Forty-three

Despite Houston’s instructions to ride hard for the fort, they’d pulled into a canyon a mile from camp. Lara couldn’t make herself go a step farther.

She had to stay near her husband.

Now Lara could only listen to the sounds of war as helplessness lodged inside. Sound traveled a long way on open land, and each burst of gunfire made her cringe and imagine the worst.

The rain clouds from the morning had moved on and the sun blazed down, cooking her and the rest. Henry had taken refuge under the canvas top with Gracie. Caroline huddled next to Lara in the sparse shade against a rock wall, gripping her hand.

“What do you think is happening?” Caroline asked. “I’m terrified for Nick. He’s all I’ve got and I’m not ready to lose him. I can’t lose anyone else. I just can’t.”

“Me either.” Lara glanced at Quaid, glad he was safe with her. Her thoughts went to Virgil, who’d stayed back with Houston. He was too young to die. He hadn’t lived yet. Hadn’t kissed a girl or danced in the moonlight.

Sitting on a rock, Quaid lifted his hat to wipe his forehead. “I’m going back. I need to help Virgil and the men.”

“No,” Lara said firmly. “Houston told you to stay with us and that’s what you’ll do. I want no argument.”

He huffed and took his gun from the holster. Checked for the tenth time that the cartridge wheel was full.

They’d be all right. No one would find them. And then after the fighting ended, she’d go back to whatever remained of the man she loved.

But then the stampeding cattle thundered past and she gave thanks they’d parked off the trail, or they’d have been trampled.

Frank knelt at a little clear stream that trickled through the narrow gorge. He drank his fill and then dunked his head underneath and shook the water off. Lara, shriveling under the sun’s heat, wished she could do that. Desperate for relief, she unfastened the top buttons of her dress as Caroline had done and rose. She found a handkerchief, wet it in the stream, and bathed her neck.

Alarm skittered through her at the sound of hooves striking the ground. She stood, reaching into her pocket for the gun. It wasn’t there.

She froze, remembering she’d laid it inside the wagon when she’d fed and changed Gracie.

Quaid and Frank moved beside her, making her feel protected. They’d handle whatever trouble came. But nothing prepared her for the bald man on horseback who rode into the narrow gorge.

“Well, this is my lucky day,” Yuma Blackstone crowed. “Knew you wouldn’t be far away from Legend.” He turned to Frank Farley. “Glad you got free. You can help me.”

The spit dried in Lara’s mouth as she tried to swallow. She stared at the large X cut into the side of his face. The wound was still angry and seeping blood, and she knew satisfaction, even if she hadn’t put the cut there herself. For once, Yuma had gotten a small taste of what he deserved.

She held her breath and glanced at Frank. Whose side would he take? If he chose Yuma, they were done for.

Frank shifted, his gaze shooting from Yuma to her. “Sorry, Blackstone. I ain’t going to be no help to you at all. Legend didn’t capture me. I gave myself up. And I was happy to be shed of you at last. You’ll get nothing from me. These people are my friends and I’m glad to fight with them.”

“The hell you say!” Yuma hollered.

Quaid pointed his gun at the hated murderer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“And if he misses, I’ll get you,” Frank said with his weapon raised. “In fact, we may use your sorry hide for target practice.”

Yuma yawned and dismounted. “I don’t think so.” He gave a shrill whistle and an armed accomplice scrambled down from the rocks. “Take their guns,” Yuma ordered.

Hate and fear settled in Lara’s chest as she watched Quaid give up his weapon. The silent outlaw tossed the gun aside, then cracked the back of her brother’s head with his pistol. Lara gave a cry, watching him fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of Caroline pressing against her side.

“I hate you,” Caroline screamed. “I hope you rot in hell.”

Before the outlaw could direct his attention to Frank, the loyal man got off a shot before he took a bullet. Blood covered his chest as he fell. Lara couldn’t tell if he was alive.

Caroline screamed again, the sound bouncing off the walls of the little canyon.

This time would be it. This time no help was coming. And this time Lara would not cower. She lifted her chin and slowly moved toward the man she hated with every fiber of her being.

Houston’s words sounded in her head. Maybe what helps is forcing myself to stare danger in the face and move toward it even when I want to run.

Lara straightened her shoulders. This time she’d fight with every ounce of strength she had. She told Caroline to stay back then forced herself to march to within two feet of Yuma.

Just then the gunfire ceased. The war Houston and the drovers hadn’t sought was probably over. Maybe he was dead—maybe all the drovers had lost their lives.

Because of her. Guilt nearly buckled her knees.

In the deadly silence, she heard her frantic heartbeat, felt it hammering against her ribs.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Lara spat. “You’re despicable.”

“You belong to me, girl. Only me.” Yuma’s cruel smile curved his mouth, and he smoothed his thin mustache with the tip of a forefinger. His glance went to the buttons undone at the top of her dress and his eyes glittered. “You expected me.”

He closed the distance to stand inches from her. Up close, the slices Houston had made to his face were still gaping and wet, hideous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she didn’t back away.

“Looks like that hurts.” Her voice was oddly sarcastic. “How does it feel?” She watched his look of confusion. His forehead wrinkled as though trying to figure her out.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she went on. “I’m different. Tougher. Smarter. Braver. You can’t hurt me.”

“We’ll see about that, girly,” he snarled.

She spat on him and in his moment of shock, as the spittle ran down his cheek, she brought her hand across his jaw. The slap rang through the canyon like a rifle explosion, bouncing off the rock walls.

Behind her in the wagon, Gracie wailed. The fact that she couldn’t comfort the frightened babe pierced her heart.

Yuma grabbed Lara’s face, pinching it cruelly between his fingers. “I’m killing that brat and I’m going to make you watch. I put a bullet in that husband of yours too. He’s dead. You’re a widow now. I’ll kill every man who looks at you.”

Pain ripped through her, taking her breath. Houston was dead. They’d never share any more kisses in the moonlight or make love on a cushion of grass. She swallowed a sob. Yuma had murdered the man she loved. Though she felt her knees crumpling, she willed herself to remain standing. Gracie’s crying filled the silence.

“Kill the brat, I said!” Yuma screamed to his man. “Now.”

Yuma’s iron grip brought tears to her eyes. Though fear lodged in every part of her, she raised her chin in defiance. “Anyone touches her and I’ll scratch your eyes out first chance I get.”

“That kid is nothing to me—just a squalling brat.”

“You’re gutless. You can’t do anything yourself. You have to order it done. You’re a coward. You shake in fear when confronted by anyone different from you.” Lara glanced for something to use as a weapon. All she saw were rocks that littered the ground. He’d release her eventually.

But would she have time to grab one?

Where was Caroline? Did the other outlaw have her? Yuma still held her face tight. She tried to look out of the corner of her eyes but saw nothing.

“Those Bible-toters thought they were better’n me. Go around praying all the time, sending folks to hell.” He yanked Lara’s nose to his. “My men showed them.”

“Those aren’t the only ones you’re scared of,” she spat.

The stench of his breath gagged her. Bile rose into her mouth as memories of all she’d suffered at his cruel hand swirled inside her head. Gracie’s frightened cries ripped into her. Oh God, her child couldn’t die! But the loud wails would only make Yuma more desperate to shut the babe up for good.

“Let my sister go!” screamed Henry. He’d climbed from the wagon and came toward them with a rock in his hand.

Yuma’s eyes bulged. “Get back, boy.”

Henry threw his rock, striking the outlaw’s bald head. Blood trickled from the wound. Distracted for a crucial moment, Yuma released his hold on Lara. She turned to see Caroline inching toward Frank’s gun. She didn’t see the other outlaw. Where had he gone?

“Get back, I say!” Yuma swore as he staggered.

“No! You’ll hurt my friends! You’ll kill the baby.” Henry drew back and launched another rock.

The second missile hit Yuma’s chest with a thud. He shuddered, letting the pearl-handled pistol fall from his hand. Spittle ran down his chin. “The wicked shall be turned into everlasting hell! You’re devil-possessed, boy.”

Caroline was almost to the gun.

But then Lara saw Yuma’s man and her heart froze. The outlaw climbed from the wagon, dangling Gracie by one leg. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

“Get away from that gun,” the man barked at Caroline.

Gracie’s screams of terror seemed to fuel Henry more. Lara had never seen her brother so full of rage. Maybe the traumas he’d survived, the constant fear, had snapped something in his brain. She could certainly understand that. He stalked toward them, picking up rocks and throwing them. A good many struck the hated outlaw.

Yuma growled low like an animal.

The gun he’d dropped glinted in the sunlight.

Could she get it and fire before Yuma pulled the second one hanging in the holster?

Her glance slid to Caroline. Anger glittered in her eyes, tightening the girl’s mouth.

“The devil’s in the brat too! I said kill her.” Madness glittered in Yuma’s crazed eyes.

The words froze Lara’s heart. She had to act or they’d all be dead.

Without considering the possibility of failure, she darted to the pearl-handled pistol. Regardless of what happened to her, maybe Gracie, Henry, and the others would live.

She yanked it up, thrusting her finger onto the trigger. Rage flooded over her and fear too. Shaking, she jabbed the silver barrel into Yuma’s chest. Her next words were for the outlaw dangling Gracie upside down. “Lay the babe gently on the ground or your boss is a very, very dead man.” The steel in her voice seemed to spring from a place deep inside.

Maybe it had been there all along. She’d just needed to find it.

“She’s bluffing. Shut that goddamn brat up!” Yuma’s gaze met hers, boring into the depths of her being. Daring her. “She doesn’t have it in her to kill me.”

An angry roar filled the inside of Lara’s head. Without breaking eye contact, she spoke to the other outlaw. “Hurt my daughter, and trust me, it’ll be the last thing you will ever do. As soon as I shoot this piece of filth, I’m swinging the gun to you.”

Henry launched another rock, this time striking Yuma’s face. “I’ll kill you!” the boy screamed.

“Don’t worry, Lara!” Caroline yelled. “I have Gracie. And I have a gun on this outlaw. Kill the bastard. Do what you hafta do.”

She didn’t know whose weapon the girl had, but she knew Caroline would use it. “Be careful—don’t look away for an instant.”

“I ain’t,” Caroline replied, then crooned to Gracie to comfort her.

Lara reached for the second pistol in Yuma’s holster and tossed it aside. Then she slid the .45 in her hand down and shoved it into the one thing Yuma prized more than any other body part. She jabbed the barrel into his flabby flesh. He winced, staring at her in a mixture of fear and disbelief. She noticed an odd light come into his eyes, and his breathing grew harsh.

Power filled her. No one would ever take from her again in this way.

Her voice grew quiet and she moved closer to his ear. “I’ll blow you right into the pits of hell and not bat an eye. That fire is awfully hot. Feel it licking around your legs?” She shrugged. “Of course, there’s a chance you won’t die. In fact, that might be even better. To live without your family jewels would be most fitting.”

But could she settle for that? He’d killed Houston. He should pay the ultimate price.

“My men will be here in a minute,” he answered in a strange, faraway tone. “They’ll take care of you.”

“A pity they won’t get here in time. I can’t imagine living only half a man, eaten alive with hunger, unable to satisfy the need.” Lara smelled his fear.

Sweat rolled down his face and he licked his dry lips.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “This isn’t just about me, you know. I’m doing this for all the women you’ve done the same thing to, and others you will never get a chance to. You’re scum, trash to burn. One of us won’t leave here.”

Yuma licked his lips again. His eyes darted back and forth and he babbled something that sounded like Scripture, but no verses she had ever heard. He seemed to be slipping into a different person. Yuma really was crazy.

Lara listened in stunned disbelief. Frank Farley was right. The man was a lunatic.

“Come back here.” She jammed the gun deeper into the soft flesh. “There is no escape for you. None.”

“What’s going on?” Caroline yelled.

“I’m not sure exactly. Thank you for quieting Gracie.”

Sudden yelling came from the girl then Lara heard Yuma’s man scream, “Put down that gun or I’ll shoot you dead.”

Panic swept through Lara. Caroline had Gracie in her arms! Oh God! What was happening? She wanted to turn but she couldn’t take her eyes off Yuma.

“Mister, I’ve just about had enough!” the young girl yelled.

“What’s going on, Caroline?” Lara couldn’t bear not knowing. “Caroline!”

A loud blast rent Lara’s hearing.

A man screamed.

Gracie let out a piercing cry.

Horses snorted.

“Caroline, answer me.” But all she got was the sound of a struggle.

“I think you’d best go see, girly,” Yuma said, his eyes glittering wildly.

Lara shoved the gun into his privates harder. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sorry, I’m not taking my eyes off you for a second.”

Just as her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, Quaid spoke. “It’s all right, sis. Everything’s all right.”

“I shot him, Lara. I shot his dumb leg and Quaid came to and tied him up. We’re all okay!” Caroline yelled.

Henry appeared to the right of her vision. “Don’t worry, sis. Just shoot him!”

Yuma gave Lara a sudden shove and lunged for the twin .45 still on the ground.

Before he could lift it, she fired. The bullet tore into his midsection. Yet he kept coming for her, that mad light in his eyes. With smoke still curling around the barrel, she fired again, and this time the bullet struck a bit lower.

Tears streamed down her face. She kept pulling the trigger until she’d emptied the wheel.

As though from a long distance away, she felt Quaid gently pry the gun from her fingers. “He’s dead, sis.”

Vaguely, she heard another rider enter the canyon but she couldn’t even look. She had no more strength left to fight anyone else. Houston was dead and she’d turned into a murderer.

Henry kicked Yuma’s leg. “We did it. He’s not gonna hurt us anymore.”

“Lara!”

The voice sounded like Houston’s. Only it couldn’t be. Maybe she’d gone as mad as Yuma.

“Lara, are you hurt?” Arms went around her.

“Houston?” she asked dully, the voice still not registering.

“It’s me.” He hugged her against him. “I was so afraid I’d lost you. It’s over, darlin’. It’s all over.”

She gazed up into her husband’s coffee-brown eyes. Blood smeared the whole side of his face, the trail running down his neck into his shirt. She sucked in a breath. “You’ve been shot!”

Houston tried to work up a grin but the effort appeared to be too much. “I did my best to stay out of the way of bullets.”

“Sweetheart, you talk too much.” She rose on tiptoes to press her lips to his.

She barely heard Caroline squeal and yell Nick’s name, or notice Luke manhandling the remaining outlaw, or Quaid tending to Frank, who was thankfully alive. Happiness settled through every inch as Lara molded her body to Houston’s. Somehow, through everything, they’d survived.

Without breaking the kiss, Lara slid both arms around her husband’s neck and drank in all she’d nearly lost. “I love you, my cowboy,” she murmured against his mouth.