His boys were dead.
Now he only had Fredericks left. But he had friends. Oh yes, he did. Dick Morgan had friends and connections. He had allies. One of them, Willy Spoke, was keeping an eye on those two bastards and that whore. Down at that fancy restaurant eating steak. He hoped they had a good meal. He intended to see it be their last.
Morgan knocked back the whiskey in his glass and poured himself another from the bottle he’d bought. He’d get them. He’d get them good.
“You got it straight what we’re gonna do?” Morgan asked Carter Fredericks. Fredericks was the last of his men. The last who’d taken an oath to him right after Appomattox. More than ten years. And for what? To lie Goddamned dead in the dust of Goddamned Missouri.
“I got it,” Fredericks said. “I got it, all right. Going to see to it those bastards pay for Parsons. And for your boy and Bobby, too.”
Morgan had thought and thought how they could get away with killing that bitch in the middle of town. Seemed to him if he killed them accidental, like, if’n he was drunk, why then no one could blame him, could they?
He’d have his revenge and walk away at the end of it a rich man. Well, richer than he would have been splitting the fee from that dude with four others instead of just one.
He looked up and into the face of Willy Spoke. Spoke hung by the door for a minute and nodded when Morgan met his gaze. Morgan nodded back and then nudged Fredericks. “It’s time.”
Morgan stumbled to his feet, giving the appearance of being drunk. “You want to insult me, do it outside, asshole.”
“Bastard. I’ll do more than that.” Fredericks returned.
Fredericks gave him a shove, and Morgan shoved back. People got out of their way, and the next jostle sent them outside on the boardwalk in front of the Frontier Saloon—exactly where they needed to be. Fredericks stepped onto the street, then turned to face the saloon and Morgan. He called him a son of a whore and dared him to act like a man.
There, across the street, Morgan could see the woman and those two assholes who’d killed his kid and his brother and Parsons.
Reaching for his gun, he smiled. They only had seconds to live.
* * * *
“Maybe once he knows I don’t want to be married to him anymore, he’ll agree to let me go, and there’ll be no hard feelings,” Sarah said as they walked back toward the hotel.
Joshua smiled at her. He simply couldn’t help it. He never would have believed that his life’s prospects could change so drastically with just one meal, but there it was. He knew Caleb felt the same way. Now all they had to do was help her be shed of that fool husband, then figure out a way to get her to accept them both into her bed.
No problem. No problem at all.
“There’s still the matter of the five thousand dollars,” Caleb said gently. “He’ll want that money back, Sarah, and I don’t think your father would be willing to give it to him.”
“I have the money. Or, I will in a few years.”
“In a few of years?” Caleb asked.
“Yes. My Grandfather Gladstone—my maternal grandfather—left me a bit of an inheritance when he died two years ago. I get that inheritance in a few years, when I turn twenty-five. I don’t know all the details, but I think there’s at least that much there. So maybe Mr. Maddox will accept a promissory note, or something.”
Joshua saw the expression on his brother’s face. Before he could ask what turn Caleb’s thoughts had taken, the relative peace of the evening shattered.
Across the street two men burst out of the Frontier Saloon, apparently drunk and in the midst of a fight that sounded nasty and about to turn nastier.
“Bastard, you take that back!”
“Son of a whore, why don’t you make me? Why don’t you act like a man!”
“I’ll show you a man, you piece of shit!”
They all three stopped walking, their attention immediately captured by the spectacle unfolding. Standing between him and Caleb, Sarah gasped. Joshua felt his brother tense. Then recognition dawned and he reacted without thinking, his protective instincts kicking in.
Wrapping his arms around Sarah, he yanked her to the ground, falling on top of her as the first shot rang out and glass shattered beside them.
He heard two reports from Caleb’s Peacemaker, his brother’s stance half-crouched, right arm out. People screamed, some running away, obviously afraid of being caught in the cross-fire. Joshua didn’t worry. He knew Caleb’s marksmanship and knew those two bastards had been killed.
Beneath him, Sarah lay frighteningly still. Joshua rolled off her as Caleb made his way toward the two he’d just shot.
“Sarah, are you all right?”
“I…” she could only gasp the word, and Joshua sighed in relief. He’d knocked the wind out of her, was all. She wasn’t hurt, hadn’t been shot, thank God.
He helped her to sit up and rubbed her back. “It’s okay. Just breathe. That’s it. That’s the way. Calm, slow breaths.”
Others approached them then, voicing their concern over the incident, over them. The window of the dry goods store would need to be replaced as it had completely disintegrated.
Joshua had no doubt in his mind that Sarah would have been dead if he and his brother hadn’t moved so quickly.
Caleb came over and squatted down in front of Sarah.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes, now. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. What happened? Who…” She tried to look around Caleb to the bodies lying in the street. Caleb put a finger under her chin to prevent it. Josh continued rubbing her back, allowing his brother to be in charge.
“No, sweetheart, I don’t want you looking.” He shot a glance at Joshua, who nodded. Then he said, “As soon as you get your breath all the way back, Joshua is going to take you over to the sheriff’s office. You wait there with him, and the sheriff and I will be there shortly.”
“I don’t understand. Why…why do we have to go see the sheriff?” She looked from him to Caleb, then back at him.
“Those two were the ones who attacked the stagecoach, Sarah,” Joshua said.
When she didn’t seem to understand what that meant, Caleb reached out, his hand gentle as he lightly stroked her cheek.
“He demanded we give him the woman, do you remember? And he had his eye on you when he pulled his gun just now. If Josh hadn’t moved when he did, if we both hadn’t recognized him, you’d be dead.”
Sarah shook her head slowly, clearly unable—or perhaps unwilling—to accept Caleb’s words. She looked to Joshua for confirmation. He hated to be blunt, but there was no help for it. She needed to understand the truth. Her life might depend on her accepting that truth as quickly as possible.
“You were the target all along, Sarah. Those men were gunning for you.”
Chapter 7
Sarah knew they wouldn’t lie to her, but she just couldn’t quite accept what Joshua and Caleb had told her. Why would someone want her dead? Why, she’d never hurt a person in her entire life!
“It probably has nothing to do with you personally, Mrs. Maddox,” Sherriff MacFarlane said when she’d said that very thing out loud. “Your father and your husband are both important businessmen. I hate to say it, but sometimes, when a man has a grudge against another man, he targets someone close to that man—someone innocent.”
“I just can’t imagine that my father would have such an enemy,” Sarah said quietly, looking from Caleb to Joshua.
Her men—she couldn’t help but think of them that way—exchanged a look and then turned to Sheriff MacFarlane. “It seems to me,” Caleb said, “that whoever hired this gang had to be in possession of Mrs. Maddox’s travel itinerary.”
“You’re right in thinking they’d been hired. I recognized them both. Dick Morgan and Carl Fredericks. Likely the other three you shot were the rest of his gang. Guns for hire, like yourselves, but not at all particular of the sort of job they took or people they worked for.”
“Well, they’re gone now,” Sarah said. In her mind, that meant the threat had ended. The look of concern on all the men’s faces told her that she was probably being a bit naïve.
“Sarah, the threat to you isn’t over. Whoever hired this lot is serious.” Joshua spoke kindly, and she could tell he didn’t like that idea one bit.
“I see.” She didn’t, really. She couldn’t fathom the threat. But she did trust both Joshua and Caleb. And she’d do whatever they told her to do.
“So now what?” she asked.
Caleb looked from Joshua to the Sheriff. She wondered then if males didn’t have a strange way of communicating without speaking because the Sheriff and Joshua nodded their heads when Caleb hadn’t even spoken yet.
“I guess you could consider it a good news, bad news kind of evening. The good news is you don’t have to get on that train tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” For more reasons than one, Sarah thought. She didn’t particularly enjoy that mode of transportation. Neither did she really want to continue her journey to Waco, Texas.
“Not much of one, I’m afraid.” he said, and she knew he understood why she didn’t want to continue on to Texas. She also understood he wouldn’t be persuaded from whatever course of action he’d chosen. His next words confirmed it. “We’re going to continue our trip to Waco on horseback. But not following the route your husband laid out for us.”
“Horseback.” Something in her expression made him smile.
“You can ride?”
“Yes. Not exceptionally well, and it’s been a while, but yes, I can ride.” She met his gaze and held it until he nodded.
“It’s a long ride, but I’ll feel safer going off on our own.”
“What do you need from me, Caleb?” Sheriff MacFarlane asked. It didn’t surprise Sarah that in any circumstance, a sheriff would be looking to Caleb Benedict for leadership. He’d shown himself to be a man who knew what he wanted, and how to get it, a man unafraid to make decisions.
“We’re going to need horses and supplies. And we’re going to need them tonight.”
“Easy enough to do. Anything else?
“Well, Patrick, there is one other thing. If you wouldn’t mind sending a couple of telegrams for me, I’d be much obliged.”
* * * *
Liam stepped back into the shadows when the door to the Sheriff’s office opened and four people came out. The Sheriff shook hands with both men, tipped his hat to the woman, then headed off in the direction of the railway station. Liam frowned. There were no trains due in until the morning, but the railroad kept a station master on the premises around the clock, as well as a telegraph operator.
He’d arrived in Springfield only a few hours before. He’d expected to meet Morgan here and receive proof that they’d carried out their assignment. Instead, he couldn’t find Morgan anywhere, and the woman and her two escorts were still alive and apparently walking the streets at will. Likely they’d become suspicious about something, else why go to the Sheriff’s office?
There was only one thing to do in a strange town if you wanted to know all the latest goings-on, and that was go to the local saloon.
The place appeared crowded and with a hum of excitement and energy layered over the smoky haze that told Liam as soon as he stepped foot inside the door that something had happened here tonight.
He wandered toward the bar, careful to appear an ordinary man, just like any ordinary man who found his way to Springfield Missouri and the Frontier Saloon.
He heard the voice before he saw the speaker and smiled in recognition. There always seemed to be at least one loud-mouth in any saloon who’d seen it all and knew it all, and with a little prodding and free whiskey, would tell it all.
Liam personally felt insulted on behalf of the women of the world whenever he heard men ridicule their gossiping ways. In his experience, the male of the species gossiped far more easily and often than females could ever hope to.
“I tell you, I ain’t seen nothin’ like it since that day when Wild Bill gave it to that Tutt feller. That man out there tonight would have made old Bill proud, God rest his poor, betrayed soul.”
The bartender came right over, and Liam ordered a shot of whiskey. He looked over at the gossip and said, “Get you a drink? I hear you had some excitement out here tonight.”
“That’s real friendly of ya, mister. Thanks. Name’s Pruitt. Thomas P. Pruitt.”
The bartender smirked and poured a shot out for Pruitt.
“John Smith,” Liam said, extending his hand. “Did I hear you mention Wild Bill? That wouldn’t have been Wild Bill Hickok, would it?”
“The very same. Most folks coming into Springfield don’t know that Wild Bill had his first shoot-out right on these here streets, oh, musta been back in sixty-four, sixty-five. And I tell you, mister, what I saw out here on these same streets tonight put me in mind of that historic moment, yes indeed it did.”
It didn’t take many drinks or much prodding for Pruitt to finish his tale.
“And the Sheriff didn’t arrest the shooter?” Liam asked, giving the appearance of hanging on Pruitt’s every word.
“Arrest him? Hell, ought to give the guy a medal. That Morgan’s been up to no good ever since old Robert E. signed over all of our hopes and dreams to that rascal, Grant. Everyone what saw the whole thing knows Morgan was gunning for that guy. Feller out walking down the street with a lady by his side, minding his own never mind! What kind of low down animal tries to shoot a feller when there’s lady close by? A low down rotten one, that’s what kind. My opinion, Morgan needed killing.”
Liam stayed just long enough that he could slip out unnoticed after Mr. Pruitt found someone else to buy his drinks and tell his stories to. Standing in the cooling night air, Liam cleared the scent of booze and smoke out of his head and tried to think.
Holy hell, Jamie is going to be pissed. He was supposed to send a message off, announcing the success of the venture. Couldn’t do that yet. But he would. By God, he would.
All he knew about the two escorting Sarah was that they’d hired out their guns, supposedly of the same ilk as Morgan and his men. Probably these gunslingers assumed they’d been Morgan’s target.
Yes, of course they would. Who would ever think otherwise? The best course of action, then, Liam thought, would be to target Mrs. Maddox from a distance and do it quickly. He was good enough to get the shot off and get away. But first he needed to locate her. He knew she’d been booked into the Lyon House Hotel over on South Street.
Thinking, Liam walked from the Frontier to the train station. He took note of the buildings and thought about the angles and trajectories. He recalled how it had been in the thick of the war, when he’d been ordered behind enemy lines to reconnoiter. If necessary, he would kill any who might prove themselves obstacles to his getting the job done.
Jamie might be even more pissed to discover that Liam had needed to step in, but it couldn’t be helped. No time to hire anyone else. He’d get up before dawn, find a good spot with his rifle, and he’d await the morning train.
Best way to ensure a job got done right was to do it yourself. He felt certain that in the end, Jamie would understand and agree with his decision.
The next day he laid in wait on the roof of a building a good three hundred yards from the train station, rifle at the ready. He waited as the sun crested the horizon, waited until the train arrived, waited until it left.
The woman and her escorts never showed up.
Cursing for all he was worth, he got down off the roof, stowed his rifle in the scabbard attached to his saddle, and headed for the Lyon House Hotel. He’d gone past the place last night on his way to his own hotel and had seen one of the gunslingers out on the boardwalk, talking to a man. They’d looked real comfy, so Liam assumed the man’s charge had retired for the night while his partner stood guard.
Tying his horse to the post, he entered the building and headed for the front desk. Some sixth sense made him pa
use and look around. There, ensconced in a chair off to the side and pretending to read a newspaper, sat the man he’d seen with the gunslinger last night. He also saw something in the light of day he’d missed in the dark: the man sported a lawman’s badge.
His quarry had escaped. He knew that for fact as sure as he knew his name. He needed to know how they had left and when. He got on his horse, rode over to the livery. A few dollars’ bribery later, he had the answers he needed.
The only thing left to do was get a message to Jamie and see what his lover wanted him to do next.
* * * *
“Here, take a drink. We’ll likely stop for the night in another hour or so. Will you be all right until then?”
“I’m tired but fine.” Sarah said. They’d left Springfield before sunrise, the three of them each on horseback, Joshua leading a pack horse. She had no idea what time it was, but the sun looked low enough in the sky to make it late afternoon.
Sarah thanked Caleb for the canteen and took a long drink. They’d stopped and rested the horses and themselves several times during the day. She had no doubt if the brothers traveled by themselves they’d have set a faster pace.
It had been several years since she’d done any steady riding. In the summer, she sometimes visited her aunt and uncle on her father’s side. They owned a farm north of Chicago and kept horses. As a young girl, she’d loved those summer visits and her long afternoon rides.
She wished now she’d kept up the practice.
The events of last night—from her stunning realization that she really wasn’t officially married to Tyrone J. Maddox, to the terror of being shot at—had done a pretty good job of keeping her thoughts quiet and her body numb. She knew she ached from riding the entire day, but compared to everything else, it just didn’t feel that important.
The land seemed to go on forever. Sarah had never given it much thought before, but she guessed, growing up as she had in Chicago, she was used to the clutter, noise, and smells of the city. Even the lingering odor of old smoke that hot or damp weather could coax out had become familiar to her and made up a constant part of her life.
Love Under Two Gunslingers Page 6
