Riding West (15 page)

“What the hell else you expect me to do?” Usually he watched his language very carefully in front of his mother but at this particular moment, he didn‘t even bother to apologize. “I can‘t wait around trying to figure something else out. I don‘t have the luxury of time, and we all know it. If Colter is crazy enough to set fires and have another man‘s wife kidnapped, he‘s capable of anything.”

Dear God, he couldn‘t bear to think of Celia being brutalized. It made him physically ill, and he couldn‘t afford to feel that way at this moment.

“That girl has a lot of spunk,” his mother said softly. “Don‘t sell her short, Parker. Whatever Colter has in mind, she isn‘t going to make it easy for him. Endangering your life needlessly won‘t make her happy.”

“Maybe not,” he acquiesced painfully, “but we all know she is one woman in what is virtually an armed camp, Mother, and I love her. I have to go after her. It isn‘t a choice.”

His gut clenched again and he turned to Cap. “You get your men and go. Tell the rest of the hands we‘re riding out immediately and to bring as much ammunition as they can carry.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Send word to the Evans ranch. You know they‘ll stand beside you.” His father gave him a sympathetic but steady look. “The delay will chafe, son, but take as many men as you can.”

He‘d done so already, having dispatched one of his hands the minute he saw the smoke rising as they rode in back from the range.

“I won‘t wait long,” Parker said curtly. He added with despairing sincerity, “I just can‘t.”

———

Celia sat on the edge of the chair and tried to stifle a wince. Her hands were bound, her feet were tied, and she was locked away in what looked like an unused storage room. Other than the chair she sat in, it was bare except for a dusty floor. The walls were adobe and looked thick, and the ceiling low.

Not a very heartening prison, but better than Rance Colter‘s bedroom. It wasn‘t promising just the same.

Luckily, the damage to her person from her precipitous fall seemed to be mostly superficial. Her dress was torn and dirty, and she had a significant scrape across one shoulder, but she had hit a patch of scrub grass and at least not broken any limbs, or worse, her neck.

What she wanted to do was cry or scream. Neither seemed productive. The ache in her injured shoulder throbbed in time with her heart.

The rattle of the key in the door made her look up. The creak of the hinges sounded like a shriek in the otherwise complete quiet.

Colter
.

He stepped into the room and she fought a shudder of revulsion. Since his men had dragged her off, she hadn‘t yet seen him, and his presence filled her with an intense loathing. The glitter in his dark eyes as his gaze swept over her didn‘t bode well for what came next. “Hello, Miss Evans.”

Her chin came up in a gesture of obvious disdain. “That‘s Mrs. West.”

“Not for long.” As usual, the rancher wore the latest style in trousers and waistcoat, his step into the room a slight swagger. Even his boots held a high shine. He wore his hair a little long, like a fancy gambler, and his olive skin held a flush, as if the success of his scheme excited him.

Why wouldn‘t he look triumphant and self-satisfied, she thought bitterly. Here she was, tied up like a prize steer and at his mercy.

If he even had any.

“You rash little fool,” he remarked, looking at where her shoulder was bared by her torn dress, “you could have been hurt trying to get away.”

“I
was
hurt,” she responded pointedly. “Notice the blood? Maybe you could summon the decency to untie me and send someone with water so I could at least wash it off.”

“Once a few things are settled,” he said with a meaningful, unmistakably salacious look. He openly studied her breasts beneath the thin material of her gown. “I‘ll make sure you are taken care of in every way. Right now, it‘s best if you stay put here, out of the line of fire.”

“Parker‘s going to kill you.”

“There‘s no way he can get past my men.”

Celia let her lip curl in a small, scornful smile. “No? We‘ll see.”

“Yes, we will. I‘ll win. Money always does, make no mistake.” He sauntered closer, and she felt ill from the way he stared at the skin exposed by her torn dress. Even his hired lawless thugs hadn‘t ogled her the way he did. “When Parker West is dead, you‘ll be free and clear.”

She laughed, even though a chill ran up her spine at his statement. “My husband won‘t be that easy to kill, Colter.”

“Really? I figure you‘ll learn how wrong you are here in a little bit. I‘m expecting him to arrive any time.”

“Maybe,” she responded, looking him in the eye. “This is an uncertain part of the country. Sometimes things don‘t go according to the way men expect.”

He leaned in close, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She recoiled, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Let me tell you what to expect, you haughty little bitch. Tonight you‘re going to lose some of that uppity air, believe me. I‘m going to use you like a half-breed whore and no one is going to stop me. Remember when you told me you would never consider marrying me? Well, I‘ll just take what I want from you anyway. It isn‘t like you aren‘t a soiled little dove. You‘ve been spreading those pretty legs for West, so I‘m sure he‘s got you well broke in. I‘d rather have been first, but I‘m looking forward to this just the same.”

It wasn‘t like she had any illusions over the purpose of the abduction, but that flat declaration made her feel sick. The nausea became acute when Colter let go of her chin and instead cupped her breast through her gown. He squeezed, watching her expression, and she returned the look with stony hatred.

“I‘ll be back,” he vowed and stalked out.

The sound of the door closing brought relief he was gone and an acute dread for what might happen next. She wasn‘t even all that worried about the disgusting threats her captor had just made, for in truth, if something happened to Parker, she wasn‘t sure she wanted to live.

Please be careful, she prayed, shutting her eyes tightly, fighting the hot sting of tears.

Please.

I love you so much
.

———

John squinted at the sunset, oblivious to the glorious rosy hue spreading across the horizon except that it signaled the coming dusk.

Perfect.

The lone horseman trotted up and slid off. He didn‘t offer his hand, but his nod was brief and said it all. “She‘s tied up and stuck in one of the ranchero‘s old rooms. It‘s at the back, on the left side. The door is locked, but it‘s old. He isn‘t worried about her escaping.”

A muscle twitched in John‘s jaw. “Has Colter touched her?”

The cowboy, young, sandy-haired and obviously Texan from his accent, shook his head. He had a hungry look in his eyes, but hadn‘t quite acquired that ruthless air that characterized so many outlaws. “Not in the way you mean. He went in there for about five minutes.” His mouth curved in a humorless smile. “Surely even a dog like him would take longer than that. Besides, I was outside the door the whole time. They just talked.”

“I bet that wasn‘t a pleasant conversation.” John relaxed a fraction. “I know my sister. When she‘s mad, she‘s like a West Kansas tornado. Anyone with smarts will get out of her way.”

The young man, who had only given the name Uvalde in their previous dealings, laughed shortly. “Yeah, I noticed that. You should have seen her face us all down. Then she stabbed Moze, who‘s three times her size, and if her horse hadn‘t fallen, would‘ve gotten clean away.”

“Is she hurt?”

“Scraped up a little.” Uvalde glanced at the scarlet sky, his profile melancholy. “Tonight ain‘t going to be pleasant for her if you don‘t get her out. I admire her pluck, but Colter‘s gone to a lot of trouble to make sure this all happens his way.”

It was something John already knew. “Explain to me exactly where she is.”

Uvalde nodded and dropped down, finding a small stick and sketching a diagram in the dirt. In the fading light it was a little difficult to see, but John memorized it.

He glanced up. “Do I need to know anything else?”

“There‘s a sharpshooter on the roof. Name‘s Henderson. He‘s good. If you take him out, it‘s gonna make things a lot easier for West and his boys. He‘s right here.” He pointed out the location.

Considering Jared and Josh were both riding with Parker, not to mention their father, it was good information to have. Of course, once John started shooting, it would be pretty obvious he was on the opposite side. It was risky, but then again, he‘d known it would be. “Much obliged.”

The young man gazed at him with somber eyes. “This ain‘t my kind of deal, and most of the hands—good men or bad—feel the same way. Stealin‘ stock is one thing, but I was raised to respect women. Your sister‘s only fault is to be too pretty for her own good. Most of the men think Colter‘s a coward. They ain‘t going to hold over this.”

“Both Parker West and I are banking you‘re right.”

“I can see where you might not trust me easy. I‘m wanted in two states.” Uvalde swallowed convulsively and looked away. “I‘m not proud of it. Who would be? But deep down, I‘m still decent. I hope you get her out. I also hope Colter hangs. If anyone deserves it, he does.”

John hoped to hell the young man was sincere. “We‘ll handle the money as agreed, when she‘s back in our hands safe and sound.”

“Nope.” The young outlaw shook his head decisively. “I‘ve thought about it. I‘m doin‘ this on my own hook. Double-crossing Colter feels right to me. Taking money for it doesn‘t. Tell West I‘d like a job. A good, decent job riding cattle. If he‘s willing to forget what‘s happened, that‘ll be enough for me.”

“To get his wife back unharmed, I‘m banking he‘d give you almost anything you asked for.”

“They say he‘s a fair sort.”

“Sure is,” John confirmed, taking off his hat and handing it to the other man. “He really loves her.”

Uvalde gave him an undecipherable look. “Maybe something like that will come my way someday if I can make a fresh start.” He took off his own hat and put on John‘s.

“Maybe, cowboy. At any rate, as long as we live through this, I think you can count on a job and that second chance.” John pulled out his rifle and checked both his revolvers. Then he mounted the other man‘s horse. As a disguise, it wasn‘t much, but he figured they were about the same height, both wore dark shirts, and the hat shaded his features. Riding the outlaw‘s horse, he might just pass for Uvalde and get inside unnoticed. “West and his men are waiting about a half a mile away, behind that ridge.” John pointed in the right direction. “Tell him to give me a small head start before they ride up and start shooting.”

Uvalde nodded.

John thought about Alice, waiting for his return, and his sister, tied up somewhere and despite her usual spirit, probably deeply frightened. He added somberly, “Also tell him not to get himself killed.”

“Will do.”

———

The knife slid cleanly between her wrists and the rope miraculously fell away. Celia rubbed her chafed wrists with relief and felt like sobbing with relief. “John.”

He‘d never been particularly demonstrative, but his arms slid around her briefly in a tight hug. “You hurt?”

“No.” For a moment she let her head rest on his shoulder. It felt solid and safe.

“Good. Come on, now, steady up. We‘ve got to move because all hell is about to break loose.”

Even as he spoke, the first report of gunfire rang out. Her brother grabbed her hand and shoved his revolver in it. “You know how to use this, Celia. I may need you.”

She nodded, hearing more shots, her stomach clenching in both fear and worry. Silently, she followed her brother through the door, grateful to be out of the dank little room. It was almost dark, she saw, and as they edged along the side of the building, most of the commotion seemed to be to their left. Rifle in hand, John led her to the edge the wall.

In front of them was the courtyard, the ranch house built on three sides around it in a Spanish hacienda style. Once there had been a fountain and a small pool, but the pool was dry and the tiles crumbling. There was no actual gate any longer, but an opening that was still easily defended, because anyone trying to come through it was fair game. On either side of the entrance, several men crouched on the thick walls, just waiting for a clean shot at the approaching rescue effort. They had their backs to Celia and John, and it would be simple to kill a few before the others realized what was going on, but once they did, they would be vulnerable as hell.

“Hold on,” John said so quietly she almost couldn‘t hear it. “They haven‘t rushed it yet. That‘s good. Parker‘s keeping his nerve. Don‘t move. I‘ll be back.”

“John—”

“I‘ll be back, Celia, I swear it. Just stay put.”

In the fading light, she could see a faint sheen of sweat on his face. He boldly stepped around the side of the building. If any of the men guarding the wall had turned around, they would have seen him, but they were riveted on whoever was firing at them from the other side of the courtyard wall. John walked about ten yards, and then he threw his rifle up, steadied it at his shoulder, and shot.

She saw a man pitch from the roof of the structure across the courtyard to go sprawling on the ground.

John was right, at that moment, all hell broke loose.

Several of the men turned, startled at hearing gunfire so close behind them. Her brother dove for the broken fountain, found cover, and began to shoot. Exposed and susceptible from an inside assault, men scrambled to get out of the way, and suddenly Colter‘s front wall defense was no more.

The riders came through fast, the thunder of dozens of animals clattering through the entrance filling the air. Parker was in front—Celia would recognize the gleam of his dark, wavy hair anywhere, even in the semi-darkness, and Diablo was unmistakable. Shots continued for what seemed like forever but probably was only a few minutes. The entire courtyard was a melee of plunging horses and shouting men. She still held John‘s gun and would have fired, but it was impossible to tell friend from foe.

The sudden quiet was eerie and the acrid smell of gun smoke drifted in the air. Shaken, Celia scanned the scene with numb apprehension. Where was her husband? John…