Bride On The Run (Historical Romance) (18 page)

Sliding open the drawer on the washstand, she dropped the ring quietly inside. Then, as an afterthought, she removed her pearl earrings and placed them beside the wedding band. They would look pretty on Carrie when she was grown.

Turning, she gazed down at the moonlit form of the girl who had so nearly become her daughter—who was, in fact the very age her own daughter would have been if she’d lived. Carrie was curled beneath the quilt, her arms clutching her pillow. As Anna leaned over her, she stirred and opened her eyes.

“Anna, is that you?” she whispered.

“Yes. I was just coming to bed.”

“Are those two old biddies asleep yet?

“They’re not old biddies, Carrie. Just two well-meaning women trying to do a very difficult job.”

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” She sat up, and Anna could see from her blotched face that she’d been crying. “I don’t want to go away! I want to stay here in the canyon with Papa!”

Anna sank onto the edge of the bed and gathered the distraught girl into her arms. Carrie began to sob again, her tears soaking Anna’s collar and pooling in the hollow of her throat. “It’s all right, Carrie,” she murmured, aching. “No one’s going to take you away. I won’t let that happen.”

“Promise?” Carrie hiccuped.

“I promise.” Anna eased her back onto the pillow. “Go to sleep now. Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see.”

“Don’t leave me.” Carrie clung to Anna’s shoulders, reaching up, pulling her down. “When I’m alone, bad thoughts come into my head. They scare me, and I can’t make them go away.”

“Shhh…” Anna lay down on top of the covers and gathered the girl close. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’ll be here all night.”

“Thank you,” Carrie whispered closing her eyes. “I love you, Anna. I love you almost as much as if you were my real Mama….” The words trailed off as she dropped into exhausted slumber.

Anna lay awake in the darkness, cradling her close, for the rest of the night.

B
ehind the eastern buttes, the light of the unborn day paled the indigo sky. Streaks of pewter and opal glowed across the landscape, casting rippled shadows that flowed like water in the waxing light. Jutting spires of rock caught the first rays of the sun. Sandstone and shale flamed to life in hues of bronze, amber and amethyst. Against the sky, a lone raven circled, spiraling downward to perch on the roof of the barn like a black omen.

Malachi stepped outside, his eyes stinging with weariness after a long, sleepless night. He had passed the hours in the tack room lying next to his still-slumbering son, agonizing over the day ahead. Now that day was here. What would it bring?

The two women had said nothing about when they would announce their decision, but there was no need to wonder what it would be. What would he do when he heard the news? Would he curse fate and heaven and the pair of harpies who’d come to rip his world apart? Would he seize his precious children, keeping
the visitors at bay with his rifle while he fled with them up the canyon, out of reach?

No. He had taught Carrie and Josh to eschew violence and to respect the law. For their own sakes, he would have no choice except to let them go.

And after that…Yes, he would seek out every possible means to get them back. He would fight for them, just as he meant to fight for Anna. Whatever the cost, he would not rest until the four of them—his family—were together again.

Glancing toward the house, he caught sight of the smoke curling from the chimney. He could smell the rich aromas of coffee and bacon. He had been doing chores in the barn since first light, so it came as no surprise that Anna was already up and cooking breakfast. All the same, the sight of Ephraim Snow, hitching up his team outside the corral stopped him like a solid punch in the face.

“Ephraim, what the devil—” He willed himself to move, sprinting across the yard to the old man. “You’re going? Already?”

Ephraim hawked and spat on the ground. “Looks like it. Ladies woke me up and gave me my marchin’ orders. Said they wanted to get an early start, afore the sun gets too hot.”

“But they just got here! What did they decide?” Malachi reeled between hope and desperation. “What about my children? Are they going, too?”

Ephraim scratched his bony rump. “Don’t rightly know about the young’uns. But I’d get in that house and find out what’s goin’ on if I was you. From the talk I heard, I got the idea your missus was fixin’ to go with ’em.”

Anna, dressed in her denim pants, was pouring the last of the flapjack batter onto the hot griddle when Malachi came storming into the kitchen. Her heart faltered at the sight of him—so angry, so hurt, so bewildered.

“What in blazes is going on?” he demanded, letting the screen door slam behind him. “Ephraim says you’re leaving!”

“Ephraim is right.” Anna forced herself to speak calmly, keeping a grip on her churning emotions. “We’ll be leaving right after breakfast.”

“The children! What about the children?” His gaze darted to her ringless hand, then back to her face. He was wild-eyed, a wounded beast, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven. In his frantic state, he did not even appear to have noticed the two women seated at the table.

“The children will be staying with you, Malachi,” Anna said quietly. “You’ll be given a year to convince the judge you can provide a good home for them. That was the best bargain I could make.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending, like a man in the grip of a nightmare.

“Here,” she said, fumbling in the pocket of her apron. “Maybe this will make things clearer.”

He snatched the paper from her and unfolded it. Anna turned the flapjacks while he read, her heart bursting with things she had no right to stay. Sophronia and Lucy stared down at their plates, picking at their food, pretending to eat.

“Where’s Carrie?” Malachi asked, his voice harsh with strain.

“In her room. She knows. Leave her alone, Malachi. Carrie will be all right once she’s had time to think things through. So will you.”

“The devil!”

“Malachi, please—” She glanced toward the table, fearful that his outburst of temper would destroy her hard-won victory.

“We have to talk,” he said, catching her wrist.

“There’s nothing more to say.”

“Outside.” His grip tightened. “Now.”

“The flapjacks—” she protested. “They’ll burn!”

“Let them,” he growled. “Are you coming, or do I have to shock these proper ladies by dragging you out the door?”

“You’re already dragging me!” Anna could sense the two women watching her. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene. “All right. Five minutes, Malachi. No longer—”

“Come on!” He jerked her out the front door, yanked her down the steps and whipped her around the corner of the house, away from curious eyes. “Now what is all this?”

Anna gained her footing and forced herself to meet his heartbreaking gaze. “Don’t you see? It isn’t you those women are worried about—not you as a father. It’s me as a mother. They’re on to me, Malachi. They know I’m not what I pretend to be. So last night I did the only thing I could do for you and the children. I struck a bargain with them—I leave, the children stay. For one more year. That was the best I could do.” She blinked back furious tears. “Let me go, Malachi. Your children are safe. I’ve kept my part of the bargain!”

He caught her close then, crushing her against his heart. Anna clung to him in spite of herself. Holding him, feeling his warm masculine strength—for the last time, she told herself. The last time.

“No, damn it,” he whispered against the tangle of her hair. “It doesn’t have to be this way. I’ll talk to those women, tell them how much the children need you—how much
I
need you! You’re my wife, Anna! I can’t just stand back and let you go without—”

The loud, metallic twang of a rifle shot, ricocheting off the canyon walls, shattered the world around them.

“The ferry—” Anna glanced toward the river, but even as she spoke she knew the shot had not come from the far bank. The sound had been too close for that.

Malachi had made a lightning-quick turn and was sprinting toward the front of the house. He halted at the corner, caught Anna’s arm as she hurtled past him, and swung her backward against the adobe wall. “Stay back!” he warned. “We don’t know what’s happening out there.”

Cautiously now, they peered into the front yard. Ephraim Snow was hunkered behind the buckboard, cursing but unharmed. The dog, gun-shy like many of his wild hybrid kind, cowered under the steps. There was nothing else in the yard but Ephraim’s horses and a few startled chickens. Then Anna saw it—the glint of sunlight on polished metal in the high rocks that jutted above the ranch and ferry, separating the road from the river. Silently she nudged Malachi and pointed. He nodded grimly. They both knew what it was—and perhaps even
who
it was.

“What in heaven’s name is happening out here?” Sophronia burst through the screen door onto the porch, followed by Lucy, then by Carrie, who was still in her nightgown. “Mr. Stone, what do you mean by this, scaring us half out of our—”

“Shut up and get back inside!” Malachi hissed. “All of you! And keep away from the windows!”

“Where’s Josh?” Anna whispered as the two women hustled Carrie back inside the kitchen.

“I left him asleep in the barn. Just pray he’s got the sense to stay put!” Malachi inched forward. He had no weapon, Anna realized. The pistol and rifle would both be in the tack room, where he had spent the night.

“I see you, Mr. Stone!” The oily voice that rang out from the rocks was sickeningly familiar. “Now that I’ve got your attention, we can talk.”

“Anyone you know?” Malachi glanced back at Anna, his eyes narrowed like a wary cat’s.

“It’s Caswell,” Anna said, feeling her stomach clench.

“I figured as much. Stay back.”

“Come on out where we can parley!” Caswell shouted. “I’ve got no quarrel with you. It’s your woman I’ve come for. Did you know Anna was wanted for murder back in St. Joseph, Mr. Stone?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Malachi bluffed, stalling for time.

“Well, Mr. Stone, perhaps my young friend here can jog your memory.”

There was a pause, followed by a scuffling sound amid the rocky ledges. Then a small, terrified voice
called out, “Pa! I’m up here, Pa! They’ve—” The rest of the words were abruptly muffled.

“Dear God,” Anna muttered. “He’s got Josh!”

Malachi’s face had turned ashen. “Stay here,” he said, inching back around her. “Talk to Caswell. Try to distract him while I work my away ’round the back. I’ll try to get a gun and get behind them somehow.”

Anna moved forward to take his place at the corner of the house.

“Be careful,” he said.

“You, too,” she whispered. “Remember, Caswell wouldn’t have come alone. He’ll have others with him.”

She watched, holding his image as he disappeared around the back of the house. Then, taking a deep breath, she edged forward, just short of Caswell’s view.

“Let the boy go, Caswell!” she shouted. “It’s me you want, not an innocent child!”

“Is that really you, Anna?” Caswell’s unctuous voice dripped pleasure. How long could she bait him, she wondered, before he moved in for the kill?

“That’s right, you lying, murdering skunk!” she shouted. “If you want me, come and get me!”

“Tut, tut, now!” Caswell chuckled darkly. “Is that any way to talk to an old friend, especially one who’s come such a long way to see you? It was Mr. Samuel Johnson who recognized the poster and wired me that he’d found you. I was a bit skeptical at first, but I changed my mind when these two gentlemen wired, as well. I instructed them to wait in Kanab for my arrival, of course. I know you, Anna, and I know the persuasive effect that face and body can have on
men—I certainly know what a fool you made of my poor friend Harry. I wouldn’t trust anyone but me to bring you to justice.”

Anna squinted up at the ledges, taking time to weigh what she’d heard. The two men he’d mentioned—that would be the bounty hunters, she was certain. Such men would owe no special allegiance to Caswell, and neither of them would be eager to risk trouble by harming a child. They were here only for the reward—for her.

“Let Josh go!” she called out again. “You’re already guilty of kidnapping. If you lay a hand on him, there are people here whose testimony will send you to jail!”

“Anna, my dear you misjudge me!” Caswell shot back. “I would never do anything to harm Mr. Stone’s little boy. But accidents do happen. What if the child were to become frightened and try to run away? He could slip and fall, perhaps all the way to the river. What jury would hold me responsible for such a tragic mishap?”

Anna’s fear darkened as she realized he was right. Caswell was a monster. If things didn’t go his way he was quite capable of shoving Josh off a ledge. And with the jutting rocks blocking their view, no one watching from below would know what had really happened.

“Your time’s run out, Anna!” Caswell shouted. “Harry Solomon was my friend. When he was murdered, I swore I’d track his killer to the ends of the earth—Lord knows, I never realized how literal that vow would become! You’ve led me on quite a chase, Anna DeCarlo, or whatever your real name is. But
it’s all over. You killed Harry, and the time has come to bring you to justice!”

“Liar!” Anna shouted, stalling desperately. “Harry was the kindest man I’ve ever known! He treated me like a queen! We were going to be married—why would I want him dead?”

“You’re asking me to explain a woman’s thinking?” Caswell’s laughter echoed off the canyon walls.

“You’re the one who killed him—or hired your ugly Russian friend to do it for you!” Anna countered. “I saw you on the stairs that night. Why did you do it, Caswell? Did Harry know something about you—something he threatened to reveal if you didn’t stop squeezing him for money? Did he want to come clean before he married me? Was that it?”

Caswell hesitated, but only for an instant. “You’re stalling, Anna. There’s only one way this is going to end. The only question is, how many people are going to get hurt before you give yourself up?”

Anna’s gaze darted to the steep, circuitous route Malachi would be taking up the side of the ledge. She could see him now. He was climbing stealthily, the rifle, which he’d evidently retrieved from the barn, slung over his back. If no one spotted him, he would emerge above the road, behind Caswell and the bounty hunters.

But someone
had
spotted him. Her eyes caught a flicker of movement in the rocks, and her heart stopped cold. Someone was waiting just a few yards ahead of him, hidden behind a jutting boulder. Anna’s blood congealed as she recognized the hulking form
of The Russian, Caswell’s companion on that terrible night in St. Joseph.

Her first impulse was to scream—but no, a scream might trigger a hail of gunfire. She could not put two precious lives at risk for her own sake. She could not put
any
lives at risk. If she wanted Josh free and alive, there was only one thing to do.

“I see you brought your bloodhound along!” she shouted. “I see him, Caswell, right up there in the rocks above the road! You can call him back now. I’m the one you want, and I don’t want innocent people hurt on my account.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Caswell all but chortled the question.

“Yes. It’s over, you slimy, murdering bastard. You’ve won.”

Malachi glimpsed the movement in the rocks above him, checked his climb and squeezed back into the shadow of an overhang. Anna’s discreet warning had saved his life, he realized. He had counted on Caswell and the two bounty hunters, but not on the fourth man—Caswell’s man—who had evidently seen him coming and moved into ambush position.

He pressed deeper into the rocky cleft, cursing under his breath. He was safe for the moment, but what now? His whereabouts was no longer a secret. Caswell still had Josh. And what in thunder was Anna up to?

“Come on out!” Caswell shouted. “Put your hands above your head and walk toward me!”

“Not until you let Josh go!” Anna yelled back, and Malachi groaned out loud, feeling helpless and
sick. He knew what she meant to do, and he had no way to stop her—not without endangering his son’s life. Right now his only hope of saving anyone lay in staying put and keeping quiet.