A Man with a Past

by Mary Connealy

  He watched her and, with some doubts, judged the woman had no liking for her gang.

  With a furious glint in her eyes, Amelia focused on the trail. “I can see you don’t trust me. And I respect that.” She drew her gun.

  Falcon tensed. Before he could jump, Amelia switched her grip so she held it by the barrel. “Take this. I’m afraid I’ll take the least excuse to shoot Percy dead. He’s the closest behind me, but they let a lot of cattle go first. My pa had cattle back in Minnesota, and I am better with them than these four put together. Percy sent me on once the cattle finally started moving. He told me to get ahead of them. The minute I was out of sight, I spurred my horse, figuring to just keep running.”

  Falcon watched her closely. This was the woman they’d decided had shot Wyatt. Right now she didn’t seem like the type.

  “Why didn’t you let your pa know you were all right?”

  Shaking her head, she swiped one hand across her leaky eyes. “I should have. I had one chance, when we got married, but I still trusted Percy back then, and he convinced me I needed to stay hidden for a time. Percy said things to make me feel that I couldn’t leave. He acted as if I was here for my own safety.”

  “Safety from what?”

  “Safety from that wretched Oliver Hawkins. Why that man would—”

  The first cow appeared at the mouth of the canyon.

  Cheyenne grabbed her arm. “Quiet, we’ll hear it all later.”

  Amelia shoved the gun into Cheyenne’s hands. Falcon was glad she took it. He still wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with Amelia Bishop.

  Dropping her voice to a whisper, Amelia said, “We’ve got one hundred eighty-six head in there. I’ve been tending them so I know.” She crouched low. “Percy will be next.”

  Falcon whispered in that near-silent voice. “Let me take him off his horse.”

  Amelia nodded, but her jaw was so tight, Falcon hoped she could hold back from tackling Percy herself. Hoped even more he wasn’t being duped and she’d throw into the fight on Percy’s side. He exchanged a glance with Cheyenne and slid his eyes to Amelia. Cheyenne nodded firmly. The understanding between them was as solid as the spoken word.

  He’d get Percy. Cheyenne would control Amelia should need be.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Falcon gathered himself, watching as the cattle marched down the trail single file. Finally, Percy Ralston came out. Riding along, looking sleepy. He didn’t watch the cows particularly, nor did he look down the trail searching for his wife. He just plodded along in a single-file line of cattle, with no more sense than the cows.

  He came even with Falcon. Springing like a Blue Ridge Mountain wildcat, Falcon lunged up and hit Ralston hard, carrying him over the saddle to hit the ground. Falcon had his gun out and slammed the butt against Percy’s head hard enough to put the varmint into a deep sleep.

  The horse he rode was as calm as Percy. Unlike Amelia’s critter, who spooked and ran, Ralston’s mount stopped and looked back curiously at Falcon.

  Falcon hoisted the man over his shoulder, grabbed the horse’s reins, and took both into the forest.

  Cheyenne handled hog-tying Ralston. Amelia hitched his horse by the others. They all hurried back to the trail. The cows kept marching past.

  “I was up the trail and out of sight before the others came. I can’t say how spread out they are.” She looked with grim satisfaction back at the place they’d hidden Ralston behind some bushes. “But if you need any help—and it doesn’t look like you do—I’ll throw in.”

  She looked around and reached over to pick up a fist-sized rock. “I can keep them quiet, too.”

  Then, through clenched teeth, she said, “Norm Mathers is the meanest. H-he scared me a few times.”

  Something about her voice made Falcon pay sharp mind to her words.

  “I told Percy I never wanted to be left alone with him, but Percy was never around much, and Norm came from time to time.” Amelia’s hand crept to her throat.

  The color faded from her cheeks, and her eyes were downcast. She didn’t say more, but what she had said made Falcon want to hurt Norm bad. Made him want it right down to the bone.

  Amelia cleared her throat and lifted her chin, looking defiant. “Sonny Bender might be the toughest, or at least has the hardest head.”

  “That’s the bald one?” Cheyenne asked.

  “Yes. Sonny and Norm will fight given a chance. Wells, I don’t know about him. I’ve never met him before today. There are other men in on this but only these four came today.”

  “Ross Baker and Bern Tuttle?” Cheyenne asked.

  Amelia nodded. “I recognized Bern Tuttle from when I worked on the Hawkins Ranch. They came around pretty regular until a few weeks ago. A week or so ago, Percy said we’d be moving. He was ready to get us to a better location. Far away from Hawkins, which I wanted badly. He brought horses into the canyon—it was the first time I had one. A few days ago, after one of Norm’s visits, I decided I wasn’t waiting for Percy. I saddled up and followed the trail toward Hawkins’s place. I was going to have it out with my husband, but I found him tied up on the trail.”

  “We’re the ones who tied him up. Then my brother got shot, and we had to take care of him. When we came back for Percy, he was gone, and we saw a woman’s footprints.”

  “That was me. I cut him loose, but by then, with Norm and the way a few cattle would show up in that canyon from time to time, and then finding him bound, I was ready to be done. Ready to run for home and my father. I knew I had to find an opportunity to get away from Percy and his friends. That’s all that was on my mind when you dragged me off the horse.”

  Cows kept moving steadily down the trail. Falcon wondered where they’d go without a lead horse, and now a second driver down.

  It’d be Cheyenne’s job to round them up. Better yet, whoever owned them.

  “The new one is Jeff Wells.” Cheyenne pulled her gun, checked that it was fully loaded, then holstered it again. “I know him. He’s a hand from my ranch. And these cattle are all stolen.”

  A hiss came from Amelia. “I didn’t know. I’d begun to suspect, but I swear to you, I didn’t know what I was getting into when I married Percy. I’ve been scheming how to leave him, and I didn’t dare let him know I was planning it. But I don’t even really know where I am or where Bear Claw Pass is from here. Then this meeting today, and I knew I’d fallen in with a den of thieves.”

  Cheyenne faced the trail, her eyes cold. “I’d say with Wells, we need to worry about him running. He might be the hardest to catch because if he’s close enough to see us capture one of his gang, he’ll take off, worried only about himself. That’d warn anyone who’s behind him.”

  “It’s a box canyon.” Amelia hefted her rock. “He’d have to leave his horse and climb out. They won’t want to be afoot.”

  “Wells probably won’t think of that until he’s over the canyon wall.”

  Falcon saw the nose of a horse and shushed them. Sonny Bender, the bald one. Didn’t much matter which order they came in. But Falcon planned to hit and hit hard with this one and Norm Mathers.

  The three of them fell silent as Bender came down the trail.

  “Ralston, where are you?” Bender was alert. He was watching the cattle. Looking ahead. The trail twisted enough he wouldn’t expect to see Ralston, but Ralston had oughta hear him and call back. Falcon watched the man come on, crouched even lower, hoping Cheyenne and Amelia were being mindful.

  He bunched his muscles to jump, but Bender was looking all around. He’d see Falcon the second he leapt. He might get his gun drawn. Falcon held off, letting Bender draw even with him, then Bender stood up on his stirrups to look hard down the trail. Falcon was on him, had his gun butt slamming down as soon as he hit. He didn’t want to give Bender any chance.

  The man slumped forward, and Cheyenne was by the horse’s head, holding it.

  Falcon dragged Bender to the ground and out of sight, with Cheyenne leading away the horse.
Amelia had a belt off her waist and tied Bender’s legs as Falcon tied his hands. Then Cheyenne was there, dragging her kerchief off her neck to gag Bender.

  Falcon hadn’t thought of that and used Bender’s neckerchief on Ralston, then frisked their prisoners. They’d only gotten back in place a few seconds before Wells popped into view.

  Honestly, the man might’ve just come along if they’d stepped into sight with guns drawn and told him to dismount.

  Falcon jumped out, grabbed him, and whacked him over the head just ’cuz the traitor had it comin’.

  They had three prisoners now, one left to go, and were back in hiding with no sign yet of Norm. Falcon saw that his attack had spooked one of the calves. It’d turned off the trail into the woods and taken to grazing. A cow, maybe its mama, followed and two more cattle went after her. The next one stopped and grazed alongside the path. Several passed it and went on down.

  Falcon didn’t know much about cattle, but it figured they’d do this kinda thing when they weren’t being pushed. Scatter when a stranger jumps in their path.

  The next three cows turned off the trail toward Falcon and the women. One walked right up to Amelia and sniffed her as if it was a pet. It likely was.

  “Go away.” Amelia slapped it. It moved, but not back to the trail. It wandered deeper into the woods toward where the horses were tied. Falcon hoped it didn’t trample their captives, but he didn’t have the time nor the inclination to save them.

  More cattle took to the woods, wandering, stopping. Then Norm Mathers came into sight.

  He shouted, and the cattle ahead of him turned and came on down the trail. He had a lasso out and was whipping at them, pushing them. He was no great hand at herding, but the cows turned and came on down the trail, not counting the ones that had wandered completely off.

  “Sonny, get back up here. We’re too spread out.”

  There was no answer. Norm’s eyes got sharp, and his hand rested on his six-gun as the cows came down again. A few more went off the trail. It was gonna be a hard chore rounding them back up.

  “I need help up here.” Norm fired into the air. The cows in front of him jumped and moved faster. One calf kicked up its heels, bawled, and plunged off the trail straight for Amelia.

  “Ralston, Wells, where’d you get to? Bender, I need a hand.”

  With his gun already drawn, Falcon didn’t think he could tackle Mathers and take him without firing from cover. He saw Cheyenne draw her gun and hand Amelia back hers. Falcon had a gun, but he went for his knife instead.

  Barely breathing to keep from doing anything that would draw Mathers’s attention, Falcon watched him continue on, furious now, shouting at the cattle. Shouting for help.

  Staying low, which didn’t give Falcon as much strength as he wished for throwing, he waited. Mathers came on but slowly, mighty upset, mighty alert.

  Mathers was still a ways uphill when a bullet cut through the mountain air.

  Mathers turned and looked at Amelia. She fired and fired again. Blood sprouted on his left arm, his left hip. Roaring, he brought his gun around, leveled it, and fired. Cheyenne got one shot off, and Mathers aimed in her direction. Bullets ripped through the brush Cheyenne hid behind. She dove, flattening herself on the ground, rolled, fired, rolled again. Her shots coming fast with her on the move.

  Falcon heard a muffled cry of pain from their tied-up prisoners just as his knife whistled through the air and hit Mathers’s right arm near the shoulder.

  Mathers dropped his gun from the knife hit, then howled. A bullet slammed him backward off his horse. The unhappy critter bucked and kicked Mathers hard as he fell, then the horse took off galloping down the trail, scattering the cattle even more.

  Falcon rushed to Cheyenne’s side as she shoved herself to her hands and knees, then dragged herself to her feet.

  “Are you hurt? Those bullets of his came mighty close.”

  Cheyenne looked herself over, then shook her head. “It was a near thing, but he missed.”

  Falcon scowled at Amelia. “You didn’t need to shoot him.”

  She stood, still holding the gun. When Falcon spoke to her, she dropped the gun and clutched her stomach. He didn’t see any blood, so she must just be sick from the shooting, or from her hatred of Mathers.

  Sinking to the ground, she rocked herself and said with dangerous calm, “Oh, I think I did.”

  Falcon moved toward Mathers, not trusting him to stay down. When he was close, he saw there was no need to hurry.

  Mathers was down, and down for good.

  He lay on his back, gunshots in his arm and hip, a horseshoe-shaped print on his face, Falcon’s knife in his shootin’ arm, and a bullet right through his heart.

  Amelia might’ve been firing wild, but Cheyenne hit what she aimed at.

  Falcon jerked his knife out of Mathers’s arm with cold satisfaction.

  It saved the town the price of a trial, a painful testimony from Amelia that she might not be able to give well enough, and the time spent hanging him. Then Falcon remembered the cry of pain.

  “I think Mathers might’ve hit one of his partners in crime.” Falcon rushed to where they’d left their prisoners and found two of them, Wells and Sonny Bender, still unconscious, and Ralston dead from a bullet through the heart. Mathers couldn’t’ve hit him any more square if he’d been aiming.

  Falcon hesitated to tell Amelia. In her current state, she might start weeping or dancing or maybe get back to shooting again.

  Cheyenne reached his side and saw Ralston. Their eyes met, then they turned to Amelia, who was still curled up on the ground, rocking.

  “Amelia,” Falcon said, “can you go get our horses and bring them up?”

  With dazed eyes, Amelia looked at him, then, as he’d hoped, the simple chore cleared her head enough she got to her feet and headed out. By the time she got back, maybe she’d have better hold of herself.

  “I could’ve gotten the horses and let her have another minute to get past the shock.” Cheyenne holstered her gun, dusted the front of her shirt from where she’d been stretched flat out on the ground, and arched a brow at him.

  He came up so close not even the air separated them. He bent down and kissed her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her even closer.

  “I thought he’d shot you when you went down.” He kissed her again. Her arms went around his neck. “I knew you were still in the fight, so I hoped it wasn’t bad, but you went down so hard, so fast.”

  He left off the kissing and just held her tight, waiting for his heart to calm down. She held him just the same.

  When he was back to normal, or as near normal as a man could get with this perfect woman in his life, he eased back and said, “I love you. I have almost from the minute you walked out of the fog when Baker and Tuttle were chasing us, but I didn’t know to call it love at first. And I didn’t know how much until I thought you’d been hit.” It was all inside him like flames, burning and growing, eating him up, a living thing, and he couldn’t stop it from pouring out.

  “I’ve already asked you to marry up with me, but know this, Cheyenne Brewster, I love you and will go on loving you for the rest of my born days.”

  Cheyenne’s face, a little pale, a little bit messy from trail dust, turned into a smile. Her hair was flying loose from diving around but also from Falcon’s fingers in it. Her lips were swollen from kissing him.

  “I love you, too, Falcon. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I can’t wait for that to begin.”

  Amelia came through the forest leading the horses, and Falcon sighed. She was bound to notice Ralston was dead, so he braced himself to tell her. Before she got close, he muttered to Cheyenne, “It ain’t gonna begin anytime soon. Let’s load these coyotes up and take ’em to meet the sheriff. And then, Cheyenne, you and I can get married and get started living.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  What do you mean he’s dying?” Kevin rushed up the stairs behind Molly. “He was shot days ago.
And yes, he had a little fever, but it was nothing serious. Why’d it go up so high today?”

  “Just help me.” She’d been going half-mad all day waiting for someone, anyone to come home. She wasn’t in the mood to answer questions.

  Win was on Kevin’s heels, Andy thundering up the steps after Win.

  Molly had raced for the kitchen when she’d heard them come riding in and called for help.

  They gathered around Wyatt’s bed as she bathed his face. “I need cool water. I need willow bark. I dosed him with the last of it. Someone needs to ride to Bear Claw Pass for more.”

  A movement at the door drew her attention. Rubin Walsh had followed them up. “I’ve got some willow bark in the bunkhouse and a few other things.” He spun away and was running downstairs.

  “He needs to be packed in something cool. I got ice earlier, but I need more.” She looked at Andy. “You, go fast.”

  Her little brother was gone, sprinting.

  “Win, we’ll need to pack the ice somehow. I want a lot of it. Enough to put some on his head and behind his neck. Along his sides. Anything to get his fever down.”

  “Pillowcases. Towels. I’ll get it.” And she was gone.

  “I thought the fever was going down yesterday?” Kevin asked.

  “It was. When I came up here to check on him, I found him like this. I had hoped he might break the low fever today but—”

  Wyatt tossed his head and muttered, “Cheyenne. Chey. Where’s Chey?”

  “He’s been saying that off and on all afternoon. He wakes up enough to drink water and have some broth, then he lapses back into this delirium.”

  Kevin rested a hand on Wyatt’s forehead while Molly dunked her cloth to cool it and wrung it out. “He’s burning up.”

  Pressing the cloth to Wyatt’s face, his neck, his chest above his nightshirt collar, she said, “The fever came down for a time after the willow bark tea, but I used the last of it. I tried a second batch, using the willow over again, but it didn’t work. I’d’ve ridden to town myself, but I just didn’t dare leave him that long.”