Ashes and Memories (9 page)

Incompetence got men killed. At the very least, it diminished his prestige in the eyes of the town and made him seem foolish. And that was something he would not -- could not tolerate.

“Mr. MacBride --” Stanton began, but Reece held up a hand, silencing him.

“What do you have to say for yourself?" Reece asked, glaring at the stranger.

“Who the hell are you?” the man between Stanton and Grady asked contemptuously.

Reece smiled without humor, the rage inside him threatening to explode. “I am the man who is going to decide whether you live or die.”

The outlaw’s gaze faltered as a flicker of uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “Joe Garrett was my brother,” the man said.

“Your brother was a murdering, thieving bastard,” Reece snarled. “He deserved to die.”

Without warning, the outlaw spat in Reece’s face, and Reece’s control snapped. He struck out, hitting Garrett in the temple with the butt of his revolver.

“If you want revenge, Mr. Garrett, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Reece snarled, yanking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the spittle from his face. “A bounty hunter shot your brother and brought him here to collect the reward. No one in this town had anything to do with his death.”

“Everybody in this town lined up to have their picture taken with his body!" Garrett panted, blood trickling down the side of his face from the cut on his head.

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Reece conceded, remembering the disgusting sight of the dead outlaw hanging by his feet in the center of town. “And that is unfortunate, but it does not justify you coming into my town and murdering people in my saloon.”

“He killed Harris there,” Stanton told him.

Reece turned to look at the bodies on the floor. Yes, he did recognize Harris, a miner on his payroll who came to town infrequently and then only to drink and lose his gold at the gaming tables. Harris had been a quiet man who minded his own business and avoided trouble. He didn’t deserve this.

Reece looked from Harris to the other body. “And the other man?”

“He’s a friend of mine. Name’s Luke Wilkins." The man between Stanton and Grady tried to jerk free as he spoke, the fury in his eyes increasing with the frustration of not being able to shake off his captors. “Friends are hard to come by.”

Stanton explained. “This one shot Harris. The other one pulled a pistol and I shot him.”

The outlaw took Stanton by surprise and pulled free before Reece could react. Jabbing an elbow into Stanton’s ribs, he reached behind him for a bottle on the bar which he slammed against Grady’s head. The bottle shattered, leaving Garrett holding the jagged remains and Grady unconscious on the floor.

Garrett lunged at Reece, the broken glass cutting Reece’s arm as Reece raised it to defend himself. Searing pain flashed through him, fueling his rage.

Reece struck without thinking, hitting his assailant on the head with his pistol. Garrett grunted and dropped the bottle.

Blinded by rage and pain, Reece struck him again with his gun... and again.

The dull sounds of the man’s pain-filled groans echoed inside Reece’s consciousness, the noise drowned out by a thundering rage. Nothing penetrated the haze of fury that engulfed him and drove him beyond reason.

“Stop!”

Reece went still, stunned back to awareness by the feminine voice. Garrett was still conscious but barely so. Stanton grabbed Garrett and held him up because his legs had given out.

Reece jerked around to see Emma Parker standing halfway down the stairs, both hands clasping the railing, her face pale as death. Anger and unaccustomed shame bombarded him and became confused with the pain in his arm and the painful memories waiting to rip his soul apart if he let down his guard.

Never in front of the women. The words reverberated in his mind, an echo from the past.

Never in front of the women. That precept had been pounded into him from the time he was old enough to know there was a difference between the sexes. Violence was something ugly that women should not have to witness.

He looked from the gun in his hand to Garrett’s bloodied head and back, suddenly horrified at what he’d done. The saloon was silent, all eyes riveted on him. He’d lost control, something he’d sworn he’d never do again. The last time he’d let his temper get the best of him, men had died, men who had trusted him to lead them, to take care of them. He would carry the guilt and pain with him for the rest of his life.

“Miss Parker,” he said breathlessly, his chest rising and falling from exertion and unabated rage. Her presence here infuriated him. If there was an unwritten law that women should be shielded from violence, it only worked if women cooperated as well, and this woman had been the impetus that had driven him to lose control in the first place.

“I believe I asked you to stay in the office,” Reece said levelly.

He turned back to face the bleeding outlaw, irrationally furious with the man for making him lose his temper. Every time he lost control, he lost respect. But there were times when the demons overwhelmed him and he struck out, unmindful of anything or anyone.

“Put him in jail,” he said, aware for the first time of the blood that seeped through the torn material of his shirt and dripped down his arm and over his fingers. “He’ll hang on Friday.”

The beaten man managed to speak, his voice low and halting. “You already killed Joe and Luke. You kill me and my gang’ll come here with twenty men. They’ll tear this town apart.”

Reece pressed his gun beneath Garrett’s chin, forcing the man’s head back so that he could look into his glazed eyes. “The only reason I don’t kill you here and now is that I plan to make an example of you. Get him out of here.”

Garrett’s feet dragged on the floor as Reece’s men hauled him from the saloon. The bartender handed Reece a towel, and he placed his pistol on the bar so he could wrap the towel around his injured arm.

He glanced at Emma, his eyes drawn to her as if they had a will of their own. She remained on the staircase, her eyes filled with horror, her breathing so violent he could see the rise and fall of her chest from where he stood.

“Go get the doctor,” Reece commanded, turning away from Emma’s condemning gaze. One of his men rushed to do as he was told. “The saloon is closed,” he said to what was left of the crowd. “Go on home.”

“You can’t mean to hang him without a trial!”

Reece turned to see Emma Parker standing just behind him, her face still white with terror and disbelief. The crowd began to file out of the bar, but Miss Parker stood as still as a statue.

“You have no business here, Miss Parker,” he said harshly, struggling to calm his erratic breathing and staunch the flow of blood from his wounded arm.

Because of her, he’d opened his dark soul and looked inside for the first time in years. Because of her, he’d lost control and nearly bludgeoned a man to death. And now she stood staring at him as if he were the devil incarnate. “This is my territory. You are a trespasser here, and I will warn you once and only once not to interfere in things that do not concern you, things you know nothing about.”

Reece smiled without humor as Miss Parker reached into her vest pocket and withdrew her infernal pad and pencil, her hand shaking slightly. She was afraid, yet she continued to defy him. If he weren’t so furious, he would admire her courage. But right now she was an adversary, and he could not afford to treat her otherwise.

“Miss Parker,” he said with a rigid calm, “if you think you can intimidate me with your little newspaper, you are sadly mistaken. Your paper will exist only so long as I allow it, and you would be a fool to think otherwise.”

“So you just go around playing God, is that it?” she asked, trying to steady her nerves with a deep breath. “You -- you can’t just hang a man without a trial.”

The bartender anticipated his needs, placing a shot of whiskey on the bar. Reece downed it in one swallow, savoring the trail of fire that spread warmth throughout his body. He faced Miss Parker, gracing her with a glare intended to put an end to her annoying interference.

“Can’t I? There were two dozen witnesses, Miss Parker." She’d entered his realm, his world, and whether she liked it or not, the rules were different here.

“It’s barbaric.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, but I will. The circuit judge left here on his way to the territorial capital. He will not be back this way for two months.”

“So you’re going to lynch a man because it’s convenient?”

The bartender refilled his glass, and Reece drained it again.

“Keeping Mr. Garrett in jail that long is like daring his gang to come here and break him out,” Reece explained, “in which case the sheriff and his deputies would have to try and stop them, and innocent people could be killed. The man is a murderer. And only a swift hanging will keep his men from attacking this town.”

That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was more than he owed her. During the war he’d learned a harsh lesson about the need for swift justice, the hardest lesson of his entire life. Corporal Will Prescott was a traitor. He should have been executed as soon as Reece discovered his duplicity. Instead, he had arrested the man, intent on seeing him stand before the colonel who would dispense justice. His hesitation resulted in the slaughter of nearly a quarter of his men and the imprisonment of another quarter, including himself. He’d vowed never to make that mistake again, and he intended to keep that vow.

“But that’s murder,” Miss Parker insisted, “which would make you no better --”

“Go back to what you know, Miss Parker." He tossed the bloodied towel onto the bar, wishing he could rid himself of the memories echoing inside him as easily. “Or I may forget that I am a gentleman.”

“Gentleman? How can you call yourself a gentleman after --”

“This is no concern of yours." He struggled to keep his temper under control as the pain in his arm exacerbated his anger. “And I will thank you to stay out of it. Now, if you will excuse me,” he continued as he slipped his suspenders down over his arms and began unbuttoning his shirt, “I think I’ll let the doctor have a look at my arm. Mr. Wilson will see you home.”

Doc Stevens rushed into the barroom at that moment, carrying his black valise. He hesitated at sight of Emma, and Reece felt a sudden, irrational stab of jealousy. So the doctor and Miss Parker had met. Why did that obvious fact and the way the doctor’s eyes softened at sight of Emma trigger an emotion he hadn’t felt in years?

Stevens managed to pry his attention away from Miss Parker long enough to glare his disapproval at Reece before kneeling beside Grady who still lay unconscious on the floor.

“I don’t need anyone to see me home,” Emma said, her gaze flickering briefly down the front of his unbuttoned shirt before she turned on her heels, her face a deep pink, and stalked from the saloon.

Reece watched her go, struggling against the heat her gaze caused in his own body. The door had barely closed behind her when he turned to Wilson. “Follow her. Make sure she gets home safely.”

Wilson pushed away from the bar and did as he was told. Reece watched until the door closed again, then turned away. He supposed there would be another issue of Miss Parker’s paper to contend with. Just as he’d feared, she was getting in the way, complicating things. He had to stop her and soon.

“Butler,” Reece said to the bartender as he shrugged out of his shirt with a grimace of pain. He glanced at the doctor who seemed completely unconcerned with anything but the wounded man he tended. Still, Reece gestured for Butler to join him at the end of the bar where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you seen young Ralphy?”

“Not yet, Mr. MacBride. He won’t be here until around midnight.”

An idea formed in Reece’s mind. Miss Parker was obviously fond of the boy, and there was no reason not to use that fondness to his own advantage. “When he gets here, let me know, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

“Mr. MacBride.”

Doctor Stevens’s voice drew Reece’s attention. He turned to face the smaller man.

“If you’ll have a seat, I’ll take care of that cut.”

Reece grimaced at the doctor’s customarily placid expression, grabbing a whiskey bottle from the bar before sitting in the chair the doctor indicated. “You know, I have heard nothing but glowing reports about your bedside manner, Doctor. Why is it I’ve never experienced it myself?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Doctor Stevens replied as he opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Maybe you have a low tolerance for pain.”

“Maybe,” Reece replied with a short laugh, wincing as the burning liquid penetrated the wound. “But somehow I get the feeling you’ve never liked me much.”

The doctor stopped his work and looked into Reece’s eyes earnestly. “That’s ridiculous. I may not always approve of the things you do.... At any rate, my personal feelings are totally irrelevant.”

“Uh huh. “Reece turned the whiskey bottle up and drank deeply, bracing himself for the painful treatment to his wound.

The expected pain came, burning through his body like a hot iron. Gritting his teeth, he forced his mind to separate from his body, conjuring the anger that had consumed him only moments earlier. He’d found anger to be a very effective anesthesia at times.

The pain broke through his control as the doctor made the first stitch. He drew a shuddering breath and took another drink from the bottle, trying to focus on something else, anything else but the fierce pain that gripped his body.

Emma Parker’s flushed face rose in his inner vision. She’d managed to get under his skin. It wouldn’t happen again. Maybe he had been using the wrong tactics where she was concerned. Maybe it was time to up the ante, to play a game Miss Parker was entirely unequipped to play.

#####

Emma shifted the newspapers under her arm, stepped out of the hardware store into the brisk morning cold and nearly tripped over Ralphy. He sat on the edge of the sidewalk, changing his shoes and mumbling to himself about old shoes and new shoes.

“Ralphy, what are you doing?" Emma asked, fighting the annoyance that rose inside her. She didn’t believe for a moment he was there by coincidence. She hated the suspicion that rose inside her, but Ralphy idolized Reece MacBride, and she had no doubt Reece was capable of using a child to get what he wanted.