The Union (36 page)

Was she condemning him? Calling him traitor? He couldn't tell.
 

"No, I won't be called in this trial. They have enough hard evidence against him without me." He stopped himself. Had he said too much? Damn this delicate pussyfooting. "Do you believe he's guilty?"

She continued her descent. "He's guilty sure enough."

Her calm pronouncement took him aback. When she stepped down off the last step she stopped and gazed at him. "You look surprised." She smiled. "I may have been blind where the union was concerned, but I have never been narrow-minded regarding the truth."

"You no longer believe in the union?"

"I believe in what the union should have stood for. The plight of the working miner is still abominable. The owners oppress us. We need a union to stand up for us. But what the union had become, no, I don't believe it served our purposes. Not at all."

She scrutinized him. How was he faring? Dietz wished he knew.

"And you?" she asked. "Do you maintain the owners' innocence in this affair?"

"I'm not sure I ever did." Did she believe him? He grinned. "They're a selfish lot, greedy and not altogether honorable. That I escaped alive reflects little on them." He briefly related the incident at the Carter Hotel. He thought she fought down a smile. "Still, regarding the union, anarchy cannot be supported. The laws of the United States must be upheld and terrorism fought at every corner of this country. That is all I've ever stood for."

"Is it? Maybe we haven't been at such odds as we've imagined."

Was it Dietz's imagination, or was there hope for them yet?

"We've got him in sight. There." The young lawman pointed toward the alley that ran perpendicular to the courthouse. Lunn Gaffney slunk into the shadows, a rifle with its sight trained on the crowd streaming out of the courthouse raised to his shoulder.

U.S. Marshal James Nelson eyed the fugitive cautiously. "You certain it's him?"

The lawman handed him the binoculars he'd been holding to his eyes.

Marshal Nelson grunted. "He fits Gaffney's description. Doesn't really matter who the fellow is. He looks like he means to cause trouble." He handed the binoculars back. "We can't have him taking potshots into that crowd of folks. What do you think? Can your men disarm and subdue him without any innocent being hurt?"

The younger man shrugged. "All we can do is try. In our favor, so far he doesn't appear to suspect that we're following him."

"Damn!" Lunn cursed and swore beneath his breath, using every expletive and slur he could remember. Down the sight of his rifle barrel he had a bead on Dietz. Next to Dietz, Keely strolled along, smiling at the cursed man. Jealousy, green, ugly and raw, tangled with his nerves. The gun poised at his shoulder trembled slightly in response.
 

His finger curled over the trigger. At this range, the trigger required a gentle touch. Too much force, the pressure that rage required, and he'd hit air over the bastard's head, maybe getting a ricochet off the courthouse. Damn Dietz anyway.

With the way the blasted gun trembled, Keely stood too close. Any miscalculation and Lunn would hit her instead. The couple's path would take them directly in front of him.
Hold on, boy, just a bit longer.
 

He'd have to wait until they were close enough that the rage and the trembling would make negligible difference in where he hit the target. Heart or lung, Lunn didn't care where he hit Dietz's chest, so long as the shot was immediately fatal.

Keely's words set Dietz's heart scrambling at a breakneck pace. And she was smiling fully at him now. He had to take the chance that might shatter the moment. "May I buy you supper?" The moment the words escaped him, he knew he's said the wrong thing. Her expression told him.

"You ask too much." Her voice became soft and sad. She turned her focus to the distance, away from him. Contradictory as it seemed, her action gave him hope. She might try to hide her feelings from him, but she did a damned terrible job. What did she think to hide, her vulnerability?

He took her arm and pulled her around to face him. "Innocuous conversation is too much?"

"After all that's happened, how can any conversation between us ever be benign?" She sounded sad, almost wistful.
 

Damn, maybe she does still care.

"Buying you supper was supposed to be kind—a gentlemanly thing to do." He tried to sound light.

"Was it?" Her eyes misted over. "Then I thank you, but I decline. I'm sure you understand."

"Damn it, Keely! You must know I want to explain. Don't deny me this chance."

"Innocent conversation. You liar!" She broke free of his grasp, picked up her skirt, and hurried forward. He had to take long strides to catch and keep up with her. How did she manage to move so quickly taking those itty bitty steps?

"I don't want to hear your explanation," she said.

"You don't want to hear that—"

"That it was your job." Her words came out staccato, punctuated with hurt. "Why would you think that would make me feel any better?" The moisture glistening in her eyes slid down her cheeks.

She was crying now.
 

"Keely. That's not what I wanted to say."

Lunn smiled at the sight. Keely ran from Dietz, who, looking uncertain, had paused, letting her gain distance on him.
Run, Keely, run to me.
 

In a moment, Lunn would have a clear, point blank shot at Dietz. Not the best shot. His position made detection more probable, but it would suffice. When would the opportunity come again? Time had run out. Gaffney set the rifle at his side and pulled a pistol from his holster. Better to use the right weapon.

A noise echoed from the back of the alley. This time Lunn didn't flinch. Cursed cats!

"Drop the gun, Gaffney! In the name of the law."

Lunn froze. At that moment Keely passed just feet in front of him. Instinctively, he reached for her.

Undecided how to proceed and explain to Keely, Dietz paused, letting her get several building lengths on him while he plotted his strategy. He'd just moved to catch her when her scream broke through the streets.

What the—?

Lunn Gaffney stepped from the shadows of an alley, an arm locking around Keely, pressing her against him with a pistol to her head. Suddenly the ordinary, a woman walking down the street, became surreal, like a painting out of perspective. Just a man holding a woman—in a deadly embrace.

Dietz froze, taking it all in, in an instant. Gaffney loosed a tirade of threats and insults directed down the alley as he pulled Keely into the middle of the street. It took Dietz a second to realize whom Gaffney yelled to and what was going on. The law had found Gaffney.

The crowd realized what was happening at the same instant Dietz did. Everything stood still—people, carts, carriages, horses, time. In the unfiltered sunlight, Keely's auburn hair made a red halo around her face. Gaffney's pistol gleamed dangerously in the middle of it all. Softness and steel collided.

People began stepping back, away from Gaffney until he stood in the middle of an empty street, surrounded at a distance of some twenty feet by a tide of people. Dietz saw only Keely.

Dietz drew his Colt and put a bead on Gaffney. Most emergencies filled Dietz with a welcome rush of energy that heightened his senses and perception. Now his gut tightened and burned and he had to fight down the shaking fear rapidly rising within him. Emotional detachment—he had none now.

"Drop the gun." Gaffney sounded edgy. He fidgeted, looking around quickly and nervously, most likely scanning for an escape path.

It might have been seconds. It might have been forever. Time in its weird way had skewed for Dietz.
Hold your head. Remember your training. Now is not the time to panic
.
 

A line of militia troops and lawmen formed around them. Without glancing around to check, he assumed they lined up for a chance at a clear shot at Gaffney. Whether Gaffney realized it or not, he was a doomed man. If only he didn't take Keely down with him. The bastard knew enough to keep Keely between him and Dietz. With supreme will of effort, Dietz's gun didn't waver, but there was no way he had any chance of a shot at Lunn.

Lunn whispered into Keely's hair—strange, fanatical declarations of love, distorted endearments, talk of escape and a life together afterward.
 

Keely tried hard to block it all out. She focused everything instead on John Dietz. At that moment, he looked like salvation. She wanted to live and live with that man—forever. Looking down the length that separated them, past his gun barrel at steely violet eyes, she saw concentration, cunning, and something she'd seen in them only once before—fear. Just like last July in Gem. Only then she'd been too angry and upset to judge it with any objectivity. Why hadn't she seen that he faced danger with something akin to excitement, except when it involved her? Mothers looked like that when their children were in danger, wives their husbands, and lovers their sweethearts. He loved her, just like he'd said. Why hadn't she believed it before? Maybe she'd needed the distance. Maybe she had to see it for herself, just once when he was himself, not in character.

If it came to it, dying while staring into those eyes was preferable to just about everything Lunn suggested as he hissed and warbled his strange, contorted feelings into her ear.

And die she might. Lunn frightened her. The gun he pressed against her temple trembled.
He'll kill me if he needs to. He'll kill me if he wants
. The thoughts echoed through her mind with shattering intensity.
 

She remembered John Dietz holding her hostage, gun at her ribs, and her complete certainty that he would not harm her. Thoughts of John Dietz pushing her from him flooded back, along with his words,
Take your life back
. And she knew what he meant—not her life, the blood pulsing through her, but the way she had come to live, her home, her friends, her causes. He'd risked his life coming back to save her. Every thought sparkled with clarity now as she saw their lives entwine. How ironic—maybe none of it would be.

Lunn would not be giving her life back.

"Drop the girl. You don't want to hurt Keely," Dietz called out. "Let her go and I'll drop the gun so that we can talk."

Gaffney's eerie laugh seemed to hang on the breeze. "You can't take my girl and my means of escape away that easily, traitor. Offer me something I want more than those two."

Damn Gaffney and his taunting.

Marshal Nelson had edged his way behind Dietz. "We've got men taking position in the buildings across the way."

Thankful for a backup, Dietz didn't much care how he'd gotten there. Not wanting to alert Gaffney, Dietz kept his gaze focused on him. Peripherally, he saw movements in several second-story windows across the street.
 

"Let me take over, Dietz," the marshal whispered.

Dietz shook his head. "Just keep me covered. He hates me enough to be distracted by me. Keep your men lined up to get a shot at him and coordinate with the militia commander in charge."
 

With his back to him, Dietz couldn't tell what the marshal felt about his orders. Probably didn't like them much, but Dietz trusted Keely's safety to no one but himself. No one else cared enough to sacrifice everything.

"What are you going to do?" the marshal asked.

An armed figure came clearly into sight in a second-floor window at Gaffney's back. Dietz made a mental calculation. Damn, the trajectory wasn't right. But with a little angling, he could maneuver Gaffney into position. Dietz threw his Colt's down and put his hands up.

Keely gasped.
 

"I'm unarmed, Gaffney. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Dietz took a step toward him.
Modulate your voice. Soothe him. Keep him off guard against any other danger.

"There's a price on my head." Dietz laughed sharply. "But I'll bet you know that already."
 

"Stop where you are." Gaffney's aim grew steadily shakier.

With two objectives in mind—get Gaffney into position so that the law had a clear shot at him, and get close enough to jump him in case all else failed—Dietz approached Gaffney. Dietz fixed his gaze on Gaffney, using peripheral vision to keep track of the crack shooters taking aim at Gaffney.

"I've heard it's a good price, enough to set a working man up in style for a while at least. I'm offering you a fair trade—me for the girl."
 

Shit, Gaffney scared him. The man's eyes looked like ice—crazy and glazed over.

"No, John, no." It was the first time he'd heard Keely use his Christian name, his real one, and it flustered him more than it ought to, more than he needed it to at this moment.

The lawmen in the windows across the street still weren't aligned properly. Dietz moved to the side, forcing Gaffney to sidestep and rotate to keep him in his sights.

Gaffney cackled. "It's not about money. It never has been. It's about getting what I want."