by Tammy Barley
***
Jake’s eyes snapped to Jess. She was moving again, firing. Another man dropped his weapon.
Her words from months earlier suddenly taunted him: I usually hit what I aim for, Bennett, and I’ve never yet hit a polecat in the foot. He had dismissed those words then. He respected them now.
Jessica Hale knew how to shoot.
A shot ripped across Jake’s forearm, burning like a hot knife. With one eye on Jess, partly to admire her and partly to protect her, he rushed into the battle once again, driving Cielos into the thick of it.
***
As Jess reloaded her gun, her eyes darted about the riot of men and horses. She glimpsed Ho Chen near the smithy, brandishing fire irons with steel-eyed purpose. Paiutes with bows had positioned themselves around the corrals, and they had begun streaming arrows toward those least inclined to end the fight.
In her scrutiny, Jess hesitated a moment too long. One of the outlaws gained on her from behind and swept her from her saddle, knocking the revolver from her hand. As he reined in his horse, she looked up into the leering eyes of the skeletal, balding man from Carson City.
Jess struggled to snatch his pistol. Suddenly, Lone Wolf rode in fast. He flipped his rifle, caught it by the barrel,
and swung.
The man holding her slumped in his saddle.
Jess fell to the ground, her gaze fastened on the rifle sheathed below the pommel. She pushed herself to her feet and yanked the rifle free.
Lone Wolf swung again. The man tumbled to the ground, and his horse skittered away. Immediately, Lone Wolf dismounted and knelt to bind the man with rope.
“Jessica?”
“I’m fine!”
She heard another horse coming up fast behind her, and she thrust the rifle to her shoulder, cocked it, and spun around.
In reflex, Jake pushed the rifle barrel skyward, shooting a glare at Jess as he galloped past.
Lone Wolf leapt back into his saddle and rejoined the fight. Jess smelled smoke—sure enough, flames were rolling up the walls of the smithy.
She saw Jake rein in Cielos and jump down. He dragged an unconscious Doyle up and over his shoulder, then carried him at a run to the cookhouse.
Jess pressed herself to the side of the bunkhouse. She held the rifle at the ready, eyes sweeping the yard.
Half a dozen mustangs were out, running for the open range.
Diaz ran to the gate and pushed it closed. He exchanged gunfire with a masked horseman.
Diaz went down.
Jess screamed.
Reese yelled that he was behind her, watching her back.
Jess strained to see what had happened to Diaz. The thickset man who had shot him fell from his saddle, but a second man was riding toward Diaz to finish him. Jess took aim. Fired.
The man fell backward off his horse.
Beyond him, the burly man stood up, cradling the arm she’d wounded earlier. He searched the ground for his gun. His bandana had slipped away, and his pockmarked face was visible as he yelled to one of his associates. Jess gasped in recognition, reaching for Reese’s horse. “Reese!” The boy hoisted her into the saddle, and she kicked the horse into a swift run. She pulled up beside the man who had once dug his fist into her hair, leveling her rifle on him.
He had called to a mounted outlaw, who was now speeding toward them. Reese ran past her and fired a warning shot. After a brief standoff, the horseman threw down his gun.
Several moments passed. The air seemed to quiet as fewer shots were fired. Only a handful of outlaws remained, barely distinguishable in the dust stirred up by the commotion.
Knowing they were gaining the upper hand against the outlaws, those ranch hands still on foot mounted horses and pursued the retreating marauders.
Seth appeared with several lengths of rope in his hands, and he and Reese began tying the two men. The burly one stared up at Jess. “I never expected to see you again.”
To Jess, that was tantamount to an admission of guilt for killing her parents—and for trying to kill her. “If I’m a surprise, you’ll be simply giddy when you see the jail at Fort Churchill.”
He managed a glare before Seth and Reese led him and his associate away.
Once the yard cleared, Jess shakily lowered her rifle and tried to catch her breath.
The battle was over.
A few ranch hands moved to stand guard at the perimeter. Others ran to the smithy with buckets of water to douse the flames. The wounded ones propped themselves against watering troughs or building walls and held their guns on the groaning outlaws until help arrived.
Spinning her horse around, Jess retrieved her revolver and hurried to the cookhouse, where Jake had taken Doyle. She dismounted, tossing her reins to Will.
“Jake?”
“Over here!”
Jake, Ho Chen, and Lone Wolf were crowded around Ho Chen’s bunk, and Jake was pressing a clean cloth to Doyle’s chest while Ho Chen uncorked a bottle of whiskey.
“I have to tell you—”
Jake cut her off. “Go find Taggart. Tell him to make sure everyone at the Paiute village is safe. Then tell him to send two men after the mustangs.”
“I will,” she panted, necessarily putting off the news of her attackers, “but if Doyle needs a bullet cut out of him, you’d best get him to the house. The light is better, and the main room has more space to tend him.” With that, she was out.
Jess ran across the yard to where Taggart, Seth, and Reese were loading the outlaws into a wagon at gunpoint. All around her, ranch hands were tying bandanas to bleeding wounds. Those with arm injuries used their free hands and their teeth to knot the bandages. Jess was relieved to see Diaz leaning up on his elbow, in pain but managing.
Jess relayed Jake’s instructions to Taggart and then raced to the house. Just as she stepped through the door, Jake and Lone Wolf lowered Doyle’s limp form onto the sofa.
She glanced at Ho Chen. “What can I do?”
“Get hot water. Clean towels. Cloth for bandage.”
Lone Wolf knelt to feed the fire while Jess hurried to the kitchen for a water bucket and some empty pots. Her arms full, she ran out the door and headed for the pump.
***
Jake opened the door of the linen cabinet at the end of the short hallway. He pulled out a few tablecloths and tore them into strips, just as he had done for Jess. In his mind, he could still see her shooting boldly and with stunning accuracy. From a galloping horse.
“Mr. Bennett?”
Jake spun around to face Ho Chen.
“He is awake.”
In long strides, Jake crossed the room to Doyle’s side. Seeing the man’s jaw clenched in pain, Jake swept the whiskey bottle from the table and pressed it into Doyle’s good hand. He met the man’s eyes. “See what you can do to empty that bottle.”
Glimpsing the steely flash of Ho Chen’s blade, Doyle smiled faintly. “I think I’d better, at that.” Taking the bottle, he raised it to his lips and took a swig.
In his mind, Jake saw no one but Jess.
***
A few moments later, Jess hurried in through the door. She was weighed down by buckets and pots of water, and Lone Wolf rose from the fire to help her.
“I think the men saved most of the smithy,” she told Jake, “and Taggart sent Seth and Reese after the mustangs. No one at the Paiute village was hurt.” To stop shaking, she examined Jake’s torn sleeve and the furrow of blood cutting across his forearm. It was only a graze, but it would need to be tended.
Relieved that Jake would be all right, Jess finally allowed herself to see the severity of Doyle’s wound. A jagged hole showed where the men had torn away his shirt. Unable to hide her worry, she looked in Doyle’s eyes instead.
“I think…” Doyle took in several hard breaths, gesturing with the bottle of whiskey. “I think you best leave now, Jess. You’re welcome to come back later, when Ho Chen here gets me stitched back together.”
Struggling against the desire to he
lp however she could, she looked at Jake.
“He’ll be fine, Jess,” he assured her. “See if any of the others need a hand.”
On impulse, she laid her hand on Doyle’s forehead and murmured a promise that she’d be back soon.
She left quickly, sending up a prayer for him as she ventured into the ranch yard.
***
“Here, hold this.” Jess placed a clean cloth in Diaz’s palm and pressed his hand over the wound in his side. She already held another cloth against the exit wound. All around them, efficient Paiute women tended to the injured. Someone had started simmering a pot of medicinal herbs over a fire. A young Indian girl stirred the brew.
“Jess?”
It was Jake. Her heart twisted, knowing he had brought news of Doyle. She looked up. “How is he?”
“Weak, but he’ll make it. Ho Chen did a fine job.”
Jess let out a sigh of relief. “Jake, I saw two of the men who attacked me in Carson City. Taggart loaded them in a wagon with the others.”
“I know. I saw them. Do you feel better now that they’ve been caught?”
“A little. But the others are still free.”
“The others aren’t the ones stealing and burning Southerners’ homes. These men are.”
“A few of them got away.”
“They’re not going to risk their skins riding into a ranchful of enraged cattlemen again, if that’s your next thought, so don’t fret over it.”
“But if they—”
“Jess.” Jake knelt down beside Diaz. “Look around you. If you were one of those outlaws, would you ride in here again after witnessing the fight these boys put up? No, you wouldn’t, and neither will anyone else who escaped today. They’re destructive and full of hate, but they aren’t stupid.” He remained calm, reasonable. “We’ll keep an eye out, but after the losses they’ve suffered today, you have to know they won’t be back.”
Jess blew out her breath again. “I suppose you’re right. And my family has been avenged. I’ve waited a long time for that.”
Jake looked as though he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He didn’t. They both knew there were wounded to help. “And how’s Diaz?” he asked.
The Spaniard’s mouth curved into a pained, white-toothed grin. One eye squinted against the bright sun. “I think maybe, boss, the lovely mariposa here would have flown to my side sooner, if only I had not waited till now to get shot.”
Sending him a quick smile, Jess answered Jake. “The bullet passed through, but he’s lost blood. Hiram’s the only other one who’s hurt badly. Ho Chen will need to see to him. Most of the others have cuts and scratches. One of the Paiute men has a knife wound, and his wife is stitching him up.” Two Hands came up beside Jess and held out a cup of steaming herb tea. She thanked the boy, taking the mug from him and handing it to Diaz. She glanced up to see Nate driving the wagon out, heading for Fort Churchill. Will and two others rode horses alongside, heavily armed. They rounded the stable and disappeared.
“Jake, that burly man said he hadn’t expected to see me. He didn’t even know I was here, which means they were after something else.”
“They wanted the mustangs.”
Jess felt greater relief to know the outlaws’ motives than to know that they had been captured. No one was looking for her with plans to kill her. Perhaps no one had seen her when Lone Wolf carried her from the fire. Her cloak hood had been covering her face. Even so… “Why did they wait until now to attack us? The ponies have been here for more than two months, and those men knew it. We started seeing them in June.”
“They waited until the mustangs had been broken in. They’re worth more that way. They must have figured we were getting ready to sell them ourselves.”
“This was more than stealing and burning homes. They tried to kill Diaz, Doyle, and many others.”
Jake pulled off a glove and rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “Do you remember I once told you that I didn’t know a woman out West who didn’t know how to shoot? This is why. We don’t have many lawmen out here, Jess. This kind of thing happens, but now it’s over. It’s over,” he assured her. He glanced around. “Did Red Deer stay at the village?”
At the mention of his caregiver’s name, Two Hands showed worry in his gentle eyes. Meeting his gaze, Jess gave him an encouraging smile. “With the baby’s arrival only a few weeks away, she’s been tired, so she’s keeping close to home,” she explained. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Jess sent Two Hands on his way and then bent down to check Diaz’s bleeding. She caught Jake smiling at her. Her mood lifted a little, just as it always did when he looked at her like that. “What?”
“I guess it won’t be necessary to teach you how to shoot from the saddle, after all.”
Looking away, Jess busied herself cleaning Diaz’s wound, chagrined she’d been found out.
“A tin is no smaller than a hand, Jess.” Seeing Diaz’s look of curiosity, Jake explained, “I saw her shoot the guns out of the hands of two men.”
Four eyebrows rose as the two men awaited her explanation.
At the reminder of what had happened, Jess realized she had mortally wounded at least one man. She closed her eyes a moment, wishing they could talk about something else. “I was within range,” she said, almost indifferently. “Either of you could have made those shots. I took away the use of their gun hands. I could do it without killing them, so I did.”
“Why didn’t you let on earlier that you could shoot?” Jake asked.
“Keeping that knowledge to myself amused me at the time, and it was a card I could play, in the event there was a need.”
“And rifles, Jess?” he said gently. “You know your way around a rifle, too, don’t you?”
Jess diligently wiped bits of dried blood from the wound. “Well enough to keep Diaz from getting shot a second time.”
Diaz turned to look at her. “You are the reason I still breathe, mariposa?”
Sudden tears filled her eyes. She threw her cloth into the water bucket, then began wrapping a clean bandage around the man’s middle.
“I’ve never had to defend my life before, or the lives of people I care about. I feel sick because of everything that happened today, but I’m glad that the two of you and the others cared enough to look out for me.” She secured the bandage and wiped her nose on a sleeve. “And,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “I’m grateful that someone once loved me enough and had foresight enough to teach me to defend myself.”
Jake looked at her thoughtfully. “Isaac taught you
to shoot?”
Jess shook her head. Wanting to go check on Doyle, she stood up. “No. Ambrose did.”
***
For days, Jake noticed that Jess kept a discreet eye on the wounded men, yet she respected the cattlemen’s pride and did not mother them solicitously. She glanced briefly at the men’s coloring during supper and watched for signs of their pain when she passed them in the stable. And though they were healing rapidly, Jess remained quiet and pensive, even when she was with Jake.
The morning after Doyle, Diaz, and Hiram had resumed their regular chores after a hiatus, Jake stepped from the corral, having broken the last mustang at sunrise. He glanced up to see Jess leaving the house. She was wearing her hat pulled low on her head, and she had a bandana knotted at her neck. She was carrying her coat, which she had begun to wear at night, as well as a large sack of provisions and a canteen, which she filled at the pump.
They had regained a sense of ease and comfort, but it seemed to Jake that it was about to be thrown to the wind. He latched the corral gate and walked toward her. The Almighty had blessed Jessica Hale with tenacity, he reflected. She looked as though she intended to use it to the fullest.
***
Jess heard Jake approach. She capped the canteen and headed for the stable, her gaze locked on her goal.
The crops had been gathered, the scattered mustangs had been found, the men wounded during the attac
k had healed. With these things accomplished, Jess felt justified in leaving the ranch to do the one thing she had yet to accomplish. She had put off this trip for far too long.
Despite Jake’s warnings of the dangers of travel, and despite her own promise, she had to go back to Carson City—had to go there to let go of the past. She, too, needed to say good-bye, just as Jake had.
The thieves’ attack had shaken her more than she’d let on. The ranchmen and the Paiutes had become her family. Reliving the threat of loss all over again was a lashing on top of a lashing that hadn’t fully healed. She had to put to rest everything that had gone before, or she’d be afraid for her own sanity if ever it happened again.
Inside the stable, Jess tossed her coat, sack, and canteen onto a shelf.
Jake followed her to the stall she entered, dropping a hand onto the open gate. “Where are you headed, Jess?”
She led Meg out and inspected her hooves. “To Carson City.”
“Carson City? What happened?”
Jess pressed the lead into his hand as she passed him to reach down a bridle. “Nothing happened. I need to pay my respects to my family, and I want to get my brother’s letters from the safe in the import store. They’re all I have left of him.”
She slipped the bridle onto Meg, her fingers deftly buckling the chin strap. She flipped the reins over her horse’s head.
“You’re going to put yourself in danger again,” he cautioned her. “There are still men out there who are enraged over wounds we all inflicted. They could be watching the ranch.”
“Are they watching the ranch?”
Jake sighed. “No, they aren’t.”
Taggart and Diaz stopped several paces away, not sure whether to go or to stay. Jess nodded a greeting to them as she retrieved Meg’s saddle.
“This is a little sudden, isn’t it?”
“No, Jake. This is long overdue.”
He secured Meg’s lead to a support beam. “I’ll saddle Cielos and go with you.”
“I’m going alone.”
The two cattlemen walked out again, wordlessly detaining the others who were on their way in to saddle mounts.
