Blake Allen

by Danni Roan

  Two policemen charged inside and opened fire, their shots going wild as Pierce’s men raced toward them. The sound of a shotgun blast roared in the small space and one of the officers jerked backward as if pulled by an invisible thread. The other officer fell in seconds as one of the robbers clubbed him with his weapon then charged back out through the bank doors carrying all they could as they fled.

  Blake, shocked by the appearance of the officer, turned seeing a bank guard sliding down the wall next to him, a crimson stain pouring from his shoulder. As sirens blazed, Blake’s amber eyes sought Darcy, now slumped beneath the tellers counter, a pool of blood gathering at her side.

  Blake never knew how he got to the woman so quickly. He couldn’t recall gathering her into his arms and running to the car, still idling on the street. His first recollection after the robbery was racing out of Casper, a bleeding Darcy sprawled at his side and no trace of Pierce and the others to be seen.

  Somewhere in the distance the young lawman could hear the sound of police cars, sirens blaring, but he pressed the gas pedal to the floor and was soon skidding around a curve and onto a little used road hidden by a deep gully and a small clump of trees.

  He had to save her. He had to keep Darcy from dying. It was his fault that she had been in that bank. Blake’s mind raced, keeping pace with the speeding car, as he tried to make sense of what had gone wrong. Image by image, his mind slowed the events of the past five minutes.

  The police. Why had the police come? Blake had sent a notice to the commissioner explaining what he was doing and how he wanted to take the leader of the gang. The plan had been clear, let them get in and get out un-harassed.

  The officers should never have been there. The plan had been that no one would get hurt. Now Blake prayed for Darcy and the men who had been shot in the heist. One guard, two officers, Darcy, were there more? If they died he knew that this whole thing would rest fully on his shoulders.

  “Please God,” Blake groaned. “Help.”

  Dust rolled out behind the fast car as he skidded around another turn. There was only one place he could go, only one place where he knew he wouldn’t be found. The Broken J. He would get to Mae and Reese and trust to heaven that his uncle, a skilled physician, could save the young woman who had risked it all.

  “God please don’t let them find us. Please don’t let Darcy die.”

  “Hey Turnip,” a weak voice echoed over the roar of the engine. “I’m not gone yet.”

  Blake skidded the car into a pull off along the dirt road behind a row of trees, and then turned to Darcy. “I’m going to try to stop the bleeding,” he said, as her face dipped into a whiter shade of pale. In moments, he had pressed his handkerchief tightly into the wound, flinching when Darcy cried out in pain. With deft fingers Blake soon had the makeshift bandage wrapped with strips from Darcy’s gown.

  “Are they following us?” she asked as her breathing steadied once more.

  “No, I think we got away,” Blake cringed at the twitch of her mouth. “They must be following the other car.”

  “What happens next Turnip?” Darcy’s voice was weak, a mere whisper in the air.

  “I’m taking you home,” Blake said, brushing her dark hair from a sweating brow. “There are people there who will help you.”

  Darcy tried to shake her head but groaned. “There’s no help left for me Turnip,” she sighed. “It’s too late for me, but you can still get them. You can bring down the men who did this. Promise.” The young woman’s blood stained hands grasped his, her nails biting painfully into his palm.

  “Hey, don’t talk like that,” Blake said. “You’ll be fine, we’ll finish this together.”

  A soft huff was his only response as Darcy slipped into darkness.

  Chapter 14

  Darcy woke slowly to a hazy white light that seemed to surround her, lifting her from the pain and shock she had suffered only hours before. She floated there, suspended, she knew not where, in a feathery glow that wiped out everything else.

  Her head was muddled, as if she’d had too much to drink too fast. A cool breeze brushed Darcy’s cheek like a lover’s kiss, and she closed her eyes sinking back into the welcome bliss of unconsciousness.

  ***

  “Blake, what in the world were you thinking bringing her here!” Reese Middleton’s voice was a hushed shout as he ran his hands through graying locks. “What if you were followed? What if the law is following you?”

  “This is the only place I could come,” Blake said, his voice reasonable. “You’re the only one I could trust.”

  “But the police, you could have…”

  “No.” Blake’s icy word cut his uncle off. “I can’t trust them.”

  Reese Middleton’s head snapped up as he glared at his nephew, his blue eyes filled with shock and a little fear. “What are you talking about?” He ran his hands through his dark hair again as his bright eyes flashed.

  “Reese, Blake, come and sit,” Mae called firmly. “Blake you need to eat something.”

  Blake followed his aunt down the short hallway to the table in the middle of the kitchen and dropped into a chair. He was exhausted, worried, and heart-sore. He had been over the scene at least a dozen times in his own head but would anyone believe him about what had really happened. Resting his elbows on the table Blake dropped his head into his hands and stared at the scrubbed surface. Only a few short hours ago Darcy had been laid out on that very table while Reese dug in her side for the bullet.

  A gentle hand nudged the young man’s elbow and he looked up meeting his aunt’s dark gaze. “Drink this,” she smiled, her sculpted almond eyes full of kindness. “Reese sit,” she added pointing to another chair. “You are both exhausted and need food.”

  The clatter of dishes and cutlery filled the small kitchen in the stout log cabin for several moments before any one spoke again.

  “Now tell us what happened from the beginning,” Mae’s voice was soft but firm and Blake knew better than to leave anything out.

  “We were doing a bank job,” Blake began, closing his eyes and shaking his head at the gasp from his aunt and uncle. “I’m undercover,” he started again quickly explaining how he had gotten inside the gang. “Today they were robbing a bank in Casper and then heading to the hideout, the one that no one has been able to find. I knew that if I could be in on this, I’d be able to find out who was really pulling the strings.”

  Mae placed a fork in her nephew’s hand, but she didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently as he took a gulp of his coffee.

  “Darcy, found out about the bank and got me in with the boss. She took a huge risk just taking me to Casper and now look at this mess.”

  Mae looked at her husband nudging his plate to remind him to eat as well. “But what happened?” she asked, gently. “Why aren’t you with them, if that was the goal? How did Darcy get shot? Surely her,” she paused a moment, hesitating over the word. “Her man wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Blake’s voice fell in defeat. “One of the police officers that walked in the door shot Darcy. They shouldn’t have been there. But when I fled the bank both of those men were down, only.” Blake stopped shaking his head as even he couldn’t believe what his own eyes had seen. “One of the gang blasted one officer with a shotgun and another gang member clubbed the second with his gun.”

  Blake sat his cup carefully on the table and ran both hands through his hair, leaving them there as he leaned his elbows into the table. “But neither of the police officers were bleeding when we left.”

  “I don’t understand.” Mae scowled.

  “That’s not possible,” Reese grumbled. “A shotgun blast at close range would make a terrible mess.” Reese rose and walked to the stove to refill his cup.

  Blake lifted his head his golden eyes dark with doubt. “I know, that’s what has me so worried. How could a man take a blast from a shotgun and there not be any blood? It isn’t possible. On top of that,
the night before the heist I sent a note to the commissioner of Casper.” Blake turned to look at Mae and Reese, his golden gaze full of pain. “I told him what was happening and that if he didn’t interfere and kept the officers away we would have a way of finding out who was really running the gang.”

  Reese shot Mae a loaded glance, placing his hand over hers where it rested on his shoulder, but didn’t speak.

  “I’ve been over this a thousand times in my head,” Blake continued. “When those two officers rushed into the bank everything went crazy. One policeman shot Darcy, then one of the gang turned his shotgun on the policeman.”

  Mae covered her mouth in horror imagining the carnage as her heart stuttered in her breast.

  “There-was-no-blood.” Blake’s word dropped like a stone in the silence.

  Reese stood walking to his nephew and placing a hand on his shoulder as he escorted him back to the table. “How is that possible?”

  “They must have packed the shotgun shells with something else, something soft.” Blake looked up meeting his uncle’s gaze. “It was staged. They were trying to kill Darcy. The whole thing was a set up.”

  Mae gasped a bright tear springing to her dark eyes. “But they could have done that at anytime. It doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t, wouldn’t that Pierce have stopped it?”

  “For all I know he set it up. Or maybe it was someone else.” Blake moved back to the table taking his seat and staring at his plate.

  “But they didn’t go for you?” Reese mused. “You weren’t fired at.”

  Blake shook his head.

  “Blake, there’s something else you should know.” Mae reached across the table laying her hand on his arm. “Rumor has it that the Casper police commissioner is corrupt.”

  Blake huffed, then nodded. “I think I can believe that.”

  “You two eat something,” Mae said, standing and walking around the table, her hand trailing over her husband’s broad shoulders as he took his seat once more. “I’ll go check on the patient.”

  “I think I understand now. But first tell me did you sign that note?” Reese said softly as he lifted his fork and took a bite of food.

  “No, I wrote it as if it came from my superior and gave no names.”

  “Eat up, I think you’re going to need your strength to get through this.” Reese spoke again. “You think they suspected Darcy?”

  Blake nodded, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps the whole thing had been a mistake. Maybe Pierce had decided to stop using deadly force, but deep inside he knew that wasn’t true.

  He wasn’t sure what his next move should be, but for now, he was home and that had to count for something. He was alive, and Darcy had a fighting chance. With Mae and Reese to care for her he hoped she would live.

  God, don’t take her. Not yet. She wanted to help, she wanted to do something to make up for her wasted life. Save her I pray. Save us both.

  The heartfelt prayer drifted silently from Blake’s soul as he lifted his fork and began to eat. He would figure out what to do once he knew that Darcy was safe. For now all he could do was wait and pray.

  ***

  Darcy didn’t know how long she floated in the darkness, how long she hung in the space between living and dying. She had no idea how much time had passed when she opened her eyes once more, this time the room around her coming into focus slowly.

  She was in a room. The polished wood walls reflecting a warm light that drifted through a partially open window. The sound of bird song and the rustle of long grass fluttered on a cool breeze reminding her to breath.

  Darcy closed her eyes as a wave of weariness washed over her. She was so tired, if she just let go she would drift off forever. Nothing in this world could touch her again. No one could hurt her, ever. Icy fear dropped into her heart and Darcy felt her soul quiver with dread.

  Forcing her eyes open once more, she gasped for air, clawing for the cool breeze that had touched her a moment ago. Pain shot through her like a lightning strike and Darcy clutched soft sheets fighting to breathe.

  “It’s okay,” a soft woman’s voice soothed as warm hands pressed into Darcy’s shoulders. “You’re safe. Just breathe, slow and easy.”

  Darcy pushed leaden eyelids open as her body went numb. Her lashes seemed to stick, like the lock on a shuttered window, but she forced her eyes open drawing closer to the voice until she saw a raven haired beauty leaning over her. The woman must have been in her forties but she was still lovely. Her dark tresses falling in a long braid over her shoulder, her eyes dark and ageless.

  “I’m Mae,” the woman’s voice seemed to float above Darcy, somehow out of reach but she tried to focus on it, grasping for the life line of another living soul. “I’m Blake’s aunt, be still, and I’ll fetch my husband. He’s a doctor.”

  “Blake,” the name was a gossamer thread connecting Darcy to the world of the living and she wrapped it around her heart as her eyes closed once more.

  ***

  “Blake, Reese, she’s awake,” Mae hurried into the kitchen once more taking in the now empty plates with a smile. “I’m going to fetch the children and take them to Fiona at the main house.” She flicked her eyes to Blake. “I won’t tell them anything other than that Reese has a patient. When you’re ready, you can tell the others yourself.”

  Blake nodded. “Ask Pa, to come,” he called, as Mae slipped into a coat, his voice cracking on the words.

  Mae nodded as Reese strode back the hall toward the bedroom.

  “I’ll send word if we need anything else Aunt Mae,” Blake finally spoke, rising from his chair before heading down the hall as well.

  Blake hesitated in the doorway, watching as his uncle lifted Darcy’s wrist and pulled out his pocket watch counting her heart beats. She looked so small and frail, completely helpless.

  Swallowing hard as something thick and painful filled his throat, Blake gazed down at the pale figure in the bed. She was as white as the sheets, her short dark hair a startling contrast to her pallid features. Blake’s heart thudded in his chest as he willed her to open her eyes. His boots seemed glued to the spot as he watched Reese tuck Darcy’s arm under the blankets, slipping his watch back into a breast pocket.

  “Her heart beat is weak but steady,” Reese whispered. “You come sit with her a while and call me if anything changes.”

  “Will she live?” Blake forced the word from his throat where they grated like iron shavings.

  Reese turned his blue eyes meeting Blake’s. “I don’t know. We got the bullet out, but she has lost a good deal of blood.” He turned back looking at the sleeping woman. “She seems to want to live though and that’s a good sign. If we can prevent infection, avoid fever, and replenish her strength, she has a good chance.”

  Blake moved to the bed taking the stool his uncle had been sitting on. “I’ll stay.”

  Reese’s warm hand rested on Blake’s shoulder and he nodded. “You couldn’t know what would happen,” he offered. “You did the right thing.”

  Chapter 15

  Blake brushed the damp hair from Darcy’s brow, his fingers lingering at her temple. She had willingly accepted the task that had led her to this situation, but he still felt responsible. If he hadn’t asked, this never would have happened.

  Perhaps the woman sleeping before him, had led a rough life. Perhaps she had settled into a life of sin and vice, but she was still a soul with a choice before her. She had to live, she had to be given a second chance.

  “Turnip?” Darcy’s voice was so weak Blake could barely hear it, but her lip twitched in an attempted smile as her eyes fluttered open.

  “Darcy,” he leaned over brushing a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t talk. You’re safe. I’m here.” He held her hand gently offering a smile of encouragement.

  “Where else would ya be?” a hint of sarcasm tinged Darcy’s voice and Blake clung to it as a sign of hope.

  “Nowhere,” he grinned. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You just stick around, so we c
an see this mess cleared up, ya hear?”

  Darcy’s dark eyes closed and Blake sagged with hope and relief as the door behind him opened. Turning where he sat, Blake expected to see Reese returning, but when he saw his father, he sprang to his feet.

  In two strides Blake was wrapped in his father’s strong arms. “Dad,” he choked feeling like a little boy who had lost a beloved pet and didn’t know what to do.

  Clayton Allen didn’t speak, he simply wrapped his son in his arms and let his heart pray. Over the years he had learned to let go of what he couldn’t control and let God have His way in things. There had been many goodbyes in such a large family, and each took a little more of your heart with the passing. Giving in to God didn’t take the pain away, but it took the doubt, anger, fear, and worry. As his only son sagged in his arms, Clay’s heart clenched with mingled pain and joy. His boy was home, but he was in trouble. It was obvious that a father’s simple advice wasn’t going to make this right.