by C. A. Asbrey
"Is Miss Ansell at home, miss?"
"No. She went that way. With the blond man. A Mr. Black."
Nat smiled, recognizing the alias Jake Conroy sometimes used. "I know him. Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes. We spoke earlier, and he helped me with the shopping. I thought he was calling for me, but it seems everyone loves Miss Ansell." She tossed a pale brown curl over her shoulder, miffed at being overlooked.
"Everyone?"
"Oh, yes! Even Frankie—" She blushed at her indiscreet slip, hinting at a more intimate relationship. "Mr. McCully. He sent me out to see where she had gone."
Nat’s blood ran cold. "Mr. McCully. Not Frank McCully?"
"Yes. Do you know him? Blond, and as handsome as they come, but then everyone seems so good-looking today."
The maid bit back her words as old Clayton, the town drunk, doffed his battered hat to her as he passed by. He gurned a toothless grin through his gray stubble as he wove his way along the street like a mule performing dressage.
"And is Mr. McCully at home? Has he spoken to anyone?"
"Oh, yes. Arrived home about half-an-hour before Miss Ansell.” Her face fell. “Then she left with Mr. Black."
Nat’s heart turned to lead as he understood the leap Jake Conroy had made. If he had seen Frank McCully with Abi then only one thing could have happened, especially if he had also spoken to this woman.
"Does Miss Ansell know Mr. McCully?"
"Oh, yes. I believe they’re good friends. If she's not spending time with her fiancé, she's spending it with Mr. McCully. It doesn’t seem quite right, but rich folks seem to have different rules."
He stared off along the street. "What way did they go?"
"I saw her go off with him on his horse.” She pointed out of town as Nat’s stomach sank. “That way. All I can say is, I wouldn’t stay engaged for long if I went off with as many men as she does."
♦◊♦
The horse battered out of town for about two miles, Jake's arm like an iron band around her waist while the thumping echoed in her tight chest. Abigail fought to remain controlled and calm, but she knew betrayal was now driving the enraged man. She felt his hot breath pant in angry snorts against her neck as the countryside flashed by as fast as the strategies that ran through her mind. She quickly dismissed them all. There was nowhere to run, and this man could draw and fire before she even reached her ankle holster. The musky scent of horse drifted up as they pounded across the hard ground, mingling with the metallic taste of fear creeping from the hard lump of emotion forming in her gullet.
Jake’s raw protectiveness toward his nephew gave him his sole reason for living. The certainty that she had betrayed them to a bullet in the head, courtesy of Frank McCully, was surely spinning around his addled mind. The gunman’s fury didn’t come as the explosive, hot, venting variety. It crept in as the cold, calculating, and circumspect type; as piercing as a stiletto. He didn’t explode; he’d begun to implode—and wasn’t listening. The trust he’d given so grudgingly had begun to unravel until he was entangled in a web of rage. What would he do?
He drew his sweating horse to a walk and started toward a copse of trees. Her heart thumped and her breath came in ragged gasps of panic. She was in trouble, and she knew it. She steeled herself to control her breathing, to breathe deep and slowly, because hysteria would only make the matter worse. Everyone in their world knew what McCully did, and anyone who would be prepared to hand them over to a man like him deserved no mercy. She knew that.
Her mind debated the best course of action, wondering if she should try to talk to him…or give in and beg. He’d never been a cruel man. Maybe begging was a good idea?
He stopped the horse and dismounted before tethering it to a tree and glaring at her with chilling blue eyes. “Get down."
His hard hands still held the reins and the pommel of the saddle, in complete control of the mount.
"Jake—"
"Get down, or I’ll drag you off that damned animal."
Her stomach lurched as she looked into the eyes swirling with hate and decided she should remain quiet. Pride was all she had left, and she refused to plead just for the sake of it. She slipped a leg over the horse and slid to the ground, holding eye contact with him all the while, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. A spark of surprise burned in the back of her mind that a man she considered a friend would deliver the final blow.
"So, what have you got to say?"
She shook her head. "You've already said you're not going to listen. Just do what you're going to do and get it over with." Her voice broke with emotion. "You’re wrong, but you’ve decided. You’ll kill a friend, Jake."
His hands formed into fists, the knuckles showing hard and pale through the taught skin. "No defense? You were going to hand us over to Frank McCully. The man’s a murdering animal."
Her eyes fixed on his, declaiming her denial. "I wouldn’t. Not ever. Don’t you know me well enough by now?"
He leaned over and yelled right in her face. "I saw him!”
"Yes, but it's not what you think—"
"I suppose I ain't bright enough to work it out? Maybe I ain't as dim as you think?"
She backed off as he advanced on her, shaking her head from side to side. "I don't think you're dim, Jake. Far from it."
"He's a cold-blooded killer and you were goin' to hand us over to him."
"No." She stepped back once more as he advanced on her. "I’d never do that."
"Enough!" He grasped her by the arm and dragged her into the clearing before swinging her into the center of the copse. "You know what he does. Why else would you be so scared? Why wouldn’t you have warned Nat that McCully is here?"
“Because I wanted him to leave, and he’d have stayed for my sake.” Abigail closed her eyes. "I’d never hand anyone over to him. I was—"
He reached out and dragged the bonnet from her head, catching her hair, making shards of pain lance across her scalp.
"I can see you better now." He prowled around her, looking at her from head to toe as her stomach churned in trepidation. Jake Conroy would fight like a lion when his kin were threatened, and life didn't get any more dangerous for a wanted outlaw than Frank McCully. "Just what am I supposed to do with you now?" he growled.
A worm of hope ate through her cold fear at his words. She’d expected a quick death as his temper took over, but he was more controlled and considered than she expected. But was that a good thing or a bad thing?
"It's really not what you think, Jake."
"You expect me to believe that? That’s the best you can come up with?"
She dropped her head in resigned hopelessness. "Because it’s the truth. Please, take some time to think about this. I didn't even want to meet Nat, and I did my best to send him away. It’s all a coincidence. I’m working on something here, and you turn up to rob the bank. That’s not my fault."
"I don’t believe in coincidences," he snarled, a spot of hot spittle hitting her face. His following whisper was more intimidating than his snarl. "You know McCully. You know what he does. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do the same to you."
She raised her head and looked straight into his eyes. "Because I’m doing everything in my power to stop that happening to you or anyone else."
"You expect me to believe you?" he bellowed.
"Yes. It's the truth, and deep down you know it. I’ve been here for months, and I had nothing to do with you turning up. You know how you chose which bank to rob and I had no influence on your choice."
He gazed into her rich, cinnamon eyes, so full of earnest determination. He trembled as his emotions engulfed him. Confusion mixed with his fury, his mind unable to define which path he should take. His face drained of color before he snarled his reply. "I don't know anythin’ about you anymore."
He stepped forward and grasped her dress at the throat with one strong hand, visions of Nat’s crumpled body floating around his head, mingling with memories of his sister’s b
lood filling the troughs and cracks between the cobblestones flooding back from his childhood. Never again, not if he could help it, but a germ of uncertainty wormed into his mind that prevented him from making the ultimate move. "Tell me why you’re with McCully."
She hesitated, struggling to speak against the tightening fabric of her dress crushing her windpipe, her nails dragging at Jake’s tight wrist as she stared into his cold, blank eyes. His pupils narrowed as his mind gave in to the haunting horrors of the past. His mind shut down, playing only the fears, and blocking out the here and now until he was lost to reality and to the harsh effect of his throttling grasp as his hand twisted the cloth even tighter.
"Jake!"
They both turned at the sound of beating hooves as Nat galloped into the clearing on a sweating horse. He took in the scene and dropped from his horse before he walked over to them, maintaining eye contact with Jake all the way. "Jake, I know about McCully. Let her go." Nat’s voice remained steady and composed as though he was calming a skittish horse.
Jake ignored him, lost in the nightmare of his youth.
Nat frowned and took in the furious man before him. He had seen Jake like this before, during the war, when they had come across the remains of a family decimated by a marauding party.
One straggler had still been there, taking his time with an unconscious thirteen-year-old girl. Jake Conroy had descended into a spiral of ferocity. There was little point in trying to reason with him when he was like this. He was running purely on emotions and nightmarish traumas from his childhood, so Nat had to depend on the decent essence at the man’s core. He knew Abi was struggling for air, but he also knew she’d be dead by now if Jake Conroy really meant to kill her.
His best tactic was to distract Jake and bring him back to reality, leading him away from his fractured past and toward the man he had become. Experience had taught Nat that telling Jake what to do would enrage him more. Jake wasn’t reasoning. He was emoting.
Nat’s gaze turned to Abigail's before he returned to Jake. He raised his eyebrows in query. "Did she tell you she was handing us over to McCully?"
"She didn’t have to!"
Abigail's face was turning puce but Nat was in no hurry. "What did she say?"
"She lied. What do you expect?"
Nat put his weight on one leg as he hooked his thumbs in his belt and continued. "So? How you gonna kill her then?"
Abigail punched at Jake’s arm in desperation as she dropped to her knees, able to suck no more than a tiny amount of air. "You gonna strangle her with your bare hands? Not sophisticated, but it'll get the job done I suppose."
Jake turned his chilling gaze back to the woman writhing at the end of his arm before Nat drew his attention back to him again. "A shot to the head would be quicker. Want me to do it?"
Abigail's eyes watered as she choked and struggled against Jake’s grip, while Nat’s brown eyes drifted over to her, drawn by her fight for life. "There's a river over there. How about drowning? Drowning’d work."
Nat pondered and seemed to think the better of it. "No, you're right. Too wet. Or hanging maybe? What about hanging? One thing's for sure. I wouldn't do it that way."
Jake snorted in frustration.
"We both got knives. No, I guess you've thought it through. Far too messy."
Nat examined Jake’s grip before looking straight into his face. “Maybe both hands and put them right around her throat? That fabric’s starting to tear." He toyed with the grass with the toes of his boots for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Or a rope? You want me to get you a rope?"
Jake Conroy exploded at his annoying partner. "Oh, for cryin’ out loud! You know how to do everythin’ better, don’t ya?”
Jake threw Abigail aside and strode over to Nat, facing him down, irritated beyond belief at his constant criticism, while Abigail lay on her side gasping for air and ineffectually trying to crawl away.
Nat gave Jake a satisfied nod and shook his head with a smile of relief. He grabbed his uncle by both arms and smiled a life-affirming grin. "No. Now that you ask. I don't want either of us to do it. It took you a while, but we got there in the end." Nat led Jake over to a tree and pushed him to a seated position. “Take a minute. I’ll see to her. It’s all fine, Jake. We’re all safe. Relax. Breathe, and sit still. You were strangling her.” Nat watched Jake’s empty eyes fill with both humanity and confusion.
"I never! I just grabbed her."
"You were twisting the collar of her dress, Jake. It got so tight she was going bright red and dropped to her knees."
Jake paused, his missing memories confounding him. "No. I just grabbed her. I wanted answers. I would never—"
Nat patted his arm. "You got her real winded. What you saw wasn’t what you were doing. It was like Kansas again. You haven’t been like this for years. I know what came over you. I found out about McCully." He glanced over at Abi pushing herself to a sitting position. "She’s fine. Sort yourself out while I get to the bottom of this."
Nat walked over to Abigail and crouched, gathering her in his arms and examining her before giving her a smile. When he was satisfied her injuries were only superficial, he supported her to the side of the clearing before propping her against the same tree as Jake.
"Stay there." His eyes transmitted an unnecessary warning. She was too winded to go anywhere.
He smiled at Jake. "I knew you didn't have it in you. Not even for a woman who was going to hand us over to McCully. You ain't that man."
"I wasn't—" Abigail’s voice croaked.
"We'll deal with you in a minute," answered Nat.
Jake closed his eyes and dropped his head. "McCully? Gettin’ us arrested is one thing, but McCully? I can't believe she would do that to us."
Nat gave him a wry smile. "So, what did she say about it?"
"She denies it, but she would, wouldn't she?"
"Well. Let’s see, shall we?"
He towered over her, his dark eyes penetrating her soul. "Well?"
She stared back at him, her chest rising and falling in fear and exertion.
"Nothin’ to say? Not much of a defense…" His dropping of his ‘g’s told her Nat’s anger robbed his accent of its polish.
"I can’t tell you anything. I really can't. But I’m not prepared to see you hurt."
Nat crouched, leaning on his knees, reading her every move. "Abi, listen carefully. I need you to tell me what's going on, otherwise things could get unpleasant for you. I’m sorry about that, sorrier than you'll ever know, but if you don't tell me you'll leave me no alternative."
“No alternative to what?” Abigail’s eyes turned to his, full of resignation and fear. "You’ll have to do what you need to. I can’t tell you anything. Lives depend on it."
"Whose life?"
"Many lives over time but—" She stopped, biting back her words. She’d already said too much.
He watched her mute stare, wondering why she didn't dare speak. Why was she refusing to defend herself? He knew her well enough to know she was articulate enough to try to bluff her way out of this. The stakes had to be high.
"Is someone going to die soon?"
Her eyes opened, almost pleading. "No one will die if you let me go back. Nobody. Just leave here as soon as you can."
He scrutinized her. She looked like she was telling the truth; in fact, she appeared to be placing her own safety behind her current assignment in the habit he found infuriating. She obviously had no idea what he might have planned for her. Nor could she be sure whether or not Nat would really do something to her if his life was at stake—yet she stuck to that damned secrecy which drove him insane.
He scratched his cheek and thought back to what she had told him. It was a matter of life or death. She was guarding someone. She didn't need gun skills. Frank McCully was in the equation. Who could she be protecting? His agile mind ran through the fragments, doing his best to piece them together into a viable theory. It hit him like a kick from a horse, right between the ey
es.
He sucked in a breath and stared at her. "Abi? It’s us. You’re here to protect us."
Her eyes widened and filled with tears and confusion. "How? How did you know?"
"Who else needs protecting when McCully’s around? It’s got to be criminals—and who else is around Everlasting with a price in their heads? This is our territory."
"You sure about this, Nat?” Jake’s jaw dropped open. "She could be tryin’ to draw us out for him."
He shook his head. "Nope. She's done everything she can to stop me from seeing her. She almost begged in the summerhouse. She's drawing out McCully."
"Why? Why would the law care about that? He kills criminals."
"Yes, he does, but he also makes criminals fight to the death when we try to bring them in." Abigail spoke at last, knowing the game was lost. "They kill the law because they think we're all as bad as he is. In the last year, three Pinkerton agents have been killed because the outlaws think they'll be shot anyway. We have to stop McCully and let them know we consider murder to be murder. They need to know the law is fair and applied equally. They can do their time and then live as free men. We can’t live by the gun like this."
"Why us?"
"Mostly your reward money." Unblinking eyes looked straight into his. "Intelligence told us he was after you. We leaked it to him you had nursed me when I was shot by the Pattersons and then let me go after a few emotional entanglements. He has no idea I'm a Pinkerton. In fact, he doesn't even know there are female Pinkertons. He's paying me to stay in Everlasting and pose as Abigail Ansell, even going so far as making eyes at the bank manager to make sure I could be around when you robbed the bank. I got engaged on his orders. He thinks he's running the show and it was only a matter of time before you robbed a bank in this area."
"And to make arrangements to see us?"
She shook her head. "He knows you're too sophisticated than to fall for that. He thinks I'm setting you a challenge, knowing you can't resist one.”
