by Danni Roan
“Atta a boy,” Ty whispered. The horse was an expert at shamming death; now if Frank Selson would only believe the marshal was as vulnerable as he seemed, perhaps he’d make that one slip that would cost everything.
Ty hunkered down by the pine bough shelter, listening, waiting.
“It took ya long enough to get here,” the voice called again as Ty tried to hone in on the outlaw’s whereabouts.
“I been up here trying to find a way over these dadblamed mountains for nearly two months,” the voice rang out again as the sun began to make its appearance. “I’ve been reduced to livin’ on rabbits.”
Ty willed Chip to remain still as the morning sun began to spill into the valley.
“I hate rabbits.” Frank’s nearly manic voice called out again, trying to provoke the Marshal into making a move.
It was clear that the outlaw was moving along the slope toward the valley by the change in the muted echo.
As the first rays of the new day painted the far edge of the slope, Ty caught a glint of steel and charged for his horse.
Chip lunged to his feet, taking the lean rider with him as he stretched across the flat land toward the outlaw who yelped, starting off at a hard run.
Pulling his lariat from its latigo, Ty began to spin a loop as Chip galloped after the fleeing man, drawing closer and closer with each bound until Ty turned loose the rope, the loop dancing through the air to land over the shoulders of Frank Selson.
Chip set his haunches, his hind feet furrowing into the soft earth in a quick stop as he leaned against the rope, snapping the outlaw off his feet with a startled scream.
“It’s over, Frank,” Ty said, keeping the rope tight as the dark-haired man, squirmed and cursed in the damp grass.
The sound of a rifle lever action clicking into place made the hair on the back of Ty’s neck stand and a cold shiver run down his spine.
“I don’t know what you’re doin’ Mr,” a woman’s voice spoke, “but I’d move real slow if I were you.”
Frank shimmied and tried to fight off the rope, but Chip moved and shifted, keeping the rope tight despite his struggles.
“Ma’am,” Ty spoke softly, his eyes never leaving the man on the ground. “I’m a U.S Marshal and this man is wanted by the law.”
“You got proof?” the voice asked as the girl moved slowly around the horse and into his line of sight.
“My badge is in my vest pocket,” Ty said, his voice deep and smooth.
“Let me see it.” From the corner of his eye he could see the woman now. She stood only five paces from him, the barrel of a worn sharps never wavering in her hands.
With infinite care, Ty reached into his pocket and grasped the silver star.
“Toss it.” Her voice was clear and steady as she switched the rifle toward Frank, who had almost managed to get to his feet.
Ty tossed the badge at her feet and waited for several seconds while the woman bent at the knees, her eyes still on the men, and lifted the badge in one hand.
Frank shifted, finally finding his feet, and Chip twisted, dropping the man on his backside once more.
“You’d better come with me,” the woman finally said, her rifle now pointed at Frank. “We’ll sort this out at the cabin.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Ty offered, his eyes scanning the woman who moved closer to his horse.
She wore a faded blue dress with several patches along the hem. Her light brown hair was braided and wrapped around her head in a simple twist, but her hazel eyes flashed a clear threat and he urged Chip in the direction she indicated.
Chapter 5
The cabin was so well-hidden in a grove of trees at the top of the slope that if the young woman had not pointed them in the right direction, they would have passed it by.
No signs of life were evident around the structure as they approached, Ty pulling a bound Frank behind him as the young woman covered them both with her rifle.
Still keeping the men in her sights, the woman walked up to the cabin and pushed open the door, indicating with the rifle for the men to enter even as a soft cooing sound burbled from the interior.
“Ma’am, I assure you I’m no threat,” Ty spoke softly, his words soothing. “You saw the badge, you know who I am.”
“I know who you say you are.” Her eyes flashed as she watched him leave his horse and check the ropes that bound the outlaw’s hands before walking him into the cabin.
“And I’m called Jillian.”
The interior of the cabin was warm and spacious, but what shocked Ty was the small, slat-sided cot where a baby cooed and babbled cheerfully.
“Sit,” he commanded of his captive, forcing him into a chair and lashing his feet with the length of rope attached to his hands.
“You can’t take me in,” the outlaw protested, a subtle laugh in his voice. “Even you wouldn’t turn your own brother in.”
The words fell into the room like an anvil dropping and the young woman turned shocked hazel eyes on Ty even as she lifted the baby in her arms.
“Shut up, Frank,” Ty growled, but the other man simply laughed.
“He’s your brother?” the woman’s eyes were the color of a troubled stream, green and gold and brown.
Ty hung his head as something clamped around his heart. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Jillian,” the woman spoke absently, looking first at the lawman, then at the outlaw.
“You believe me now?” Ty asked.
“Yes, I don’t think he’d be going on about it if you weren’t a real Marshal.” Her voice was calm.
“You mean Mr. High and Mighty Tywyn Nelson Spade,” Frank spat, settling back into the chair, his brown eyes full of spite. “Always tellin’ everyone what to do.”
“Frank, shut up,” Ty said wearily, running a hand over his eyes. “She doesn’t need to hear this.”
“Take a seat, Marshal,” Jillian said as she rocked the baby on her hip, its head nestled against her shoulder.
“You here on your own Ma’am?” Ty asked, moving closer so that Frank couldn’t hear.
“What if I am?” She jerked her head and glared.
“You should come down to Biders Clump with me, you’ll be safe there.”
For a few seconds she simply swayed with the child in her arms, holding the babe close. “Who says I’m not safe up here?”
Ty looked around him at the cabin. It was a good structure, but the shelves along the side of the kitchen were nearly bare.
Instead of speaking, he moved out the door and returned, his saddle bags in his hands. “I think I’ll make some coffee,” he offered.
Jillian looked at the lean man in the dark vest and reached for the bags. “Here,” she said, handing him the baby and taking the packs, “I’ll fix us something.”
Ty blinked at the baby in his arm as it looked back at him with soft, blue eyes.
A raspy cackling sound was coming from the chair behind him. “Marshall nurse-maid,” Frank laughed.
Ty leaned back as a plump hand reached for his beard, making Frank laugh harder.
“You’ll be changin’ diapers next.” The outlaw's voice was a rough bark.
“Be quiet, Frank,” Ty spoke wearily, trying to settle the child on his hip as the woman had done, “or you’ll get nothing to eat.”
“You gotta feed me,” Frank whined, “it’s the law. Besides all I’ve had is rabbit for weeks. I swore when I lit out of the glen I’d never eat rabbit again.” His dark eyes were harsh.
“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.” Ty’s tone matched his brother’s and the child whimpered.
“Somethings wrong with it,” Ty said, carrying the little human toward the stove.
“It, is a boy,” Jillian said, her face passive. “His name is Aaron.”
“Why’s his face all wobbly?”
“Because you two men were arguing.” She stirred something in the frying pan but didn’t reach for the child. “Have a seat and I’ll have the food ready soon.”
> Ty moved back to the small table and sat down, placing the boy on his knee. “How old is he?” he finally asked, trying to count the teeth the little one had.
“He’s nine months old.” Her reply was soft, quiet.
The sound of dishes clattering and pots and pans rattling drowned out all other sound and Ty sat, studying the place.
He looked up as the woman Jillian placed the food on the table, catching her dash a bright tear from her eye as she returned for plates.
“Ain’t I getting’ nothing?” Frank called.
Jillian lifted Aaron from Ty’s knee and nodded at the food. “Best fix him something. I don’t particularly want to hear him go on about rabbits again.”
Ty fixed a plate and lifted a spoon from the table. Striding across the room he handed the plate to his brother.
“How’m I supposed to eat like this?” Frank asked, indicating his bound hands.
“Figure it out or go hungry,” Ty said, turning back to the table, a hollowness filling his chest.
Jillian served up another plate of food with one hand and pushed it across the table to the lawman, then did the same for herself before sitting down.
“How long you been up here by yourself?” Ty asked quietly, starting on his bacon and beans.
“A spell.”
“Where’s your man?” Ty’s words were soft.
“He left before Aaron came,” she said, turning troubled eyes to his. “He should have been back.”
“I think it would be best if you came back to Biders Clump, at least for a while. Do you have a horse?”
“No, the horses went with Phineas. He was doing a trading run.” A flicker of fear, or doubt, crossed her face as she bounced the baby gently. “I suppose you’re right,” she finally agreed. “I’m nearly out of supplies.”
Ty’s brow rose but he didn’t say anything. From what he could see, her words were an understatement unless she had a well-stocked root cellar.
“I’d like to leave when we finish our meal. It will take at least a day to get to the bottom of the mountain, and that’s if we’re lucky.”
Her only reply was a nod before rising and moving to a large bed, where she began packing her things.
“What you bringin’ her for?” Frank asked, his spoon clattering on his plate awkwardly as he finished his meal. “She ain’t our responsibility.”
“No one’s ever been your responsibility, have they Frank?” Ty said, a deep melancholy pressing down on him. “It’s always been about you, hasn’t it?”
“What’a you expect coming up the way we did? You know what it was like. Never enough to eat, all the other folks having when we didn’t.” The dark man’s voice was hard.
“There were those with and those without in the glen, Flick.” Ty’s voice was soft as he took the plate, “but what they had they worked for. It was theirs.”
“Well it should’a been mine,” Frank's dark eyes glinted, “it wasn’t fair, us doing without like that.”
“We didn’t starve, Magnolia Spade did her best by us. She raised us same as if we were her own.”
“It wasn’t the same. It was never the same. I learned good that if you wanted something, you’d better take it.”
“I almost hate to take you in Flick,” Ty said, his gray eyes resting on his younger brother’s face. “It’ll break Ma’s heart.”
“What are you on about?” Frank Selson replied, “Old Mags died years ago.”
“Not Mags - God rest her soul - Ma.” His eyes pinned the other man to the chair. “I found her.”
The face before him paled and Ty felt a twinge at his harsh words. Frank might be a notorious criminal, but he was his brother after all.
“I’m ready.” The soft tones of the woman’s voice made Tywyn turn as she walked past him and out onto the roughhewn porch where Chip was tied.
On cat-like feet Ty dashed after her, “Mind,” he called as she reached toward the cankerous horse, her son in her arms, but it was too late as Chip lowered his head, lips peeled, and ruffled the baby’s hair.
“He’s a beautiful horse,” Jillian said as her boy giggled.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ty said, making Chip roll a wary eye.
“Looks like we’re walking,” Ty said, reaching for the rope that bound Frank. “No point in waiting.”
“You can’t make me walk, I got rights,” Frank groused, scuffing his feet across the wooden deck and moving toward the horse.
“You’d better watch yourself, Flick,” Ty said, “Chip don’t like people.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the pinto lashed out with his teeth, nearly catching Frank’s trousers as he scuttled away.
Jillian reached out and stoked the horse’s nose along the line where the brown and white ran together down his face. “Seems alright to me,” she offered, then stepped into the saddle, settling Aaron in front of her.
Something tugged at Ty’s heart, looking at the woman atop his cranky cayuse. She’d put her trust in him and though unsaid, they both knew that if her husband hadn’t returned by now, he probably never would.
Chapter 6
They made it to the line shack as full darkness engulfed them. Ty helped Jillian down with the baby, shocked that Chip wasn’t trying to poke a new hole in him somewhere.
“Turn me loose, Ty,” Frank whined where he stood wearily a safe distance from the two-tone horse.
Tywyn ignored the man, steadying the young woman as he held her elbow a moment more.
“You can keep the woman and I’ll disappear, you’ll never hear from me again.” The wheedling sound grated on Ty’s nerves.
“You go on inside,” the Marshal spoke softly, turning the woman toward the door.
“Frank, there’s no getting out of this,” he said, addressing his brother. His heart was heavy as he looked at the man the boy had become. “You’re my responsibility and I’m taking you in.”
“You always were a self-righteous do-gooder,” Frank snapped, going quiet.
Tywyn tugged on his brother’s bonds, pulling him along into the small shack, the smell of coffee brewing making his head snap up.
“I’ve been here a time or two,” Jillian said, digging out a small frying pan as she watched the little boy, sprawled on a bunk surrounded by pillows.
“I’ll tend Chip,” Ty replied, forcing Frank into a chair and tying him to it. “Watch him,” he added, striding back out the door.
“Get me a cup of coffee, woman,” Frank barked, but Jillian ignored him.
“I said get me some coffee,” he shouted this time.
Jillian cut the man a wicked glare as she moved to the bunk where her son was now crying with fright.
“What’s going on?” Ty asked, striding into the house, his eyes on the young mother.
Frank lunged to his feet as Ty passed, grabbing for the pistol in his waistband with bound hands.
Ty twisted, reaching for his brother, whose forward momentum took them both to the floor with a crash.
Ty threw himself away from Frank, rolling to put space between them, but the desperate outlaw struck out with a boot, catching the Marshal a glancing blow along the shoulder.
Tywyn’s instincts kicked in, his fist flashing out and connecting solidly on his little brother’s jaw, sprawling him flat.
“Try that again and I’ll shoot you,” Ty gritted, pulling himself to his feet and retrieving the gun that had skidded across the floor.
Frank wriggled, trying to push himself upright, shaking his head to clear the haze.
“Where, where did you get that?” Jillian moved closer, her eyes glued to the pistol in Ty’s hand.
“I took this from Frank up on the mountain,” he answered, peering at her, confused.
“Can I see it?” She cuddled her boy close, her eyes wide and worried.
With great care Ty handed the pistol to the woman. Her eyes were troubled and he stepped close, offering his strength if it was needed.
Jillian looked up into Ty’s gray eyes
, her face falling. “This was my husband’s gun,” she said, her voice flat.
Ty’s head snapped around to where Frank had finally managed to push himself upright.
“Frank,” his voice cracked like a rifle shot, “Where’d you get this pistol?” In two steps he stood before the other man.
A harsh cackle burst from the outlaw and Ty grabbed him by the collar, practically dragging him to his feet.
“Where’d you get this gun, Frank?” Ty gave him a shake, his voice deep and quarrelsome.
“I took it,” Frank said.
“When?” It was Jillian’s voice now, soft and strained.
“Up on the far pass,” Frank finally spoke as his brother’s hand clenched tighter on his collar. “Found a fella up there, just him and his wagon, horses all gone.”
“Did you kill him?” the woman’s voice was so quiet both men had to strain to hear it.
Frank stiffened, seeing the danger in his brother’s eyes. “No, I didn’t.” He looked from Ty, to the woman and back again, his eyes full of panic.
“I didn’t kill him Ty, I swear it,” he said. “He was dead when I found him. I took his gear, his gun. That’s all.”
Ty watched as the woman turned and collapsed into a chair, the baby crying softly in her arms as the pistol clattered to the floor.
Tywyn’s hand twisted harder on Frank’s shirt, making it bite into his throat even as his heart twisted for the woman behind him.
“I swear Ty, I swear.” Frank’s dark eyes bore into his brother’s gray ones. “I shot folks up a little maybe, but I didn’t never kill no one.” His voice quivered with fear.
Shoving his brother back into the chair, he bound his feet to the chair, then turned back to Jillian and the child.
“Ma’am,” he spoke, his words soothing as he dropped to one knee before her. “I believe him. I know it’s hard to take the word of an outlaw, but …” his voice trailed off.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I knew, deep down, I knew. Phineas would have been back before Aaron was born if he could have been.” Her eyes were dull, her voice flat.
