Silken Thunder

by Fayrene Preston

  The cold metal of a gun barrel pushed against Dan’s neck.

  The cocking of the hammer sounded like thunder in his ear.

  “Throw down your gun real easy,” Brianne said.

  Fury, not fear, made Dan freeze. Shit. How in the hell could this have happened? He had been so sure that they'd gotten them. A painful prod of the gun barrel forced him to toss aside his weapon. For the moment, at least, he could do nothing else.

  “That’s good. Now call up to your men and have them come down here, without their guns, their hands in the air.”

  Dan hesitated and Brianne jabbed the barrel of his gun at him again. “Do it.”

  “Becker, Collins.”

  The two men turned their heads toward Cummings. The first thing they saw was Brianne Delaney holding a gun on him. The second thing they saw was Lassiter, leaning against the boulder. His face contorted with pain, but the gun he had aimed straight at them was dead steady.

  “Toss down your guns,” Cummings called to them.

  They didn’t have to think twice about their decision. Without delay they did as they were told and started back down the ledge.

  As soon as Patrick was free of the narrow passage, he touched his heels to Stormy's sides and rode into the box canyon, both guns drawn.

  Brianne stared in disbelief. “Patrick. My God, Patrick.”

  He pulled Stormy to a halt and leapt off. He holstered his left-hand gun but kept the right one poised and leveled at the man Brianne was covering. “I see you’ve managed to find yourself some trouble,” he drawled, scanning the meadow, making a quick assessment of the situation. His relief that Brianne was alive was tempered with wariness. Yet everything appeared to be well in hand. “What was all that shooting I heard?”

  She nodded in the direction of Becker and Collins, who were approaching, their hands held high in the air. “They thought we were up in the cave. Lord, Patrick, I can’t believe you’re actually standing here. What happened to you? How did you find me?”

  Relaxing now that he knew she was all right, he laughed at her excited, confused jumble of questions. At the same time, he reached for the lariat on his saddle and began to tie Cummings’s hands behind his back. “The sun has never risen on a day I couldn’t find you, little sister. I followed your trail west yesterday. Then last night it occurred to me to change direction. I saw the bluff and I knew it would be just like you to hide close to the enemy’s home ground.”

  “Uncle Dom taught us that. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But I was afraid that I might be too late and find you dead.”

  A cold shiver passed through her. “I was afraid of the same thing.”

  Patrick shoved Cummings to the ground. “Stay put.” He turned his attention to Sloan, whose rifle still covered Becker and Collins. “You look like a horse kicked you.”

  “I feel worse,” Sloan said dryly. Then his legs gave out, and he began sliding down the rock.

  Brianne started toward him.

  “No.” Sloan straightened abruptly. “I’m all right. Get the rest of them tied up.”

  Brianne’s teeth bit into her lower lip. “Sloan, I only want to help you.”

  “I’m not a damned invalid.”

  Patrick’s eyebrows rose at the sharp exchange. Something had obviously developed between his sister and Lassiter since he’d been away. Without comment he set about tying up the two remaining men. He threw a brief glance at Brianne, whose worried gaze was still on Sloan. “Where are the rest of them? I picked up the trail of six men following you.”

  Her face clouded even more. “There were six men originally. Now there’re only three. I killed — ” She broke off.

  A wave of aching sympathy rushed through Patrick. On Killara, Brianne had learned at an early age that death was always a possibility. She’d seen violence firsthand, and she’d lost people she loved. But she’d never killed a man herself. He not only felt her pain, he could see that she was holding herself together only by the greatest of efforts. She’d obviously been through a great deal. He wanted to comfort her, but the armor she’d constructed around herself was very fragile, and he knew he had to be careful not to shatter it.

  He made a face and said with deliberate lightness, “Jesus, Bri, you might have left a few for me to take care of.”

  As he’d hoped, her tension eased and she smiled faintly. “Sorry. I didn't know you were coming, and we had to do something. So in the night we crawled down here — ”

  “Crawled?”

  “We managed to make our way to an arroyo behind them and hid until Cummings sent his two men up to the cave. We’d put our saddlebags and some of our gear under the blanket to make it look as if we were sleeping. They opened fire. Cummings was distracted.” She made a gesture. “The rest you can see for yourself.”

  He gently tweaked a strand of her hair and said lightly, “You’re a real mess. Malvina would have a fit.”

  “How nice of you to point that out. You look like you could use some cleaning up yourself.” She sniffed. “And you smell like Stormy.”

  “Where’s your gratitude, little sister? I got into Chango yesterday, intending on a nice long bath. But when I’d heard no one had seen you since Sunday, I made the supreme sacrifice and took off after you. By the way, I’ve got to admit, you did a great job of hiding your tracks.”

  “I tried.” She shook her head. “But I must have done something wrong or Cummings wouldn’t have found us.” Suddenly she threw herself at him and gave him a fierce hug. “Oh, Patrick, thank God you’re here.” For long, sweet, precious moments, she held on to him as if she’d never let him go. Then she eased her grip and whispered in his ear, “Help Sloan. He won't let … ” Her words trailed off as she took a step back and glanced over her shoulder at Sloan. The care she’d taken to make sure that he wouldn’t hear hadn’t been necessary. He was paying no attention to them, lost in a haze of pain and exhaustion; he was so white he looked as if he might collapse at any moment. She tried to smile. “Isn’t it wonderful to see Patrick, Sloan?”

  “Wonderful,” he echoed hoarsely.

  Patrick ambled over casually. “You did a hell of a job taking care of Brianne.” He grinned. “Did she get in your way too much?”

  “I’m the one who got in her way,” Sloan bit out bitterly.

  Brianne took an impulsive step forward. “No, that’s not — ”

  “Bull,” Patrick interrupted smoothly. “You don’t have to try to save her feelings, Sloan. She’s as tough as a mountain goat.” He took Sloan’s rifle and gently pushed him down to a sitting position so that he was leaning back against the rock. “And a godawful nurse. I’m surprised you survived.” He squatted down beside Sloan. “I remember one time when I had the croup. She nearly killed me, fussing over me until she drove me crazy. You too?”

  Brianne stood watching the two men with amused exasperation. Patrick had never had the croup.

  “She’s been very — kind,” Sloan said without looking at her.

  Patrick nodded gloomily. “That’s when she’s at her worst. Don’t worry, I’ll see that you get back to town in one piece,” The two men exchanged purely male smiles.

  Sloan’s smile had a distinct element of relief, Brianne noticed. And her own relief had a strange hurt mixed in with it. She had wanted Patrick to help Sloan but not to shut her out. Sloan had been her love, her ailing child, her responsibility, and now he was being taken away from her. And it was clear he wanted to be taken away from her. She turned abruptly. “I’ll get the horses.”

  Chapter 6

  Katy and Alice, two of the girls from Lucky’s Saloon, rounded the corner to the back of Nilsen's Emporium just as Anna finished throwing up. “Miss Nilsen, what's wrong? Are you sick?”

  Anna leaned weakly against the wall of the building, mortified that anyone had seen her. “No, I'll be fine in a minute.” The nausea had lasted longer this morning. It had been stupid of her to come down to the store and try to work. Her father had seen th
at she wasn’t feeling well and had been hovering worriedly around her all morning, making her guilt all the greater.

  Without asking, Alice took Anna’s handkerchief from her hand and carried it to the water pump to wet it. When she brought it back, she thrust it at Anna with a shy, awkward gesture. “Wash your face. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Thank you.” The wet cloth was cool and refreshing, and by the time she'd finished, Anna did feel better. She straightened and looked at the two girls. Both of them were young and pretty, and, strangely enough, ingenuous.

  They came to the back door of the general store so that they wouldn’t offend the decent women of the community. Anna had always felt sorry for them. Now she realized that as soon as it was known that she was pregnant, the decent women of the town would look down on her just as they did on these two girls. The despair she felt almost overwhelmed her. Tears rushed to her eyes.

  “Miss Nilsen, can we help you?” Alice asked gently.

  Hastily Anna attempted to pull herself together, brushing her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “No, no. I’ll be … ” She swallowed hard. “Did you come for the scents and ribbons you ordered?”

  “Yes'm,” Alice answered, “but you stay where you are for a piece till you're feelin' more the thing. We’ll wait, won’t we, Katy?”

  Katy nodded. “Miss Nilsen.” She hesitated. “It’s none of our business, of course, but if you’re in any trouble … ” She trailed off, then began again. “I mean, we might be able to help. You’ve always been so nice to us and all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … ” Katy nervously laced her fingers together. “I hope you won’t take no offense, but if you're in the family way, there’s things that can be done.”

  Anna’s hand flew to her heart. Oh, God, they knew. How long before everyone else did?

  Alice nodded energetically. “It’s painful takin' care of these things and all. But when you don’t have no other choice — well, what else can you do?”

  “I heard of some girls usin’ a long knittin’ needle,” Katy said. When she saw all the color drain from Anna’s already pale face, she hastened to add, “But there’re better ways.”

  “Gin’s the best,” Alice put in. “It’s called ‘mother’s ruin,’ you know.”

  “She’s right.” Katy nodded seriously. “Just put yourself down in a steamin' hot tub of water and drink as much gin as you can as fast as you can. With any luck nature’ll take care of the rest. Your stomach’ll go into convulsions and you’ll be purged.”

  “Of course, you could always take a harsh laxative, or” — Alice brightened with a new idea — “we’ve had a wet spring. I bet you could go out and find some black mold off some rye grass and make yourself up a potion.”

  Anna felt like putting her hands over her ears and screaming. She didn’t want to hear any of this. She didn’t even want to think about the fact that she was pregnant. But living in the West had taught her that nature was relentless. The baby inside her wasn’t going to stop growing just because she didn’t want to face the problem. “I — I appreciate your trying to help, but — ”

  “Don’t you worry none, Miss Nilsen, we won't tell anyone.” Alice’s lips tightened. “We know how this town can be.”

  Anna turned quickly away. “I’ll go get your order.” She walked back into the store, her mind in chaos. Girls like Katy and Alice learned early that there were very few choices in life, and Anna had begun learning the same lesson when she’d met Wesley.

  The methods they’d told her about were crude and cruel, but what were her alternatives? When the knowledge that she was pregnant became known, she would be an outcast. She supposed that she could take being ostracized by the town, but she wouldn’t be able to bear the pain her father would suffer because of her.

  Losing her mother had been a terrible blow to him, but they’d come to America and he’d managed to make a new life. He had his business and his friends. When the town found out that she was pregnant, all of that would change. It was possible that her shame would be put onto her father. She certainly wouldn’t be able to work in the store anymore. No decent person would want her to wait on them. And even if she stopped working in the store, there was still a good chance that the people of the town would refuse to do their shopping with him. If that happened, he would lose his business.

  But most of all, it would destroy him if he knew that his daughter was pregnant with Wesley McCord’s baby.

  Anna poured the last bucket of hot water into the copper tub, then straightened. It had taken her a long time to heat all the water she needed, but at last she was through. A full bottle of gin sat on the floor within arm’s reach. Luckily her papa had choir practice on Thursday nights.

  She was alone. Everything was ready.

  Except her.

  She’d thought about this all day long, and she really had no other choice. With slow, heavy movements, she slipped the robe from her shoulders and let it fall around her feet.

  The tendrils of steam curled and twisted in mesmerizing patterns, rising invitingly toward her. Crossing her arms over her slim, naked body, she stared down at the water, savoring her pregnancy for just a moment more. There was a baby growing inside of her, a tiny new life that was a part of her, and the whole idea was miraculous to her.

  But this baby was a part of Wesley McCord too. He hadn’t cared that the act of going to bed with a man without the sanctity of marriage had been against everything she believed. He hadn’t cared that it put scars on her heart every time she had to lie to her father.

  And he wouldn’t care now that she was carrying his child. To a man like Wesley, who was ruled by power and lust, a child would be nothing more than an inconvenience. He would probably heartily approve of what she was about to do.

  He was a destroyer.

  She bent and trailed her hand through the water. It was so hot, her skin felt as if it were being scalded. Jerking her hand out, she remembered that Katy and Alice had said the bath should be steaming hot. It was.

  All she had to do was step into the tub and immerse her body in it.

  Drink the gin.

  And wait.

  So simple.

  “God, please help me,” she whispered, falling to her knees beside the tub. “I’m so scared. And I’m so alone.”

  Tears began to trickle down her face. She couldn't do it. She couldn’t kill her baby. Her sins were great and the consequences of her sins even greater. But how could she inflict the result of her sins onto a helpless, innocent child that hadn’t even been born yet?

  Slowly a cold rage began to build in her. Lord in heaven, how could she even have considered doing this horrible thing? There was no question in her mind that Wesley would want her to abort her baby. But to do so would make her no better than he. She, too, would be a destroyer.

  Her hands slowly clenched into fists at her sides, the nails biting hard into her palm. If she were to turn destroyer, it would not be her baby who would be the victim.

  Friday afternoon Wes stood in front of his office window, frozen by the tableau before him. Sloan Lassiter and Brianne Delaney were walking their horses slowly down the street.

  Both of Sloan’s hands were clenched tightly around the saddle horn. He was slumped in his saddle. Bruises and lines of pain contoured agony into his face. And Brianne was a far cry from the beautiful, spirited girl he’d met in Anna’s store the previous week. Now exhaustion was written into every line of her body. She looked as if she'd been through a war. He knew she had.

  The problem being she’d obviously won.

  Cummings and two of his men came behind Sloan and Brianne. Their hands were tied behind their backs.

  A chestnut-haired man on a golden palomino rode behind them. A tethering rein connected three horses to the palomino. Three men lay lifelessly over their saddles, their heads and feet hanging on either side of their horse.

  Wes turned away from the window.

  Sloan had
n’t won yet.

  The ledger was the key. Without it Sloan couldn’t prove a thing. He was clearly in no condition for a confrontation, which gave Wes time to get the ledger back in his possession. He would send Mahoney after it, telling him to slip into Sloan's room while he was asleep.

  There was a chance Brianne had it, of course, but only a slim chance. Sloan wouldn’t want that ledger out of his own hands, and Wes knew it.

  He knew it all too well.

  Chapter 7

  Sloan held up the glass of whiskey and noticed that the reflection from the lamp’s flame seemed to be trapped in the golden brown liquid. He gently shook the glass to and fro to watch the flame shimmer, warm and bright. He smiled. Christ, it felt good to be back in his room in the Duke Hotel, cleaned up, and lounging in a real bed. He still felt lousy, but by all that was holy, it was great to be alive.

  Last night, when he’d decided that they had no choice but to crawl down that ledge, through that rain of randomly placed gunfire, he wouldn't have given two cents for his and Brianne’s chance of survival.

  He took a sip of the flame-trapping liquid and felt the whiskey burn its way to his stomach, thanking God for doctors who believed whiskey was a cure for most of the ailments of the world. He’d sleep well tonight, and tomorrow he planned to be up and around.

  “Sloan.”

  His hand jerked at the sound of Brianne’s voice, and some of the whiskey sloshed onto his hand. Damn, he hadn’t wanted to see her again tonight. There were too many feelings he needed to resolve. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “That’s because I didn't.”

  There was something different about her, he thought, and it wasn’t just because for the first time in days he was seeing her dressed in a beautiful gown with her red hair shining and pinned into a coil. No. It was her eyes — they were of a darker hue of green than usual. And her face appeared pale, her posture rigid.