Eli said, “but there’s somebody out there. I keep seein’ ‘em move.”
Buck went to a corner and lifted his rifle. “Maybe the whole town is having another play party.”
Isabel’s heart leaped. Had the sheriff raised a posse to get her back? How many members of the Ladies’ Shooting Club were out there right now, prepared to defend her? She surely would hate it if anyone got hurt helping her.
The men crowded around the one small window, all trying to get a better view. In the momentary silence, the fire in the stove crackled. Isabel jumped.
A stray thought took root in her mind. She glanced at the men with their backs to her. She reached across the workbench and opened the cartridge box. A half dozen shells stood inside it. She tucked them into the pocket of her skirt and closed the box.
“You think they’ve got us outgunned?” Eli sounded worried. Maybe he was thinking about the shooting match in the schoolyard.
Isabel tiptoed to the stove and opened the door. The men paid no attention. The fire had taken hold and had begun to burn down. She tossed a couple more sticks in.
“Uncle Kenton?”
“What do you want, girl?” He had a rifle in his hands now and was easing the front door open a crack.
“I need to use the necessary.” She fingered the shells in her pocket and held her breath.
“What? Oh. Not now!”
Isabel swallowed hard. She thought of how little Millie Pooler’s plaintive wail always got to her during school. “But I have to go, Uncle Kenton.”
He turned and glared at her. “This ain’t a good time, Isabel.”
“I don’t think I can wait.” Her face flushed. Bad enough if it were true, but she’d never made a habit of lying.
“Sammy, take her out there. Watch yourself. And then resume your post.”
Quickly, Isabel pulled out a handful of shotgun shells and tossed them into the firebox behind the cover of the stove door. She slammed it shut and stepped away.
“All right, let’s move,” Sammy said, waving his gun barrel toward the back door.
Gladly, Isabel scurried to the lean-to. When they’d left its cover and stepped into the open, she wondered if she’d done something wrong. Hiram Dooley had made it sound like you only had to drop the bullets into the stove and—
Behind them, gunfire erupted inside the house. Without looking back, Isabel lifted her skirt and ran for the outhouse.
CHAPTER 36
Somebody’s shooting! Let’s go! Quick!” Ethan ducked low and ran toward the house with his rifle pointing at the front door. The stark terrain offered no cover. Footsteps thundered behind him as a dozen people followed. For a moment, it felt like his old army days, only now he was the officer leading the charge into battle. Cyrus pounded past him on the lane.
“Mr. Fennel! Wait!”
“My daughter’s in there!”
Fennel tore forward. Ethan was surprised the older man had such speed. Movement at the window distracted him, but someone behind him fired and broke the windowpane.
Cyrus slammed into the door and shoved on it, but it didn’t open. He put his shoulder to it and rammed it again. The door flew open. Cyrus and Kenton stood face-to-face for an instant. Kenton raised his gun and fired. Cyrus let off a round as he staggered off the step. More shots came from within. Ethan leaped aside and flattened himself aga
inst the log wall beside the door.
Hiram and Doc Kincaid, with half a dozen other men behind them, stopped ten yards from the house and peppered it with bullets. Farther back, a cluster of women approached.
Hiram walked steadily forward, aiming his rifle at the front of the ranch house. They must be crazy, attacking like this. Didn’t the British lose the whole country because they fought in the open and refused to skulk behind trees like Indians?
A few shots came from inside the house, but most of the gunfire came from his contingent. He looked around uneasily. What had happened to that cowpoke near the wagon? No one seemed to be crouched behind it now.
As the door opened and Cyrus went down, Hiram’s hat flew off. He whirled toward the barn, his Sharps at his shoulder. Above them, through the cloud of gun smoke hovering over them, he saw a figure in the door of the hayloft. A heavyset man with a beard stood above the posse, taking aim at those below.
Hiram hated to use his rifle to harm another human being. He also hated to reveal his well-concealed shooting ability. But unless he acted quickly, one of his friends would likely be killed. They were sitting ducks for the sniper. He hesitated only an instant before he pulled the trigger. The man in the hayloft dropped his rifle. It fell to the ground below. He staggered back and disappeared into the dark loft.
Ethan held up his hands to stop the townsmen’s shooting. Doc drew a bead and fired once more before he noticed the signal. The noise subsided. Cyrus lay still on the dirt at the bottom of the steps.
From a distance, Josiah Runnels shouted, “They’re jumping out the back!” Several shots followed.
“Go ahead, Sheriff,” Hiram called. “I’ll cover the door.”
Cautiously, Ethan took a quick peek around the doorjamb. Kenton Smith lay on his back just inside the door. Another man had crumpled beneath the window. Ethan couldn’t see anyone else, but a thick haze of smoke obscured the room.
“Doc, tend to Cyrus.” Ethan dove into the house, leading with his Colt. Eerie quiet buzzed around him.
From the doorway behind him, Hiram called, “All clear?”
“Reckon so.” Ethan continued to scan the dim room.
“Art Tinen winged one of them that ran out the back door, and Doc says he hit one in here. The rest ran to their horses and got away clean.”
Ethan jerked his head toward the man lying beneath the window. “That’d be Doc’s target, I guess.”
Hiram stepped over to the inert form and stooped to pick up the fallen man’s weapon. “That’s the fella I got into it with at Bitsy’s.”
“Yup. Eli Button.” Ethan lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Where’s Isabel? Did they take her?”
“Nobody’s seen her. She wasn’t with them when they ran.”
Ethan stared at him. “That’s crazy. We saw her an hour ago. She was in here with them.”
“Maybe she’s still in here.”
Ethan looked around again. “Miss Fennel?”
No answer. The house appeared to have only one large room with a loft over part of it. He crossed to another door and opened it. The lean-to held a woodpile and a few tools. “All right, get a couple of people in here to search the loft. She could be tied up in a corner. You don’t suppose she got away from them and ran?”
“Don’t see how she could have,” Hiram said. “We had the place surrounded.”
Ethan called again, “Miss Fennel?” He stepped out into the lean-to. No one cowered behind the woodpile. Josiah, Augie, and several of the shooting club members had fanned out over the barnyard and corral. Ethan called to Augie, “Miss Fennel’s not in here. Search that barn and the bunkhouse.” He walked back through the house, stepped over Smith’s body, and went out the front door.
Doc Kincaid and Bitsy knelt beside Cyrus, while Rose stood by, knotting her handkerchief. Ethan walked over to them.
“How is he, Doc?”
Kincaid glanced up at him. “I’m losing him.”
Ethan grimaced. They were lucky no one else had been killed, the way things had erupted.
Augie came out of the barn and crossed the yard. “Funniest thing, Sheriff. I found a rifle lying on the ground in front of the barn, and up in the hayloft there’s a dead cowpoke shot in the heart.”
Ethan eyed the front of the barn. “Somebody must have shot him through that door to the loft.”
“That’s what I figure,” Augie said. “Don’t know who did it, though. Oh, and Art Tinen says he got a shot at that Sterling fella when he grabbed a horse out of the corral. Thinks he may have nicked him, but he got through our lines.”
Ethan scratched the back of his neck. The sun beat down on them. “Go in and help Hiram tear this house apart. Isabel’s got to be here someplace. We saw her less than an hour ago.”
Kincaid sat back on his heels and looked soberly at Ethan. “He’s gone, Sheriff.”
Ethan let his shoulders sag. He’d handled everything wrong today. He should have let Cyrus scramble for the money and borrow what he could from Libby and the other business owners.
Josiah came tearing around the corner of the house. “Doc, there’s a wounded man out back.”
“One of Kenton’s men?” Ethan asked.
“Yup. Looks like he fell off his horse and the others left him.”
Dr. Kincaid stood and reached for his bag. “There’s nothing more I can do here.” He followed Josiah.
Ethan met Hiram’s gaze and sank back against the wall. “Don’t know what else we could have done when they started shooting in here.”
Hiram’s brow furrowed. He looked down at Kenton’s body and over at Button. “That was an odd thing. All our people were holding back. Who started the shooting?”
Ethan shook his head slowly. “I thought some of our people got too close. Around back, you know? Where we couldn’t see them.”
Hiram shook his head. “Augie said they heard shooting here before they moved in. According to him, it sounded like the first shots were inside the house. The fellows around back thought you’d started something out front.”
Ethan closed his eyes. Had he moved in too fast? Was it his fault that lives had been lost?
Lord, how could I have been so wrong? Now we’ve lost Cyrus and Isabel both. Those no-accounts must have gotten her out of here—don’t ask me how. Show me what to do now, Lord, ‘cause I’m not much good on my own.
No shots had sounded for a good ten minutes. Isabel had stopped shaking and had almost stopped noticing the stench of the privy. Maybe it was safe to go out now. She reached for the rusty steel hook that held the outhouse door shut and pushed it out of the staple. Slowly she opened the door an inch and peered out.
Dr. Kincaid and Josiah Runnels were walking across the overgrown barnyard behind the ranch house. She opened the door farther, and the hinges creaked.
The men swung toward her, Josiah, bringing his gun around to point at her. The doctor’s face changed from surprise to concern, and he hurried toward her.
“Miss Fennel? Is that you?”
She opened the door wider. “Yes. Is it safe to come out now?”
“Yes ma’am.” He offered his hand as she stepped down from the little shack.
“Thank you.” She stumbled a little, and he steadied her.
Josiah had lowered his gun but still stared at her. “Should I tell the folks you’re all right, miss?”
Isabel managed a shaky smile. Josiah had been one of her students not so long ago. “Yes, please. I’m fine.”
He turned without another word and ran toward the ranch house.
Isabel looked up into Dr. Kincaid’s somber blue eyes. “Is my father all right? I heard a lot of shooting.”
The doctor glanced uneasily back toward the house. “Ma’am, there was a big dustup, and …” He hesitated, and she studied his face. “I’m afraid the news is not good.”
“Papa’s been shot?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you with him? Is it serious
?” The regret in his eyes told her more than she wanted to know. “Oh no. He’s not—Tell me, Doctor. Is my father dead?”
Before he could speak, Josiah’s whoop reached them. “She’s found! Sheriff, Miss Fennel’s found!”
Kincaid’s quiet words sliced through her heart. “I’m afraid so, ma’am. I’m so very sorry.”
Isabel reached for him, her head swimming. She clutched at his neat black vest as her knees buckled.
CHAPTER 37
Hiram and Ethan met Josiah at the ranch house steps. Hiram had just spread a blanket over Cyrus’s still body. “Is she alive?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Josiah said, his eyes glittering. “Doc and I walked out back and saw her coming out of the outhouse. Funniest thing—but she’s right pert.”
Ethan looked at Hiram. “She’ll want to see her pa.”
Hiram searched for his sister and saw her talking quietly with Libby, Bitsy, and Augie. “I’ll get Trudy.”
“Good. And Josiah …” Ethan turned back to the freighter’s son. “Can you bring your wagon down here? We’ll need to carry the bodies back to town. Tell your pa, too.”
Hiram strode quickly to Trudy’s side. “Miss Isabel might need you ladies when she finds out about her father.”
Trudy and Libby took a hasty leave of the Moores. As they walked toward the steps, Dr. Kincaid rounded the corner of the house, carrying Isabel in his arms. Her gray skirts flapped about his legs as he bore her toward them, and her head lolled against his chest.
“Is she all right?” Trudy ran forward, and Hiram followed. Ethan and a dozen others joined them as they clustered around the doctor.
“She’s had a shock. I need a place to put her down where she can rest.” Kincaid caught Trudy’s gaze. “Perhaps you could attend to her?”
“Yes, certainly. Mrs. Adams can help me.” “Should I take her inside?”
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t think so, Doc. Why don’t you lay her down here by the house? Josiah will bring a wagon down in a minute.”
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