So he’d be in jail.
Either way—the end result was the same.
He forewent his impulse to ease back into bed and snuggle up to her, coddling and cuddling her—which given her stubborn nature would be a worse method of getting answers about her lies than merely shaking her awake.
Instead of poking the bear, he parked his ass on a chair and drank his coffee as if he had all the time in the world to do so.
He’d finished his second cup when Dinah began to stir. He loved watching her come to wakefulness. Blinking away the haze of sleep that looked damn close to her drowsy look of pleasure. The way she stretched her whole body, swaying her clasped arms above her head, rolling her back into an arch from her hips to her shoulders, rocking her neck side to side, pointing and flexing her toes and then expelling a soft sigh.
But that’s not how his beloved awoke this morning. She moved her arm gingerly and emitted a soft wail. If that tiny movement caused her to cry out, how in the hell had she cooked, cleaned and target shot yesterday without yelling in agony?
Because like you, she is damn good at pretending everything is fine.
And Dinah did yelp when she caught him sitting at her bedside, staring at her.
“Silas? Is everything all right?”
“Nope.” He drained his coffee. “How’d you sleep?”
“Umm…okay. Why—”
“You must’ve been restless since it caused the wound—I’m guessin’ a goddamned stab wound—to reopen in the night, since you’ve got blood on your nightgown.”
She started to retort but he shook his head.
“Don’t bother to pretend it’s your woman’s time because even I know that you don’t bleed from your lower back. Or maybe”—he stood and shuffled closer—“we oughta discuss all them bruises on your arm. Bet it hurt like hell to have that arm wrapped around me last night.”
“Fine. I’m in a lot of pain. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No. I never wanna hear that you’re hurtin’. But what’s worse is you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth when I asked you about it yesterday.”
Dinah closed her eyes. “You know why I didn’t.”
“Yep, I do. So darlin’, I hate to do this, because I know you’re sore, and this ain’t about me punishing you for not comin’ clean about him hurtin’ you, but I can’t risk leavin’ you here when I check cattle.” He wished he could just kiss her on the forehead and tuck the covers around her so she could rest. “Since I took most of yesterday off, I gotta do a full check, so you’ll have to get up and come along. I promise we’ll get you to Doc’s as soon as possible so he can take a look at you.”
She threw back the covers with her left hand. “If I can walk, I can ride. If I can ride, I can check cattle.” She stood. “Ain’t that right, cowboy?”
At any other time, he would’ve laughed. But not today. Today he just felt sad and kind of sick that his damn cows had to come before her. “You need help getting dressed?”
“No.”
“Now…how’d I know you were gonna say that?” Silas pressed the other coffee cup into her hand and kissed her forehead. “I’ll saddle up your horse and be waitin’ for ya outside.”
They didn’t speak beyond Silas instructing her and her obeying, mostly because they were both in a rush to get this done.
With their late start, they didn’t finish until one in the afternoon and then he still had to deal with Henrikson’s cattle.
Henrikson was a real prick about it too.
Normally Silas had no problem staying civil and nodding when Henrikson complained and berated him. But he’d had enough of everyone’s shit that he wasn’t about to swallow another mouthful.
“You know what, Garold, if I’m doin’ such a piss-poor job takin’ care of your cattle then it’s time we parted ways. You can deal with your own livestock or hire someone else to do it, but I’m done.” He tipped his hat. “Good luck to you.” Then he turned and tore off toward home.
By the time Dinah caught up to him, he’d had his horse turned out and the oxen hooked up to the wagon.
“Good lord. Those things are huge.”
“They’ll get the job done.”
“Are they mean?”
“Nope. They were castrated early so they’re calmer. That’s why they’re best for pulling and plowing.”
“I don’t imagine they have names.”
Silas snorted and adjusted the modified horse collars he used instead of a yoke.
“Since as of tonight I’ll be in permanent residence at the McKay Ranch, from here on out, I will be naming our livestock.” She dismounted and approached the ox on the left side. “This one is Beast. The one on the right will be known as Beauty.”
“Whatever you want, darlin’. We gotta get a move on if we’re gonna get loaded and get back here and unloaded before dark.”
“That doesn’t leave us any time to go to the courthouse today, does it?”
“Nope. The best day of my life is gonna have to be tomorrow.” He pulled the cinch. He turned and Dinah was right there.
“I get so mad at you, McKay, and then you go and say such heartfelt things that I just melt.”
Grinning, he stole a kiss. “It’s my job as your husband to make you melt at least once a day and twice on Sundays. Then I’m gonna take my own sweet time licking you up.”
“I’ll be right back.” Dinah kissed him. “I’ve gotta grab something out of the house.”
It took twice as long to get to Doc’s by wagon as it did on horseback.
Dinah had gone inside to speak with Mrs. Agnes, since Doc was out on a call. She seemed to’ve been gone a long time. Maybe the crotchety old woman was informing her that Doc wasn’t releasing her from their agreement as easily as she’d believed.
Silas caged up the two chickens and rooster that his intended had purchased in the last month. He wandered through the barn, wondering how much Doc would ask for the milk cow, since it’d go un-milked if Dinah wasn’t here to do it.
A clanking noise outside the barn caught his attention.
Thinking it was Dinah, he peered around the corner to see Zeke West leaning against the corral, gun clutched in his hand.
After yesterday, Silas should’ve been scared, but today he was just tired of this. Yes, he’d played a part in things getting to this point, but how much more would he and Dinah have to put up with?
“Come on out, McKay. I know you can see me.”
“Why are you here, West? Can’t you just let it go?”
“I’m getting really tired of everyone tellin’ me that.”
“If everyone is tellin’ you that, then maybe you oughta listen.”
Bootsteps shuffled in the dirt, making Silas wonder if West was drunk.
“Get out here,” Zeke said. “I’d hate to have to shoot your—”
Silas hustled out with his hands above his head. “I’m here. I’m unarmed. Now what do you want?”
“A fair fight. Not a fist fight or a game of chance. Let’s settle this Old West style.” He snickered. “Get it? I’m the same old West?”
Jesus. This man had rocked off the rails completely.
“As to your question, I want one thing I’ve been denied.” Zeke spun the Colt on his index finger, forward and backward, stopping it with his palm. “A real gunfight.”
“I told you, I’m not armed.”
“Well, that’s just plain dumb, McKay. I told you I’d be gunnin’ for you. I would’ve thought after yesterday, when I proved I can get to Dinah any time I want, that you would be all puffed up with anger and armed to the teeth.”
“I’m a rancher. That’s it. I never aspired to be a railroad tycoon, or a card sharp, or a gunfighter. All I wanna do is live my dream of raising cattle with my woman by my side. I’m no threat to you, Zeke. I never have been.”
“That’s all I ever wanted too. To live my dream. But you stole that dream from me. You McKays took it and you didn’t even know it.” Zeke lift
ed his gun and aimed it at Silas’s forehead. “So I lied. I don’t want a fair fight. I just want you dead so I can put you outta my misery.” He smirked at his play on words. “You threatened me yesterday so there ain’t a judge that’ll hang me for defending myself.” Keeping his pistol in his right hand, Zeke reached into his vest pocket for another gun. A derringer, just like the one Silas had bought Dinah yesterday.
For a brief, horrible moment, Silas thought Zeke had gotten to Dinah and it was Dinah’s gun in his hand. But hers didn’t have those fancier pearl grips.
“Now, I can’t shoot an unarmed man,” Zeke taunted, “so you’ll have to think fast.”
Silas stepped to the side to dodge the derringer that Zeke intended to throw at him.
Two shots were fired so quickly that Silas wasn’t sure where they’d come from until he and Zeke hit the dirt at the same time.
Except Zeke didn’t get up.
And blood began to spread out from beneath his body.
Silas looked over and saw a white-faced Dinah standing by the back of the wagon, arm straight out, her derringer still clutched in her hand.
Her shooting arm began to wobble, and she said, “Is he dead? Oh god, did I really kill him?” She raised teary eyes to his. “Silas?”
Silas jumped to his feet.
Her horrified gaze dropped to the blood on Silas’s frontside. “Did I shoot you too?”
“It ain’t my blood.”
The gun dropped from her hand and thudded into the dirt.
Then she swayed and fell to her knees before she listed to the side and passed out.
He raced to her.
The next three things happened simultaneously.
Silas picked up the derringer and nearly plowed into Mrs. Agnes as she exited the house.
She yelled, “I told you kids to stop foolin’ with fireworks, the holiday is over…” She saw the gun in Silas’s hand and her wide-eyed gaze moved to Zeke, prone on the ground.
The jingle of a harness sounded behind him. Still holding the derringer, he spun around and saw Doc’s buggy pulling up.
“What the devil is going on here?” Doc bailed out of the buggy and dropped beside Zeke.
Silas stood there in shock, watching Doc struggle to find a pulse in Zeke’s neck.
This wasn’t happening. Any second he’d wake up in a cold sweat and he’d be goddamned grateful it’d just been a fucking nightmare.
Mrs. Agnes shrieked, “Silas McKay killed Zeke West. I saw him do it. He’s still got the gun.”
Doc’s shrewd gaze moved from the gun in Silas’s hand to the two bloody holes, one on either side of Zeke’s spine. “You shot him in the back?”
“No! I…”
But his focus had moved beyond the dead man. “Dear lord, what happened to Dinah?”
“After Zeke…she…”
Mrs. Agnes hadn’t even noticed Dinah on the ground behind her. She gasped. “Is she dead too?”
Doc hustled over and did a quick exam. “She’s in shock. At least I can treat her.” He stood slowly and held out his hands. “Silas. Son. Put the gun down. Nice and slow.”
“I didn’t hurt her, Doc. I’d never hurt her.”
“I believe you. And you can help me help her. Let’s get her moved into her room. She’ll be more comfortable there.” He looked over at his wife. “Agnes. Please get the door.”
Silas set the derringer on the back of the wagon. Then he bent down and gently scooped Dinah into his arms.
After he lay her on the bed, he sat on the chair beside her, pulling her feet into his lap so he could unlace her boots.
“Silas.”
He glanced up at Doc.
“As you know, my wife is not strong. She needs to tell the deputy what she saw before she relapses. So I’ll have to lock you in here with Dinah while I fetch him.”
“I get that, Doc. And don’t worry. I’ll stay put. I won’t cause any trouble.”
Doc rubbed his eyes. “Yes, you’ve caused plenty of trouble for one day. For one damn lifetime, McKay.”
The lock clicked behind him.
Silas pressed his face into Dinah’s belly. Breathing her in. Wondering if this was the last time he’d ever be this close to her. There’d be no marriage this week—or ever. No making room for her things in his house. No good-natured ribbing from his brother about finding a new place to hang his hat.
He’d swing for this, for sure.
The bad blood between him and West likely meant there wouldn’t be a trial. A circuit judge would hear Mrs. Agnes’s claim that she’d seen him shoot Zeke, and that’d be that.
Even if it wasn’t true.
But he’d go to hell himself before he told anyone the truth about who’d fired the gun.
Maybe it made him the most unfeeling bastard in the world, but he wasn’t sorry Zeke West was dead. If the man would’ve been less inclined to blow hot air, Silas’s body would be cooling outside right now. Maybe Dinah’s too. Or worse, he might’ve taken her and done unspeakable things to her.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I screwed this up nine ways to Sunday. Maybe Zeke was off his nut, but I could’ve been the bigger man. The better man. Now it’s too late. I should’ve listened to my brother when he said my actions will be the death of me. But I will do everything I can to make sure my actions won’t be the death of you too.”
Silas had no idea how long he remained in that position. He just knew he was reluctant to move even when his damn neck hurt, and his leg had fallen asleep.
The lock clicked and the door creaked open.
“Is she okay?” Jonas asked behind him.
“Still in shock.”
He harrumphed. Then his hand landed on Silas’s shoulder. “I’ve gotta take you in.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “I need to have a word with Doc.”
“I’m right here, boy.”
After gifting Dinah with a kiss on the forehead, then the mouth, and a whispered, “I love you,” he straightened and faced Doc. “Zeke stabbed her yesterday so she’s got a puncture wound on the lower right side of her back. He also wrenched her arm—just like he’d done to mine—and she’s been in a lot of pain from that. Plus he left other bruises on her arm. I’m askin’ you to keep her comfortable for however long it takes for her not to be in pain as she heals.”
“Of course I’ll see to her.”
“Thank you.” He brought Dinah’s hand to his mouth and kissed the finger that should’ve been bearing his ring. “And if I am to hang, I don’t want her there. I don’t care if you gotta lock her in this room, that ain’t something she needs to watch, no matter what she says.”
“Again, McKay, I think of her as a daughter, so I’ll make sure she’s protected.”
“I appreciate it.”
Behind him, he heard Jonas say, “The oxen are in the paddock. I’ll be by tomorrow sometime to return them to the ranch.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
After one last look at his beloved, he turned and walked out.
Chapter Twenty
Twilight had passed to full-on dark when Jonas escorted his brother down the dusty road from Doc’s place to the deputy’s office.
He hadn’t bothered to restrain him; Silas was resigned to his fate.
Word hadn’t spread yet about the shooting, so the raucous noise drifting out from Sackett’s was the mix of piano music, laughter and rattling glassware, same as any other Monday night. No rubbernecking townsfolk stood on the boardwalk, watching the McKay boys take their last stroll together.
Their last one until Jonas accompanied Silas to the hangin’ tree.
Neither of them would pretend that wasn’t in Silas’s future, even when it wasn’t fair.
Jonas knew that Silas wasn’t the one who’d pulled the trigger—regardless of what Mrs. Agnes claimed. He’d seen enough deaths, examined enough bodies shot up every way that a man could meet a bullet, to know there was a pattern to blood when it was violently forced out of a body
. The blood on Silas indicated he’d been standing off to the side of Zeke when the bullets had been fired.
But that wouldn’t matter.
Silas had threatened Zeke yesterday in front of dozens of people and today Zeke was dead.
Mrs. Agnes seeing Silas holding the gun near to where the gun had been fired was the first—and last—nail in the coffin of his condemnation.
The Wyoming District One court judge wouldn’t waste time with a trial. He’d be here on Wednesday morning and Silas would be convicted that same day. When they fit him for the hangman’s noose was up to the sheriff’s department.
Jesus. It made him sick to think about it.
Jonas had helped Doc move Zeke’s body into the “coroner” hole in the shadows behind his barn. It’d been over a year since it’d been opened up and it stunk to high heaven because it’d only ever had one purpose: body storage. With life more settled in the Labelle township due to cattle and railroad traffic spread out across the state and not concentrated in one area, there’d been little need for an official coroner of late.
“Is Big Jim waitin’ in there to take over your shift?” Silas asked.
“Big Jim and his family are in Belle Fourche at some church revival. He’ll be back late tomorrow night.”
Jonas should’ve sent a messenger to Sundance so Sheriff Eccleston could take stock of the situation, but between dealing with the body and sending word to Zachariah West about his brother’s death, contacting the sheriff had slipped his mind. Now it was late, and he wasn’t about to task a lackey from the saloon with heading over to Sundance to rouse his boss.
Besides, this might be the last night he ever had with his brother.
Everything else in the world could wait until morning.
They stopped in the small grove of birch trees at the edge of the building. “If you need to take a piss, do it now or else you’re pissin’ in a bucket.”
Silas took a few steps forward and relieved himself.
After Jonas had unlocked the door and ushered Silas inside, he turned the lamp on his deck to a low flame.
“Here’s how this works. You strip to long johns; I pat you down and put you in the cell. You get water. That’s it. Someone will take over as your jailer tomorrow mornin’. But for tonight, it’s me.”
Silver-Tongued Devil Page 25
