“Put the money away and sit down, Nate. We need to talk.”
Nate dropped the coins back in his pocket, settling fisted hands on his hips. He didn’t want to open up to Brodie, yet knew he owed the man an explanation. “Not here.”
Pushing from the table, Brodie left some money, motioning he’d follow Nate. “We’ll go wherever you want.”
“My room.” Nate headed for the stairs, jerking to a stop at the sound of gunfire.
Brodie hurried to the windows. “Eejits,” he muttered, drawing his gun, seeing Nate do the same. “Probably drunken ranch hands.” A woman’s scream had them dashing outside. The men doing the shooting continued down the main street, riding out of town and out of sight.
Nate muttered a curse, then nudged Brodie’s shoulder. “Over there.”
A crowd had already gathered around a man sprawled on the ground, a woman and several others crouched next to him.
“Get one of the doctors,” Brodie ordered, then ran to where the man had fallen. “Let me see.” He pushed through the crowd, seeing a shirt covered in blood, an unmoving body, a face devoid of life—the face of Bob Belford, a man he’d had in the jail several times for public drunkenness. His stomach clenched, knowing Belford was beyond help.
Ordering people to step aside, Doc Tilden joined him next to the man. It took less than a minute for Tilden to make a conclusion. Meeting Brodie’s gaze, he shook his head, then looked at the woman on the other side of the man.
“Are you his wife?” Tilden asked.
Sobbing, she nodded.
“I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do for your husband.”
“Where’s Doc Vickery? We want to know what he says.” The shout came from behind Brodie, followed by several others saying the same.
Glancing at Doc Tilden, he saw the man flinch at the obvious insult.
Standing, Brodie faced the crowd. “It’ll do no good to find Doc Vickery. Doc Tilden did all any man could. Bob Belford is dead.” He waited, letting the grumbling die down. “Go on about your business, allow Mrs. Belford some privacy.” Seeing Nate at the back of the crowd, Brodie motioned for him to join him on the boardwalk.
“I saw Jack. He’s getting the undertaker.”
“Thanks, Nate. Did you get a good look at the men who rode out?”
Nate shook his head. “Neither did Jack. I can start asking around, find out what happened.”
Brodie blew out a frustrated breath, torn between identifying the shooters and finding out what was going on with Nate. He had no choice. Finding the killer had to come first.
“You take one end of the street and have Jack take the other. I’m going to find Sam. We’ll need his help with this.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned to leave, rubbing his useless left arm with his right hand.
Brodie noticed the gesture, wondering how much pain it still caused him. “And Nate?” The man stopped, looking over his shoulder. “You still owe me that talk.”
Nate’s face flashed with an expression hovering between apprehension and pain. Brodie couldn’t quite decide which.
“We’ll talk. As soon as we find Bob’s killer.”
Brodie ignored the disquiet he’d been carrying for several weeks. He had to shove it aside until they tracked down the men who shot and killed one of his citizens. As soon as they did, he’d isolate Nate in a locked room until they got a few things straightened out.
“Emma, you don’t need to ride back here in all the dust.” Big Jim repositioned his handkerchief across his face, lowering his hat on his forehead. The wind picked up as they drove the herd across open fields, unprotected by the rolling hills farther north.
“I know. Doggett told saud wants me to stay close to Finn again today. As slow as they’re driving the cattle, I don’t see a reason I can’t ride with you for a while.”
Emma still hadn’t formed a firm opinion about Doggett. He seemed competent enough, and the men worked well under him—as good as they had under Quinn. Doubts about him still nagged at her. No matter how she approached him, the way she worded her questions, he replied with little information about himself and his past.
And he seemed to pay special attention to Jory and the two other Irishmen. Emma told herself it was because they weren’t as experienced as Holler and hadn’t taken to the work as easily as Finn. If just two of the men stayed after the drive, she hoped it would be them.
“You and Quinn talk about a date for the wedding?”
She swiveled in the saddle, her eyes widening as she looked at her father. He wasn’t one for small talk, especially about topics he considered more the territory of women than men.
“Not yet.” Her mind went to their time together at the remote cabin. After the first, hectic round of lovemaking, they’d slowed down, taking their time, enjoying each other’s company, and bodies, in a way she never dreamed existed.
Emma felt a shudder of guilt pass through her. She knew her parents would be disappointed in them for not waiting until after they were married. Few people spoke of what they did before they took their vows, and parents never spoke about it to their children, other than to warn them to wait. Emma found herself wondering if her mother and father had waited. Or had they given in to the temptation, the same as she and Quinn.
Emma hadn’t mentioned how she learned about the cattle drive, or the fact her mother had ridden over to Circle M.
“Guess Doggett has come looking for you.” Big Jim gestured to the foreman riding up to join them.
“I’d like to have you up with Finn, Miss Pearce. I’ve moved a couple of the men to the back. Holler is going to ride with Jory.”
Emma thought over what Doggett said. He’d moved the least competent men to the back. She’d thought it the best place for them all along, but he’d been firm on keeping everyone in the same position each day. He must have seen or sensed something to make the change just two days before meeting the buyer.
“I’ll catch up to Finn.” Kicking Moonshine, she moved to the front, glancing around to spot anything Doggett would’ve considered a danger. The land spread out all around, flat with few trees and little opportunity for cover. She shook her head, telling herself not to create additional worries where none existed.
Pushing her concerns aside, Emma caught up to Finn, laughing when he flashed her his most charming smile.
“Doggett sent you here. I thought the man might let you ride with your father for a while.”
“I thought so too. Do you know why he’s changing the others around?” Glancing to her right, she saw Holler and Jory spaced out on the other side of the herd.
“I’ve no idea why he does what he does. The man is a mystery to me. I do think having Holler in the front is best, though.” Finn slowed down, reining to his left to cut off a wayward steer.
He moved easy in the saddle with a natural grace some were born with. Quinn was the same, as were all the MacLarens. As had happened often since she left Circle M, a shiver ran through her, remembering how she felt in Quinn’s arms. After all these years, all her days and nights of loving him without knowing how he felt, he’d asked her to marry him. She could hardly believe her good fortune. Many women settled for marrying out of convenience or need. Emma had been blessed with a man who loved her, who would do anything for her.
When her father had asked about a wedding date, she’d said they hadn’t set one, which was true. She and Quinn had discussed marrying at Circle M in late summer, having a big celebration afterward.
She moistened her lips, a smile tilting up the corners of her mouth, her heart’s rhythm increasing. By fall, she’d be Mrs. Quinn MacLaren, living permanently on the MacLaren ranch, spending every night with her husband.
A warm breeze blew across her face at the same time the herd began to move erratically, the cattle’s mawwwing sound growing louder. Emma pushed her hat down, reining Moonshine to cut off several head moving away from the others. As she returned the strays to the herd, several more tried to break away. Emma’s
stomach clenched. The fact they hadn’t grazed or had water in several hours made them more restless, ready to run if they sensed danger.
A faint whizzing sound split the air next to her. Reining Moonshine in the opposite direction, she heard Finn’s frantic voice, but couldn’t make out his words. Before she could turn to find him, at least sixty head started to run, heading straight ahead, the rest of the herd beginning to follow.
Breaking into a run, Emma yelled at Holler, using one hand to motion she planned to turn the herd to the right. She needed Holler and Jory to fall back, encouraging the cattle to mill into themselves.
“Turn them!”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Finn coming up fast behind her, both doing their best to change the herd’s direction. Emma knew the land dropped off somewhere up ahead, a sharp cliff falling at least twenty feet into a ravine covered with rock. They had to get control before the panicked cattle ran right off the edge.
As the herd began to respond to her and Finn’s efforts, several more shots flew past them, hitting the ground, sending the animals into a frenzy.
“Where’s Doggett?” Emma yelled, pulling ahead of Finn, moving Moonshine as close to the stampeding herd as possible without getting in their path.
Finn shook his head in response, using his rope to get the herd’s attention, noticing Holler ride up behind him.
“Drop off ahead!” Holler used his rope in the same manner as Finn, trying to push them right, while Emma fired her gun into the ground.
Dread filled her. She’d never been in a full stampede before, although her brother, Jimmy, had told her more than once about his experiences. They’d lost a man in one, his trampled body barely recognizable to his widow. In another, an experienced hand had broken both legs. He’d returned to work, but was never the same. If they didn’t get control and turn the herd soon, Emma knew they’d lose some of their precious stock. Whatever happened, she prayed the men would come through unharmed.
Dropping their ropes, Finn and Holler pulled out their guns, shooting into the ground, the same as Emma. Slowly, the herd began to turn right, heading into themselves. Unfortunately, their movements weren’t fast enough to avoid the gully.
The frenzied animals in the lead couldn’t turn fast enough, their fear propelling them over the edge and onto the rocks below. Again, shots rang out, confusing the cattle, causing them to zigzag, sending more over the cliff. Their short turns and loud mawwwing made it hard for Emma and the others to gain the advantage.
“Emma, watch out!”
Finn’s warning came too late for her to move Moonshine out of the way of a splinter herd coming up behind her.
Reining her horse to the left, she felt the instant Moonshine’s front hoof slipped, her leg collapsing, thrusting Emma over the mare’s neck, directly in the path of the raging cattle.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hold up, Blaine.” Quinn reined Warrior to an abrupt stop. “Listen. Out there.”
Blaine pulled alongside him, shifting his weight in the direction Quinn pointed. “I don’t hear anything.” A moment passed before the sound came again. He straightened in his saddle. “Cattle.”
“And they’re not happy.”
Neither spoke as they rode toward the unmistakable sound of panicked cattle, stopping again when they heard gunfire.
“Ah, hell.” Quinn kicked Warrior into a fast gallop, knowing Blaine would be right behind him.
Bent low over their saddles, neither slowed, pushing their horses faster as the noise of stampeding cattle and gunfire grew closer. Turning Warrior to the right, Quinn felt his heart pounding in his chest until he could barely breathe. Instincts raged within him, telling him Emma was in danger.
The rising cloud of dirt guided them, the sound of pounding hooves driving them on, even as their horses tired. As they drew closer, the flat ground provided an unobstructed view of the chaos a good distance away.
“Stampede,” Quinn yelled. “They’re running in the direction of the old river wash.”
The MacLarens had driven herds south for years. He and Blaine knew every mile, each obstacle, and the best watering holes. They also knew the major hazards. The sheer drop into the rock-filled riverbed was the worst.
They pushed Warrior and Galath, knowing the stallions were giving all they had. A flash to the right drew their attention.
Blaine’s shout carried above the noise of the cattle. “There’s a shooter behind those trees. I’m heading that way. You get to Emma.” He reined Galath around, riding to the spot where the sun reflected against metal, hearing the explosion of another shot.
So far, the shooter hadn’t spotted them. Quinn almost wished he had, turning his aim away from Emma. He’d have to leave the killer to Blaine.
Quinn leaned forward, pushing Warrior to his limit. His stomach clenched at his inability to do anything except watch as Emma and the herd closed in on the deadly drop-off. Then his heart stopped when he saw Moonshine stumble, then fall, Emma flying over the horse’s neck and into the path of the stampeding cattle.
Blaine circled behind the thick trunks and wide, glossy leaves of the stand of trees. The way the branches hung low provided perfect cover and a direct shot at the herd. Bringing Galath to a stop, he slid to the ground and drew his gun, stalking toward the man who appeared to be resting against the base of the tree. Aiming, he came to a halt a few paces away.
“Drop your gun and raise your hands.”
The man didn’t respond or move at Blaine’s demand. Taking another step forward, he repeated his words, getting no response. Cocking his head to the side, he walked forward until he stood at the man’s feet and kicked a boot. A low moan rumbled from the man’s chest an instant before he toppled over, a revolver tumbling from his grip.
Blood dripped from a wound to his head and another on his arm. Blaine searched his face, seeing bruising and swelling. He’d never seen the man before.
Standing, Blaine looked around, spotting a horse in the distance. Looking down once more, he holstered his gun, then swung up on Galath. Ten minutes later, he returned with the man’s horse. Although he stood a little over six feet tall and was muscled from years of ranch work, it took him longer than he wanted to lift the man and hoist him over the saddle, stomach down.
Blaine had tried to stop the bleeding, but couldn’t find it within himself to hope the man lived.
“Where is she? Where’s Emma?” Quinn jumped off Warrior, running to the circle of men. Pushing through, his heart lurched at the sight of the motionless body lying sprawled on the dirt, her hat gone, hair tangled. He shoved away the terror clamping around his chest, kneeling beside Big Jim. “Is she…”
Her father’s voice broke. “She’s alive. I don’t know how badly she’s hurt.”
Quinn gripped Emma’s hand, getting nothing in response. Leaning down, putting his fingers on her throat, he could feel a slight pulse, her soft breath fanning his cheek. Sliding his arms under her, Quinn lifted Emma, walking to Warrior.
“Finn, hold her while I mount.” Placing her in Finn’s arms, he swung into the saddle, then reached down to settle her in front of him. “Sacramento is closer. I’m riding there,” he told Big Jim, who nodded. The man looked ten years older than the last time Quinn had seen him. Wrapping a strong arm around her, he whipped Warrior around, then stopped when he saw Blaine. “Who do you have?”
Blaine’s concerned gaze took in Quinn holding Emma in his arms. “I’m pretty sure it’s the shooter. Where are you taking her?”
“Sacramento.”
“Not without me.” Blaine tossed the reins of the second horse to one of the men. “He’s injured. Make sure he stays alive. We’ll wait for you in Sacramento.”
Finn nodded. “You take care of her,” he shouted as they rode away. Walking to the horse, he lifted the man’s face, sucking in a breath. “Doggett.” Holler helped him pull the man down, settling him in the dirt. “We’ll keep you alive. At least long enough to see you hang.”
&
nbsp; Riding as fast as they dared, Quinn couldn’t help whispering to Emma, telling her of his love and how he knew she’d be all right. He wouldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. They slowed to traverse down a short trail.
“Let me take her for a while. Give yourself a rest.”
Quinn’s grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “Nae, lad. She’s mine to take care of.”
Blaine nodded. He’d expected Quinn’s response. “Should I ride ahead, find a doctor and bring him back?”
Reaching the bottom of the trail, the land flattened out, allowing them to pick up their pace. Even so, they wouldn’t reach Sacramento until well after the sun disappeared. He knew she needed a doctor, and the hard ride couldn’t be helping.
Quinn slowed Warrior. “Aye. It would be best. See the hills over there?” He nodded to a spot off the trail in the distance with good cover. “We’ll stay there tonight. If you ride hard…” He looked at Galath, knowing Blaine’s horse was as tired as his.
“He’s a strong lad. He’ll take me to Sacramento and bring me back—with the doctor.”
Quinn continued on as Blaine rode away, disappearing in the evening haze. The fog was a good indication of their location. It often appeared around the Feather River, which ran out of Sacramento, north to Conviction. With luck, Blaine would be back before midnight.
Reaching the place he wanted to settle for the night, Quinn slid to the ground, careful to hold Emma in place until he could take her in his arms. Setting her at the base of a tree, he dashed back to his horse, grabbing his saddlebags, water, and bedroll. It took minutes to wrap Emma in the blankets. Taking a shirt from his saddlebags, he dampened it with water, wiping the dirt and dried blood from her face.
To anyone else, she would appear to be asleep, not unconscious. He’d heard the men mumbling before he took Emma and left, learning a good deal about what happened.
If not for the quick action of Finn and Holler in redirecting the cattle, she’d be dead, trampled by the approaching herd. Instead, they’d managed to turn the animals away, putting themselves in more danger than they probably realized. He owed them a great deal. Unless she had massive injuries Quinn couldn’t see, he had to believe she’d pull through.
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