Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) (23 page)

“Nick,
Adam
is alone and he doesn’t know about Trampas.”

Nick
understood. He nodded and swung into his saddle. “You be careful, then.”

Thad
walked in behind Raney and stomped over to her
cold
fireplace. Some hand
Greg
was. Had
she
let the kitchen stove go out as well? Fuming,
he commenced tossing logs into the fireplace. Raney needed a fire going before
he headed into Misery.

The
ride over from the Lazy H had been long, silent, and cold as the two of them
wrangled with the lies and the revelations. He felt a desperate need to pray,
but had to make sure Raney and Greg—
Grace
—were safe. He flinched at the
slip, and promised himself someday he’d give
Grace
a piece of his mind.
If she wanted to act like a man, maybe she should take a cussin’ like a man.

In
need of kindling, he rose and headed toward the kitchen. “Raney, I—” he stopped
mid-sentence. She stood near the stove, staring down at something on the floor.
Her tense shoulders and perfect stillness sliced him with dread.

Grace?

Stunned
at the tidal wave of fear flooding through him, he rushed to Raney and skidded
to a stop. She bent down and came back up with a half-smoked cigar and a piece
of a broken mug. Shards of the cup and coffee littered her floor. “He found
her. Somehow he found her.”

“You
have to go after her.”

Thad
marched back to the fireplace and shoved his handful of kindling beneath the
logs. “What am I supposed to do, Raney? Kidnap her away from her own husband?”

“Yes!”

“You
know I can’t do that.” Even if he could muster past his wounded pride, how was
he supposed to justify to God the stealing of another man’s wife? “Besides,” he
struck a match and put it to the pine branch, “they’ve got a son. I can’t come
between that.”

“He’s
using the son as leverage.”

Thad
worked with the fire a moment, made sure it caught, and then squatted on his
haunches. “What do you mean, leverage?”

Raney
sat down on the stone hearth. “He banished her here, Thad, and told her if she
came back to Chicago or tried to get to their son, he’d send him away to
boarding school. She’d never see him again. He picked Misery ’cause he figured
she’d . . .,” Raney rubbed her hands together nervously.“. . . well . . .
choose to do anything but starve.”

She
clutched Thad’s arm, but he wouldn’t look away from the fire. He wished the
flames would burn off his confusion . . . and hurt. Grace had
lied to him. Over and over. Brazenly.

“But
she didn’t.”

Thad
had lost track of Rainey’s point. “Didn’t what?”

She
huffed with frustration. “Grace beat him. She found a way to survive without . . .
selling herself.” She stood and turned to the fire as well. “And now he’s here.
I don’t think it’s because he missed her smiling face. And I’m afraid for her.”

Thad’s
heart swung violently between wanting to murder Grace and murder for her. He
simply couldn’t corral all these emotions. Done listening to Raney hammer away
at her fears, he jumped up and started for the door.

“Where
are you going?

He
stopped with his hand on the knob. Just where the heck
was
he going? He
couldn’t think. He’d been fed enough lies for the last month—shoot, the least
three years—to choke a mule. And now he had this sick feeling about Grace that
fought to outweigh all of it . . . but he wouldn’t let it. “I’m
going to see the sheriff, like I planned.”

“She
needs you, Thad.”

Incredulous,
he spun around. “She lied to me, Raney. Made a complete fool out of me. You
just expect me to go chasing after her?”

She
stormed across the room. “I expect you to save her.”

“From
her
husband
? Well, it ain’t gonna happen.”

“Why?
Because of your pride?” She stabbed his chest once more, wearing a scowl worthy
of Pa. “Let me tell you about pride. It makes you walk away from people you
should run toward. It makes you marry the wr—” Her voice broke, and her chin
quivered. Eyes filling with tears, she looked away and sniffled.

Thad
had never seen Raney like this and didn’t know what to make of it. Was she
still in love with Pa? He was in way over his head with all these emotions, and
wanted to run. Instead, he cowboyed up and squeezed her shoulder with a gloved
hand. “Raney, she did marry the wrong man. And I can’t—” emotion tangled his
own voice. Again, surprised at the turmoil Grace was causing him, he wrestled
the feelings down. “She’ll put her son first, that much I do know. And if he is
using him for leverage, she won’t come with me.”

“Then
figure something out.”

Thad
raised his face to the ceiling and exhaled deeply, but none of the frustration
left him. “I’ll talk to the sheriff about her.” The promise left him feeling
empty. Phillips wouldn’t interfere in a bad marriage. “That’s all I know to do
right now.”

Snow
pelting his face, the frigid, dark ride into Misery gave Thad plenty of time to
sort his thoughts. Or at least he tried to. Funny thing was he kept coming back
to Grace.

He
should be praying about forgiving his father. Even Trampas. He should be
planning his words to the sheriff so the lawman might actually arrest Trampas
and the leaders of the SGA. But all he could think about was saving Grace. And
the only plan that leapt to mind was flattening Bull and whisking her away.

Chivalrous,
but stupid. Bull held the leverage because he held her son.

Why
had Bull come for her? Just to assess her situation here, or to take her back
to Chicago?

Thad
realized the snow had stopped and the moonlight was clawing its way through the
rolling clouds. The road glowed before him and he kicked Bo into a canter while
he had some light.

The
desolate, silvery landscape reminded him that he had many a long, cold winter
night ahead of him. Who would he spend them with?

A
month ago, he thought he knew. Eventually he’d find the right gal to marry, a
gal who loved Wyoming and ranching as much as he did. They’d build their own
home over on that butte he’d admired since he was ten. Their children, and
maybe even their grandchildren, would grow up on the Lazy H. Yes, indeed, he’d
had it all planned out.

Now,
he didn’t have a clue what tomorrow morning was gonna bring, much less the next
year or decade. All his plans, everything he had ever put his faith in, had
evaporated—

You
know that’s not true.

The
still, small Voice tugged at his soul, and he nodded.
No, I know You’re
still here. Things are just so hard right now, Lord, and about as clear as mud.
I’ve never not been able to see where I’m going. Now, I’m turning my own father
in to the law and I’m in love—
he stumbled over the word, evaluated it, and nodded
again.
I’m in love with a married woman. Things are upside down.

Are
they?
asked the Voice.
And
what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to
walk humbly with thy God?

Thad
didn’t know why the verse from Micah ran through his mind, but it echoed in his
brain as the lights of Misery came into view.

. . . do
justly, love mercy, walk humbly. . .

He
trotted through Misery, the town all but asleep. Weak, amber light spilled onto
the empty street here and there from quiet homes. Bo’s hooves ground through
the icy snow, disturbing the pristine silence, and a finger of uneasiness
slithered down Thad’s backbone. Someone was watching him, or was he just
paranoid? Either way, riding right down Main Street was pretty boneheaded. Up
ahead, he saw two horses tied outside Phillips’ office. He wasn’t sure in the
low light, but one resembled Nate’s appaloosa and Thad felt better about this
course of action. Maybe when Thad chimed in with his information, Champion and
the other independents could stop the SGA.

The
deadly, metallic click-click of a rifle registered with Thad. He twisted to see
behind him. Fire streaked from the shadows. The boom from the gun and the bullet
hit him like a sledge hammer. He flipped out of the saddle as Bo screamed and
bolted down the street. Thad hit the ground face-first, snow and dirt grinding
into his teeth.

Another
shot sent a plume of snow into the air right beside his head. He drew his Colt,
scrambled to his feet, and fired into the darkness where he’d seen the muzzle
flash. Dizzy, he fought to stay upright as the shadows wavered around him like
smoke. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and fired again.

“Thad,
over here! I’ll cover you, son!”

Pa?

Thad
didn’t have to hear his father’s voice twice. Firing behind him as he ran for
the opposite side of the street, he kept low and lunged for Blankenship’s
Mercantile. Pa fired off to the right covering his sprint for safety. Thad
leaped over a flour barrel like a cougar after a deer, landed on his shoulder,
and rolled into the locked front door.

“Thad,
you all right? You hit?”

Thad
followed the voice down the boardwalk. A rifle barrel waved at him from behind
a wagon, and he caught the silhouette of Pa’s big brimmed Stetson.

“Yeah.”
His side burned and throbbed, declaring his injury. Pa cursed. Thad touched the
warm, sticky spot just below his ribs and prayed it wasn’t too bad. “Yeah, I’m
hit.”

Across
the street, the door to the jail flew open, spilling light onto the street. “Who’s
out there?” Nate called from inside the doorway.

Thad
crawled over to the barrel and peered around it. “It’s me, Nate. Thad Walker. I
got Pa with me.”

Nate
seemed to ponder that. “You here for me?”

Thad
cast a quick glance toward his father. “No . . . I’m here to
turn Pa in. I thought you were going after Trampas and Shonsey.”

“I
thought I’d better let a few people know where I was headin’, ‘case I didn’t
come back.”

“I
can corroborate your story, Nate. I know it was Trampas and Shonsey who
attacked you today. Pa was in on the SGA’s vote that commissioned them.”

Several
more seconds ticked by before Nate responded. “I don’t think I believe that, Walker.
I think you’re here to finish it.”

“I
didn’t even know you were in Misery. Besides, if that was the case, why am I
the one gettin’ shot at?”

“Because
your mouth is too big.” Trampas’s voice and the sound of a gun cocking squeezed
Thad’s heart. He flinched at the stupidity of letting the man sneak up behind
him. “You’re not turning your pa in, and you’re not turning me in.”

“Drop
it, Trampas.” Pa rose out of the shadows like an avenging angel, his rifle
glinting in the weak moonlight. Fury seethed in his voice. “I said drop it or I
will kill you graveyard dead.”

Thad
almost smiled, comforted to know the old Earl Hollister was still alive.

Trampas’s
eyes darted back and forth from Thad to Pa. “He’s going to turn you in, Mr. Walker.”

Thad
tightened his grip on his gun. His side ached like a mule had kicked him, and
he felt light-headed. Trying to shake off the woozy feeling, he readied his weakening
muscles to turn and fire. Was he faster than Trampas? He had to be . . .

“I
won’t tell you again, boy.” Earl moved slowly until he was standing beside
Thad. “I’ve done some terrible things. Letting you kill my son won’t be one of ’em.”

The
moment stretched out. Time lost its meaning as the sky started spitting
snowflakes again.

“Not
me, Mr. Walker. I’m not swingin’ for a bunch of rich, greedy bast—”

In
an instant, gun fire lit the night. Thad spun, but Pa stepped in front of him,
blocking his view of Trampas. Guns blazed again. Feeling like he was in a
sleepy, crazy dream, Thad moved over and fired at Trampas. The foreman fired,
but twitched and jerked crazily as Thad and Pa emptied their guns into him. A
heartbeat later, Trampas slid to the boardwalk in a dark heap.

The
overwhelming desire to sleep engulfed Thad. He dropped to his knees and pitched
forward, diving into the darkness.