Twenty

Roan stood near Marley as the second round of the shooting competition began. The man she was tied with stepped to the line and raised his rifle. He was a young guy, no more just an inch or two over five feet and as skinny as a willow sapling.

Roan wasn’t paying much attention beyond that, busy scanning the crowd for Gentry. So far, he saw nothing.

The contestant hit the new target with all three of his shots, but only one made it to the bull’s-eye. Marley moved into place and raised her Winchester. She took her time, putting the board in her sights. Slowly, she squeezed the trigger and sent the bullet hurtling through the air. A roar went up when the hole ripped right into the target’s dead center.

Marley stepped back and took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” Roan cheered. “Slow and easy.”

She smiled at him and toed the line again. Her second shot just missed the X, a hair outside the middle where the lines crossed.

As she raised her rifle the third time, a shot rang out from behind them. Roan grabbed Marley and hit the dirt. Screams echoed around them, and people scattered.

“Are you hurt, Marley?”

“No.”

“Stay here and keep down,” he ordered. Without waiting for an answer, he rose and raced to a tree. Counting three, he zigzagged to another and another.

Everything was eerily quiet. He paused near the street, and movement made him look up at the second story of the hotel. A man with a rifle stood on the balcony. Sun in his eyes, Roan couldn’t tell if it was Will Gentry, but the build told him it could be. Just then, the possible shooter whirled to go inside.

Roan lifted his Colt and fired, but the man had vanished. The bullet splintered the door facing. Damn!

Though he waited for the man to show himself again, he didn’t. Roan strode quickly back to Marley.

Virginia Creek was with her, her arm around Marley. “Tell me what I can do. Would you like me to take you to the hotel where you’ll be safe?”

“No, thank you. I’m not forfeiting this competition.” Marley pulled from her arms and ran to Roan. Her heart stampeded like a herd of wild broncs. “Was someone trying to kill me?”

“I don’t know.” He held her close until her trembling stopped. “Put him out of your mind and finish this competition. I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I’ll be here too,” Virginia declared. “We aren’t going to let anyone run you off.”

Roan leaned Marley back and stared into her brown eyes. “You’re not a quitter. Don’t let them scare you. I don’t think he was trying to kill you—I’m sure he was just trying to keep you rattled.”

Marley gave him a shaky laugh. “Well, it’s working. But I won’t give up. I have one more shot, and I’m taking it.”

“That’s my girl. The gentlemen are motioning to you. Go show them what you’re made of.” He didn’t mention that those so-called gentlemen looked ready to run for cover. Their eyes darted around, and they hunched over. Virginia Creek went to speak to them. Whatever she said seemed to reassure them, because their fear vanished and they stood straight.

Roan’s hand moved to the butt of his gun, ready if a shot came from behind.

Marley paid them no mind as she strode confidently into place. Roan would never have guessed the severity of her nerves if he hadn’t known. On the outside, she was cool and calm as she put the rifle to her shoulder and fired. She sent the cartridge tumbling and whirling through the air.

Again, it struck the X dead center. This time there was no cheering crowd, no applause. Even her opponent had disappeared. With Virginia and Roan standing tall beside her, she accepted the money.

* * *

With no time to celebrate, Roan and Marley hurried to get Shadow from Doc’s small barn. Roan examined her legs carefully then made their way to the horse race.

He checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded and patted Shadow’s sleek neck. This competition was going to test both him and the gray mare. “This is it, girl. Give it all you have.”

His gaze found Marley on the sidelines. His heart cartwheeled.

The Wheelers stood next to her.

Worry slid along his spine like melting snow. But he knew Marley’s expertise with a gun, and she already distrusted them. He had to turn his thoughts to whether the shooter from the hotel would make another appearance and run the race. He needed that money worse than ever.

That money now represented their future.

His father’s voice sounded in his ear, drowning out the noise around him. Your name is Penny and you’re not worth even that. You’re weak.

“We’ll see about that,” Roan muttered.

Gentry had promised a surprise, so he had to be alert to every movement.

Quinn—the man who’d registered riders for the event—yelled for the racers to mount up. He raised a pistol over his head, readying to fire.

The fifteen entrants swung into their saddles and moved to the starting line in the dirt. Roan sized them up. The big guy on the rust-colored sorrel could give him trouble, as well as the one on the red bay. Roan thought the sorrel was the same one Gentry was riding, but he couldn’t be sure. He turned to the kid to the right of him and got quite a start. That peach-fuzz face had been burned into his memory the night of the bloodbath—Roan had snatched the hood from his head and stared right into those same young eyes.

The boy’s gaze met his and recognition dawned. His jaw dropped, and he swallowed hard.

Roan pretended not to recognize him. He smiled and stretched out his hand, introducing himself as Roan Penny. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Nope. I thought—”

“That I wouldn’t be stupid enough to show up here?” Roan suggested, grinning.

The boy shrugged. “Reckon it’s a free world.”

“I saw you there that night. Don’t bother to deny it.”

“No, mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The kid gave a nervous glance around him and lowered his voice. “Watch your back.”

“I intend to.” Before he could say more, the gunshot sounded the start of the race. As if on cue, the animals leaped forward.

He allowed Shadow an easy pace. A mile and a half called for saving the bulk of steam for the last leg. Those who raced to the forefront now would have no wind left at the end. At least he was counting on that.

“Take your time, girl. We’re just out for a leisurely stroll. The middle’s a good place to stay for now.”

As he figured, the big sorrel moved to the front right away. Roan switched his focus, caught the movements of the riders on a black gelding and a chestnut as they tried to sandwich him between them. He quickly evaded them, but he couldn’t outmaneuver the long crop the rider of the red bay was wielding. The whip caught him across his forearm.

Searing pain shot to his shoulder, then radiated across his back. He renewed his grip on the reins and clenched his jaw. They’d have to earn their pay to get him.

“So that’s the way you want to play this, huh?” he muttered into the wind.

A short distance ahead, the kid from Mose’s land swiveled in the saddle to watch. He had to know about the plan to knock Roan from his horse—and no doubt trample him into the dirt.

They’d make it appear the perfect accidental death.

A shame it hadn’t worked.

Not yet.

Their first attempts had fallen short, but that didn’t mean they were done. They’d use other, more devious tricks, and force him to go on the offense sooner than he wished. He’d known this would be no picnic. He’d earn every cent if he won.

A sloping descent down Brushy Mountain took all his wits. Once he reached level ground, he nudged Shadow harder. A stand of cedars loomed ahead. The evergreen branches were an excellent place for someone to lie in wait. The horses would have to pass close between the trees on the trail that cut through the cedar brake.

Unless…

Roan moved to the far outside right. He’d have barely enough room to go around.

Just as he neared the stand of trees, he veered sharply. His mare raced around the cedars, splashed across Indian Creek, and jumped a fence.

Hooves pounded behind him. He peered over his shoulder to see the rider on the red sorrel closing the gap.

Away from the pack, Roan had put himself in a more vulnerable position. Should there be an honest one in the bunch—which he doubted—no one could witness his death out here. No one in town would know that he’d been so ruthlessly murdered. Marley would suspect, but she’d have no way of proving it.

But he wouldn’t make this easy—he meant to put up a hell of a fight. Roan spied a thick, low branch up ahead. It could knock a rider from his horse if such a man had eyes glued on a particular target instead of paying attention to the ride.

Calm determination kept him tall and straight in the saddle.

The red sorrel breathed down his neck. Another long stretch and the rider would be on him.

“Keep coming, you bastard.” Roan timed his move. A split second before they reached the branch, he ducked and sailed below. He twisted to see if the rider had avoided it. True to his prediction, the rider rode directly into the branch, flew from the horse, and slammed into the ground. The man didn’t move, telling Roan the impact had probably knocked him cold.

One down and a few more to go.

Another fence appeared, which Shadow jumped with ease. They raced around a bend, and Roan guided the mare back on the course with the other racers. They came out very near the front.

The kid and the fellow on the bay were in the lead. Their faces changed to looks of shock when they spotted him trailing them. Their horses had used up most of their legs, white foam spraying from the animals’ mouths.

He watched for the long crop of the man on the red bay and lunged when it snaked toward him. Again and again the horseman struck, whipping the air.

They skirted Antelope Creek. Shadow set the pace at a hard gallop, the horse giving everything she had. “Come on, girl. You can do it.” The finish line lay around the bend. Just a few more lengths. A few more yards. A few more last-ditch efforts by those behind him.

The mare’s full stride led them past the kid and edged the bay by a nose. Roan barely saw the heavy chain in time. The diabolical rider was trying to wrap it around Shadow’s fetlock.

Such a device could break fragile bones. Tear tendons. Maim a horse for life.

“The hell you will,” Roan muttered through his teeth.

The rider stretched, leaning down, swinging the chain inches from its target. Roan grabbed the man’s arm, holding it in a vise grip. Before he could latch onto the chain, it dropped and his heart stopped.

The metal links landed under Shadow. He knew the minute she stepped down on the pieces of steel, felt it in the marrow of his bones. He tightened his grip, getting ready to go down. If he could just keep from landing under the horse, he’d be all right.

The mare stumbled.

Her forelegs buckled.

She dropped to her knees.

He braced himself for the crunch of breaking bone, held on for dear life, and prayed.

Somehow, the horse picked herself up, barely breaking a stride, and plunged on. It appeared the chain had landed on soft earth. Instead of doing the damage it had intended, it must’ve sunk harmlessly into the ground.

“Now’s the time, girl. Let’s see what you have.”

No one could say she was graceful and fluid compared to the other horses, but the mare with a broken ear wasn’t shabby either. She flew over the remaining length.

Cheers and jeers rang out.

Shadow responded, pounding across the finish line. Roan slowed where Marley and the Wheelers were and dismounted.

“You did it, son!” Silas Wheeler shouted.

Marley threw arms around him. “You won!”

Roan gave her a quick kiss. “I’ve got to see to my mare.”

He hurried to Shadow. She stood, shuddering, sides heaving, muscles quivering. She’d used everything she had in doing what he’d asked of her…and more. He checked her legs for injury, thankful to find none. Tears clogged his throat as he patted the thick gray neck. “You’re something else, girl. I’m proud of you.”

A chorus of voices rooted, “Hip, hip, hurrah!”

Roan glanced around for the boy he’d spoken to before the race. He needed to find out what the kid knew. Maybe he’d be willing to talk.

“I say you’re a yellow-dog cheater, Roan Penny.” Wilbert Gentry’s ominous, gravelly voice came from the platform where a handful of men stood. “I say you didn’t win this race.”

A deadly quiet descended over the throng of onlookers.

Roan rested a hand on the Colt’s grip, ready for whatever came. He’d fight, and he’d probably get hurt or thrown in jail, but he’d never run. Not from anyone.

Silas Wheeler swung to him. “I thought your name was Jack Durham.”

“That was a fake name to keep from being detected. You can see why.” Roan stared at him. “Tell me you aren’t one of them. Deny that you didn’t help the intruder who broke into our hotel room.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” Silas scratched his head. “Elizabeth and I had no ulterior motive in calling you over to our table. We just thought you looked like a couple we’d like to know.”

Elizabeth broke in. “He’s telling you the truth. Mariah looks so much like our daughter, and we miss her badly.” The lady’s hands fluttered from her hat to her reticule. “But her name’s not Mariah either, is it?”

“No, ma’am.” Marley gave her a hug. “I’m glad we were wrong about you, but you understand how we have to suspect everyone.”

“Oh yes, we certainly do.”

Roan faced Silas. “I’m sorry for misleading you. And we’re not really married.”

“I hate to hear about that last part. You two belong together.” Wheeler stood below the platform with Roan where Gentry stood with Sheriff Coburn and Quinn. Virginia Creek’s red hair glistened in the sun as she climbed the stairs to join them.

“You’re fools and liars,” Wheeler shouted at Coburn, Gentry, and Quinn. “The whole mess of you.”

Roan watched in disbelief as Silas stood up for him.

“Penny stands alone,” Coburn barked. “This is our town. We won’t let him waltz in here and take what belongs to us. He’s nothing. A nobody.”

The words stung Roan to the quick, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already heard over and over.

“Roan Penny’s my friend, and he doesn’t stand alone.” Wheeler waved his arm at the crowd. “We’re all beside him. These people aren’t going to let you kill him like you’ve done so many of our neighbors.”

Marley clutched Roan’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“It might be only temporary, but just maybe the tide has turned in this town.” Roan watched the four on the platform talk among themselves.

The crowd pressed closer and the four on the platform broke apart. Sheriff Coburn held up his hand. Angry red streaks mottled his neck. “I’m sorry, folks. It seems we misspoke. Winner of the San Saba County Fair annual horse race is Roan Penny. Let’s give him a round of applause as he comes up to collect the purse.”

Silas Wheeler slapped Roan’s back. “Go get your money. You earned it.”

“Thanks, Silas.” He waited while Gentry helped Virginia Creek down the stairs and onto a horse. She galloped from town in a cloud of dust.

Roan frowned. “A question for you, Silas. How well do you know Virginia Creek?”

Wheeler drew his eyebrows together. “Only well enough to say howdy. The mob killed her husband, Thomas Creek, and their three boys a few years back.” The name was nowhere close to Rueben or Rube, Gentry’s supposed boss. Maybe he was connected, but using an alias.

Holding his shoulder again and cradling his arm, Gentry blocked their path to the stage. The scarecrow’s hard eyes narrowed.

The hair on the back of Roan’s neck bristled. “Step aside.”

They stood face-to-face and stared each other down for several long beats. Finally, Gentry stepped aside.

“You and me have unfinished business,” Roan promised as he shoved past Gentry and bounded up the short flight of stairs. He’d get his money, then put Gentry on a horse at gunpoint. Roan would take him to Sheriff Bagwell in Tranquility.

At the top of the stairs, Roan stood next to Coburn and Quinn. The men’s icy glares didn’t faze him. He smiled and nodded. “Gentlemen.”

The sheriff snarled, “Take your money and get out of my town. The next time you come, you’ll leave in a coffin.”

“This town doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the people, and they seem to have smartened up,” Roan said low. He turned to the crowd and raised his hand in a wave, thanking them for supporting him.

Movement down below caught his attention. A lone rider had paused in the street for one last glance. Gentry. Then he whirled and galloped from town.

Where was he going? Foreboding tightened in Roan’s chest. He snatched the money from Quinn’s hand and leaped over the side of the platform.

Marley waited below. He grabbed her hand. “We have to leave. Now.”

“But I need to thank the Wheelers first.”

“There’s no time. I just spied Gentry riding out of town—heading for the road that leads toward your ranch.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Marley ran beside him to the gray mare.

Thank goodness, they’d packed their bags before they’d left for the shooting contest that morning. It was easy to grab them and race to the livery for Marley’s horse, but it all ate up precious time. Soon, though, they left San Saba behind. Shadow had barely had time to rest from the race, which limited them to a canter. Roan kept his eyes peeled for Gentry and trouble. They kept at a slow, steady pace for several hours.

Marley finally maneuvered her chestnut close. “Tell me about the race. I want to know everything. I can’t imagine the danger you were in.”

Roan spared no details. She wanted the unvarnished version, and that’s what he gave her. When he reached the part about the chain, she burst out, “That sorry, low-down varmint ought to be strung up! If I ever see him again, I’m going to shoot him.”

“I agree about your assessment, but you can’t go around shooting people you have a quarrel with.” He did love her passion though. “I hate for our time together to end. I really enjoyed being married to you, Mariah. More than I thought I would.”

“Am I growing on you?” she asked softly.

Too much, truth be known. He couldn’t imagine riding away and leaving her, even if Duel kicked him off his land when he discovered what his wayward daughter had done. And that was bound to happen. One thing Roan had learned was that secrets never stayed buried. And there were far too many eyes and ears on the ranch.

“You are for sure, Marley McClain.”

“What are you going to do when we get back?”

“About what?”

“Your job. Me. We have the money for our future.”

“That depends on your father.” And on Will Gentry. There were still too many variables for him to give her a direct answer.

They went over what they’d learned. According to Zach, the leader was someone named Rube.

Maybe Coburn used an alias.

That was possible. One thing about it, the woman couldn’t be Rube, couldn’t be part of the mob. A woman would not do the things the gang had done or use innocent kids. No, Rube had to be short for Reuben or something else. Maybe the leader stayed in the background, hiding his identity. Or maybe Rube lived on a nearby ranch and ran the operation from there, never coming into town at all.

Damn if Roan could figure it out.

He just wished he knew what Rube looked like. The man could stand two inches from him and he wouldn’t even know.

“I never saw anyone matching Wes Douglas’s description either. Did you, Marley?”

“No. I kept a close eye out for him too. Do you suppose we’re trying too hard to link our former ranch hand with this gang?”

Who the hell knew. Roan lapsed into silence as he mulled over all the pieces of the puzzle.

The late-afternoon sun reflected on something metallic ahead, sending a warning to Roan’s gut. Gentry lying in wait, looking for a chance to hurt or kidnap Marley? Roan slid his rifle from the scabbard.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I noticed a flash of light.” He pulled up. “You wait here with the horses. I’m going ahead on foot.”

“Be careful.” She reached for her rifle. “If I hear shots, I’m coming.”

Silent and alert, Roan cut into the trees and zigzagged from one to another. Scanning ahead. Listening. Smelling the acrid scent of danger.

The thick trees muffled every sound and left the silence pressing heavy and dark against him. His nerves, stretched to the breaking point, screamed. If he didn’t hear a noise soon, he’d go mad.

As he moved to the next tree, a shot split the bark of the tree trunk.

Roan dove to the ground.