Belle Gone Bad (15 page)

M
ercy wasn't surprised to see a man sniffing after Belle, but she didn't have to encourage the stranger. Mercy had never felt such a flare of jealousy before despite all the ladies who'd been more than happy to engage in Free Love with him. When it came to Belle, he realized that he wasn't a man to share her smiles, her attention, much less her kisses. And he was mad as hell that a stranger thought he could get close to her.

The man in question stepped back and threw a questioning glance at Belle. “This hombre got some claim?”

“Dusty, meet Mercy. He's the Red River Saloon bar artist. He's helping me find the bushwhacker and kidnapper.”

Dusty nodded to Mercy and then glanced back at Belle. “He's a mite testy. Got a reason for it?”

Belle pushed away from Mercy, casting him an annoyed look. “We're on edge. Bushwhacker tried to take us out at the Blue River.”

“You best get your house in order,” Dusty said, “or you'll have no house at all.”

“That's what I'm trying to do.”

Dusty nodded again.
“Wildcat Falls.”
He picked up his full shot glass, walked across the saloon, and took Mercy's seat at the table.

“What was that about?” Mercy asked.

“I really don't know.” She glared at him. “I was getting information until you showed up and ran him off.”

“I did no such thing.” He felt affronted that she was dismissing his protection. “I thought he was bothering you.”

“No man bothers me if I don't want it.”

“Excuse me.” He leaned against the bar and motioned to Red Dog for a drink.

She glared at him till Red Dog wiped off the bar and set shot glasses in front of them.

“Learn anything?” Red Dog asked, keeping his voice low.

“I was about to till Mercy got in Dusty's face.”

“That's dangerous.” Red Dog filled both glasses. “Dusty didn't take it amiss?”

“I told him Mercy was the Red River bar artist and that he was helping me.”

“Smart. Probably took pity on a tenderfoot.”

“I object to that term.” Mercy felt his ire rising by the moment. “I've been out here long enough to know a thing or two.”

“Best not object to staying alive.” Red Dog wiped down the bar again. “Dusty don't take insults lightly.”

“That wasn't an insult.”

“Yankee,” Belle said.

“Tenderfoot,” Red Dog added.

Mercy glared at them both, tossed back his whiskey, and felt it burn all the way to his stomach. “Everybody out here is trigger happy.”

“Be that as it may, you're in Indian Territory and a wrong look can get you kicking up daisies.” Red Dog glanced out across the saloon, then looked at Mercy. “Dusty's keeping an eye on you.”

“Let him. I'm keeping an eye on all these outlaws,” Mercy said.

Red Dog chuckled. “You got to realize they're protective of Belle.”

“Makes no sense.” Mercy snorted in annoyance. “She's a bounty hunter.”

“True,” Red Dog agreed. “But she's
their
bounty hunter.”

“She
was
their bounty hunter.” Mercy placed a hand on Belle's shoulder and squeezed. “Now she's
my
bounty hunter.”

Red Dog shook his head. “Belle, you best watch his back. He just went from being favorite artist to favorite target.”

Belle shrugged off Mercy's hand and stepped to the side. “Mercy, we'd better play our cards close to our vests. We don't want any enemies out here.”

“I don't think we'll be making many friends.” Mercy didn't try to bring her back close to him. Maybe she was right. Out here, men were on edge and ready for a fight. He'd seen it before. Almost anything could set them off. They'd known Tex, Hackett, and Belle for years. He was an interloper. It'd take time to earn his place beyond that of an artist. Maybe he'd do it. Maybe he wouldn't. At the moment, he didn't care which way the cards fell.

Belle picked up her shot glass. “Red Dog, I hate to say it, but Dusty mentioned Wildcat Falls.”

Red Dog froze. “He talked about the Falls to you?”

“Yes.”

“Consternation.”

“I know. He said something odd.”

“What?” Red Dog wiped down the bar.

“He said Hackett liked Wildcat Falls.”

Red Dog stopped in mid-swipe. He raised his eyebrows as he glanced from Belle to Mercy. “Now, that don't make no sense.”

“Not only that. It's kind of scary.”

“What is Wildcat Falls?” Mercy asked. “I've never heard of it.”

“Lower your voice,” Red Dog hissed. “You don't want to be heard saying that name around here.”

Mercy glanced from one to the other, feeling the hackles on the back of his neck rise. “What is the place?”

Red Dog wiped harder on the bar, as if he were going to grind it away.

“You ever hear of an outlaw town?” Belle whispered as she leaned toward him.

“No.”

“Best keep this under your hat,” Red Dog said.

“There are a few towns around that cater to outlaws,” Belle said.

Mercy shook his head. “That's dumb. It'd be easy for the law to find them.”

“Not so easy,” Red Dog disagreed. “Outlaws aren't there all the time. They come and go.”

“They come to town when they need supplies or want to gamble or see friends and family. Nobody would dare tell when they're there,” Belle added.

“Lawmen could stake out the place.”

Red Dog chuckled. “Moss would grow on them before they got lucky. There are hidden ways in and out. There are lookouts. And nobody talks.”

“But the place we're discussing is different,” Belle said. “Tex and I would never go there.”

“Why?”

“Bounty hunters wouldn't be welcome.” Red Dog picked up a whiskey bottle and refilled their glasses.

“I've heard the town is somewhere up in the rocks on Wildcat Knob,” Belle explained. “It was founded by outlaws for outlaws. Nobody else goes there.”

“Except friends, family, and folks that service outlaws,” Red Dog added.

“It's up above Robber's Trail, which runs from Arkansas to Texas.” Belle toyed with her whiskey. “Outlaws bring stolen horses into Indian Territory from Kansas, Missouri, and Arkansas, and then sell them in Texas.”

“Convenient.” Mercy began to understand the situation better.

“Yes,” Red Dog agreed. “And safe as all get out.”

“How?” Mercy asked. “Lawmen could go there in force and take the place.”

“If lawmen could find it, they'd never get to it. Lookouts. Gunmen. Narrow entry,” Red Dog said.

“What about a two-faced man working both sides of the law?” Mercy asked. “Get somebody on the inside.”

“Might work,” Red Dog agreed. “Might not. So far, nobody's brought down the Falls.”

“And from what I hear,” Belle added, “it's big business. They've got protection inside and outside the law.”

“Money under the table greases a lot of palms,” Red Dog said. “I wouldn't bet against that town.”

“Sounds like an outlaw fortress,” Mercy said. “I didn't think they were that well organized.”

“Some are. Most aren't.” Red Dog paused. “That's why a town like Wildcat Falls works for them all.”

“It'd make sense if the kidnapper took Diana there, wouldn't it?” Mercy hated the thought of his friend trapped in a place like that.

“Dusty said he saw a pacer there,” Belle added.

Red Dog sighed. “Belle, don't go gettin' no ideas. You can't go there. You'd never come out alive. You know it and I know it.”

Belle nodded, drumming her fingertips on top of the bar. “Unless . . . what if I didn't go as Belle the bounty hunter?”

“What do you mean?” Red Dog appeared suspicious.

“I could go as a fancy lady looking to start a business.”

“Balderdash!” Red Dog glared at her. “Don't even think it.”

“She's got a red wig and fancy shawl,” Mercy said. “I'd keep her safe.”

“Too dangerous,” Red Dog growled.

“If you've got a better idea, tell me.” Belle tossed back her drink and set the glass on the bar with a snap. “Otherwise, I'm hell-bent for Wildcat Falls.”

Mercy clasped her hand. “And I'm going with her.”

S
everal days later, Belle watched the weather turn bad as she and Mercy rode deeper into the Kiamichi Mountains. A cold wind whipped tree limbs, and dark clouds filled the sky. She wished she was wrong, but a blue norther was barreling down on them.

After they'd left Burnt Boggy, they'd ridden north on the Fort Towson Trail that ran from the Texas border to Fort Smith, Arkansas. Now and again, she'd found the pacer's tracks. It was enough to convince her that they were still on the right trail. They'd passed the road to Tushka Homma near the Kiamichi River where the Choctaw Nation was completing construction of their new Capitol building. She'd heard it was impressive and wanted to see it, but she couldn't take the time, not when Diana's life was at risk.

Now she followed Wildhorse Trail with Mercy right beside her. Red Dog had drawn a good if crude map to follow, but they were being swallowed by the wilderness of forests, ridges, hollows, and streams. She hoped they didn't take a wrong turn. Honobia, a Choctaw settlement since the early eighteen hundreds, lay to the southeast in the Little River Valley, not so far away as the crow flies but a long way on twisting mountain trails.

They'd soon reach Wildcat Trail, which wound upward to Wildcat Knob, where the town of Wildcat Falls was hidden somewhere among the red rocks and green pines. She hoped they could get there before the storm struck, but she was losing confidence that they'd make it in time.

Mercy pulled Kirby to a stop and checked the map. “Looks like that's Wildcat Trail up ahead.”

She glanced upward at the dense growth, huge rocks, and tall trees. “Can you imagine building a town there? It can't be much of one.”

“Maybe several buildings like Burnt Boggy Saloon.”

“If that nice.”

“Whatever it is, that's where we're going.”

She dismounted and looked down at the ground. “I'll check for the pacer's tracks before the blue norther hits and wipes out all trace.”

“Sky looks bad. I hope there's a hotel where we can stay. If not, I'll take a livery stable. Anything is better than hunkering down in a cold rain.”

“A tent would do, too.”

She walked ahead, searching the beaten dirt for sign. There was a surprising amount of tracks up and down the trail. Maybe Wildcat Falls was a bigger place than she could imagine existing in such a rough and tumble location. Yet everything folks needed for survival was here. There was plenty of fresh water, firewood, pecan and hickory nuts, wild berries in season, medicinal plants, wild game, and garden space. The inhabitants could buy flour, sugar, coffee, and various staples in Fort Smith or other towns. Even so, she couldn't imagine living in this type of isolation.

At the edge of the trail, almost hidden in the tall grass, she saw sign of the pacer. She stood up in triumph, glanced at Mercy, and pointed toward the tracks.

“Pacer!” She walked back. “The kidnapper is still traveling with that other horse. Far as I can tell, Diana must be alive.”

“That's a relief.”

“And I'm much closer to the bushwhacker and justice.”

“Now we just have to get into Wildcat Falls.”

“We'll find a way.” Belle caught her hat as a gust of wind almost blew it away.

“Storm's picking up.” He tugged his hat down lower. “Maybe it'll help camouflage us.”

“Maybe they won't have lookouts in the storm.”

“I wouldn't count on it.” He cocked his head. “We don't know how far the town is up the mountain or how far down the guards. Maybe you'd better put on your wig and start playing your role now.”

She hated the idea, but she hated recognition worse. “What if the wind blows it off?”

“I bought a lot of hairpins. You'd better pin that wig down so tight a tornado won't blow it off.”

“You're right. I can't take a chance.”

“Let's put on our dusters. They'll turn back this wind and some of the rain.”

“Dusters? I haven't got one.”

“I bought you one.”

“How do you have room for all this on the back of a horse?”

“Magic.”

She laughed. “I just might believe it.”

“Let's find a windbreak to give us protection while we get ready.”

“Good idea.” She glanced around, saw a large rock, and led Juniper around behind it.

Mercy joined her and swung out of his saddle. He rubbed his arms. “I can hardly believe how cold it's getting or how fast.”

“Wait till the rain hits. I'm sure glad you brought dusters.”

He untied two from behind his saddle and handed her one.

While she slipped her arms into the long sleeves, he did the same thing. She immediately felt warmer. The dusters he'd selected were full-length, light-colored canvas coats that riders frequently wore to protect their clothing from trail dust and inclement weather. They were slit up the back to hip level and buttoned to that same length in front with outside pockets.

She groaned when Mercy pulled the bright red wig out of his saddlebag. “That color is awful.”

“It's the best we could do.”

She accepted the wig, an upswept mass with dangling curls. “It's not even in style.”

“Does that matter?”

“I guess not.” She felt her own hair. “First I'd better get my hair pinned down tight and flat.”

“Let me do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I've got the hairpins.”

“And I don't have a mirror.”

“Hold still.”

She stood as still as possible, but feeling his hands in her hair and on her scalp started a burning heat that slowly spread throughout her body. “You better not take too long.”

“In a hurry?” he murmured.

“I'm about to toss you to the ground and have my way with you.” She felt him wind her hair tightly around her head and pin it in place.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine.” When he pulled her back against his chest and placed hot kisses across the back of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist, she felt even better.

“If we had time, I'd do the tossing.”

She leaned against his hard, hot body. “You taught me more in a few days than I experienced in years.”

“There's plenty more to learn.”

“You're just tormenting me now that we can't be together.”

“We'll find a way to be alone in the Falls.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.” He turned her around and kissed her lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close as she delved into his mouth, thrusting, twining, teasing. And he responded with enough passion to set her new wig on fire. With that thought, she raised her head, looked into his stormy gray eyes, and sighed.

“I know,” he said. “We need to stay ahead of the storm.”

She handed him the wig, watching him. “Please make this look as good as possible.”

“You'll make it beautiful.” He stuck hairpins in his mouth. He slipped the wig over her head, tugged it into place, and then started pinning it tight.

“How does it look?”

He stepped back, took the last pins from his mouth, and secured them in the wig. “You're transformed into a lovely lady of the evening.”

“And what might my name be?”

He looked into the distance, obviously thinking, and then glanced back at her. “
Aurora.
You're the rosy dawn of morning as each day breaks.”

She laughed. “I take it that's a reference to my hair color and the fact I'll be sending men home about that time.”

“You won't be sending men anywhere,” he said, frowning. “This is a role, nothing more.”

“Aurora it is.” She put on her hat, squished it down on top of the bulk, and grinned. “How's that?”

He chuckled. “You really are transformed.”

“Good. I doubt anybody would recognize me anyway, but it's best not to take chances.” She glanced up at the sky. “It's looking worse by the moment.”

“Better get on our way.”

She led Juniper back out to the trail, mounted, and looked at Mercy. He'd done the same. He nodded and winked. She smiled, taking a deep breath as she set her mind for the confrontation ahead. If everything went as planned, she was finally within striking distance of obtaining justice for Tex and Hackett. And she'd find a way to rescue Diana as well.

She clicked to Juniper and hit Wildcat Trail.