Carol Finch (14 page)

“I headed to Draper Ranch in the hope of finding you, but he was mounting up a pack of vigilantes. I figured he must’ve gotten word that you were in town.” He glanced toward the door separating the cells from the outer office. “Did you give yourself up? And by the way, if you did, it was a very bad idea. This isn’t a good place to be right now. Draper and his men will be here shortly to drag you to the tallest tree for a lynching.”

“I didn’t give myself up,” she said sourly. “It wasn’t part of the plan. Mick was a mental step ahead of me.”

Fletch frowned in annoyance. “How is it that you dodged me several times and your good friend, Mick, had no trouble capturing you? Did you go easy on him?”

“Mick caught me off guard while I was attending Willow’s burial,” she explained. “I told Mick this jail was a bad place to be, but his optimism knows no bounds. He thinks that truth and justice will prevail.”

Savanna glanced over her shoulder when she heard shouts coming from the front of the jail. Her attention flew back to Fletch and her eyes widened with alarm. “Promise me that if I don’t survive that you’ll find out who killed Willow. Please, Fletch. I can face death if I know you will avenge Willow.”

“You aren’t going to hang, not if I can help it,” he said convincingly.

Not convincingly enough, apparently, because she said, “
Promise me,
Fletch. Right here and now.
Apache promise.
The kind that’s never meant to be broken.”

“Fine, Apache promise,” he rumbled, exasperated. “Are you planning to look up Mick and kiss him goodbye a
couple of times before we break you out of here? We’re kind of in a rush.”

“Mick likes me,” she replied, smiling impishly. “I have no control over the way he feels.” She glanced past his shoulder. “Who’re
we?
”

“My brother, Logan. He goes by ‘Hawk.’” He watched her dark eyes pop open in surprise. “You sent for him?”

“No. Interestingly enough, he received an anonymous telegram urging him to come to my rescue. Either Hawk and I have been set up, just as you have, or we have a guardian angel watching out for us.”

“I’m hoping it’s an angel,” she murmured, casting a wary glance toward the door. “We could use one right about now.”

Savanna surveyed the dark-haired man who came into view behind the barred window a moment later. So this was Hawk, she mused. The family resemblance between the two men was astonishing—except for their eye color. Hawk’s eyes were as striking a shade of onyx as Fletch’s were vivid blue. For a dazed moment, she simply stood there, noting the similarities in bone structure, shiny raven hair, angular features and powerful athletic bodies. The only difference was that her attention lingered on Fletch because she’d fallen in love with him, ill fated though she knew it was.

“Hawk, this is Savanna Cantrell,” Fletch said by way of introduction.

Hawk smiled then said, “Shame on you, young lady, you are a bad influence on my brother.” He fastened one end of the rope to the barred window. “Fletch had an unblemished record with the Rangers until he crossed paths with you.”

She responded instinctively to his teasing grin. “Sorry, but I love trouble. Can’t seem to stay out of it… And, Hawk?”

“Yeah?” He paused from his task to stare directly at her with those thick-lashed eyes that equaled Fletch’s in intensity.

“I’m eternally indebted to you for your help.”

“Shiloh said the same thing to me five years ago. I made her marry me as payback.” He hitched his thumb toward Fletch. “Maybe I’ll make you marry him to repay me for the favor.”

“You can’t. He’s in love with someone else and always will be,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Nonetheless, I will honor my debt and repay it in whatever manner you please.”

Hawk cut Fletch a pensive glance then stared speculatively at Savanna, but he didn’t comment.

Angry voices erupted from the front of the office again. A sense of urgency overcame Savanna and her heart launched into triple time, beating a rapid staccato against her rib cage. She noticed that Fletch and Hawk had become all business while they anchored the two ropes to the pommels of their saddles.

“Take the cot and prop it below the window,” Fletch instructed as his face appeared between the bars again. “You can use the cot like a ramp to climb up after we jerk out the bars. It won’t take long for the mob to figure out what’s happening, so we’ll have to move quickly.”

Savanna nodded, then wheeled around to remove the tray of food from the cot. She placed the bed just below the windowsill, just as Fletch instructed. Then she grabbed her satchels, ready to make her getaway.

Apprehension sizzled through her like streak lightning. She kept stealing glances at the door that separated the cells from the office. She was about to add jailbreak to the list of offenses piling up against her. Not only were Hawk and
Fletch about to become accomplices to her escape, but Mick was also in danger. Savanna was convinced that she’d become a curse to every life she’d touched the past two months. Bad things kept happening to anyone closely associated with her and she kept thinking she should’ve heeded her father’s advice to race off to begin a new life somewhere far away.

“Ready?” Fletch called to her.

Savanna swallowed hard and said, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Parmicho! Get out here!” Oliver Draper shouted as he positioned himself in front of the crowd he’d assembled in town.

It wasn’t hard to encourage participation, not when you handed out money. He’d accomplished his purpose of safety in numbers. He had a mob behind him and he’d convinced everyone that Savanna should pay for both murders, even if she was a woman. Justice, he maintained, demanded a quick hanging.

“Parmicho! We want your prisoner!” Oliver shouted.

A few moments later the door swung open and Parmicho, with his badge pinned on his shirt pocket and his rifle cradled across his arms, stepped onto the boardwalk. “No one is taking my prisoner anywhere,” he declared authoritatively. “I already sent a telegram to the federal marshal’s office in Paris, Texas. An escort will arrive shortly and the trial will be held in court, as the law states,” he added emphatically.

“What do those Texans care about what happens here in the Territory?” Gib Harper, one of Oliver’s hired gunmen said, and snorted. “Nothin’, that’s what. Savanna Cantrell killed one of
her
kind and one of
your
kind. We want justice now!”

Parmicho placed his Winchester rifle in firing position then panned the mob. He aimed directly at the hard-eyed, rangy gunman. “Gib, isn’t it? You work for Draper, don’t you? Same as half the men in the mob.” Parmicho widened his stance and stared stonily at the crowd. “How much is Draper paying the rest of you to take the law into your hands and to manipulate public opinion? Is it enough to soothe a guilty conscience when you discover Savanna is innocent?”

Oliver gnashed his teeth. If these spineless bastards backed off, he’d be furious. He wanted retaliation now!

“Everyone knows how you feel about Savanna,” Oliver said snidely. “You’re sweet on her, even if she is a bad seed. You’ll ruin your reputation by standing up for her. She’s guilty!”

“What about your reputation, Draper?” Parmicho countered. “Rumor has it that you killed two Chickasaw wives to increase your land holdings. I, for one, am certain you have a hidden agenda in this lynching. What is it, Draper? What’s your angle? We’d all like to know what you have to gain.”

“Damn Indian,” Oliver muttered under his breath. Parmicho was quick-minded, but he didn’t know when to shut his mouth. “I want my son’s murderer punished. I want his fiancée’s murder avenged, as well. I simply want justice!”

“Of course you do.” Parmicho smirked. “I’m wondering if you disposed of Roark yourself. He’s given you nothing but trouble for years. Always leaving you to clean up after each drunken binge.” His coal-black gaze bore into Oliver. “Maybe the truth is that Roark pushed you over the edge. Once you disposed of him in a fit of temper, then you had to dispose of the eyewitness who could testify against you. Is that the way it happened? Did you take Willow cap
tive because she saw you shoot your own son and then disposed of her at your convenience?”

Oliver’s temper nearly exploded when the expressions on the faces of his hired men, as well as the local riffraff, turned speculative. How dare the young buck, who thought he was in a powerful position just because he had a tin badge pinned on his chest, think he could go toe-to-toe with Oliver Draper! How dare Parmicho point an accusing finger at him!

Silently smoldering, Oliver glanced around, wondering why his cohort hadn’t opened fire to shut Parmicho up. The thought no sooner crossed his mind than a shot rang out from somewhere behind him. Parmicho crumbled to his knees. Blood soaked his shirt. A groan tumbled from his lips as he collapsed.

“Let’s get the murderess and string her up!” Oliver bounded onto the boardwalk to kick the rifle from Parmicho’s grasp. “Bring a rope! Today is the day justice reigns supreme!”

“Son of a bitch!” Fletch scowled when he heard the sound of a rifle.

Oliver’s loud entreaty filled the silence that followed.

Fletch glanced at Hawk who was frowning something fierce. He suspected that whatever was niggling him about Oliver’s voice had struck a half-forgotten chord of memory with Hawk, too. Unfortunately, Fletch and Hawk didn’t have time to figure out what had disturbed them. Time was of the essence. They hunkered down on their horses, ready to spring Savanna free.

“Go!” Fletch shouted.

The horses gathered their hindquarters beneath them
then lunged forward. They staggered when they hit the end of the rope and had to strain against the resistance. Fletch and Hawk slapped the horses on the rumps, demanding all the strength they had to give. Mortar crumbled, metal creaked. A moment later the barred window shot from the opening and bounced in the dirt behind the prancing horses.

Fletch was off his steed in a single bound, leaving Hawk to deal with the tangled ropes. He boosted himself up to the opening to see Savanna clutching her satchels to her chest and staring apprehensively at the door that led to the office.

“Hurry up,” Fletch demanded sharply.

Her worried gaze swung to him as she stepped on to the slanted cot. “What if they shot Mick? I unknowingly left Willow behind at the hotel after someone shot her. I might have been able to save her life if I had gone back—”

Fletch’s arm shot through the opening to yank her forward. “This is no time for
what-ifs.
First things first. We save your neck and then we check on Mick. He knew the danger when he walked out to face that mob. You heard him call out Draper and question his motives. Mick provoked him.”

“Move out of the way,” Hawk demanded as he appeared on horseback behind Fletch.

Hawk thrust his head and shoulders through the opening to snatch up Savanna—whether she was ready to leave Mick behind or not. Which she obviously wasn’t.

“I’ll take her with me since I have a fresh horse.” Hawk snaked his arm around her waist and jerked her toward him.

“Oooff.”
Savanna’s breath came out in a rush when her chest slammed into Hawk’s shoulder.

“Sorry, ma’am, but there’s no time to spare.” He stared
grimly at Fletch. “You provide cover if the mob opens fire.” He glanced this way and that. “Which way are we headed?”

“West,” Savanna directed as she settled behind Hawk and draped her satchels over her shoulders.

Fletch bounded into the saddle then caught the coils of rope Hawk tossed to him. Shouts erupted from inside the jail. Gunfire exploded from the opening where the bars had been.

“Damn, we cut that a little close,” Fletch muttered as he hunkered down then gouged his horse in the flanks.

“I’ll say we did,” Hawk agreed as he dodged the discarded barrels and crates that formed an obstacle course in the alley.

F
letch didn’t anticipate much of a head start on the lynch mob. It would take only a few minutes for Draper’s men to troop from the jail to retrieve their horses. He was relieved, however, that he and Hawk were able to veer from the alley and hightail it toward the trees that lined the road before the lynch brigade showed up. Unfortunately, it was broad daylight and last night’s rain would leave obvious tracks.

“Savanna,” Fletch called as he urged his steed up beside her and Hawk. “We need to throw the mob off our trail so they won’t overtake us quickly.”

“That’s what I’m doing by doubling back,” she replied as she clung to Hawk while they plunged into the thicket of trees.

Damnedest thing, Fletch didn’t like watching her hug Hawk so tightly, even though she was trying to keep her seat while cantering at a swift pace. He wanted Savanna riding double with
him,
holding on to
him,
not Hawk. Fletch knew unreasonable possessiveness was hounding him, but he couldn’t shake it loose.

Yet, he knew his brother was right. Hawk was riding a fresh horse and this was no time to let sentiment get in the
way. He was lucky he’d found Savanna when he did. Otherwise, she’d be hanging high. He’d rescued her from certain death. That was all that really mattered.

“I’ll lead the mob to our cabin,” Savanna called. “Papa is in the Arbuckles with Morningstar. I don’t know where Solomon is and I don’t care. He hasn’t been much help anyway.”

Fletch had to agree, and that made him suspicious all over again. If Solomon had been in town, he should’ve stepped forward to provide reinforcements when the tribal police chief needed help breaking up the lynch mob.

“We’ll leave these two horses tied up at the cabin,” Savanna suggested. “We’ll fetch three fresh horses from our barn. Let the mob think we holed up in our cabin. That should buy us a little more time.”

Fletch nodded agreeably then followed Hawk and Savanna through another copse of trees and thick underbrush. He glanced over his shoulder to keep lookout for the mob. Sure enough, he sighted eight men racing away from town.

“I recognize the horses ridden by the five men I encountered in the Arbuckles,” he told Savanna. “The three men who tried to bushwhack me near the ferry are with them.”

“The same three men we stumbled onto on our way back to Tishomingo?” she asked.

“Yes, those ruffians must’ve signed on with Draper, too.”

“No surprise there,” she replied. “Draper pays exceptionally well. He wants to know everything that goes on in Tishomingo. He offers bribes to receive spy reports and buy loyalty when he wants it.”

“Sounds like a real bastard.” Hawk forced his horse to make a quick cut to avoid an impenetrable tangle of trees and vines.

“He is,” Savanna confirmed. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Oliver paid the local hooligans to add convincing numbers to his mob… Cross the creek here, Hawk,” she directed abruptly. “The terrain is rockier from this point to the hill near our cabin. Tracks are hard to see.”

Hawk lifted an eyebrow as he glanced over his shoulder at Savanna. An approving smile pursed his lips as he shifted his attention to Fletch. “She’s a regular frontiers-woman, I see.”

“That she is. Her father was an army scout,” Fletch replied. “She possesses an impressive list of survivalist skills and she led me on an exasperating chase in the Arbuckles.”

Hawk ducked beneath an overhanging limb as the horse scrabbled up the steep slope. “Any other background information I need to know before people try to blow my head off?”

Savanna gave Hawk the boiled-down version of the initial murder charge and the sequence of unpleasant events that led up to the jailbreak.

“Damn,” Hawk rumbled as he reined toward the log cabin in the stand of trees on the hill. “Someone has gone to extreme effort to dispose of you. Are you sure this isn’t an attempt to discredit your father? Could this be political? Could someone be making your life hell in hopes of forcing your father to resign and clear out of the area?”

“It’s a possibility,” Fletch replied. “There are two opposing factions in the Chickasaw Nation. The traditionalists want to remain isolated from whites as much as possible. Robert Cantrell is progressive and visionary.” He looked over at Savanna. “Do you know of anyone who’d be ruthless enough to shame you and your father into leaving the Territory?”

Savanna frowned pensively as they trotted toward the cabin she’d called home for over a dozen years. “There are a few vocal traditionalists who resist change, but I still think Draper is involved in this somehow. I’m not certain that he killed his own son. Not on purpose, at least. Yet, if forced to defend himself during one of Roark’s drunken binges, I expect he’d twist the situation to his advantage.”

“I wonder if Willow might’ve shot Roark in self-defense,” Fletch remarked. “Oliver might’ve held her hostage until he could set you up for a murder charge, I suppose.”

“While it’s true that Willow was kind and gentle, she could have done what was necessary to protect herself.”

“So it’s possible that Roark could have provoked her to violence,” Hawk prodded.

Savanna’s dark eyes glittered angrily. She looked as if she were staring through a window of time, remembering something unpleasant. “Yes, the ogre nearly provoked me into killing him. Willow could handle weapons, too. My father made sure of it.”

Fletch expelled a frustrated sigh. “We’re no closer to unraveling this case than we were last week. It’s time for drastic measures.” He stared gratefully at his brother. “Sure am glad you’re here as reinforcement, Hawk.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Hawk replied, staring meaningfully at Fletch. “Besides, I owe you for showing up to help me rescue Shiloh five years ago.”

Oliver Draper stalked toward the alley beside the telegraph office to contact his colleague. Rage boiled through him like Old Faithful about to erupt. Savanna Cantrell, damn her hide, appeared to have as many lives as a cat. She
had escaped again and Oliver was so frustrated that he was ready to vent to whoever was within shouting distance.

“You’re fired,” Oliver snarled when his associate disentangled himself from the shadows of the building. “And you aren’t collecting another dollar from me, either. You haven’t upheld your end of the bargain. It’s been almost a month and Savanna is still flitting around fancy free!”

Oliver’s senses reeled when his cohort had the audacity to backhand him so hard that it jarred his teeth and blurred his vision. He staggered, stumbled, then landed face up in the dirt. He licked his lips, tasting blood. Furious, he went for his pistol.

“Easy, Draper.” The man sneered as he mashed his boot heel into Oliver’s wrist. He glowered as he took his measure down the sight of the rifle barrel. “I told you how you’d end up if you tried to cross me. Now hand over the money or you’ll find yourself lying here in a pool of your own blood.”

Resentfully, Oliver pulled the bank notes from his pocket, only to have them snatched from his fingertips.

“Thank you. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to blackmailing you to collect my due, but it’s my policy to do whatever necessary. After all, business is business.”

Oliver’s brows flattened over his eyes. “Don’t try to play me against Cantrell,” he warned. “You might get a bullet in the back for your efforts.”

“And don’t spew threats at me, Draper. I know a helluva lot more about you than you can possibly imagine. Things from your past that I’m sure you prefer to keep quiet.”

Oliver eyed him mutinously. “Don’t be so sure that you have more power over me than I have over you.” He levered himself onto his elbow then wiped his bloody lip with the
back of his hand. “I could have you arrested with just one well-directed telegram, and don’t you forget it. You have as much to lose as I do, you know.”

His cohort smiled recklessly as he offered to help Oliver to his feet by extending the rifle barrel like a lifeline. “We are in this together. Stuck with each other, you might say. For a while, at least. But things can change quickly, Draper.”

Carefully, Oliver grabbed the rifle barrel and climbed to his feet. He dusted himself off, while keeping a cautious eye on the conniving bastard he had called into service.

And what a drastic mistake that had been!

“Go home, Draper. I’ll handle this.”

Oliver smirked. “More empty promises? This has dragged on too long. Forget the public hanging. The bounty on Savanna states dead or alive.” He nodded his gray head toward the rifle. “If you get within firing range, use your weapon. I’m more than ready to have this business concluded.”

“So am I.” He lurched around and walked back into the alley to become one of the shapeless shadows.

Oliver made a mental note to dispose of his infuriating associate the first chance he got. The man was a dozen times more trouble than he was worth.

Deputy U.S. Marshal Solomon elbowed onlookers out of his way to check on the injured Chickasaw police chief. Using his rifle like a crutch, Bill went down on one knee to inspect Parmicho’s wound. “Can you hear me, boy?”

“Yeah.” Parmicho opened his eyes and reluctantly glanced down at his bloodstained shirt to survey the damage. He turned another shade of pale then closed his eyes.
“I never saw who shot me. I must’ve passed out immediately. Where’s Savanna?”

“Long gone,” Bill reported. “Someone ripped the bars off the window and took her away. She’s a few minutes ahead of the lynch brigade. But you’re the one who needs attention right now. Can you stand, Parmicho?”

“It’s Mick, remember?” he said as he grimaced in pain.

“Right, Mick.” Solomon studied the police chief for a moment then said, “Maybe it’d be better if we transport you to the doctor’s office so he can have a look at you.”

“Never mind about me, just be on your way. Someone with legal authority needs to trail after that mob.”

“I’ll get right on it, but I’m tending to you first.”

Solomon instructed the four storeowners, who’d ducked inside their business establishments when trouble had broken out, to lend a hand in transporting the injured tribal police chief to the physician’s office. Then he glanced around, noting there was calm after the storm of trouble that had hit town. He walked back to his horse to stuff his rifle into its leather sling. Then he mounted up and rode off.

Savanna slid to the ground the instant Hawk reined the winded horse to a halt. “Tie them to the hitching post,” she requested. “We have more tack in the barn for the fresh mounts. If the mob surrounds the cabin for a presumed standoff, we’ll gain a few more minutes.”

Her gaze swung to Fletch, as it had so many times during the wild escape from jail. Even though the imminent threat had passed—temporarily, at least—she still wanted to throw herself into his brawny arms and bury her head against the solid wall of his chest. She knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate her making a spectacle of herself in
front of his older brother. And so, she tamped down the nearly overwhelming urge to hug the stuffing out of Fletch. She led the way to the barn instead.

“I’ll change clothes in the tack room,” she said as she directed the Hawk brothers’ attention to the extra saddles.

“Make it snappy,” Fletch commanded.

“We don’t need a mob breathing down our neck,” said Hawk.

After Hawk scooped up two saddles and exited, Fletch leaned down to plant a hard, quick kiss to Savanna’s lips. “Glad you’re okay, Vanna,” he murmured intimately. “I must admit I was a little worried about you.”

Then he grabbed a saddle and closed the door to grant her privacy. She stood there with a stupid smile on her face. Just one kiss—swift though it was—and she felt ten times better. Lord, she was setting herself up for serious heartbreak. She had deep feelings for a man who carried the memory of another woman in his heart.

When Savanna exited the tack room, she noted Fletch and Hawk had three fresh horses saddled and waiting.

As she strode forward, Hawk gave a low whistle. “If you think the boys’ clothing is going to throw the mob off track, you’re mistaken, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am,’” she insisted. “It’s Savanna.”

“Okay, Savanna, but—”

She cut him off with a slashing gesture of her arm. “It won’t matter if someone recognizes me.” She pulled herself onto the sorrel gelding. “I’m headed to Draper Ranch while his men are on this goose chase. You can head off in the opposite direction to the stage station where Grady Mills works.”

“Like hell you are!” Fletch erupted like a geyser. “You
aren’t riding into the jaws of hell alone, not while there are still several hired hands at the ranch.”

“Hired ranch hands, not hired
guns,
” she pointed out reasonably. She stared down the two men whose stony expressions clearly vetoed her plan. “This has gone on long enough. Life on the run is no life at all.” She leaned down to confront Hawk face-to-face. “Go help your brother find Grady Mills. According to Fletch, you have a score to settle with Mills, too. He was in on the scheme to kidnap your wife and he tried to abuse her.”

Hawk scowled, indicating that although it had been five years, the hair-raising incident still had the power to infuriate him.

“Leave Oliver Draper to me,” Savanna continued. “
I
have a score to settle with him. And, hopefully, I’ll find out why he targeted me for a lynching.”

Hawk glanced at Fletch, a faint smile on his lips. “Is she always this stubborn and headstrong?”

“No.” Fletch tried to glare Savanna into submission, which was a waste of his time, of course. “Usually she’s a lot worse. Luckily, you caught her on one of her gentler days.”

Fletch stepped into the stirrup and snatched up the reins to the black-and-white pinto gelding. “Grady can wait a while longer. I’m ready to put Oliver Draper out of commission so we don’t have to dodge a lynch mob every other day.”

“Then let’s introduce ourselves to the son of a bitch,” Hawk said as he mounted up. He gave an exaggerated bow from atop the roan. “Lead the way, Savanna. The sooner we get this mess squared away, the sooner I can hop a train and get back home to my wife and children.”