Marrying Miss Marshal (19 page)

But returning now, even with a cold wind shaking the tree limbs and making them creak, and with all her failures hanging over her head, she felt like she was coming home.

Her knowledge of these mountains would determine if she won or lost against Lewis's gang.

She guided her mare around an outcropping of rock, content for now with the horse's surefootedness on the changing terrain. As far as she remembered, the cave was less than three miles away, as the crow flies. She glanced up at the sky. Almost the same color as the steel of her rifle barrel, it was certainly menacing. But she thought she could make it to the outlaws' hideout before the worst of it hit.

She was still working on her plan to take down the group of outlaws.

She could handle being outnumbered, if she was careful. She and Fred had talked strategy often enough. She ought to be able to handle four or five armed men. Hopefully.

The sharp crack of a pistol's hammer broke her concentration on her route, and the mare faltered.

“Hands up,” a thin, menacing voice snapped. A familiar voice.

Heart hammering, Danna turned in her saddle to find herself staring down the barrel of a mean-looking Colt .45, not a handful of yards away. Even a bad shot wasn't likely to miss from such a short distance. Her
gaze followed the pistol's barrel back to a craggy face. O'Rourke.

“Do it, or I'll shoot.”

His voice brooked no argument, but she considered reaching for her own pistol anyway, until she saw the second man a few paces behind O'Rourke. Pale and trembling, it was the injured outlaw. He, too, had a gun trained on her, a rifle that lay across his horse's shoulders, balanced against the saddle horn.

With two weapons aimed at her, she had no choice but to release the reins and push her hands above her head. So much for sneaking up on the outlaw camp.

S
tanding on the Calvin train platform alone, Chas waited for the locomotive to arrive and take him away from here. Trying to keep his mind off Danna and everything he was leaving behind, he dug through his saddlebags, looking for the letter with the name of his contact at the WSGA in Cheyenne.

Instead, his hand closed over a smooth leather item, and he drew it out so he could see it. Fred Carpenter's journal. How had it ended up in Chas's things?

In all the chaos of the previous night and this morning, the journal must have been tucked into his saddlebag by mistake.

He snorted his self-derision. Mistake, or subconscious desire to be close to Danna in any way that he could?

Well, it wouldn't work. He could return the diary when he brought the annulment papers, after all the trouble with Lewis died down.

Idly, he flipped open the book to a spot near the middle.
Anything
to help pass the time.

Chas closed the book with a snap of his palm. He didn't want to read about Danna and Fred Carpenter's relationship after all. The man had obviously never meant for this to fall into the hands of Danna's second husband.

Morbid curiosity had him flipping the book open again, searching for that same entry. He had to know what happened next. Spying a familiar name on a different page stopped him cold.

Reaching the end of the entry, Chas stared down at the page and let the words blur out of focus. Carpenter had suspected
O'Rourke?

Chas knew lawmen weren't above reproach—he'd taken down a marshal near Houston, Texas, who'd murdered several men in a gambling den and had almost gotten away with it.

From all he'd gathered, Danna's first husband
had excelled at his job, so if he suspected O'Rourke, chances were the sheriff was dirty.

In the distance, the train whistled. Chas was running out of time.

He flipped through the book rapidly, looking for more entries that mentioned the sheriff or suspicious activity. Several entries mentioned suspicions of a gang of rustlers, most likely very the same ones Chas was hunting. Carpenter didn't know identities, but had found the prairie cabin. On the last page, Chas came upon an underlined entry.

There were no further entries.

Fred Carpenter must have been spotted as he tried to take down the gang. Danna had said he'd been murdered in cold blood, but nothing about his suspicions.

Because he hadn't told her, Chas realized. And she couldn't read his journal for herself.

The train platform shook as the locomotive shuddered to a stop, chugging and hissing. Time was up.

He couldn't go to Cheyenne. Not with O'Rourke out there and possibly thinking Danna knew too much. She needed him, even if she wouldn't admit it.

He turned to leave the platform, ignoring the stare from the curious ticket-taker who hung off the side of the train. As he approached the stairs down to street level, a man he recognized as the town doctor ran up to him, huffing and panting.

“I'm awful glad to see you haven't left yet,” the older
man huffed, out of breath. “She's gone after the bank robbers.”

“What?”

The man's words didn't make sense, and then, all of a sudden, they did.

The doc frowned. “I have reason to believe the sheriff may be a part of the outlaw gang. He came and got the outlaw that was shot up—but hasn't been seen around town since.”

This was new information. Was there a possibility the bank robbers and rustlers were the same group?

Chas's heart started thumping harder, but he wasn't ready to get too worried yet. “But she doesn't know where they're holed up, does she? She'll have to head to town before the storm gets here.”

The rigid set of the older man's mouth did not reassure him.

“I'm afraid she
did
have a clue about the gang's whereabouts. I told her about a cave the shot outlaw mentioned… She seemed to know where it was….” The doc's voice faded out.

The implications made Chas's knees go weak, and he fell onto the bench. Panic clogged his throat and threatened to overtake his senses. He couldn't think straight.

Danna had ridden into the face of Hank Lewis's gang. Alone.

“So she is as good as dead.” Despair made the words a whisper when he pushed them through frozen lips. What was he thinking when he'd let her go? This was all his fault. Again.

“I wouldn't say that.” The doc laid a hand on Chas's shoulder, but it offered no comfort.

“Why not?” Chas rubbed his hands over his face,
trying to find some hint of hope that he hadn't thought of. There was none. “Even if she doesn't find the outlaws, she could freeze to death or get injured. If she does find them, she's
completely
outnumbered.”

“Don't give up on the marshal so easy.” The older man sounded so confident. All Chase felt was empty.

“She's a tough one. And clever. Why, I remember when she rounded up those three fellas that hoodwinked half the town into buyin' them fake medicine tablets.”

Chas shook his head, helplessness drowning him.

“And an incident where she single-handedly stopped a train robbery while it was in progress.

“If you're gonna go, you don't have much time.”

As if to punctuate the doctor's words, several snowflakes swirled down out of the iron-gray sky.

Chas couldn't let it end like this. Not for Julia, and not for Danna. Urgency rising, he told the doc, “Gather every able man you can find. We'll meet here in half an hour. Be ready to ride.”

 

After the allotted time had passed, Chas had drawn a curious crowd, but no one seemed to be willing to chase after Danna and the outlaw gang. Chas's horse was the only one saddled and ready to go.

Chas was getting more and more desperate as the minutes ticked on. Finally, he could stay silent no longer.

“I know that several of you men have worked with Danna when her first husband was still alive. You know her abilities.”

The crowd murmured, but no voices rose in either agreement or disagreement.

“Danna has given years of her life serving the
residents of this town. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“A woman shouldn't be marshal.”

“She cain't handle the job!”

That had gotten a rise out of them. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be the response Chas wanted.

A familiar voice called out, gaining volume above the noise of the gathered crowd. “The marshal can do just as good a job as any man. She caught Sam Castlerock riding out of town with your horse today. And last week she broke up two fights at the saloon before things could get out of hand and someone got hurt. This town
needs
the marshal.”

Chas looked over the heads of the crowd and spotted the speaker, the young man he recognized from the livery. The young man stood slightly apart from the crowd, face set.

One boy was better than nothing, but Chas's hopes, small as they had been, began to dim.

The crowd continued to make noise, but no further voices called out with any willingness to help. Several men in front refused to meet Chas's eyes, and his suspicions mounted.

“Is there some other reason you won't ride with Danna?” he called out, desperate now. “Is someone paying you not to help her?”

Heads lowered, but no one said a word.

“Would you sacrifice the marshal's
life,
just so you can keep your secrets?” No answer.

Well,
he
couldn't give up on Danna, not yet. Not if there was a chance he could save her, no matter how small.

As Chas was turning to mount his borrowed animal,
the sound of multiple horses approaching at a gallop drowned out the crowd's murmurings, and even Chas's own heart that beat for Danna.

A group of rough-looking men on horseback—six or eight by Chas's count, although the ones in the rear shifted and he couldn't get an accurate count—rode right up to the gathering.

The man out front pushed his stained Stetson off his brow, allowing Chas a good look at his face. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin, while a full mustache hid the man's mouth. His coffee-brown eyes reminded Chas of someone, but he couldn't place the man. Those eyes shifted across each face in the crowd, as if searching for someone in particular. He didn't seem to find them, his dark eyes growing narrower as the moments ticked by.

Finally, he spoke in a gruff voice that sounded as if it hadn't been used in a while. “I'm looking for the marshal.”

Chas bristled. He didn't like the looks of these ruffians one whit. “Who's asking?” he demanded.

The man's dark gaze honed in on Chas, and his expression made it clear he had no intention of being the first to divulge any information. Chas refused to look away. He didn't trust this newcomer and wasn't going to be the first to break. Silence stretched out between them, taut and deadly.

Someone else spoke, breaking the tension. “Ain't got no marshal no more.”

The man on horseback looked away from Chas to the speaker, face going white beneath his tan. “Whaddya mean?” His tone indicated that, if he didn't like the answer he received there would be consequences.

“She resigned.”

“She was forced to resign,” corrected Chas, losing the tight rein he was holding on his temper. “After you all lost your faith in her. Fred trusted her enough to be a deputy, and I'd be willing to bet she was better than any of the men he hired.” Chas pushed his way through the edge of the crowd to his borrowed horse, preparing to ride. “You may not think much of your lady marshal—my wife—but I do. I'm going to find her and help her bring those outlaws in.”

With that, he swung up on his mount and turned the horse toward the mountains visible over the roofs of the town buildings. He didn't make it far before the sound of hoofbeats joined those from his own horse. The stranger with dark hair came abreast of him.

“We'll ride with you,” the stranger said, and made it sound like a command, not a request.

“Thank you, but I don't know you—”

“I'm her brother.” The man's terse words were offset by the jumping muscle in his jaw. “Rob Creighton. Sounds like we're family now.”

Chas knew his expression betrayed his shock, but the kernel of hope growing inside him was making it hard to maintain his composure. So this was the brother who'd pushed Danna to marry so young? What was he doing here now?

Creighton motioned to the six men following. “These are a few of my hands. One of my men heard about Danna's troubles while calling on a lady friend who lives in these parts. I came when I could, but it sounds like it wasn't soon enough. So Danna's taken off to chase a group of outlaws on her own?” Creighton didn't sound surprised.

“It's worse than that,” Chas told him, itching to move faster, to get out of town, but knowing it would
be impossible to talk once they let the horses go. “We think the sheriff is involved. Fred wrote in his journal that he was close to being able to prove O'Rourke was guilty. I think O'Rourke was behind Fred's murder. Danna doesn't know about the last part, though.”

With a glance to the rapidly darkening sky and the snowflakes swirling around them, the set of the cowboy's mouth turned even grimmer. “We don't have much time. If they catch her before we do…”

Chas knew. He was trying not to think about what could happen to a woman alone. “Apparently, Danna knew the location of this cave in the mountains. I believe you might know it, as well?”

“She went back there? Alone?” The rising alarm in the other's man voice was not comforting to Chas in the least.

“I know she was injured near there, years ago,” Chas said. “But she's a good rider. We just need to catch up to her. Can you find the cave?”

“Probably. But it's been years.”

“Or I could take you right to it,” a female voice called out. Creighton reined in to allow the young woman running down the boardwalk to catch up. Chas gritted his teeth in an effort to keep his impatience inside.

Then he recognized the girl. Katy.

She shied from Creighton when his horse sidestepped toward her. Approached Chas instead. Because he'd been kind to her before?

“I can take ya right to the cave.”

“How do you know it? Who are you?” Rob demanded.

“We can trust her,” Chas put in. She might've run away, but he knew she liked Danna.

When Katy spoke, it was to Chas. “My pa…used to run with that awful Jed Hester. Then a few months ago, that lyin', no good snake shot him in the back. Tried to come after me, too, but Pa had taught me how to disappear in the woods.”

So she'd been on her own for months, probably near to starving when Chas had caught her outside the grocery. No wonder she'd eaten as if his eggs and bacon had been her last meal.

“Anyways, I want that no-account varmint dead, and I guess hangin's the next best thing to shootin' 'im when you lot catch up to them.”

Even though he was used to Danna and her trousers and her being marshal, the violence spewing from this girl surprised him. He supposed she was only expressing the same thing he felt about Hank Lewis.