Heartstrings (10 page)

Theodosia frowned at him. “Two bits, sir? Surely you mean two
bites.”

“The bird bit my nose!” Roman blasted.

“Twice?” Theodosia asked.

“Once!”

She looked at the ferryman. “You said
two
bites, sir, but Mr. Montana has only been bitten once.”

“
Bits!”
Roman yelled. “Two
bits!
For God’s sake, woman, he wants twenty-five cents, which has nothing to do with the fact that your pain-in-the-ass parrot bit my—”

“Weren’t my aim to git y’all s’riled,” the ferryman interrupted. “Mighty sorry if that’s what I done. All’s I want is two bits, and I’ll be on my way. Got more passengers waitin’ on the other side, ya see. Jest rode up.”

Roman cast a glance at the opposite side of the river and saw three mounted men. They might as well have introduced themselves, for he knew exactly who they were.

His actions blurred, he grabbed Theodosia’s bag, pulled it open, and snatched out a solid gold coin. “This is a damned sight more than two bits,” he told the ferryman. “Your ferry is about to become disabled, understand? It’s sprung a leak. The pulley’s weak. I don’t care what the hell kind of problem you decide to give it, but it
won’t
make it across the river.”

The man glanced at the three riders on the opposite shore and gave a slow nod of comprehension. “It’ll probably take me and my brother nigh on a whole hour to fix the ole girl. ’Course, fer another gold piece she could stay broke fer near ’bout all day.”

“Give him another gold piece, Mr. Montana,” Theodosia said. “If his ferry is incapacitated, then he must have sufficient funds with which to—”

“For another gold piece, he could buy ten new ones! And his ferry’s not—God, never mind!” Roman grabbed Theodosia’s arm and began to lead her toward the wagon, but he stopped suddenly when he saw the three men urging their mounts into the water on the other side of the river.

Dammit, they weren’t going to wait for the ferry! He swung Theodosia into his arms, carried her and her parrot to her buckboard, and tossed her into the seat.

She hit it with such force that a dull pain streamed up her spine. “Mr. Montana! What—”

“Drive up the embankment, then turn left. The road will curve around a bunch of cedars, then continue on behind them. When you can’t see the river because of the trees, get out of the wagon, go into the woods, and wait for me.”

“What? But—”

He reached out and clapped his hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake,
listen!
I want you to hit me, got that? As soon as you do, I’ll act like I’m going to hit you back. When you see me make a fist, pick up the reins and go where I told you to.”

“Hit you?” she asked, her voice muffled behind his hand. “But why?”

“Dammit, do as I say!”

The sinister glitter in his eyes blazed out at her like fire looking for something to burn. This was not the sarcastic rogue with the endearing lopsided grin, she realized.

This was the Roman Montana who wore danger the way other men wore clothes.

She understood then that something was terribly wrong.

Without the slightest inkling as to why, she slapped him full across the face.

Roman drew back his fist, relieved when Theodosia immediately urged her horse up the embankment and turned her wagon to the left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the three men had stopped their horses in shallow water and were watching intently.

Once back into his boots, gunbelt, and hat, he mounted, reached the top of the embankment, and directed his stallion to the right. The instant the road curled around the thicket of cedar and he knew the three men could no longer see him, he sent Secret into a wild gallop behind the trees and soon spotted Theodosia’s buckboard on the road ahead.

Quickly, he dismounted, led his horse into the cedar thicket, and found Theodosia standing in the cool shadows.

“Mr. Montana, please tell me what—”

“Stay here.” He pressed Secret’s reins into her hand. “I’ll be back to get you as soon as—as soon as I can.”

“But, Mr. Mon—”

He didn’t stay to hear her protest, but raced out of the woods and into her wagon. Slapping the reins over the horse’s back, he coaxed the steed into an open field, knowing the buckboard would leave a wide and unmistakable trail through the long, fresh grass and scrub brush.

The surefooted mustang galloped through the meadow, slowing only when Roman sent him head-on toward a dip in the terrain. “Easy, boy,” Roman murmured, guiding the horse down the slope.

“Easy, boy,” John the Baptist echoed. “Passion is said to be an art. Some men master it, and others do not.”

The parrot’s voice startled Roman. He glared at the bird. “One more word out of you, and I’ll shoot your blasted head off.”

Once at the bottom of the dip in the ground he checked his Colts and sprang out of the wagon. Careful to leave an obvious path of footsteps behind him, he made his way toward a tall tangle of scrub brush and hid behind it.

His wait ended a quarter of an hour later, when he heard the distant rumble of running horses. In only moments more, the three men eased their mounts down the slope.

Roman watched the outlaws dismount. One wore a black bandana around his neck, one wore a red one, and the third wore a brown one. They all wore a veritable arsenal of weapons.

“Here’s her wagon,” Brown Bandana said, his pistol drawn. “But where the hell’s the girl?”

“Maybe she went to meet back up with the longhaired feller,” Red Bandana ventured.

Black Bandana shook his head. “She slapped him near about all the way to the moon. Then she left him. The gold’s as good as ours, as soon as we find her. And if my eyes ain’t foolin’ me, there’s her trail right there.” He pointed to the path of crushed grass that led to a patch of tall scrub brush, and laughed. “May as well come on out, little lady, and bring yer gold with ya!”

Roman’s fingers tightened around the triggers of his guns while he watched them walk toward him. He didn’t plan on killing them if he didn’t have to, but he’d for damned sure see to it that they were slowed down for a while.
Come on,
he invited silently.
Closer. Just a little closer.

“Mr. Montana!”

Roman stiffened. He couldn’t see Theodosia, but her shout sliced into his ears like the stab of a sword. Dammit, what the hell was she doing?

“Mr. Montana!” Theodosia screamed again, battling to keep her seat on the runaway stallion as he galloped toward the shallow valley ahead. “I cannot stop!”

She closed her eyes and prepared herself for a terrible fall that never came. Directly at the edge of the slope, the stallion slowed from a full gallop to a standstill. Jolted but unharmed, Theodosia opened her eyes and saw her driverless wagon. Beside it stood three armed men staring up at her. She’d seen the men earlier, once at the river and again when they’d raced their mounts across the meadow.

But where on earth was Roman? “I don’t suppose the three of you invidious beings know where my escort is, do you?” She slid off the stallion and placed her hands on her hips.

Red Bandana frowned. “What’d she call us?”

“Never mind,” Brown Bandana replied. “She’s ridin’ that long-haired feller’s horse.”

“They must o’ traded off,” Black Bandana added. “That means…”

Realizing the woman’s male companion had tricked them, all three men spun around at once.

They met the blaze of blue eyes and the gleam of black Colts.

Roman pulled both triggers.

He hit one man in the shoulder and another in the leg, the impact of the bullets knocking them off their feet. His next bullet slammed into the third outlaw’s upper arm, but the man still managed to quickly climb the embankment toward Theodosia.

Theodosia was already on her way down the slope.

The outlaw grabbed her, and pressing his gun to her temple, he dragged her down the slope. He grinned when his two cohorts retrieved their own weapons and staggered to their feet. “Ya didn’t really think ya could outshoot us, did ya, Longhair?”

Roman gave a slow, easy smile, but inwardly he cursed Theodosia with every profanity he knew. “You don’t really think I’m going to let you hurt the girl, do you, Red Bandana?” he countered.

“Hurt
me?”
Theodosia asked, still locked within the confines of her captor’s beefy arms. “Mr. Montana, allow me to render intelligible this situation. I have never seen these men before today. They cannot possibly bear any sort of hostility toward me and therefore mustn’t possess any desire to cause me physical harm. It occurs to me now that these men were following
you,
so
you
are the one who—”

“But—but we thought we was follerin’
you,”
Black Bandana said, frowning. “It’s what Longhair wanted us to think. He—lady, he was tryin’ to keep ya safe by leadin’ us away from ya. Don’t take no genius to figger that out. You must be a mite slow-minded. Don’t make no never mind, though. We ain’t after yer smarts. We want yer gold. Oh, and we’ll be takin’ Longhair’s horse too. A horse who can run like that’s gotta be worth some money.”

Theodosia lifted one tawny eyebrow. “Indeed. Well, you may not have my gold, nor may you have Mr. Montana’s stallion. Mr. Montana, do something.”

“Yeah, Mr. Montana,” Brown Bandana said, and laughed. “Do somethin’.”

What the hell was he supposed to do? Roman fumed. One move on his part might very well end Theodosia’s life, and his own as well.

Possible solutions flashed through his mind, but a sudden movement in the wagon interrupted his concentration.

John the Baptist stuck his head between the bars of his cage, craning his neck to see what was happening.

Roman dismissed the bird and pondered the situation again. For lack of a better idea, he finally decided to resort to one of the oldest tricks known to man. “You might as well give up your guns,” he suggested. “My partner is right behind you and won’t think twice about shooting you in the backs.”

The Bandana Brothers laughed. “Ya think we’re stupid, Montana?” Red Bandana asked. “Ya ain’t got no partner.”

John the Baptist, still craning his neck out of the cage, squawked shrilly. “One more word out of you, and I’ll shoot your blasted head off!” he shouted.

The outlaws went rigid, then dropped their revolvers and lifted their hands high above their heads.

Theodosia brushed off her skirts and turned to glare at her parrot. “John the Baptist, where on earth did you hear such a crude expression? You—”

“For God’s sake, get in the wagon, Miss Worth!” Before she could announce that his so-called partner was a parrot, Roman raced out from behind the scrub brush and kicked the thieves’ guns well away. He then stripped them of their other weapons. “Get going!”

Theodosia looked up at him. “Mr. Montana, these men should be taken into custody and given a fair trial. We must take them to Templeton.”

“Yeah, Montana,” Black Bandana agreed. “We got a right to a fair trial. ’Sides that, we’re wounded!”

Roman smiled a smile that hardened his eyes. Slowly, he pulled back the hammers of his Colts. “None of your injuries are serious, and you damned well know it. And as for a fair trial…all right. If you get across the field and back around the cedar thicket in less than five minutes, you’re innocent and I’ll let you go. Take longer than that, you’re guilty, and you die.”

John the Baptist cracked a sunflower seed. “For God’s sake,
listen!
Dammit, do as I say!” Calmly, he ate the seed. “Mr. Montana, do somethin’.”

Hands still raised high, the outlaws started for their horses.

“You walk,” Roman declared. “Better yet, run.”

Anger scoring their faces, they began to ascend the slope, Roman right behind them. Only when they’d reached the far side of the field and disappeared behind the woods that surrounded the river did he take Secret’s reins and return to Theodosia. “You aren’t hurt or anything, are you?”

Theodosia climbed into the wagon and took the reins. “Other than feeling overcome with consternation, I am quite well. And you?” She examined him with her eyes. “Are you all right, Mr. Montana?”

Her question gave him pause. No one had ever asked him such a thing before. It had never made much difference to anyone whether he was all right or not.

And dammit, it probably didn’t matter much to her, either. She just needed him to be all right so he could continue escorting her to Templeton. “I’m fine.”

He snarled the words at her, forcing her to wonder what she’d done to anger him so. “How did you know those men were—”

“They’ve been following you since you left Oates’ Junction. I told you not to flash your gold around.” Deftly, he tied two of the outlaws’ horses to the back of the wagon. He would lead the third himself and sell all three in Templeton for a tidy sum.

“You knew they were following me, and you didn’t tell me?”