Always You (21 page)

As amethyst sunset ribboned the sky above the Black Hills, two riders bent low over the manes of their horses, streaking toward the town of Cherryville.

Cal and Jesse Holden shared the same determined expressions, and both rode with practiced ease and grace. Tension crackled through them at the knowledge of what lay before them. Both knew that the time was drawing near to avenge their oldest brother’s death and that they had one chance to see their family honor restored.

They couldn’t fail in this dual mission they were embarking on. If somehow they both were killed, their younger siblings would be orphaned and might be separated, sent to live far and wide, subject to poverty and the whims of others.

The responsibility for the children weighed on both their minds.

Cal knew that Melora’s life might be at stake too. And that if she came to harm, it would be his fault.

Urgency whipped through him. The fear he felt on her behalf made a muscle pulse in his jaw, made him clench Rascal’s reins with hands that were unaccustomedly sweaty.

Melora wouldn’t be in this mess if not for him. He’d brought her into danger. He had to get her out.

The fact that he loved her had nothing to do with it and everything to do with it. She was his responsibility now, just as Will and Lou and Cassie and Jesse were. But more than that, far more than that, she was his heart, his life.

One thing had become clear to him when he’d returned to the farm and learned she was gone: He loved her and wanted her and meant to win her. He wasn’t much good at courting women, hadn’t ever had much practice or much luck, but hell and damnation, he would learn.

He’d give her time, let her sort out her feelings, but one way or another, he would find a chance to show her how he felt. Wooing women might not be his specialty, but he’d learned to shoot quicker than lightning could strike a tree, to ride like hell with his guns blazing in both hands and a knife clenched between his teeth, how to lasso cattle, how to beat nine men out of ten at poker without breaking a sweat, and how to soothe and tame the wildest mustangs on earth. He could learn how to woo Melora Deane.

“We’ll start at the telegraph office. That’ll tell us if Melora did reach town and send that wire to Jinx.” Cal studied the narrow streets of Cherryville with grim eyes. “If she did, we’ll have to split up and search. I’ll take the north end of town; you take the south. Keep your eyes peeled for any stranger who might be that bounty hunter; if you see him, come and find me. Do you hear me, Jesse? Don’t do anything yourself! You’re a pretty darn good shot, but you’re no match for Coyote Jack.”

“What about you, Cal?” Jesse licked dry lips. His fingers wound through his mount’s bristly mane as he twisted in the saddle to study his brother’s face. “Do you think you could beat him?”

“We’ll sure find out if it comes to that,” Cal replied coolly, then saw the anxiety on Jesse’s drawn face and flashed the boy a reassuring grin. “It’s my job to worry about
you,
pardner, not the other way around,” he told him wryly.

“What if you run into Campbell?”

“Then he’d better say his prayers.”

“But your plan—you need Marshal Brock for a witness—”

“Jesse, the most important thing right now is to find Melora before it gets dark; you let me worry about Campbell and Coyote Jack!”

Before they even reached the telegraph office, they spotted Sunflower tethered to a post. The brothers stared at each other in silent apprehension as the horse whickered a greeting. As one, they moved toward the office. The telegraph clerk was just coming around his desk, ready to hang his Closed sign in the window, when Cal pushed open the door. He ignored the balding little man’s sputtering protests and took the sign out of his hands. After one glance at Cal’s hard, determined countenance the clerk gulped back his indignation. When Cal questioned him, he rattled off answers rapid-fire and punctuated them by bobbing or shaking his head.

Yes, the man confirmed, a beautiful, fair-haired woman had come in several hours before; yes, she’d indeed sent a wire to Rawhide. And then she’d left.

“I never saw her after that. I swear to you, mister, I didn’t!”

Cal scowled, turning away. He and Jesse exchanged glances as they reached the street. “We’d best start searching,” Cal told his brother, fighting the fear knifing through his belly. “Be quick and be careful. I hope to God she didn’t run into Campbell.”

The thought filled him with cold fear. What if she had, and then hadn’t had sense enough to swallow her temper and pretend she didn’t know what kind of animal he was? That could prove damned dangerous.

Knowing what he did about Campbell, having glimpsed the vicious, single-minded ruthlessness that Melora had never seen, Cal couldn’t shake the worry that knotted through his insides like chewed-up twine.

He started at the dry goods store at the far end of town, asking questions, watching, listening, alert for some sign of Melora, Campbell, or Coyote Jack.

He prayed he wouldn’t find all three of them together.

* * *

Jesse had just slipped inside the Gold Bar Hotel, the shotgun tucked beneath his arm, when he recognized the bony red-haired boy sweeping the floor of the lobby.

It was Eddie Newell, a boy of about nine who was a schoolmate of Cassie’s. Eddie was known among the children for throwing spitballs and hiding spiders inside the teacher’s desk.

“Hey, there, Eddie,” he said, coming up and giving the boy a playful punch on the arm. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Mr. Duncan, the owner, is my uncle.” Eddie grinned, showing widely spaced white teeth. He stopped his sweeping and leaned jauntily on his broom. “What’re you doing here, Jesse? Want a room?” He chuckled, his grin spreading across his face from ear to ear.

“Not exactly. I’m looking for someone—” Jesse said, but before he could continue, Eddie interrupted him, his brown eyes glowing with excitement.

“Well, we got somebody in here right now who’s pretty important,” the boy said. “But you don’t want to run into
him.
You ever hear of Coyote Jack?”

Jesse went still. “You mean the bounty hunter?” he asked casually.

“Sure, that’s who. Well, guess who just went upstairs!”

“He did?” Jesse swallowed hard and shot an involuntary glance at the thinly carpeted staircase. “What for? I mean, is he staying here?”

“Nope, don’t think so. It’s kinda peculiar, but—”

“Tell me,” Jesse said, drawing a stick of peppermint out of his pocket, breaking it in half and offering a piece to Eddie.

The boy accepted eagerly. “Well, he just came in not more than a few minutes ago and started up the stairs, and my uncle, he was at the front desk and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, can I help you?’ And then he saw it was Coyote Jack. He knew because he’d seen him shoot a man once in Cheyenne—right between the eyes—and—”

“Hurry up, Eddie!”

“Well, anyway”—the boy continued, taking intermittent licks of the peppermint stick—“he just gave my uncle a look that could kill a man faster than a bullet and said, ‘Mind your own damn business!’ And he kept on going.”

“You don’t know where?”

“Sure I do.” Eddie’s grin stretched across his thin, freckled cheeks. “I followed him.”

“And?”

“And he went to room 205. That’s the little girl’s room. The one who can’t walk.”

Jesse grabbed Eddie’s shirtfront. “What’s her name?”

“I dunno—Oh, yes, I do. It’s kind of a strange name. Lucky. No, no, that’s not it. Jinx. Turns out she’s Mr. Campbell’s niece, and he has all her meals sent up to her on account of she can’t walk at all. She has her own room next door to Mr. Campbell and—hey, where are you going?”

But Jesse was already bounding up the stairs three at a time. At the landing he took a deep breath and studied the row of doors. Then he headed as quietly as he could toward room 205.

* * *

“Who... are you?” Jinx stared in fright at the buckskin-clad giant who’d suddenly burst through the door of her room, his coal black eyes fixed on her intently as a wolf’s.

“M-mister, I think you’re in the wrong room.”

“This is the right room. You’re the kid who can’t walk, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks grew pinched as alarm flashed through her. “What do you want?” she quavered.

He didn’t answer her, just smiled in a way that made her hands fly to the throat of her calico gown. Her heart was pounding as he closed the door behind him and walked very slowly toward her. He was a frightening man. His hair was dirty and hung past his shoulders, his face reminded her of a wild animal’s, and his two big guns slapped against his thighs as he approached her.

This was no ordinary cowboy or rancher; he looked like an outlaw. Or a bounty hunter, the type of man she’d come across sometimes in Rawhide, but when she’d been with Pop, doing errands in town, she’d only been curious, never afraid.

It had been impossible to be afraid of anything when Pop was around.

But now she was alone. Jinx couldn’t imagine what this man was doing in her room, but she knew it couldn’t be anything good.

Where was Wyatt? He’d been gone longer than usual today, and right about now, even though she didn’t like him much and he wasn’t very good company, she’d cry out with thankfulness if he walked through that door.

But the door remained closed. And the big man had now reached the little table by her window and was smiling down at her.

“Get away. Tell me what you want.” Jinx tried sounding as authoritative as Melora, but her voice came out in a low squeak.

The man laughed. “My name’s Coyote Jack, little girl. But that’s not important. You can quit looking like you’re about to get bit by a rattler, because I’m not going to hurt you. Your friend Mr. Campbell sent me.”

“I don’t know anyone named Mr. Campbell!”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, Mr. Holden.” He scratched his chin. “Mr. Wyatt Holden.”

“Wyatt sent you here—what for?”

“He found your sister.” Coyote Jack grinned. “I reckon you’re mighty happy to hear that.”

A thousand questions flew through Jinx’s brain. Why hadn’t Wyatt brought Mel here to see her himself? Where were they? Was something wrong?

And why would he and Mel send a stranger to tell her the good news—especially such a mean-looking stranger, one with eyes that Pop would have called buzzard eyes.

“Where is Mel?” she asked, her hands sliding down to grip the arms of her chair, her delicate knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

“She’s here in town, and you’ll be seeing her real soon. But Mr. Holden thought you’d want to write her a note. Here.” He picked up the sketch pad and one of the charcoal pencils lying on the table beside her and held them out to her. Jinx could smell the rank body odor that permeated his clothes, and something else—the smell of garlic and whiskey on his breath.

“Go ahead and write your big sis a nice little welcome-back letter.”

Something was wrong. Jinx didn’t know what it was, but she felt it quivering in the air of the suddenly stifling hotel room. She stared at the pencil and the paper and then at the man leaning over her. He was breathing hard, his eyebrows twitching, watching and waiting.

“Take me to her,” she said in the bravest voice she could muster.

“You don’t give me orders, little girl. Write your sister a note. And then give me your boot.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Give me your boot. Just one of ‘em. You’ll get it back.”

Jinx blinked in confusion. It made no sense that he would want her boot. No sense at all.

She fought back the alarm that was rising steadily inside her. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she made a decision.

This Coyote Jack was a bad man, a very bad man. He scared her, and he was dangerous—she was sure of it. And she wondered if this was some kind of trick. Maybe he wasn’t really trying to help her and Mel and Wyatt at all; maybe he was the man who had kidnapped Mel—

A thousand maybes rolled through her mind, but one thing was clear: She shouldn’t do what he said. Instinct warned her that he was bad.

“If you don’t get out of this room right now, I’m going to scream,” she cried, the tremble in her voice growing more pronounced with each word. “I’m going to scream so loud that everyone in the hotel will come running to see what happened to me. And the sheriff will come and he’ll put you in jail!”

He laughed, a mean, ugly sound, and before she could even flinch away from him, his hand whipped out and grasped her by the hair, his fingers twisting in the bright red-gold curls. “There’s no sheriff in Cherryville, little girl, and even if there was, he wouldn’t have the gumption to come and put me in jail. So you quit backtalking me, and write something nice to your sister so’s I can bring it to her and prove that you’re here safe and sound. Use your head and give me the note and one of your pretty little boots, and I won’t have to start slapping some sense into you.”

“You’re hurting me,” Jinx whimpered.

He yanked her head back. “This is nothing compared to what will happen if you don’t write me that note pronto.”

“Stop!” Her voice rose to a scream. “Stop hurting me. Let me go!”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth before the door crashed open.

“Let her go!” a boy’s voice shouted.

Coyote Jack was so stunned that he released Jinx’s hair. He turned and stared in narrow-eyed fury at the boy who’d bolted into the room. The kid was pointing a shotgun at him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jesse Holden. And you’re Coyote Jack. Now step away from her before I blow your stupid brains out.”

“If I were you, boy,” the bounty hunter rasped, his glance flicking with alacrity just behind the boy, “I’d have a look behind me because you’re the one about to get his brains blowed out.”

Swiftly Jesse jerked his head around. In that split second Coyote Jack went for his gun. He fired, and the room erupted with gunfire and spurting blood.

Jinx screamed. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Jesse staggered back against the wall, the shotgun tumbling from his grasp. Blood gushed out all over his clothes.

Coyote Jack reached the boy in two swift strides. He grabbed him by the collar and hurled him to the floor as if he were a pup. Then he kicked the shotgun to the opposite wall and slammed the door shut. When he turned back to glare down at the bleeding, white-faced boy, his swarthy countenance was dark with rage.