Kat's Law

by Samantha St. Claire

  When the woman told her that Hall and another man had left just a little while ago, Kat spun on her heel and pulled herself into the saddle again. She knew where to look now. She felt the puzzle pieces were at last falling into place. She hoped she was wrong, but she knew in her heart that she wasn't.

  She kicked Blue harder than necessary, causing the Morgan to leap forward into a run. Jonathan had said that if she needed him, to find him. She'd try the ranch, but if he wasn't there, she'd go on alone.

  "That's exactly what he said." Timothy sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. "I'm no fighter, Jonathan. My boy means too much to me." He looked up, fear etching his face. "Jonathan, you've got to stop this man. You were a lawman, for God's sake."

  Jonathan shook his head. "This isn't my job, Timothy. It isn't even my jurisdiction. I won't confront the man, but I'll protect those I care about. You and Adam number in that."

  He didn't want to be right about this, but it was all turning out so predictably, like one continuous nightmare. Jonathan hadn't moved beyond the doorway. While looking at Timothy, his mind was already trying to think two moves ahead of the game players, or at least one.

  "Timothy, I want you to go into town with Adam. Check into the boarding house. Don't leave the place until I come to you, and if I don't come to you in a day or two, light out to Smith's Ferry and try to get word to a U.S. Marshall." His voice was low and calm, almost as if suggesting they go on a holiday.

  Timothy looked up, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to ask. . .what? Is it really that bad? What about you? Why haven't you acted before now? Who is going to die this time?

  "Get moving!" Jonathan barked before Timothy could voice his thoughts. He didn't want to try and explain anything. There just wasn't time.

  Timothy knocked his chair over in his haste to obey. Before he could strap on his own pistol and head for the door, Jonathan was gone.

  If they were trying to cover their tracks, Kat and her father were going to be in someone's crosshairs. He had to get to her first.

  Gilford Hall and Cahill rode into the clearing and found Nathaniel sitting casually on the porch with Ethan lying beside him. Nathaniel might have been just coming for a visit the way he sat relaxed with his back against the sagging porch post.

  "Hello Gilford," Nathaniel said.

  "Hello Nathaniel."

  Gilford Hall scanned the clearing, looking first at the body of Liam and then coming to rest on his son. "How's my boy?"

  "He's lost a lot of blood. Noah didn't know what to do. For some reason, he was afraid you'd kill him. That seems an odd thing, don't you think?" Nathaniel asked.

  Hall seemed in no rush to get to his son's side, instead he remained seated on his horse like some manor Lord inspecting his kingdom. "It's an unfortunate situation we find ourselves in," he said.

  "Only if you make it one," Nathaniel said matter-of-factly.

  "Now how do you come to think that?"

  "Well, you can do the smart thing or you can do the foolish thing." Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck.

  "I'll bite. What do you think that would be?" The elder Hall leaned forward, his elbow resting on the saddle horn.

  "You could see that there are folks here who are onto what you've been up to. It may be a U.S. Marshall they bring in from Salt Lake, or it might be someone who'll finally get fed up and take a shot at you when you're sitting on your front porch, drinking a cup of coffee. You could see that probability, and you could take what you have and leave the Territory."

  Hall's face was stone, his voice steel. "And I suppose that the foolish thing would be for me to kill you and your daughter and stay right where I am."

  Nathaniel hoped his face did not reflect the sudden rush of fear for his daughter. He managed to answer flatly. "That about sums it up."

  Hall straightened, giving him an unsafe smile. "I think you overestimate the backbone of our little town."

  "He's right, Dad." Ethan's voice was soft and the words came out with obvious effort.

  All eyes turned to Ethan, propped on one elbow, deathly pale.

  "They know, and if they didn't before, they will now. You can't fight the whole town, Dad. Get out now, while you can."

  "You don't look like you're in any condition to go anywhere," Hall said coldly.

  "I don't plan to. If I pull through, I'll take my chances here and accept whatever they decide to do with me. I'm done with this." Ethan took a ragged breath. "I'm done with you."

  Nathaniel never saw it coming, and neither did Ethan. Cahill had come up behind Nathaniel and pulled his hands behind him. In a minute he was trussed up like a pig.

  Hall looked down at his son, his face contorted with a sneer. "I'm not the one going anywhere."

  Jonathan pulled his bay to a sliding stop. He jumped down letting the reins remain looped on the saddle horn and ran to Kat's house. He called for her, and hearing no response he checked the barn for Blue. Surely, she wouldn't go out on her own. His memory pulled up the picture of her standing straight with the Browning rifle to her shoulder blasting away with deadly accuracy at those targets yesterday, and he knew with certainty that she would.

  Running back to the house, he threw open the door. The Browning was gone from its rack on the wall. He whirled on his heel and ran for Jessie. His second-best skill as a Ranger had been as a tracker. He'd find her. He had to.

  Kat slowed Blue as they approached the Hindricks' ranch house. There was an eerie, deserted cloud about the place. She walked to the door searching the yard and paddocks as she did, but only the mules stood there looking sleepy and bored. After knocking on the door and receiving no response, she called out. Trying the latch, she found that the door was unlocked. Inside the kitchen she found the remnants of an unfinished meal, the fallen chair, and puzzled over where they would have gone in a such a hurry.

  Back on the porch, she cast her eyes to the hills bordering the small valley. The one place close enough to town and the wagon road that might provide the kind of privacy needed to hide the thieves and their stolen gold, would be there. That would explain the signs of use about the old trapper's cabin. And if Liam were involved, as she suspected, that would explain why she'd met him heading up the trail as she was returning home.

  She knew she could be completely wrong, and she prayed she was, but her intuition screamed at her that her father was in grave danger. There was no time to wait for Jonathan. Without further hesitation, she mounted Blue, turning her head to the mountain.

  Kat didn't want to take the beaten trail winding up to the cabin if the men were there. She wanted the element of surprise in her bag of ammunition. Requiring a little more time, she felt certain she could pick her way up the rockier side of the mountain. That would spill her out onto the far side of the cabin, and they wouldn't be expecting anyone to be foolish enough to risk the more dangerous approach.

  Kat allowed Blue to blaze her own trail through a crowded stand of aspen. But when the pines closed in making riding impossible, she slipped down from the saddle, loosely tethering Blue to a bush. The little morgan protested her decision with no small amount of head throwing and pawing of ground.

  "It's okay, Blue. I'll be back for you." She shuddered to think she might not be able to keep her promise.

  Pulling her father's rifle from its scabbard, she checked the chamber, satisfied that it was loaded. She recalled wondering why her father had felt the need to purchase the newest edition, but now she was grateful that he had. If she and her father were going to walk away from this, she'd need every advantage.

  Brush and low limbs pulled at her pant legs for a few hundred yards, making progress maddeningly slow. Then the vegetation suddenly changed to more sparsely scattered cedars, allowing her to make better time. Another quarter mile brought her to an open vista to the river, winding its snakelike path to Snowberry. From here, she'd need to pick her way carefully across the rocky face of the mountain.

  Scanning the steep talus slope, she was dismayed to
find only a narrow stony shoulder that might provide sure footing for the climb. She guessed that the rim was not much more than two hundred feet above where she stood. It wasn't like she hadn't done this kind of thing many times before, but she had been younger and immortal then. Years in surgery classes stitching broken bodies had shown her just how frail the human body actually was, including her own. Aside from the obvious danger of slipping to her death down the face of the mountain, there was the urgency to scale the rock quickly. She still didn't know how long her father had been gone. Seconds mattered.

  Balancing the rifle on her shoulder seemed to help, shifting some of its weight to the middle of her body. With slow, careful steps she tested her footing on the slabs of stone. Gratefully, she realized that this face had not experienced any recent rock slides, so roots and projections of rock assisted her as she climbed. When she was what she estimated to be fifty feet from the rim, she stopped, catching her breath. Sweat trickled down her back. Her heart beat loudly in her ears.

  Shifting the rifle to her other shoulder, she started again, finding the rock shelf easier to cross. Only a few feet from the top, she paused again, listening. Worrying that she had misjudged the proximity of the cabin to this side of the mountain, she hoped to hear voices. Keeping her head low she pulled herself the final few feet up onto the rim. Thickly spaced pines stood only a few feet from the cliff face. Slow quiet steps across a carpet of needles brought her to a place where she could see sunlight beyond the dense woodland.

  She was still well back in the woods when she heard voices. Inching forward, she threaded her way through the trees in a crouched and ready position. It would do her father no good if she were taken as a second hostage. Ahead, light gleamed in an open clearing. The cabin stood just across the grassy field.

  From here she'd have a clear view of the front of the cabin and the field. Kat knelt behind the tree and peered out into the field. Still exhausted from the climb, she rested her head against the tree, letting her heart slow, allowing her mind time to consider her options.

  One man was sitting on his horse to the right of the cabin porch, another was crouched on the opposite side. With his back to her, was a younger man that looked like one of Liam's old crowd, a slow-thinking boy she'd known as Noah. Farther away, on the shaded porch, she could make out the slouched figure of a man, his back resting against the wall of the cabin.

  Kat pulled back, rubbing sweat from her eyes with her free hand. She peered out from behind the tree again, straining to get a better look at the men. The man on the horse turned his head, giving her a chance to recognize him. Gilford Hall. The man who had been kneeling a few yards away turned as well. She assumed he was the man her father called Cahill, Hall's newest hired gun. She'd been right about the man closest to her. When he spoke to Hall, she recognized Noah's voice.

  That was when she saw the crumpled form of a man at Noah's feet. It was impossible to see who he was from the position of his body with his face turned away, toward the cabin, but this wasn't her father. The clothes and body shape were wrong.

  Shifting her eyes back to the porch she could make out the color of the man's hair who sat slumped there. She took in a sharp breath. It was Ethan Hall and even from here she could see the red stain on his shirt and the bandage. The bandage! Her father would have done that. Noah moved just a step to the left, allowing her to see her father, his hands tied to the porch post. Kat pulled herself back to the shelter of the tree, taking deep breaths to slow her heart. Oh, Lord, if you're really there, I could sure use some help about now.

  Pressing her head back against the rough bark, she closed her eyes. She needed a plan. She always worked from a plan, a carefully thought out, logical plan. The best results were to follow prescribed treatment plans! But there wasn't time for that. No time for consulting books or even logic in this. This required strength of mind as much as body. And it required decisive action.

  Rising from the ground she stepped into the field. Taking three quick, silent steps into the grass she raised the rifle to her shoulder. Gilford Hall was clearly in her sights and well in range.

  "Drop your guns or I shoot your boss." Her gun was clearly leveled at Gilford Hall. All eyes turned to her in varying degrees of shock.

  "I said drop your guns!"

  From her left, out of the corner of her eye, she detected the shaking hands of Noah rising above his head. "Don't shoot, Miss Kat. I don't have my gun on me no more."

  Noah had backed up a yard, now blocking her view of Cahill. "Noah! Get down!"

  Cahill was bringing his rifle to bear on her. She saw him and swung her rifle in his direction, firing just as Noah dropped to the ground. She quickly chambered another round, swinging the rifle back to the elder Hall. The horse was there but Hall was gone. Frantically, she scanned the area, the gun still to her shoulder. Lifting her head from the sights, she saw Cahill on the ground, groaning. His rifle lay beside him where he'd dropped it, while Noah remained huddled on the ground to her left.

  She stepped beside him and glanced down to assure herself that he didn't have a gun. Then she saw the face of the dead man beside him. It was Liam, face gray with death.

  Continuing to scan the area for Hall, she hissed to Noah, "Noah, I need you to help me. Go over to that man and kick his gun as far from him as you can." When all she got back from him was whimpering, she asked in a tone that left no room for argument, "Are you willing to do that, Noah?"

  "Yes, Miss Kat," he sobbed stumbling to his feet. Crossing the field at a run, he kicked the gun before running in the direction of the paddock. Lifting her head from her sights, she saw him pull his horse loose from the rail and swing up onto his back. There was no reason to stop him. He'd be one less threat. She had enough to worry about here with Hall still somewhere and in a fine position to ambush her.

  At the moment Noah galloped past her and down the trail, a familiar voice cried out to her from the right. "Kat! Look out! Beside the house, to your right!"

  She saw the man, gun in hand bringing it up to bear on her. Kat ran for all she was worth in the direction of her father to the left, hoping to reach the shelter of the porch steps before he could fire. Her father sat completely helpless, hands tied behind his back. Running with her back bent, head down, she dove the final few feet toward the porch steps. A shot came thunderously out of the woods to her right. There was a cry that followed and a blur of movement at the corner of the house. Gilford Hall stumbled into view. Grabbing for the porch post, he dropped his gun. For a moment he held himself there. Before he slipped to the ground, Kat saw the surprise open his mouth one last time, but no words came.

  Jonathan stepped from the woods, his rifle still to his shoulder, one eye on Kat and the other on Gilford Hall, the man he'd just shot. He continued to walk with slow deliberate steps in the direction of the house and Kat.

  Kat scrambled to her feet, grabbing for her father's arm. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

  "I'm fine. Just a little bump on the head." He tipped his head toward Ethan. "Not sure about him."

  Kat looked over at Ethan, who was sitting up, his face pale. "Hey, Dr. Kat. Glad you're all right." His voice was soft, his mouth drawn up into a half smile.

  She rose to her feet, turning in his direction. Ethan's face contorted as he yelled out, "Look out!" She saw him reach for his pistol. Ethan managed to lift it pointing it in her direction. Confused, she dropped to the ground in front of the porch, dropping her rifle as she did. Two pistols exploded. Silence then. Lifting her head, she saw Ethan grab his arm and looking back over her shoulder she saw Cahill on his feet, with blood dripping from his hand where Ethan's bullet had hit him.

  Her one thought was to get to her father before Cahill could. She stumbled over the porch step and fell by her father's side. Before she could regain her footing, a bloody arm had wrapped itself around her and pulled her to her feet. Cahill swung her around, her back now to the porch and her father, facing the field where Jonathan stood with the Winchest
er aimed at Cahill.

  "Let her go. It's over." Jonathan's voice came soft but deadly.

  Kat made an excellent shield for Cahill. The man's whiskered cheek scratched her scalp as he gripped her tightly to his chest. She could smell the sweat of fear on him, but his laugh revealed that he believed he had nothing to lose.

  "I ain't so sure it's over," he growled. "I think I'm going to take this sweet little girl and ride out of here, and there won't be anything you can do about it." Kat felt the sharp prick of a knife pressing into her side.

  Jonathan walked steadily across the field, the butt of his rifle still tight against his shoulder.

  "That's far enough!" Cahill snarled.

  "Let her go!" Jonathan's voice was steel. But Kat saw him pull his gaze from the rifle sights, and in those dark eyes she caught a glimpse of the horrors he'd lived with too long. She knew that her death would ruin him, and in a moment resolved that she would not become one more ghost to haunt his days and nights.

  Kat could feel Cahill's blood, sticky and warm, soaking through the back of her shirt. With sudden realization she knew that it was flowing from the wound she'd inflicted. No plan, but an instinct for survival prompted her to ram her elbow back, sharply jabbing it into the area of the open wound. The man let out a heavy grunt, a second later his grip relaxed. Pulling herself free, she rolled to the left just as Jonathan took his shot, straight and sure to the man's chest. Cahill dropped the knife, lifting his hand to cover the hole. A second more passed before he fell face forward into the dirt.

  Kat stumbled to her feet, looking wildly about her. And then Jonathan had her, holding her safe in his arms. At first, she struggled, imagining some other source of threat with a grip on her.

  "It's all right," Jonathan said. "It's all right," he repeated, holding her more tightly to him.

  She leaned her head against his heaving chest. A violent shiver, a final drain of adrenaline left her feeling weak.