Cole MacKenzie knew there was going to be trouble the minute the man walked through the door of the sheriff’s office.
He wasn’t a big man—maybe five foot nine in his boots—and his frame was on the thin side. Average was the word that came to mind. Followed closely by deadly. His duster was coated with a layer of grime and snow from a hard ride, and Cole saw the two pistols, one on each hip, as he walked toward him. He also saw the US Marshal’s star pinned to his vest.
He pulled down the bandana that had protected his face from the storm and said, “Sheriff MacKenzie?” He pushed his hat back slightly so Cole could see his eyes. The eyes never lied.
Cole sighed, confident in his original observation that the man was going to be trouble. He didn’t bother to remove his feet from his desk or stand up to greet the man properly. Others had come for him, and they’d all left without completing their mission.
“I’m Cole MacKenzie,” he said. “And I’m not interested.”
The man grinned, but Cole saw it in the wrinkling of his eyes since his mustache was so bushy it covered his lips. The marshal removed his hat and hung it on the rack next to Cole’s, and then he did the same with his duster, clearly planning to make himself at home.
“You never know what you might be interested in until you know what you’re interested in,” the man said cryptically.
“Deep thoughts,” Cole said.
With the hat and coat gone, Cole took a closer inventory of the man. He was younger than he’d first assumed, his hair a rich black in need of a trim. The drooping mustache was peppered with gray, making him seem older than he was. His eyes were a soft green, but Cole recognized the look in them—they were eyes that had seen too much—eyes that were a window to a broken soul.
Cole’s eyes were blue, but he saw that same look in the mirror every morning, though since he’d married Elizabeth, the broken pieces had started to stitch themselves together again. But still, like recognized like.
The man was dressed much like Cole—black trousers, black vest, and a white shirt—though Cole had his sleeves rolled up. He hated anything constricting his movements if he needed to reach for his gun.
“You got any coffee?” the man asked. “I’ve missed out on a few nights of sleep to get here. I didn’t think I’d make it once the snow started. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to a hot meal and a bed.”
“You can get everything you want over at the Surrender Hotel,” Cole said, seeing the weariness in the man’s eyes. “I was just about to head over there myself to meet my wife. Things in town have already started to shut down. I’ll drink a cup of coffee with you while you get a hot meal.”
“I’d be grateful for the company since you’re the reason I’m hungry and tired to begin with.”
There was still a glimmer of laughter in the man’s eyes, and Cole decided they’d get along just fine if the marshal was there for any other reason. It wasn’t like Cole had gotten a lot accomplished throughout the day. His thoughts had been on his wife since he’d kissed her good-bye that morning, and he’d been restless and looking at the clock ever since. He couldn’t decide if it was because a blizzard was coming to town or because he was afraid of what might happen when he and Elizabeth were stuck in a room together for two days.
He didn’t know much about marriage. He and his brother hadn’t had a very good example to go by. But he knew he loved his wife, and there was nothing more important than seeing a smile on her face. And he’d failed somewhere along the way. More often than not he’d catch her staring at him—a sadness or longing in her eyes—and he knew he was losing her. What he didn’t know was how to fix it.
The last year had been difficult for Elizabeth. Her father, John Ross, had known he was sick, and he’d spoken to Cole about his wishes for them to marry and for the ranch to be passed to Cole since Elizabeth couldn’t directly inherit. The thing was, Cole would’ve eventually asked Elizabeth to marry him—once he found time in his schedule. Sometimes the job took him away for days at a time if there was a manhunt or if someone needed to be tracked.
He’d wanted to give Elizabeth a little more time to grow into herself. She was barely twenty years old, but she knew how to run the ranch from the ground up. And Cole had promised John that he’d let Elizabeth run the ranch as she saw fit. The hiring, firing, herding, and selling of cattle were all her decisions. Not to say that he didn’t lend a strong back from time to time. It was a legacy that would be passed down to their children and grandchildren after all.
But he felt like Elizabeth was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’d never really grieved her father’s passing. Then they’d gotten married before there was even time for a funeral. And though they’d known each other and were friendly, they hadn’t known each other like people who were to be married should. It had been a chaotic time, and they’d immediately gone from wedding, to funeral, to trying to make their lives seem normal. Elizabeth had thrown herself into getting the ranch in order, watching men she’d known since she was a child pack their bags and leave because they wouldn’t take orders from a woman.
He’d stood by helpless, not knowing how to draw her in, how to make things better, and instead, he’d just focused on what he knew. And that was law and order. By any means necessary. And though they’d made a physical connection that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, it wasn’t enough for him.
It was Elizabeth’s longtime foreman, Lester, who’d taken pity on Cole and pulled him aside when he’d asked what he should do. Lester had told him it was time to take charge and not be too passive in Elizabeth’s grief. She was a strong woman—independent—and she’d move ahead on her own if Cole didn’t act as if he wanted to move forward together.
They’d never had a honeymoon, and Lester said it was long past time they did. Cole didn’t even think Elizabeth realized that the next day would mark a year of their marriage. And though they couldn’t take a lot of time away and leave Surrender, they could hole up with a soft bed, a tub that ran its own hot water, and food delivered to their doorstep. And maybe by the time they left the Surrender Hotel, they’d know exactly who the real Cole and Elizabeth MacKenzie were.
“You still with me?” the man asked.
“Just took a side trip,” Cole answered. “It’s been a long day.”
“If you ask me, you’ve got the look of a man who has a woman on the brain.”
“I knew you’d be trouble the minute you walked in the door.”
“And I’ve got a real winning personality too.”
Cole couldn’t help but laugh. He stood and glanced through the big plate glass windows that gave him a perfect view of his town. He’d already sent out men to tell everyone to close things down early. There was already a foot of snow on the ground, but visibility had gotten worse as the day progressed.
“You got a name?” Cole asked the man. “I like to know who I’m saying no to.”
The man’s droopy mustache lifted again. “My apologies. After finding you, coffee and a bed were the only things on my mind. And maybe a woman, but I think I’m too tired for that.”
“Probably a good thing,” Cole said. “Those kind of women more than likely have a line of customers. It is a blizzard after all.”
“Good point. Besides, I’m not like the others. I’m a lot harder to say no to. The name’s Jesse Calhoun.”
Cole felt a shiver of something he couldn’t explain run up his spine—excitement?—anticipation? Jesse Calhoun was probably the most notorious lawman in the country. He was a legend.
Cole put his hat and duster on while Jesse did the same, then he grabbed the overnight bag he and Elizabeth had packed that morning. He opened the door and held it steady so it wasn’t blown into the wall. The cold slashed at his exposed skin like a knife. He closed the door behind them, but he didn’t bother to lock up. Carl would be there before long and would bunk in the back room. If there were any emergencies, he would see to things.
He ducked his head against the wind as they made their way across the street. He hadn’t uttered a word since Jesse had told him his name. Questions raced through his mind. Why was President Harrison so desperate to recruit him as a US Marshal that he’d send the man with the highest kill and capture rate to hunt him down? Maybe it was symbolic. But everyone knew who Jesse Calhoun was, and the gut feeling that had saved his life more than once in battle was stirring uncomfortably.
“Nothing but trouble,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Jesse asked, still grinning. “I don’t think I heard you right. Wind’s too loud.”
“This is a bad one. Hope you’re planning to stay a few days. If you hadn’t come in when you did, we’d be discovering your body in a snow drift in a few weeks. A hell of a way to go.”
Jesse shivered and shook his head. “I don’t know how you stand it. This Texas boy wouldn’t last long up here. I’m out of my territory. It’s March. Snow for that many months in a row would make me crazy.”
“It makes a lot of people crazy. The start of spring is always my busiest time of year. People are tired of being cooped up, and they’re tired of the cold. And you can only do so much of the one thing that keeps two people both warm and out of trouble, though that sometimes leads to plenty of trouble in itself.”
Jesse laughed. “People can always find plenty of trouble. Too hot, too cold, or just the wrong day of the week. Sometimes makes you wonder why we even bother at all.”
“Someone’s got to,” Cole said, but he felt the weariness of the responsibility they’d been taxed with. Especially in this part of the country. People wanted to take care of their own in their own way, no matter the result. And then there were others who wanted to take advantage of the remote area and difficult terrain.
“You’ve got yourself a nice town here,” Jesse said. “Lots of progress coming through.”
Surrender was more than a nice town. It had become his home like no place ever had before. His soul had connected with Surrender the moment he’d seen it—a hidden jewel of hills and valleys and crystalline lakes, when it wasn’t covered in a layer of white. He didn’t know how long he’d sat at the top of the hill just looking down at it, the sun at his back and his future in front of him.
It had grown since he’d become sheriff, mostly because of the railroad they’d built just outside of town. The last train had left early that morning, and there wouldn’t be another until the storm had passed.
The main street was lined on each side with wooden buildings that had all been white-washed to match. The Surrender Hotel sat right in the middle across the street from the sheriff’s office, and it was three full stories, with fancy glass that had been brought in all the way from Boston. The lights inside were a beacon through the increasingly heavy snow.
The street was newly cobbled, but it didn’t make much difference with the snow. There were hitching posts and watering troughs, but there was no sign of life on the street other than the two of them.
Along with the hotel and the sheriff’s office, the other businesses located along each side of the cobbled street were a blacksmith shop, mercantile, haberdashery, gunsmith, apothecary, and a saloon. There was even a lawyer from back east who’d put up his shingle after the railroad was finished. And he was glad to see everything was dark inside each of the businesses and everyone had gone home.
There was a livery stable with a large paddock set some ways back because the area was often congested with wagons and horses. The bank was located on the other side of the livery, but far enough away to avoid the smell. And at the very end of the street was a white-steepled church, with a bell that was rung on the hour while the train was running. He hated that bell.
Surrender was the closest place to shop, restock, or trade for a lot of folks in the area. Otherwise, it was a three-day ride to Billings.
“We’re going to have to make some changes soon,” Cole acknowledged. “With progress comes problems. It’s too much progress for a lot of the folks here. The railroad changed everything. Too many transients. Too much money with the business people coming in from the cities. That means more crime. Train robberies have been as much of a concern as stagecoach robberies.”
“You’re going to need more people,” Jesse said.
“I know. I’ve got two deputies, but I’ve put out the word for more. Will probably have to bring them in from the city. Men out here are already working their own farms and ranches. They’re not going to give that up for the little we can offer them.”
The Surrender Hotel had a wide front, the windows on the left displaying a parlor where guests could gather after dinner, and the windows on the right displaying the restaurant. The double doors were painted bright blue and there were wooden barrels where there were usually flowers planted, but the barrels were filled with snow.
They went inside and were enveloped in immediate warmth. The staircase was a showcase of polished wood that went up three floors. The carpet was the same shade of blue as the front door, and all the wall paneling was white. There was a crystal chandelier that the owner, Gerald Clark, had brought back with him all the way from Paris, France. The art and other decorations were much fancier than Cole ever preferred, but those who visited the hotel always seemed impressed. There was a long counter to the right of the stairs and keys and mail slots were on the wall behind it.
“Sheriff,” Will Clark greeted them as they entered. “We’ve been expecting you. Are you dining with us tonight?”
“Yes, but I’m going to wait for my wife,” Cole said. “I’ll join the marshal here for coffee while he eats.”
Will was a young man, in his late teens, with dark red hair, bright blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion. His parents owned the hotel. They also owned the mercantile and ran the bank. And Will looked at Jesse Calhoun with a mix of awe and hero worship.
Will was fascinated with tales of the Earp brothers and Wild Bill Hickok. Any time a marshal came through town, Will would hunt him down and ask question after question about what being a lawman was really like. Cole had the feeling that Will would be off on his own adventure if his parents didn’t have such a tight rein on him.
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Will said excitedly. “I’ve got your room all ready for you just like you asked. It’s the best we have to offer. Even has a big porcelain tub from back east with hot running water.” Then he turned his attention to Jesse. “And I’ve got just the room for you, too, Marshal. I’d put you next to the sheriff since y’all are friends, but my pa told me not to put anyone in the rooms around the sheriff’s so he and his wife have privacy. But you’ll have a real good view of the whole street from the second floor. That way you can keep an eye on everybody.”
“I appreciate that,” Jesse said dryly. And then he looked at Cole with raised brows, and Cole felt the heat rising in his cheeks.
“We’ll take the seat by the front window,” he told Will, desperate to change the subject. “And keep the coffee coming. It’s been a long, cold day.”
“And I’ll have whatever the special is,” Jesse said. “I’m so hungry I could eat just about anything.”
Will nodded as if he had access to Jesse’s deepest, darkest secrets. “I bet you haven’t had time to eat or sleep trying to catch The Silver Creek Bandits. I heard about what happened in Denver. I figure they headed into the mountains to lay low until they’re ready to hit the next bank.”
Will stopped talking and all the color drained from his face. “Oh, no. You think they’re going to hit Surrender next, don’t you? That’s why you’re here. I told my father that we’d be a target ever since they put in the new railroad. We’ve got too much gold for our own good.”
“Take a breath, Will,” Cole said easily, slapping the boy on the shoulder. “Jesse’s just in for a visit to see me. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Oh,” Will said, only slightly deflated. “I’m sure you know a lot of important people with you being a war hero and all, but Surrender has never had so many marshals come through town before. I think something is going on, and you’re just keeping it a secret.”
“Lots of sugar for the coffee,” Cole said, cutting Will off. “Marshal Calhoun is about to fall asleep standing up.”
“Right, right.” Will jerked to attention. “Sorry about that. Take a seat and I’ll have you served up in no time.” With that, he scurried toward the kitchen door.
Cole and Jesse wiped their boots and hung their hats and coats on the rack, and then headed toward the table in front of the big plate glass window. They both positioned their chairs so they could see outside and anyone who might come into the restaurant.
“You don’t want anyone next to your room, huh?” Jesse asked, laughter in his eyes.
“Shut up, Calhoun.”
“I’ve never seen a lawman blush like that. Must be a special occasion.”
“We’re just taking some time away, that’s all,” Cole insisted. “Everyone in town will be standing outside our door by the time Will spreads the word. Nobody can keep a secret in this damned town, and everyone is nosy as hell.”
“Good thing you’re about to get snowed in,” Jesse said, waggling his eyebrows.
“I wish I didn’t like you so much. I’d punch you right in that smug smile.”
“I told you I had a winning personality,” he said. “For some reason, no one ever believes me. You know, Will’s not far off about The Silver Creek Bandits. You heard what they did in Denver?”
“I heard,” Cole said, his blood running cold. “Twelve dead. They strike right at the end of the day. They never leave any alive. And they’re gone before anyone can stop them, and no one seems to know the details. They’re like ghosts.”
“You’re partially right,” Jesse agreed. “But it wasn’t twelve. Body count was twenty this time.”
Cole whistled. “That’s the biggest one yet. They’re escalating. That puts the death toll at more than fifty.”
“The stakes are higher. They don’t want to stop robbing the banks, but it’s getting harder to conceal themselves so they’re going to greater lengths for the cover-up. There was a witness that saw them go into the bank in Denver. He was able to give a good description of three of the men. The sheriff in Denver tried to keep the witness under wraps, but word always gets out. You know how fast gossip can spread. Everyone knew there was a witness before the last sketch was drawn, so you can bet The Silver Creek Bandits knew too.”
“What happened to the witness?” Cole asked, already knowing the answer.
“His name was Jedidiah Taylor. Had his throat slit in his own bed. Along with his wife and two boys. We’ll never have another witness come forward. In fact, I think the only reason Jed came forward was because the local sheriff promised him protection.”
“He failed.”
Jesse nodded. “But not for lack of trying. There were four deputies stationed outside of the Taylors’ home. They didn’t fare any better than Jedidiah and his family.”
They paused their conversation as a server came in with the coffee tray and a small loaf of crusty bread and fresh butter. Jesse drank his coffee black, with no sugar, and Cole watched a little life come back into his eyes. He attacked the bread with the vigor of a man who hadn’t seen anything but jerky or canned beans for the better part of a couple of weeks.
“Why’d you really come?” Cole asked. “Other marshals have come before you. They’ve all given me the same spiel about how my country needs me and what an honor it is to serve the president. What’s changed? You’re the best there is. Why’d he send you?”
“I’m the best marshal there is,” Jesse said matter-of-factly. “And there are others who are almost as good as I am. But we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands than just one or a few men can handle. You’re faster with a gun than I am and you’re a better tracker. President Harrison asked who the best person was to hunt down The Silver Creek Bandits and I told him you. So he sent me to convince you.”
Cole felt the tug of duty and responsibility, but he coldly pushed it away. He’d done his time for his country. Now he owed it to his wife and community to put in the time for them. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an honor to be wanted for the job, or that the notoriety wouldn’t feed his ego. But he wasn’t a hot-headed young man anymore with a quick trigger finger. He’d learned there were things more important in life than notoriety.
Jesse sighed and put down the bread he’d been in the process of buttering. Then he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded parchment and pushed it across the table. It would’ve been easier just to push the paper back without opening it, because he knew if he did that something was going to change in his life. Something out of his control.
But he picked up the folded parchment anyway and opened it to discover it was actually three separate pages. He looked at the likeness of the man on the first page and laid it flat on the table. And then he did the same with the second man. Before he looked at the likeness of the third man, the hairs on the back of his nape stood at attention and his gut knotted. He barely noticed Jesse laying a shiny silver star, identical to his own, on top of one of the likenesses.
The third man’s face he knew. Almost as well as he knew his own. They shared the same clear blue eyes, dark hair, and crooked smile. And for nine months, they’d shared the same womb. But they’d never shared the same sense of duty or belief in right from wrong.
His brother had always had a look about him that made him seem a little too slick—a little too confident—and Cole had always been wary about trusting him, even though they were flesh and blood.
“He’s your spitting image. The government remembers you fondly from the war. You’ve not only got the skills to fight with guns and your hands, but you’ve got the skills to fight with your mouth. Without you, the treaties signed with the Sioux might not have happened.”
“They offered me an army to command,” Cole said, the taste of coffee bitter on his tongue. “And when that didn’t work they offered me a position high up, sitting behind a desk and talking about how we were going to change things instead of doing to change things. I told them no thank you, took the deed to the land they’d offered me, and never looked back.”
Jesse rubbed a hand over his beard and then refilled his coffee from the pot the server had left. “Politics can be a pain in the ass. We’ve all got to deal with it one way or another. There’s no such thing as just serving and protecting without strings attached.”
Will rolled Jesse’s meal out on a cart and placed it in front of him. It was hamburger steak covered in thick gravy and served with mashed potatoes and peas. Normally, Cole’s stomach would’ve been growling, but the thought of food made him sick.
“Enjoy your din…” Will started to say. And then he noticed the silver star on the table. “Holy wow, Sheriff MacKenzie. Is that what I think it is?”
“Marshal Calhoun was just letting me look at it. Don’t get too excited.”
But it didn’t do any good. Will wheeled the cart back to the kitchen as fast as his legs would carry him.
“Congress and the president, of course, are aware of your brother and his efforts during the war, just as they’re aware of yours. Though your brother’s efforts were quite a bit different than yours,” Jesse went on. “It wasn’t too difficult to decipher that it was Riley MacKenzie at the helm of The Silver Creek Bandits once his image started making the rounds. But you need to take caution. Bounty hunters and other lawmen might not know you’re twins and will be looking for someone fitting your description.”
The corner of Cole’s lip tilted up in a smile. “We used to trade places when we were kids. Lord, we’d take a beating for it if we were found out. But Riley always liked to test the limits. And I’d found it was a whole lot easier to agree with Riley than to go against him.” Cole had gotten plenty of beatings from his father because Riley hadn’t gotten his way.
“He’ll come to you eventually,” Jesse said. “He’s jealous. You’re the one who’s always recognized. You’re the hero. You’re the fastest draw. He’ll want to challenge that. To see if he can get away with what he’s been doing right under your nose.”
“And if he shows up in Surrender, I’ll meet him on my turf, my way. I don’t need to be a marshal to do that.”
“It widens your authority,” Jesse insisted. “You’re one of the best trackers in the country. You learned from the Sioux. You could find him and bring him in. You could find all of them.”
Cole shook his head, the realization of his answer sinking in for the first time. There’d always been a conflict inside him when faced with becoming a US Marshal. But knowing what his brother was capable of, and knowing that he had an obligation to protect his wife and community, answered the question for him with a clear conscience.
He pushed the star back across the table. “My place is here, with my wife and this town. My duty is to them first. The job you’re asking me to do is meant for a younger man without any ties. I’m not going to pick up and leave my wife for months at a time to track outlaws. There’s plenty of good I can do here, with the badge I already have.”
“A wife is just a wife,” Jesse said. “But this is your chance to go down in history.”
Cole laughed. There was nothing just about Elizabeth. “I never asked to go down in history. I’m just doing the best I can to make the world we live in the best it can be. I want a family, and I don’t want to let them inherit a world of wars and violence.”
“War is in the nature of man,” Jesse said. “It’s been that way since Cain and Abel. And here we are, a whole bunch of years later with the story of two brothers.”
Cole had been watching the street, subconsciously seeking out his wife. He was starting to get worried that she’d gotten stuck somewhere. She should’ve been there by now.
And then, almost as if he’d conjured her, she came through the window of visibility, the snow swirling around her. She’d left her head uncovered, and loose strands of dark hair had come out of the long braid that rested over her shoulder. Her long coat swirled around her legs, and her pistols were slung low on her hips. Unlike any other woman he’d ever met, she chose to wear men’s trousers in her day-to-day work at the ranch. He’d never actually seen her in a dress. But he definitely appreciated what she did to a pair of men’s pants.
Jesse saw her too, and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
“Good Lord,” Jesse rasped.
“She’s something, huh?”
Jesse blew out a breath and put his fork down. “Oh, good. You see her too. I was afraid maybe I’d died and she was an angel of death.”
“There are worse ways to go,” Cole said, smiling.
“That’s for damned sure.” Jesse picked up his fork again, but he’d forgotten what he was doing so he set it down again. “I’ve got to tell you, MacKenzie, I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never seen anything like her.”
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And she was all his.
“Don’t enjoy the view too much,” Cole said. “That’s my wife.” And then he took a closer look. She was mad as a hornet. No wonder she wasn’t covered up too much. There was no way the cold was penetrating that kind of anger.
“Damn, son,” Jesse said. “I can see why you don’t want to leave her to hunt down outlaws.”