Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose (31 page)
“The coin?” He laughed. “That coin is my golden ticket to the good life.”
“You’re a fool, Captain Wallace. Penny will never go with you.”
“Penny,” he snapped, “is a millstone around my neck. Let someone else raise that brat.” He towered over Mary Rose’s petite frame. “Once I get that coin, I’m going to meet the buyer for the rifles, and you, my dear, are just added protection.”
Her expression fell. Trace hated seeing the fear in her eyes.
“Yes, I hardly think the marshal will fire at me with his beloved in the crossfire.”
Trace’s blood boiled with anger as Wallace brought his fingers down Mary Rose’s face. “You’ve put out for him, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Well, when we get done, I’ll show you a few things I bet he doesn’t know.”
The captain shoved her toward the front door, and Trace moved to block the side road and cut off their escape. He didn’t want anything to tip off Wallace that he was here. From this vantage point, he could see them move out of the house. The creak of wood on the porch warned him of their coming. Hate washed over him as he watched Wallace hurry Mary Rose down the steps.
He allowed them to move past him. He needed time for Rand to get back. Summoning up his courage, he stepped out of the shadows behind them. “Evening, Captain Wallace. Going somewhere?”
“Trace,” Mary Rose gasped and tried to pull away from her captor.
The captain whirled, surprise showing on his face, and yanked her before him. It took a moment for him to compose himself before the corner of his lip curled into a sneer. “Well, what a nice surprise. Your being here saves me a little time, Marshal.”
“Indeed. Let the girl go, Wallace, and we’ll talk.”
“Let the girl go? How amusing.” The captain’s fingers curled more tightly around her arm, and Trace read her terror in the widening of her eyes. “You think because you wear that badge I’ll let her go? Maybe even turn myself over to you?”
“In theory.” Trace gave a shrug of his shoulders. “But as I see it, you’ve got few choices. Sheriff Weston will be here in a few minutes, and...”
At that, the captain laughed. “Oh, don’t you know? He’s out chasing a ghost in Coyote Canyon. When he returns, it will be too late. He never thought to look in the barn at the old Willard place.”
“You and your accomplice have it all figured out, don’t you?” Trace said. “But I’ve got the coin.”
Mary Rose silently mouthed, “No!” Wallace nervously licked his lips. “You? You can’t...”
Trace could see he hadn’t been expected to know about that. A step forward cut the distance between him and his quarry.
“Yes, you thought you could pull a fast one. But Mary Rose was onto Gentry. That’s why she brought the coin to me, and I locked it up in the hotel safe.” He glanced at Mary Rose, whose mouth stood agape.
“You couldn’t have known,” growled Wallace. He glanced at Mary Rose, then back at Trace. “She hadn’t told anyone.”
“But I did.” Mary Rose replied, finding her voice. She twisted her arm, trying to get free. “Daniel knew, too. He told me about it, and what to do should anything happen to him.”
“Daniel knew nothing,” Wallace growled, his eyes narrowing.
“Oh, but you’re wrong,” she replied. “He figured out that money was being put into an account under his name, but he didn’t know by whom. That’s why he gave me the records of each transaction.”
“Liar.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Trace coaxed, keeping his voice level.
Augustus Wallace nodded. “Yeah, it was me. That dumb Irishman made it too easy. But you want to know about the guns, don’t you?”
“It’s the last bit of the puzzle.”
Wallace’s confidence grew. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Lion of Coahuila?”
A cold hand swept in, closing around Trace’s heart. The shadows covered the wobble of his hand.
“Yes.” Wallace’s cold eyes stared back. “Your own half-brother. It seems Don Castillo is interested in acquiring good military-quality rifles for the conservative defense of Mexico. The pay is excellent. Maybe this time you’ll be interested enough to join.”
“Unlike you, I will not betray my country,” Trace replied.
“Then it leaves all the more for those who will.”
“That coin is to signal the marshal’s brother that you have the rifles. That’s why it’s so important,” gasped Mary Rose.
“You’re a bit too smart,” Wallace snapped. “Your brother cost me that first handoff. But not this time. Once I produce the coin, I get ten thousand American dollars.”
“So you’d sell out the lives of Americans along the border for your own greed,” she spit.
A shot rang out. Wallace screamed in agony and turned. Mary Rose gave a startled cry, losing her footing with her sudden release and falling to the ground. Another shot echoed. Wallace grabbed his middle and fell also.
Mary Rose turned enough to watch, horrified, as he writhed in pain. Augustus Wallace’s gaze latched onto hers. “I would have been free,” he murmured. “Free.” His hand reached out. His fingers curled around thin air, and his eyes glossed over. He was dead.
“I got him, I got him.” Gentry’s frantic cries came from down the street. Trace stepped close and stood over her. “Whatever happens, do not move.”
“Trace,” she whispered.
“Do not move,” he said again.
She eased her body to the ground as low as possible and waited. Gentry’s footsteps echoed as he came closer and emerged from the shadows.
“Gentry, in the name of the Great State of Texas, lay down your weapon and surrender to the law,” Trace’s voice rang out.
“I shot him. I shot Wallace for you.” Gentry sounded confused. “He was going to kill you, Marshal.”
“No, you shot Wallace because he was going to name you as his accomplice. Unfortunately, you’re a little too late. I have a witness who overheard you in the freight office.”
“No! No, you’re lying.” Gentry took a step back, the moonlight shadowing the horror of truth.
“Put it down,” Trace called again as he stepped over the dead body of the army captain.
“Please, God,” she prayed.
“No,” Gentry hissed, raising his .45.
The silence in the street was deafening.
Trace stared into the glittering eyes of his adversary. He watched Gentry’s mouth twitch and his hand flex against the pistol.
Mary Rose screamed as two shots rang out. Trace had leaned to his right, smoke curling from the end of his pistol, and Gentry was prostrate on the ground. She raised her head as a tall man moved out of the shadows and approached them.
“You all right?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of a proper British accent. She caught the flutter of ruffles on his shirt as they danced in the breeze.
“Fine.” Trace grimaced. “Just a scratch. Check on Gentry, will you?” he asked the man before bending to assure himself she was all right.
“Mary Rose?” His hands moved over her arms. “Tell me you’re fine.” He helped her scramble to her feet, and, once standing, she flew into his arms.
“I’m fine, fine. Don’t you ever leave me, you hear me?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “No, never, my love,” he whispered as she peppered his face with kisses.
“I love you, Trace Castillo. Penny told me I was being a fool. She was right.” She hugged him even tighter. “I can’t live without you.”
“And I love you, my sweet Irish Rose.” He kissed her soundly until the gentleman behind them chuckled. Breaking the kiss, Trace looked over her shoulder. He released her, and she turned. “Mary Rose, allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine, Robert Wythe, out of Claiborne, one of the governor’s right-hand men. Did you find the rifles?”
“Of course. The Willard ranch has an easy trail to the Rio,” he replied. “While there, we chased a friend of yours back to the other side of the border. Sheriff Weston’s on the road with the wagonload of rifles. He’ll have them in town by morning. Good call, Marshal. The governor will be pleased. I’m sure he’ll want a full report in person.”
“My regrets to the governor, Wythe, but it will have to wait,” he replied, looking down into Mary Rose’s shimmering eyes.
“Why?”
“I’ll be taking some time.” He smiled. “For a long honeymoon.”
“You’re getting married?” The words slipped from the astonished lawman’s mouth.
“Just as soon as you get Father Tomas, for I will not go another night without my Irish Rose in my arms.” He turned to look at the woman he held. “I love you, Mary Rose. Will you honor me by agreeing to be my wife?”
With a trembling smile, she nodded her head.
“Well, then, ma’am, I remand this poor besotted man into your custody until death do you part, and may that be a long time.”
“Amen,” she replied, kissing her beloved with all the love in her heart.
A word about the author...
Tessa Berkley resides on the East Coast, but her heart will always belong beneath the wide open skies of the American West.
To see what’s going on in her neck of the woods, check by her website at:
www.tessaberkley.com
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