A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (38 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

A raven rode triumphantly on each captured man when Gillis and Trace entered town. The men’s pants had a few holes. Blood trickled where beaks had punctured deep. A crowd had already gathered in front of the jail, waiting for them.

Frank Chambers scratched his cheek as the four horses approached. A few guffaws erupted when the ravens flew away and the men began screaming of how they were attacked. Ropes tied wrist to ankle under the horse’s bellies kept them from moving anything but their heads and mouths.

“They attacked Amelia,” said Trace. “Hauled her from her home and locked her up. We caught them coming back to get her.”

The crowd got louder. A couple of men ordered their women to go home.

“Did you find her?”

“No, she’d already escaped. But the ravens say she’ll be fine. One brought this.” He held up the tattered ribbon. “It’s Amelia’s favorite, one she wears every day.”

Gillis dismounted, vibrating with rage. He slashed the rope on the nearest man then the other. They slid headfirst to the ground under their gaunt horses. He looked around, spotting Daniel’s friend. The boy stared, eyes goggling.

“Billy, take these horses to Stumpy’s and fix ’em up,” he growled. “Tell ’em I’ll pay.”

When an eager Billy led the horses down the street, Gillis grabbed the men by the backs of their shirts, one in each paw. He half carried, half dragged them into the jail. He strode across the room and threw them into the cell, slamming the door shut behind them with a crash.

Dizzy from their heads being down for so long, they fell to the floor. One landed on his ass and yelped, quickly rolling onto his stomach. They groaned for a moment before hauling themselves to their feet. They yelled that they were innocent until a glare from Trace shut them up.

The room filled, everyone talking. Frank put his finger and thumb together and let out a shrill whistle. Silence descended.

“Anyone seen these two before?”

They glowered from behind the bars. Both medium height, one with shaggy, blond hair and bushy moustache, the other brown with a beard that didn’t cover the powder burns creeping up to his cheekbones.

“I seen ’em around fer a bit now,” said Old Walt. “They slunk around like they had no business bein’ here. I figger they knows someone in town.”

“State your names,” said Frank.

The blond glared at the other, who dropped his head.

“Tav and Zeb,” said the blond. “And we ain’t sayin’ nothin’ more.”

Frank looked up when Nevin pushed through the crowd, panting. He stopped beside the sheriff. “I know who they are,” he said. “And as soon as Ross gets here, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“How’s Mrs. MacDougal?”

“She’ll be fine. But that’s not what Ross is after them for.”

The men backed up as Nevin moved forward. He pointed to the blond.

“You grabbed her first, didn’t you? Threw her to the ground as if her life didn’t matter.”

Tav shook his head. “We jist tied her hands and put her on the horse. She come quiet.”

Nevin slid a knife out of his sleeve, hidden from the others in the room. He waved it back and forth before Tav’s face. The man put his hand over his nose and lips.

“Remember who cut your nose? It wasn’t from shaving, was it?”

Nevin spoke quietly but with deadly intent. Tav gulped. He shot his eyes to his companion and back again.

“Don’t know what you talkin’ about,” he blustered. “Some Injuns jumped us once.”

Nevin shook his head. “One little girl did it. Isn’t that right?”

“How’d he know that?” said Zeb, almost squeaking.

Tav slapped Zeb’s head. “I said, shut up!”

“What’s this all about, son?”

Nevin slid the knife away and turned. Without him noticing, the room had been cleared. Gillis, Trace, and the sheriff looked at him.

“Unless we hold him back, Ross will hit them like a porcupine as soon as he sees them.”

Gillis scratched his beard with both sets of fingers, like a dog would attack an itch with his hind leg. He growled almost the same as well.

“These the men he’s be wantin’ to kill?”

Nevin nodded. “He’ll turn Warrior on us. I was in the barn when he headed back out. He said he’ll kill these two for touching his wife then go after the others and never come back. Having two of the ones he’s looking for right here and not being able to skin them alive will make him crazy.”

“What about Amelia?”

Nevin cursed. He winced and rubbed his forehead as if he had the mother of all headaches. “Ross thinks she doesn’t want him because he didn’t protect her. Just like last time these two attacked someone he cared about.”

“What’d they do before?” asked Trace.

“That’s for Ross to say.”

“He’s not here, and I’m the one asking. Now,” said the sheriff. He motioned them to the far side of the room.

Nevin leaned a shoulder against the wall. Trace and Frank faced him.

“Years ago, these men and two others raped and murdered our cousin,” said Nevin. He spoke so quietly the sound didn’t reach far. “She was nine. Ross saw everything. He was too far away to stop it. When one of them came back, Ross killed him. He’s been searching for the other three since. These are two of them.”

“Shee-it.”

The prisoners backed away from the intense glare from three furious pairs of eyes.

“That’s is too long to prove anything, especially on the word of someone who was a boy at the time,” said Frank. “If Ross kills them for that, he’ll hang. Taking his woman and threatening her is bad, but it might not be enough to hang them.” He turned to Nevin. “Where is he?”

“He followed the trail back to where they held her.”

“You should have a look at the place,” said Trace. “Bars on the windows and door. She wasn’t the first woman held there.”

“How’d she get out?

“Set fire to it and escaped through the roof as it burned,” said Nevin.

Trace nodded, a smile cracking his stern face. “Ross needs a strong woman like that.”

They turned as the crowd outside erupted.

“Here he comes!”

Trace peered out the window. “I’ll take his right arm. Nev, you take the left. He might listen to Gillis if that’s all he can see. Stay out of the way, Frank. I don’t want him to kill you as well.”

* * * *

Ross recognized the horses tied to the hitching post outside the jail. Trace, Gillis, and Nevin. The whole fam-damily, here to see his shame. Nothing new.

He pushed everything deep inside and ignored the jabbering crowd. He dismounted and looped his reins over the post. He opened the jail door and walked in, slamming it shut behind him.

He faced forward and took a step. Trace grabbed his bicep and forearm.

“What the hell—?”

Nevin grabbed the other arm. Gillis stood to one side. Ahead, two men held onto the bars of the cell and stared at him defiantly.

“You got nothing on us,” said the blond one.

His moustache didn’t hide the ugly flap of loose skin above his lip. Someone spoke, but the thunder in his head blocked everything out. His entire being centered on two faces. The second man’s brown beard covered as much of his face as possible, but even after all those years, he recognized the powder burns.

Suddenly, he was a child again, hearing the men laugh in the distance as they threw her to the ground. Back then, he had only a vague idea of what they were doing. Now, he knew.

Had they done that to Amelia as well?

He screamed a war cry and surged forward. He managed to push a few feet before the men holding his arms stopped him. The evil ones backed away. He saw their terror. Exulted in it. But he wanted pain. Screaming pain as he sliced the skin from their flesh. Inch by slow inch.

Something blocked his path. He kicked out, using the leverage of the men holding him. Someone grabbed his knees, holding him still. He raged, fighting to be free. To kill.

He couldn’t move. A red haze blurred his eyes, and a thousand bees filled his ears. He tried to shake the hands off, to see his victims scream in terror.

The red haze in front of him came into focus.

Red hair. Red face. Red beard. Bright blue eyes, staring him down. Searing into his soul.

He knew those eyes. The buzzing in his ears faded.

“I am The MacDougal!”

“No!” He shook his head as violently as he fought to escape the hands holding him.

“I am The MacDougal!”

The voice roared past his ears. The boy in him heard his father’s roar, knew it meant pain. But there’d be even more if he fought. He could stand pain, but the beast had learned to beat his little brother if Ross disobeyed.

“Ross! Do ye hear me!”

He fought the need to kill, to rend. His birds would peck their eyeballs out. Brother Bear would slash their bellies open with his claws. Later. He would be still, for now. In time, he would rejoice in their slow, agonizing deaths.

He trembled, still fighting his body’s need to explode. He refused to bow down, no matter what the man did to him. He met the bright blue eyes head on. He blinked. Why didn’t he see his father’s big chest in front of him?

“Ross? It’s Gillis.”

He blinked again. He met the blue eyes with his own. A grin split the face. His father never smiled. He swallowed, realizing his throat hurt.

“Gil?”

“Thank God!” Gillis heaved a sigh. “Dinna let him loose, boys. He’s got knives everywhere.”

Ross tried to see around his brother’s wide head.

“I’m too old for this, dammit!”

Ross looked down. The sheriff lay on the floor. Trace held out his free arm. Frank Chambers hauled on it to get to his feet.

“I swear, boy, whatever’s been riding you had better be gone, or I’ll lock you up as well.” Frank brushed his pants off, glaring.

Ross finally managed to look past Gillis. Four hands gripped his arms as he flexed his fists. He looked at his enemies with the eyes of a six-foot-two warrior. They cowered against the back wall, eyeing him in fear.

Cowards. Attacking a small child didn’t make them men. Taking his wife, touching her, would made them dead.

“Hand over yer knives, and I’ll tell the lads to let you go.”

“They need to die.”

“Not by your hand,” said Frank. “They’re not worth dying for. If you kill them, you’ll hang.”

“After what they did to my wife?” He roared at the sheriff, but the sound came out hoarse.

“You’re a good man, but you’re not white.” Frank stepped until they were eye to eye. “The scum in that cell are white, and so’s your wife. You know they’ll shoot an Indian for just looking at a white woman. You married one. Worse, she looks at you like you make her very happy.”

Ross swallowed bile. Frank stared him down.

“I don’t like it, either. But there’s enough men around who’d find you guilty of any damn thing they wanted. Don’t do it, son.”

Ross relaxed his muscles. Nevin the peacemaker quickly let go, but Trace held on a moment longer as a warning. Ross met his eyes and nodded his thanks. Trace snorted and flexed his fingers.

“Cramp, old man?” said Ross.

“Nothing I can’t handle, sonny,” replied Trace. “Hand them over.”

Trace held out his palm. When Ross didn’t immediately move, he lifted an eyebrow. Shortly after he was returned to his father, he was sent to live with the Elliotts. Three years older, Trace took Ross under his wing. Without the Elliotts, Ross would never have changed from the ball of bitter fury and rage his father dumped on them.

Ross nodded. He reached behind his back and pulled out the knife he’d shown Daniel. He stared at his foes as he turned the blade. They tensed when he hefted it, but he placed it in Trace’s hand. It wasn’t his best throwing knife anyway.

He stretched his arm up and moved as if to scratch his neck. He slowly pulled a long, slender blade from the scabbard between his shoulder blades. He tossed it idly in the air, easily catching the hilt on each revolution. It felt good in his hand. If he threw it, the blade would easily slide through a neck. Place it right and he’d bleed himself out within minutes.

Much too fast. Not nearly painful enough.

Ross handed it, hilt first, to Nevin.

He watched the men’s faces the entire time he retrieved his knives from the places he stashed them on his body. With his eyes, he promised them what would happen if there were no bars between them, no brothers to hold him back. After he handed over seven knives, Frank, Trace and Nevin relaxed. They moved away, leaving him staring at the two glaring at him from the cage. The blond laughed as if he’d gotten away with something. Ross stood still, hands resting quietly at his thighs.

Trace and Nevin lined up his knives on Frank’s desk.

“Don’t try it,” said Frank quietly behind him.

“I won’t kill them,” he replied as if talking about the weather. “I was thinking more of a quick gelding.” He swiveled his right hand in a smooth figure eight. “A few slices and we’d have a couple pair of mountain oysters. John Tanner’s old dog could use a treat.”