Twenty-six

Marley sat with Granny Jack in front of the fireplace at her house late that afternoon while the children played with the cats on the floor. Worry lined the old woman’s face, and Marley didn’t have to guess that she feared the worst about Duel and his task in Piebald.

“I wish we could know something, but I have to believe that they’ll be back soon,” Marley said. “At least you’re safe and you have your cats.”

“A watched pot never boils, child, and I’m awful lucky. I could still be tied up with a madman standing over me and my cats out in the cold night. But here I am in front of a warm fire.” Granny smiled at the children. “They love my cats as much as I do.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m glad the man Roan sent to get them had no trouble rounding them up.” Thank goodness, too, that he hadn’t encountered Gentry. But if he wasn’t hanging around the ranch, did that mean the man was in Piebald? With her father? Her stomach knotted.

Granny cackled. “I counted all my furry kids to make sure he brought every last one of them. I thought for sure he left Matilda behind, but I got her mixed up with Patches.”

“I don’t know how you keep them straight.”

“It’s a thousand wonders, but I manage.” Granny rocked silently for a minute, staring into the fire, watching the flames. At last, she said quietly, “A storm’s coming.”

Marley knew she wasn’t talking about the weather. But from what direction would it come, and how many? She shivered, recalling the terror of Will Gentry’s face, his voice, his hands gripping her.

“We’re ready,” she said, glancing at the Winchester by the door. “We’ll send them running back under their rock.”

“See that bent live oak out there?” Granny Jack pointed through the window. “That poor old tree’s weathered many a storm, and it’s still standing. You know why? Because it has deep roots and it leans into the wind. Sometimes the wind knocks off limbs and such, and sometimes I reckon that tree gets mighty weary, but in spite of all, it thrives. So will we. Ain’t no one gonna put me in the ground before I’m good an’ ready.” She stopped rocking. “I’d be obliged to have a rifle.”

“We have plenty next door. I’m sure Roan and the men are keeping watch for riders.” Marley prayed Roan, all of them, would escape whatever was coming. “We need to put out this fire and go to the main house.”

“It’s time, girl.”

“Children, put on your coats, gather up the cats, and let’s go see Mama Jessie.” Marley struggled to keep her voice steady. “I think she’s lonesome for us.”

Quick to read her every mood, Matt crept to her side and clutched her dress. “I’m scared, Mama Rose.”

“Honey, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” She kissed his forehead. “Mr. Penny and the cowboys are out there with their rifles and guns, and they’ll shoot anyone who rides up who doesn’t belong here. Do you trust me?”

“Yep.” He dredged up a grin. “If they come, the pirates will get them. They’ll tie ’em up and put a dirty sock in their mouths.”

“And then they’ll feed ’em to the alligators,” little Benji piped up from Marley’s other side.

She doused the fire, then asked, “Can you boys carry a cat?”

Although they didn’t want to turn loose of her, they quickly picked up a cat each and hurried back.

“Allie, can you help Granny Jack?” Marley asked the fifteen-year-old.

“Okay.” The girl took one of Granny’s arms and Marley the other. With Marley gripping her Winchester, they paraded to the main house.

Roan crossed from the shadows of the corral. “I was about to come get you. We need to keep together.”

Marley glanced at the rifle in the crook of his arm. “Never hurts to be prepared. I just wish Papa would get back.”

The children and Granny Jack went on into the house. Roan brushed her cheek. “I wish I could kiss you. I have a need for your lips.”

His touch settled some of the turmoil inside. She leaned against him. “I want to kiss you too, and cuddle in front of a warm fire. I hate living in constant fear. I’m so cold. I need this to be over so we can go on with our lives.”

“To hell with everyone.” He set down the rifle, pulled her close, and captured her lips.

The banked embers of their passion flamed in an instant. Marley clung to him, inhaling the scent of this wild land on him. She forgot about the ever-changing quicksand that was her life currently. Forgot about the trouble. And forgot about her fear. Roan always made her feel safe, and she burned with a powerful hunger for him.

She tightened her arms around his waist and parted her lips. He slid his tongue inside, doing what their bodies could not. Wetness formed between her thighs. This sweet torment drove her insane; she wanted him so badly. She needed this man she’d found on a lonely road.

A sound broke them apart. She didn’t know what it was, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

Roan jerked up his rifle. “Get into the house, Marley. Douse the lamps and don’t come out no matter what you hear or see.”

* * *

Roan’s breath fogged in the cold air, his eyes scanning for trouble, a bitter taste filling his mouth. Vivid memories of Mose rose. At the sound of hoofbeats, he swung to face the riders coming to a halt five yards away. The sun had just set, and darkness would soon descend. The remaining light revealed the grim faces of the visitors. Roan was sure his own must look the same.

He knew why they’d come, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure they left very disappointed. He’d scattered the five remaining ranch hands at various places across the compound. No need to look to see if they were in position. They were—even Hardy Gage. The man had insisted he was fit enough to send a few bastards to hell.

If shooting started, the riders wouldn’t know where to aim first. That was Roan’s plan.

Will Gentry and Sheriff Coburn led about a dozen young boys. One of them didn’t look any older than twelve, and the big gelding he sat was too much animal for him. The boy wouldn’t meet Roan’s gaze, instead stared down at the gun clenched in his hands. All of them were armed to the teeth, and every pistol pointed at him.

Another rider moved forward and stopped next to the two men. Roan stared hard. No distinct chin. It just seemed to merge with his neck. Stocky build. Unless he missed his guess, that was Wes Douglas.

It appeared their hunch was right.

“What can I help you with, gentlemen?” Roan asked. “If you need McClain, I’ll go get him.”

“Don’t play us for fools, Penny,” snarled Coburn. “We know he rode out with his men and Sheriff Bagwell. Noticed Bagwell’s deputy too.”

Breaking glass sounded behind Roan. Some of the young riders became jittery.

“Get the hell off this land before I blow you to the devil’s fiery pit!” yelled Granny Jack.

More glass broke, and from the corner of his eyes, Roan saw rifles sticking from every window of the ranch house. From the looks of it, Jessie must’ve armed the kids. That was just dandy. He prayed the old woman would hold her tongue—and her bullets. He didn’t want to fight a war if he could avoid it.

He turned back to Coburn, ignoring his statement about Duel leaving. “I asked you before. What do you need?”

Coburn cocked his six-shooter that was pointed at Roan. “You’re under arrest, Roan Penny, for the murder of my little brother.”

“I’m sorry he had to die,” Roan answered. “I truly am, but I’ll shoot anyone who rides toward me wearing a hood over their head. Your brother was a cattle rustler and who knows what else. One thing I know for sure, he broke the law that night.”

“What proof do you have?” Coburn shot back.

“Witnesses. His hood. What more do you need?”

“I see you there, you beady-eyed rat-buzzard!” Granny hollered. “Tie up a defenseless old woman and kick my cats out in the cold—I’ll show you who’s boss. I’m itching to put a bullet in your head.”

“Granny, that’s enough,” Roan growled without turning. Without glasses, it was anyone’s guess where her bullets would go.

“Old woman, I shoulda killed you!” Gentry hurled back. “Then drowned your cats.”

Granny egged him on. “What was that, gall-nipper? You got mush in your teeth?”

Behind him, Roan heard Marley telling her to stop making things worse.

Gentry searched each window, then swung his gun to Roan. “I came after Marley Rose. Send her out.”

“You’ll have to get past me.” Roan’s gaze went to the young boys. They didn’t appear to have the heart for killing in cold blood, and it wouldn’t take much for them to tuck tail and run. Coburn and Gentry were another matter.

“Won’t be a problem after I shoot you,” Gentry sneered, his lips curling back from his teeth.

Marley’s voice came from Roan’s left. Her Winchester protruded from the window. “You’ll never take me alive, I can promise you that. You’re a miserable excuse for a human being. You’re nothing but a slimy nightcrawler. Something to squash.”

“That’s no way for a daughter to speak to her father,” Gentry snapped, showing his anger.

Roan would die before he let the man have her. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to lower your weapons and ride out of here.”

“You’re in no position to make demands,” Coburn barked. “You ain’t got nothing but women and children to back you up.”

First surprise, then satisfaction washed over Roan. They didn’t know about the ranch hands. Good.

“I’d say we’re just about even, then.” Roan watched their faces darken even more. “You’ll have hell taking me in, and you’re not getting Marley either. Best thing you can do is turn around. It’s a long ride back to San Saba.”

Coburn shifted. “I wish we’d killed you that same night we got rid of that worthless bastard Mozeke.”

Roan shrugged. “Your mistake.” He watched Coburn’s glittering eyes. The rotten sheriff was rash, especially when he burned with fury, whereas Gentry took things more slowly and held his anger inside.

A roar, a flash, and Coburn’s gun belched fire.

The minute Roan saw the orange flame, he pulled the trigger, yelling, “This is for Mose Mozeke.” The hard ground broke his dive for cover.

His bullet struck Coburn dead center in the heart. The sheriff fell from his horse. Gunfire erupted all around Roan, and he scrambled for cover in the shadows at the side of the house.

The youngsters on horseback whirled and galloped off into the night. That was good. Roan really didn’t want to kill any boys—just a single man with a stone where a heart should be.

Where had Wes Douglas disappeared to? Not knowing made him nervous.

The women inside the house released a burst of blistering gunfire. In the middle of the exchange, Roan lost Gentry. Now he had two to worry about.

As the barrage died down, Marley called out, “Roan, he’s in those bushes. He jumped from his horse.”

Roan would thank her later. He sprinted to the waist-high bushes. A bullet nicked his arm as he dove into the vegetation. He paid it no heed.

“Come out, Gentry, you’re the only one left.”

Silence met him. Roan carefully worked his way through the now-leafless foliage. The winter breeze, combined with the loss of sunlight, made him shiver. If it had been daylight, Roan would have had no trouble seeing his foe.

Gentry lunged out of nowhere, tackling Roan. A fist knocked him sideways, and Roan’s rifle flew into the darkness. He punched Gentry in the stomach and face. Everywhere he could connect with muscle and bone, he did. Roan matched the man in height and carried more weight. If he hit him enough times, Gentry would go down.

One thing Roan hadn’t counted on was the man’s long, skinny legs. One of them kicked sideways and took Roan’s out from under him. He went down with Gentry on top.

Roan pushed his foe’s face back, his fingers in the man’s eyes. Gentry hollered as Roan broke the hold. Roan scrambled to his feet, reaching for the knife in the sheath between his shoulder blades.

Gentry reached into his boot and yanked out a long knife. Both armed with knives, they moved in a circle, hands held wide, looking for an advantage. Gentry lunged, slashing Roan’s jacket. Roan caught Gentry’s knife hand and forced him backward against a wooden hitching rail.

Just when Roan appeared to have won, Gentry broke free. An arcing slash of the knife sent Roan jumping backward in time to evade the thin blade. Before Roan could go on the offense again, a horse as black as midnight galloped from the trees.

Wes Douglas. The stocky rider reached for Gentry and lifted him onto the back.

“This isn’t over,” Gentry hollered. “McClain’s dead. I’m coming back with a damn army and getting my daughter!”

The horse and rider vanished as though ghosts in the night.