Twenty-three

Just please let it be Blackstone, Houston prayed.

With their leader out of the picture, the rest would probably give up the fight. He quickly reloaded his Colt then kept it trained on the fallen man as he turned him over. The reddish complexion didn’t match Yuma’s description, and this one had no missing half of his left ear. Still, it could be a trick of some kind.

Fear darkened the eyes staring up at him. “Please help me, mister. I beg you.”

Houston kicked a fallen six-shooter from reach. “Who are you?”

“Frank. Frank Farley.”

No blood, not even a drop, was visible. “You injured, Frank?”

“Nope. I’m begging for your protection. I’m surrendering.”

What the hell? None of this made any sense. Enemies didn’t just give themselves up out of the blue.

“If you think I’m going to buy this cheap trick, you must’ve fallen off a turnip wagon and cracked your fool head,” Houston snapped, grabbing Frank Farley’s shirt and yanking him up. “The minute I turn my back, you’ll put a bullet in one of us.”

The outlaw wearily rubbed his eyes. His voice shook when he spoke. “I realize I’ve given you no reason to trust me, but I swear on a stack of Bibles I won’t bring you any harm. Yuma has gone mad and I just want far away from him. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Hell, tie me up and take me to Fort Supply.”

“Don’t worry. That’s exactly where I’m taking you, Frank.” Houston searched his prisoner. Strangely, other than the side arm he’d kicked away, he found nothing. “What does Blackstone want?” he asked. “What does he hope to gain?”

“Your wife. He wants Lara Boone.”

“To kill her this time?” Houston feared the answer.

Frank wiped his mouth. “No. In his mind, she belongs to him. He put his mark on her face and figures that makes her his property.”

Houston let out a curse so bad it blistered his tongue. “He’ll have go through me to get her, and he’ll discover that’s a pretty big chore.”

“Any mention of the baby sets him off. He hates her. Says that’s not his child. Claims the babe belongs to someone else.”

Anger danced along Houston’s spine. “He had a chance to end the babe’s life. What stopped him?”

“Two reasons. One, to taunt you. He hates your guts and wants to kill you too. Another reason was the simple boy. Yuma thinks he’s devil-possessed.” Frank’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I told you he’s crazy as a loon.”

“I’m beginning to get the picture.” If only they could tap into those delusions somehow. But to do so, Houston would have to learn to think like Yuma. He didn’t know if he could.

“He also means to put you in a grave and take your herd. Has plans to sell them and use the money to take Lara far away. The man talks out of his head all the time. Scares me because I never know what he’ll do.”

“Why didn’t you just ride away?” Seemed simple enough to Houston.

“Kept me tied up at night. Yuma threatened to put a bullet in my back if I ran. One other thing,” Frank said. “The last thing Yuma said before we rode here—he’ll kill one of your men a day. I’d take him very seriously.”

Houston’s blood ran cold. The threat spun inside his head like a roulette wheel. He just prayed the marble going round and round didn’t land on red. A man a day—when would it start?

“Which of us is first?”

“Whoever gets in Yuma’s way. Plans to start whittling until you have no one left.”

The strategy would work. Two men could inflict deep wounds—a bullet from the darkness was something you couldn’t defend against when you were in open, desolate country as they were. Hell and be damned! He turned at the sound of riders and saw Clay leading the returning drovers.

Disappointment wound through him at not seeing Yuma Blackstone with them. “Any luck, Clay?”

“Lost the other two. Seemed like a hole opened and swallowed them. They went behind some rocks and just disappeared.” The head drover rested his arm across the pommel.

With a tight chest, Houston glanced at his men. Most were hurt and bleeding. “How much damage did the riders do?”

“Bullet caught Quaid Boone’s leg.” Clay dismounted. “One creased Emmett’s head, horse fell on Joe but I think he’s okay, and Virgil… He insists he doesn’t need doctoring.”

“Nothing but a flesh wound.” Virgil’s tight voice held pain.

Houston pushed Frank Farley to the head drover. “Clay, watch this man and shoot him if he moves. Emmett and Joe, go see my wife. The rest of you check on the dead man lying over there.” Houston strode to Quaid and Virgil to assess their injuries. Lara wouldn’t be happy he got her brothers shot. Damn!

For all the pain of a bullet in the leg, Quaid seemed unfazed, if his wobbly grin was any indication. Houston inspected the wound and saw the bullet was still inside. If they got the slug removed right away, the boy should be all right. He moved to Virgil.

“It’s nothing,” Virgil insisted as he dismounted, though blood soaked his sleeve.

“Let me be the judge of that.” Houston tore the shirt away for a better look, but Virgil was right. The bullet had just grazed his upper arm. Houston used the sleeve he’d torn away as a bandage, wrapping it tightly around the wound. “Ride forward and let Lara clean it. And take care of your brother.”

“I’m fine.” Virgil turned his attention to his rifle.

“I’m not asking, son,” Houston said quietly but with enough authority to let Virgil know he was boss and expected his orders to be obeyed.

“Yes, boss.” The young man angrily turned to jam his boot in the stirrup.

Houston could see the steam coming off him as he mounted. He hated to make him mad, but Virgil had to learn that on a cattle drive someone had to be in charge and his word was law. He’d try to smooth things over later.

“Who’s our prisoner?” Clay asked.

“Frank Farley, one of Yuma’s men. He wants our protection.”

“The hell you say! This is a first for me.”

“You’re not alone.” Houston swiveled to yell to the drovers who stood over the dead man. “Is it Yuma Blackstone?”

“Not unless he has a big black mole on his jaw,” Emmett O’Brien answered.

“Hell! The bastard’s too mean to die.” Clay shifted his rifle to the crook of an arm, keeping it ready for trouble in case Frank decided to give them some.

Houston grunted in agreement. Grabbing their prisoner, he pushed him forward. “Tell us who the dead man is.”

“I told you I’d help any way I can,” Frank answered. “Don’t have to look, though. Slim is the only one with a big mole.”

“Make sure anyway. Then I want to know exactly where Yuma’s camp is and I want to know about this other group of desperados who are coming this way.” Though Houston had many unanswered questions, a clear picture emerged of what they were up against.

A den of reptiles, but which one would try to inflict the first bite?

* * *

Relief swept over Lara to hear the absence of gunshots behind her. Only now, the wait had begun. It seemed she’d spent her whole life marking time for one thing or another. Waiting for Gracie to be born, for people to forget, for her scars to fade. But this seemed more excruciating because Houston was part of her life now.

Before the shots had rent the air, she’d been lost in the memories of how Houston had kissed her and opened the top button of her dress. And how he’d slowly awakened her as if from a heavy sleep. But now, her thoughts tumbled this way and that, as though pushed by a strong river current.

Her mind raced, keeping time with the pounding of her heart. Was anyone hit during the attack? Even now, Houston could lie injured…or worse. Dear God, she’d go crazy if she didn’t see him soon.

Lara heard riders coming. She swung around, hoping to see her handsome husband. Worry knitted her brow when her oldest brothers and two of the drovers rode alongside. All four were bleeding, but her brothers’ injuries made her heart lodge in her throat. Henry stuck his head out from inside the wagon, where he went when he was scared. Gracie gave a cry, apparently awakened by the noise, and Lara heard him tell the babe it was okay.

“Is the skirmish over?” She stopped the wagon and set the brake, praying Houston wasn’t lying dead behind her.

“For now,” Joe said with a slow drawl, dragging up a smile. “Hate to be a bother, ma’am, but we need a little patching up.”

“Joe, you couldn’t be a bother if you tried. But tell me…is my husband all right?” She couldn’t help the tremble in her voice.

“He’s very much alive, Mrs. Legend. Nary a scratch.”

“That’s a relief. Let me get my doctoring supplies.” Lara took a deep breath and tried to control her shaking hands as she reached through the canvas opening of the wagon for the box of medical necessities. She wasn’t that proficient in digging out bullets, but she’d do her best.

“Can I help?” Caroline Vincent pulled up next to the chuck wagon.

“I can sure use you,” Lara said, explaining the situation.

Quaid slumped in the saddle as Emmett and Joe hurried to help him. Lara stifled a sob as she accepted Emmett’s help to the ground and rushed to them. One look at Quaid’s bloody thigh and she struggled to swallow.

With a grimace, Joe turned to her. “We’d be obliged if you’d take care of Quaid and Virgil first, ma’am. Miss Caroline can doctor us.”

The wounded cowboy’s unselfishness made her chest tighten. “Thank you. We’ll have you fixed up soon, Joe.” Lara glanced at the anguish written on her brother’s face as she spoke.

“The kid’s a mite scared,” Emmett said, breathing heavily. The man tried to grin but the effort evidently proved too much. “I’ll soon be righter than rain. Too ornery to die.”

Caroline jumped from her wagon and raced to them. “My mama taught me a lot about doctoring. We’ll fix you up before you can think of a good cuss word, Quaid.”

Lara admired the down-home way about her and the gentle touch that put the injured men at ease. Emmett and Joe lifted Quaid into the back of the Vincent wagon and Lara crawled inside, trying to calm her heart that thundered in her ears. Virgil followed and sat beside his twin. Henry leaned next to them, holding Gracie.

“Virgil, hand me the scissors.” Lara smoothed back Quaid’s sweat-soaked hair.

Quaid jerked up on an elbow. “Huh-uh, you’re not cutting off my britches.”

“Then how in the blessed name of our father do you think I’m going to remove this bullet? And don’t you dare tell me to leave it in there. You’ll get gangrene and die.”

“Virgil can take them off, won’t you? Just one leg,” Quaid pleaded.

“I’ll try.” Virgil moved closer.

But Quaid wasn’t ready. “Sis, turn your head.”

“I swear to goodness!” Lara threw up her hands. “I’ve changed your diapers and now I can’t see your naked thigh?”

Color crept up Quaid’s neck and flooded his face. “Christ, sis! Hush about the diapers!”

Looking on, Henry made things worse. “Babies wear diapers, Quaid.”

“Shush, Henry.” Quaid hid his eyes and groaned.

“Can you go get some water and clean cloth for me, Henry?” She heard him scurry off. Lara waited with scissors ready in case Virgil couldn’t get the wounded leg out, but put them down when he managed, much to Quaid’s immense relief.

When Henry returned with water, she carefully cleaned the wound, relieved the bullet hadn’t gone deep. She grabbed hold of it with the tweezers and pulled it out. Covering the hole with ointment, she wrapped a bandage around his leg. Quaid watched during the whole process.

“There, we’re all done,” she said.

Quaid grinned like a fool and slapped Virgil’s palm as though in victory.

“What on earth? Both of you just got shot. Why are you grinning?” Lara asked.

“Yeah, we got shot,” Quaid answered. “We’re men now.”

“Good heavens! I don’t know what the good Lord gave you for brains.” Lara shook her head at the silly boy. He didn’t know that character was the sign of a man. He and Virgil became men when they rescued her from Yuma, and in the way they helped care for Gracie.

Confident that Quaid would make a full recovery, she turned her attention to Virgil and told him to sit on the tailgate. His grin had faded and he wore a black scowl. He shoved a lock of sun-bleached hair from his eyes. “Don’t get all weepy or anything. It’s just a scratch,” he said.

“Let me decide. You bled an awful lot for something small.”

“I’d still be there with our men but Houston ordered me to come find you.” He let out a frustrated snort. “He treats me like I’m some kid in short britches without a lick of sense. I should know when I need doctorin’. But not according to him. Won’t even listen to me.”

Henry poked his head around Lara. “I listen to you, Virgil.”

“Thanks, Henry.” Virgil blew out a big breath when she prodded the wound.

“Believe it or not, Houston knows what he’s doing.” She poured some water into a metal bowl. “Besides, he’s the boss, and if he thinks you need doctoring, then you do. Personally, I agree with him.”

“You would,” Virgil huffed. “I think it’s a law or something that a wife has to take her husband’s side.”

Henry leaned forward to watch. Gracie pointed her finger and babbled.

Lara allowed a smile. Virgil had so much to learn. “I thought you liked Houston.”

“I do…when’s he’s not bossing me around.”

“Sometimes you get too big for your britches,” Lara scolded.

“Does it hurt, Virgil?” Henry asked.

“Like a son of a…” He glanced at Lara, swallowed hard, and muttered, “Yes.”

“Are you gonna cry?” Henry shifted Gracie and reached for his brother’s hand.

Virgil jerked away. “Stop it. And no, I’m not a bawl baby. Men don’t cry.”

“If I got shot, I’d cry.” Henry sniffled, trying to muster up a few tears to demonstrate.

Lara reached for a clean cloth and put it into the pan of water, watching her brothers. Two trying to prove themselves as men and the other just wanting to be included.

Very gently, she washed the blood away. Once she could see clearly, she sided with Houston. Though not serious, it was more than a scratch and required attention. She doused some cotton with iodine.

“This might sting,” Lara warned, dabbing it on his arm.

Virgil jerked and muttered an oath. “Good Lord, sis! That stuff burned a hole clean through me. Might as well light a match and stick it my skin. Wouldn’t hurt no worse.”

She ignored his ranting and reached for a roll of gauze. “Houston is a good man and knows his business. Whatever he says goes and I don’t want you arguing with him. He cares about you. About all of us. You don’t know the load he carries on his shoulders.”

“Aw, I know. I’m just out of sorts because I wanted to stay. I want to see Yuma dead, the sooner the better.”

“Tell me what happened.” She wrapped a bandage over the gauze and tied it. “And don’t leave out anything.”

Virgil started with the gun battle and how they’d shot one rider from the saddle. “He just lay on the ground. I don’t know if he’s dead or wounded or who it is. That’s why I wanted to stay. I need to know that we got Yuma. I want to make you and Gracie safe from the likes of him.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” What a relief it would be if they’d killed the man who stalked them. She wanted him out of her life forever and the people she cared about safe.

“I didn’t get to see if we got him,” Virgil complained. “And we caught another one alive. Houston called him Frank something.”

Good. She hoped they caught them all.

“You’re free. Go find out.” She gently shoved him toward his horse. “Find out for both of us.”

When Quaid struggled to get his leg back into his pants, she stopped him. “Not you, buster. Lie still.”

Virgil stuck his boot in the stirrup then paused. “Sis, I’m sorry I let you down and almost killed Gracie.”

“She’s good as new. That was a lesson for us all. Now go see what you can learn.”

“Bye, Virgil,” Henry hollered, waving.

Lara put her arm around her red-headed brother and watched Virgil gallop off. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Henry said, laying his head on her shoulder. “I miss Papa, but I miss my mama really bad.”

“Me too.” Sometimes unbearable longing filled her.

“I wish she didn’t go away. My heart is crying. I need her.” Henry looked up with tears in his eyes. “Will you be my mama?”

“Sure.” She kissed his cheek but didn’t point out she’d been that for a long while. “I’ve got to help Caroline. Can you watch Gracie a bit longer?”

At his nod, she joined the young woman and injured drovers.

Caroline turned. “These two were easy. Cleaned Emmett’s head, and Joe only has a sprained foot and knee.”

“You’re a lucky man, Joe.” Lara gave him a smile. “Why that horse didn’t break every bone in your body I’ll never know.”

The man winked at her and laughed. “I live a charmed life.”

Lara laughed. “You must.”

Despite reservations, she relented with Quaid and the men rode out. She helped Caroline set her wagon to rights. Though she tried, Lara couldn’t help giving the narrow bed a glance. It didn’t really have enough room for two people, yet Nick and Caroline appeared to spend a lot of happy time in it. She wondered how it would be to lie next to Houston.

Though she expected fear to crowd her mind, instead, anticipation filled her. Somehow, it was going to be all right. She trusted him.

In the wagon box of the chuck wagon, Lara held Gracie, waiting for someone to come and tell her whether to go or stay. Worry deepened on Henry’s face. She wondered at his unease. He’d been very quiet when Virgil talked about Yuma.

Lara draped an arm around him. “What’s wrong, Henry? Is something bothering you?”

“I don’t want you to die and leave me.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not going to die.”

Tears bubbled in his eyes. “If Yuma kills you then who’ll take care of me?”

There it was. She was her brother’s anchor to this world, the one who kept him grounded. The thought of having to navigate alone scared him half to death. Everyone needed security. Though she was better equipped at dealing with life, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing what she’d found.

Another gunshot blast made her jump.