Shotgun Bride (20 page)

Mike stood, forcing Kathleen to drop her arms. He stalked to the dead men, searched their pockets, and gathered up their guns. Horses tied in a line and all the weapons stuffed into saddlebags, he snatched a canteen and went to Kathleen. This was going to hurt like hell.

He laid a wad of money on a rock and sat the canteen over the bills. He hefted out his pistol and spun the cylinder. “This is the perfect place to kill you, but I reckon I owe you one for evening the odds. Nice shot by the way.”

Kathleen gasped. He didn’t look up. Couldn’t look up or he’d lose his nerve.

He forced his lips up in a smile. “I don’t need you any more now that I know where the deed is. Here’s my offer. You take this money and go home. Go back to New York with your life. I’m keeping the land.”

“You bastard.”

“Call me all the names you want. I’m riding out of here. You want to live, you leave. The choice is yours.” He tried to swallow. “If I ever see you or hear you making noises about wanting your land back, just remember this. I don’t miss.”

Mike pivoted and jogged to the horses. He propped a rifle against a rock and kicked Blackie into a run. He didn’t turn for a last look. He knew that he had just reached down her throat, ripped the heart from her chest, tossed it on the ground, and stomped on it. He knew that the fragile trust she had given him was now shattered into so many pieces he didn’t know if he could ever regain it. He knew that if he did turn and look, he’d never be able to ride away.

The only thing keeping him going was the unavoidable fact that no one would be actively trying to kill her. She would have a life full of peace. No more being chased. No more being shot at and no more having to kill.

He just prayed that someday, if he lived, Kathleen could find it in her heart to at least forgive him. But he didn’t delude himself. There was a very real possibility that he could never touch her again, never hold her close, never kiss her, never make love to her. Mike kicked Blackie into a gallop.

Kathleen stood motionless, her breaths chugging in and out like a steam engine and her knuckles ached from the tight grip on her blouse. She used to not believe it possible to feel worse than killing someone, but she did now. She had killed to save a man that had just torn her world to shreds.

Her knees buckled and she teetered to the ground. Mike had taken every blessed thing she held dear. Her trust, her inheritance, her virtue. All given freely. All now despised and mocked.

She was alone in the forest with three dead men, blood money, and a rifle. Alone with her crushed heart and the emptiness of betrayal. Alone with the love she had to offer Mike, thrown back in her face. She pushed out one breath at a time and forced her fingers to unclench the crushed blouse.

Gaze settling on her worn satchel, she removed out her old, faded brown skirt and stared at the mended garment. This was her life, unless she somehow found the strength to move. Found the fortitude to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and make something of herself. Carve out a place for herself.

Like an old woman, she climbed to her feet and, braced against a tree, put one leg into the skirt.

Birds twittered overhead, leaves rustled in the breeze, and the smell of death permeated the air. Flies buzzed around the dead bodies as she lifted her other foot. She hitched the skirt up with numb fingers and sagged onto the trunk. One ragged breath later, she bent her head and buttoned the waistband. Her wrinkled shirt fluttered on the ground. Where was her chemise? She needed to put it on first. Brows drawn, she realized she’d forgotten to put on her drawers.

Bark scrapped her back as she slid to the ground, unable to see through the sudden onslaught of tears. Uncaring if anyone happened by and saw her in this state of undress, she dropped her head to her knees as the tears shifted to body-racking sobs.

Darkness began to creep across the landscape and Kathleen glanced through puffy eyes at the wad of money laying on the rock. She crawled to her bag and dug out her chemise and drawers before retrieving her blouse. Dressed, she brushed hair from her face and slapped the rock off the bills Mike had left her. How did tenderness and ruthlessness, kindness and callousness come from the same man? He had been so convincing. Not even his eyes gave him away. But his flat, emotionless offer had left her chilled as a frozen lake.

A soft breeze danced through the trees and Kathleen shivered. She braided her hair, tugged on her boots, and clambered to her feet. Canteen filled and the money stuffed in her bodice, she snagged the horse, snatched up the rifle, and mounted. Back stiff, she headed North. To Denver. She had nothing to go back to in New York. Maybe Denver would be large enough for her to find a job.

The sun disappeared behind the mountains as Mike knelt at the spot where he and Kathleen had made love. Memories of that day rolled over him. Kathleen’s surrender had been complete and beautiful. He had seen the distrust and anger drain from her eyes as she made the decision to be believe him. To trust him. To give herself to him.

This was where he’d tried to show how he felt about her. How he needed her. Wanted her. With trembling fingers, he brushed the ground she had lain upon, sated from lovemaking and eyes full of promise for a long and happy future. These were the memories he filled his mind with. These were the memories that gave him the strength to get up and mount Blackie.

With one backward glance and a heavy sigh, he rode down the road to whatever played out. He could have told Kathleen his plan, but he knew she’d never agree to it. That she wouldn’t have been willing to put him in danger for her own safety. She just wasn’t like that. Her heart was too kind for that. And he just couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to her.

A few hours later, he dismounted in front of the saloon in Raton. Time to play his trump card and get the bastard Hawkins to leave Kathleen alone. He grimaced. The place was crowded tonight. The more, the better.

Mike blew out a breath, dusted his pants, and swaggered through the swinging doors. Laughter flowed among the men and the soiled doves lounging around the room. He spotted his quarry, then shoved his hat back and forced his lips upward in a wide grin.

“You look happy. Marriage must agree with you.”

Mike winked at the bartender. “No, I’m a free man. Set me up a round.”

He slapped some bills in the bartender’s hand and pounded on the bar. “This round’s on me. I’m celebrating.”

Chairs scraped in the sawdust as hoots and cheers went up.

“What’s the occasion?” someone shouted.

“I just made an excellent trade.”

“Come on, Baca, spit it out.”

“Well, I took my new wife to see her land and she had a royal fit. She offered me her land if I agreed to end the marriage. I took her up on it. I’m now the proud owner of Simpkins’ place.”

“How you figure that?”

“She was his heir. Guess she prefers New York.” Mike watched Hawkins turn three shades of purple.
Good.
His plan was working. “Figured I’d plant some hay over in that low patch by the creek. Build a few dams to control the water.” He tossed back his shot of whiskey. “Maybe even move out there since someone burned down my house the other day. Whooped my boys good, too.”

“Hell you say. Know who did it?”

“I have my ideas. They stole my wife, and I had to go and rescue her.” Mike laughed and shook his head. “Sure scared her though. That’s part of the reason she wanted to leave. Called us all a bunch of uncivilized barbarians.” He slapped the bar. “Told me to get her on the fastest train out of here and to keep the cursed ranch.”

“Hell man, you’re set up sweet now,” the bartender said.

“You bet I am. Couldn’t have worked out better. Guess that little shotgun wedding wasn’t so bad after all.” He let his gaze travel around the room. “Course, I ain’t about to forget all the friendly faces that day.”

Silence descended on the room. A few men hustled out the back door. All eyes swiveled to Hawkins. He glared at Mike, one hand resting near his gun, face flushed and sweat gleaming on his forehead. The half- empty whiskey bottle told its own story. Shooting an inebriated man wouldn’t look good. But let the chips fall where they may. Kathleen deserved a chance to live her life as she chose.

Mike swirled the liquid in his glass. “I’m sure Hawkins and I can work out a deal.” He sauntered across the room to the table Hawkins sat at. “Mind if I sit?” He didn’t wait for a response, but settled back in the chair and grinned. “You look a little sick. Things not going how you planned?”

Hawkins narrowed his eye and leaned forward. “When she turns up dead, just remember that you told me you wanted rid of her. Who do you think the town will believe? You or me?”

Mike chuckled. “Face it, Hawkins, I have Simpkins’ land and water, you don’t. And just so you know, I sure as hell don’t intend to marry Sally.” Finger tapping on the glass, he shot Hawkins a glare. “You should have kept your daughter in line and perhaps I’d have walked into your trap.”

“You could still have all three ranches. We could be partners.” Hawkins’ offer screamed of desperation.

Mike put his elbows onto the table and twirled the glass between his hands. “Nope, I don’t want anything to do with that hussy.”

Veins popped out on Hawkins forehead. “You dare call Sally names?”

“What, you don’t know who she carries on with? Go home and watch.”

“She’s still my daughter, and I still have control.”

Mike raised a brow. “Really? Looks like I have what you wanted.” He leaned close. “And it’s all legal.”

“I’ll kill you.”

With a slight shrug, Mike smiled. “You can try. But last time didn’t work too well for you, now did it?”

Hawkins poured more whiskey into his empty tumbler. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Deny all you want, but in the end, the fact is I own the water. You don’t.” Mike took another gulp of his tepid beer. “If you play nice, I might not cut you off.” Throat dry and stomach writhing like an anthill, he pushed his hat back and tipped back in the chair. Hawkins had to take the bait or he had just torn Kathleen’s tentative trust to shreds for nothing.

“Anybody for a game of poker?” he asked when Hawkins took another shot.

“Come on over, Baca, I’ll fleece you.”

Mike settled in for a long night and even allowed one of the girls to perch on his lap and nibble on his ear. He swallowed the bile in his throat and gulped down another beer. Jimmy suddenly showed up at the table.

Jimmy picked up his hand of cards. “Hawkins won’t take this you know. He’ll retaliate somehow.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “That a warning?”

“No, just a fact. And I want you to know I’m staying out of it.”

“Barker won’t.” Mike tossed a card onto the pile, not really caring if he won or lost. He had already lost all that mattered to him. He only hoped that this performance worked out for Kathleen.

Jimmy snorted. “He’s a coward. Just pull your gun on him and he’ll run all the way back to Kansas.”

“Why are you suddenly my best friend?”

“I’m not. But I have what I want. You now have what you want.” Jimmy smiled. “Besides, I don’t have any doubts on who will win this fight.” He flipped a coin into the pile. “Neighbors should get along.”

“Yeah, you just want to make sure I don’t cut off that water.”

“So?”

With a shake of his head, Mike glanced at the cards in his hand. Sitting here just gave Hawkins time to set up an ambush. But it was a gamble he chose to make. He could already feel a noose around his neck and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He needed to make out a will tonight. Before he left town. Before he ended up face down in a pool of his own blood.

Halfway through the first hand of cards, Hawkins stormed out of the saloon, his bottle of whiskey tucked under his arm. The man had had too much to drink. Seemed like lately he always had a drink in hand. Maybe that would help. Everyone here had seen him drunk. Maybe he could make it so it looked like Hawkins was out of his mind.

Mike tossed his cards on the table. “I’m out.”

“But the game ain’t over yet,” the young cowboy protested.

“Leave the man alone. You got all night to fleece somebody else.” Jimmy laid his cards down. “Keep the pile. I’m finished.”

Mike glanced at Jimmy. Why the sudden friendly act? But then, Jimmy hadn’t ever been his enemy. Except for letting Sally lead him around by the nose. Mike understood the power of a woman. He’d do anything for Kathleen.

“Come on, Mike, I’ll ride out with you a ways,” Jimmy offered.

“I’m not leaving yet.”

Jimmy shot him a surprised stare. “What’s on your mind?”

Mike studied Jimmy. He needed someone else to witness his will and neither Hank nor Juan was in town. “Thought I’d stop by Farley’s and write out a will.”

Jimmy laughed. “Doubt you’ll need one.”

“Will you witness it for me?”

“If you want me to. But I’m betting you’ll win, not Hawkins.”

“Either way, you’ll still marry Sally. And get a ranch.”

“True.” Jimmy shrugged. “I’ll sign as a witness.”

A slight pink tinged the sky when Mike rode into his yard. A thin column of smoke wafted up the bunkhouse chimney. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and braced for a confrontation.

He clanked up the steps and went inside. “Coffee ready?”

Hank looked past Mike’s shoulder through a slightly opened black eye.

Juan, not much better, stared at him. “Where is she?”

“Gone.”

Juan slapped the table. “What do you mean gone?”

“She went home. I got the ranch.”

“This is her home.”

“Not anymore.”

“But”

“That’s the way it is. Since breakfast isn’t ready, I’ll go unsaddle Blackie.”

Mike pivoted and felt Hank’s disapproval and Juan’s disbelief boring twin holes in his back. He didn’t know if they’d stay or quit on him.

In the barn, Mike slid down the wall and hung his head. He’d played his hand but he couldn’t escape the barren desert of his soul.

Hawkins chaffed under Mike’s taunt as he stomped up the steps to his home. All those months wasted on planning and executing his plan to steal Ben Simpkins’ land. First, Ben had had the blasted foresight to write a will and leave it on record with a judge in Santa Fe. Then his spoiled brat of a daughter messed up his plans and Miss Barnes had failed to run to his waiting arms for protection. Now Baca managed to get rid of the girl and let the entire town believe she simply went back to New York.

Hawkins snorted. She lay dead in a shallow grave somewhere. And Mike’s open challenge meant all suspicion would fall on his shoulders should Mike suddenly have a tragic accident. Damn him and damn Sally. He’d eventually find a way to punish Mike but tonight Sally would pay for her bungling part.

Flinging the whisky bottle at the fireplace as he stormed up the stairs, Hawkins ignored the tightness gathering in his chest. He kicked Sally’s door open. “Get up, daughter.”

He heard her gasp, but the whiskey-induced haze prevented him from seeing clearly and sweat soaked his shirt. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Get out, Father, the sun is barely up.”

He punched the doorframe. “You worthless brat. If you had just married Baca, none of this would have happened.”

“I don’t want to marry that unsophisticated half-breed. He’s beneath me.”

“I want his ranch. You didn’t have to keep him. A fatal accident could always have been arranged. Now the fool has killed his new bride who, by the way, owned Simpkins’ place.”

Hawkins stumbled to the edge of the bed. “I hate losing.” He reached for Sally but suddenly clutched his arm as sharp ripples of pain prickled up and down in waves. His knees buckled and the weight in his chest intensified as he collapsed across the bed.

Sally squirmed out from under him.

“Wait.” Hawkins tried to move, tried to breathe, but blackness darker than the night swept over him.

In a pain-filled haze, he heard Sally’s voice near his ear. “Goodbye, Father.” She laughed. It was the last sound he heard.