Change of Heart (18 page)

A gunshot rang out. The stagecoach skidded and bumped to a grinding halt.

Becca heard a thud and pressed her hand on the bench to keep from falling. Heart pounding, she looked out the window. Two men, with scarves up to their eyes, circled their horses alongside the stagecoach. They wore big brimmed hats and brandished guns. Lester Stone lay lifeless on the ground. Blood pooled around his head.

The heavyset outlaw stopped and pointed his gun in the direction of the driver's bench. She backed away from the window but not too far so she could still see the men. “Throw the bank's money chest to the ground or the next bullet goes in your head.”

Becca quailed and covered her mouth with her hand. Would the bandits shoot Frank Stone? What should she do?

Mrs. Carrington screamed and held her fists to her face. “What is happening?”

Becca held a finger to her lips. “Be quiet and don't move.” The coach shook, as Frank Stone's feet hit the ground. Outside the window, he came into her view. Would they leave? If not, what was going to happen to Frank Stone, Mrs. Carrington, and her?

Frank raised both arms and dropped his rifle. “You did not have to shoot my brother. He would have cooperated.” Frank shook his head and hoisted himself to the side of the stagecoach, right by her window. He threw the iron reinforced wooden chest to the ground, stepped down, and faced the robber. “Let me help my brother.”

The outlaw laughed and shoved Lester's body on the ground. “He's dead.”

Frank Stone tilted his head to the bank box. “Take it and go.”

The heavyset bandit dismounted and shot the lock. A bang sounded. The chest burst open. The other bandit kept his rifle pointed at Frank. “Clanton, we're rich. A load of money is in here.” The man still on horseback circled Frank and shot him in the head with his rifle.

Becca gasped and trembled as she fixed her eyes on the men. Frank Stone lay still on the ground near his brother. Blood oozed from his head. She ducked inside the stagecoach and swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

The robber dismounted. “Hey, Gus, let's find out who's inside.”

Fear pounded like bullets in Becca. She pushed her back against the bench, out of sight. She glanced at Mrs. Carrington. “Don't speak, no matter what they say.”

Mrs. Carrington's book teetered in her hands, fell, and slapped the floor. “We are going to die.”

Becca put her finger to her lips.

Gus thrust the door open and barreled inside. He plopped down hard next to Becca. His foul breath blew in her face. “You're a pretty one.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his coarse, calloused hand.

Her pulse raced as she inched away from him. She had never fought anyone. Should she kick and slap him? She couldn't stand the thought of him touching her again.
Yes,
she would kick, punch, scream, and fight with all her might if he put his hand on her again.

He leered at Mrs. Carrington. “Expensive necklace you're wearing, old woman.” He snatched it from around her neck.

Mrs. Carrington yelped and cowered. “Get away from me, you scoundrel.”

Dangling the jewelry, he yelled out, “Clanton, open the door. I got us something worth some money.”

Clanton snorted and opened the door wide but didn't enter the stagecoach. “What did ya find, Gus?”

Mrs. Carrington shrieked, “Ahk!” She threw her book at him. “Stay away from me.”

Becca shoved Gus away from Mrs. Carrington. Both of the men had been shot by these two. These men had no problem killing anyone. Would they be next?

Growling an evil laugh, Clanton ogled them from the doorway. “I like feisty women.”

A guttural grunt erupted from Gus. “We're gonna have us some fun with these two.” He pushed Becca out of the way and put his dirty hand on Mrs. Carrington's covered knee. “This one needs to learn I'm the boss.”

Mrs. Carrington flailed her arms and legs. Her boot connected with his head, and the color drained from her face. She cowered as far back in the corner of the stagecoach as she could.

He howled and kneaded his head. He reached and grabbed Mrs. Carrington's hand and savagely ripped her wedding rings from her finger. He passed them to Clanton. “These will bring us more money than the necklace.”

Mrs. Carrington kicked him again, and he pointed his gun at her head. “You're gonna git yourself killed if you're not careful, old lady. Lucky for you, I'm not through with you yet.”

Becca scooted close to Mrs. Carrington. Gus pushed Becca to the floor and grabbed Mrs. Carrington's leg.

Mrs. Carrington cried out, thrashed her feet, and caught him in the eye with her heel.

Groaning, he recovered and shoved the barrel of his gun to her throat.

She kicked and pummeled him off balance.

Clanton grabbed the back of his coat and yanked him out of the stagecoach.

Red-faced, Gus scowled and shook off Clanton. He pointed his gun at Mrs. Carrington.

Sweat beading on her face, Becca moved to shield her but stumbled. As she righted herself and fell on the bench next to her, a deafening shot rang out.

Mrs. Carrington screamed and grabbed her shoulder. Blood oozed and spread through the material on her dress.

Becca gasped and pressed her hand on the hole, but blood flowed between her fingers. After yanking off her scarf, she pressed it against Mrs. Carrington's wound. “Keep pressure on it with the scarf to stop the bleeding.”

Mrs. Carrington's face paled. She trembled and clutched the cloth as she pressed it to her shoulder.

Becca stared at the gun pointed at them. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking. What would keep these men from ending their lives? She shook and waited for the bullet to hit her next.

Clanton steadied his gun and snarled. “Let's take the money and leave. You said nobody would get hurt. We got one dead body already, and the other one don't look too good. Now you're fixin' to kill them. I'm not gonna hang for no murders.”

Recovered, Gus scoffed at him. “It's too late to worry about hangin' for murder. Like you said, we already killed one of them, and the other one will most likely die. What's two more?”

Becca fisted her hands. This was it. She was going to die today. Well, not if she could help it. There must be something she could do. Becca cleared her throat. “This road's a straight shot to Massillon. The sheriff will come looking for the stagecoach when it doesn't arrive on time. You'll be caught if you don't leave soon.”

She held her breath as Gus pointed his gun inches from her face.

Gus cocked his head to the side. “We're taking you both with us.”

She blew out a breath. Mrs. Carrington would never make it. She would resist them, and they would kill her. They had no reason to put up with her. If she stayed still, the bleeding would stop. If not, she might bleed out. Was the bullet in her shoulder, or did it go through? If it was still in her shoulder, she might get an infection. If they left Mrs. Carrington here, the sheriff would find her and take her to Matt. She had to convince them to take her instead. “No. Leave her. She'll slow you down.”

Gus paused and stared at her. “You might be right. We'll leave her and take you.” He threw her a bag. “Fill it with any money and jewelry you're hidin'.” He pointed his gun at Becca. “Hurry it up. Don't make me have to come in there, or you're both dead.”

The heat rose in her body. She snatched the bag and flung Mrs. Carrington's purse in it, then leaned close to her ear. “Keep pressure on your shoulder. It's true what I told them. When the stagecoach doesn't arrive, the sheriff will come looking for it.”

Becca pushed her water, cookies, and a blanket near Mrs. Carrington. She grabbed the two remaining blankets and stepped outside.

Gus grasped her arm. “Hand over the bag.”

Becca passed him the valuables.

He brushed her fingers and winked.

Eyes wide, she pushed past him and stepped over Lester Stone's lifeless body. She knelt next to his brother, Frank Stone, who lay motionless on the ground. Blood oozed from the gaping wound in his head. She ripped the bottom of her skirt and tied the material around his head. Her hand on Frank's neck, his pulse was weak. He was alive! She covered him with both blankets.

The bandit jabbed her side with his gun. “Get on the horse behind him.”

Becca gritted her teeth and mounted the horse. She gripped the sides of Gus's filthy coat and distanced herself from him as much as possible. The horse bolted, nearly throwing her off. Where were the men taking her? As the horses' hooves pounded the dirt, she contemplated her chances of escape if she rolled off the horse and ran
. No,
it was far too risky. They had more than enough time to shoot her before she could reach the surrounding woods.

Becca guessed about an hour had passed when the men reined in their horses not far from a farmhouse with smoke billowing from the chimney. Clanton pointed to the modest dwelling. “I'm cold to the bone, tired, and hungry. We need a warm place to sleep. Let's stay here tonight.”

Clanton spat a vile slug of tobacco juice. He dug his fingers into his pouch and deposited a fresh wad in his mouth. “We'll pass this 'un off as our sister and play nice. I don't want no more trouble.” Clanton dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching rail.

Gus gripped Becca's arm. “Don't you dare say one word to these people about who we are or what we have done, or I'll kill you and them.”

Becca shivered and asked God to intervene and save her and whoever was inside. They proceeded forward. This poor family had no idea what they were in for. These men had bragged about robbing banks, and shooting and killing others before today on the way here. She considered running for the woods. No, they would shoot her in the back before she could hide.

Clanton knocked on the door.

A woman appeared. “Yes?” She studied them with suspicion.

He removed his hat and revealed his gleaming bald head. “Our sister isn't well and needs food.”

The woman opened the door wide. “Come in, you poor dear.” She clasped Becca's hand and led her to the table. “I have venison stew on the stove. We are about to have dinner. Please join us.”

Becca shuffled her feet and didn't say a word. She wanted to warn the woman to shut the door. No, they would kill her and this family.

A man with a stocky build and handsome face held out his hand to Clanton. “My name is Dewey Grayson. And this is my wife, Nora.” He tousled a young boy's light brown hair. “This is Luke who is six.” He gestured to a little girl with auburn hair and big hazel eyes like her mamm. “Patricia is four.”

Oh no,
the Graysons had children. These men wouldn't tolerate them making noise or asking questions. This was not good.

Clanton ignored his hand and plopped in a chair at the kitchen table. Gus followed, and the two outlaws used spoons to slop food in their mouths. The noise of their piggish chomping made the children giggle.
Children, please keep quiet.

Mr. Grayson wrinkled his forehead and then drew his mouth in a grim line.

Mr. Grayson's back stiffened. He knew something wasn't right with these men.
Good.
Becca moved to the warm wood-burning stove and held out her palms. He didn't understand how much danger they were in. She had to warn him, but how? If she wasn't careful, the bandits might hear her and no telling what they would do then.

Mr. Grayson joined her. “Are you ill? Is there anything I can do for you? You are afraid of these men. Am I right?” He passed her a cup of hot coffee.

Becca accepted the coffee and sipped it. She whispered, “I'm not their sister. I'm not sick, and yes, I'm afraid of these men. You should be too. They're dangerous. They robbed the stagecoach, killed two men, shot a woman, and kidnapped me.”

Gus yelled at her. “You get over here and join us at the table. Now!”

She shook as she walked to the table.

Gus grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him and whispered in her ear. “You better keep your mouth shut, or I'll kill this family and make you watch. Their blood will be on your hands. Got it?”

She jerked her arm free and sat in the chair farthest away from him. Mr. Grayson's face reddened and he clenched his jaw. Would he find a way to defend his family? He wasn't near as big as these men. What could he do? She bowed her head and prayed a silent prayer for herself and the family's safety again.

Mr. Grayson headed for the door. “I am going to put your horses in the barn.”

Gus chomped on a biscuit and didn't respond.

She chewed a bite of stew. Gus must not suspect Dewey Grayson had caught on that these men were no good. He didn't stop him. Maybe Dewey had a gun in the barn. Her spoon shook. It was their only chance of survival. She swallowed the food in her mouth and willed it to stay in her stomach.

Luke, the freckle-faced little boy, poked the fat man's arm. “You eat funny.”

Gus yelled at the child, “Get away from me, and shut your mouth.”

She threw her spoon on the table, flew out of her chair, and grabbed the little boy away from Gus. A click followed by a thunderous bang sounded. Becca trembled and pulled Luke to the floor. She wrapped her arm around him.

The room erupted with screams and the clatter of overturned furniture. She raised her head. Mr. Grayson had shot Clanton in the chest.

Clanton fell with a thud. Blood pooled around his upper body.

Gus dumped the table over for cover, drew his pistol, and blasted Mr. Grayson in the arm.

Mr. Grayson lost his footing, and his gun skidded across the floor, hit the wall, and landed a short distance from him. He reached for it, but it was just out of his grasp.