Daisies In The Wind (38 page)

“You never will. I’d never let you blow
away,” Wolf told her, his arms tightening around her. “You’re far
too precious.”

Their kiss lasted long, yearning moments.
Finally, remembering about Billy, Rebeccah laughingly pushed him
away. “Bring Billy back soon,” she urged. “Tell him I’m going to
whip up some of those cheese biscuits he likes so well.”

She waited until Wolf had disappeared over
the rise before she went to work in the kitchen mixing flour and
milk and butter into a soft dough, humming a little and thinking
about the chicken dumplings she would prepare while the biscuits
were baking. ...

Then she saw the kitchen door opening.

“Wolf ...?” Rebeccah began, startled, her
heart jumping into her throat, but when she saw who it was, her
heart completely stopped.

“Howdy, Reb,” Neely Stoner said amiably,
leering at her from beneath his grimy black Stetson. “No need to
look so surprised. You knew I’d be here someday. I always come fer
what I want—don’t you remember that?”

She went for the gun in her boot, but there
was too little distance between them. Stoner dove at her and
grabbed the derringer, twisting it easily from her grasp.

“You won’t be needing this, Reb,” he snarled,
no longer even bothering with the sickening, subtle facade. The
animal that he was had sprung out even as he leaped for her. He
gave a mean, low laugh as he pocketed the derringer and pinned her
arms to her sides. “Come on out to the barn,” he invited, panting
into her ear. “I have something to show you, something you jest
have to see.”

Gripped by terror, Rebeccah struggled wildly,
but she was no match for Stoner’s strength. He locked an arm across
her throat and tightened it until red dots quivered before her
eyes. At the same time he forced her toward the kitchen door, out
onto the porch, then across the yard to the barn.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust
to the darkness. Stoner suddenly released her and shoved her into a
bale of hay. She heard her horses whickering nervously from their
stalls.

Then came the scratch of a match, and a
lantern was lit. A murky light swam out through the blackness, and
Rebeccah saw Stoner only a few feet away wearing a wicked grin. He
set the lantern down and came toward her. As Rebeccah shrunk back,
he grabbed her arm, twisting it harder the more she tried to flinch
away.

“Lookee over here, Reb. You’ve got company.
Say hello to the kid.”

And looking, she saw Billy, trussed up with
heavy rope in the back of an empty stall, with a silk neckerchief
bound tightly across his mouth and an expression of hopeless fear
in his wide, gray eyes.

“Billy!” With a strength she didn’t know she
possessed, she wrenched free of Neely Stoner and shoved him
backward. He fell over a crate of tools and went down with a crash.
Rebeccah didn’t even bother to glance at him. She was already at
Billy’s side, tearing the gag from his mouth.

“Billy, did he hurt you?” Horror choked her
as the wet neckerchief fell away. Immediately she started
struggling with the knotted rope at his wrists, but before she
could budge them, a sharp blow knocked her backward.

“That wasn’t smart, Reb. Not smart at all.
The kid stays jest like this until I say he can go. If you want to
see him safe and take care of him—get him some grub, bandage his
hurts, anything like that—there’s only one thing you have to do:
Hand over those papers for that mine. If you don’t, you and the kid
won’t leave this here barn alive.”

“His father will kill you for what you’ve
done to him, you stupid bastard! Do you remember what Bear did to
you that day? Wolf Bodine will make that beating look like a
Sunday-school picnic in comparison when he gets hold of you,
Stoner.”

He shook his head. “Your fancy sheriff won’t
find me—or either of you,” he said, laughing softly again. “He’s
got other things on his mind right now, Reb. My pard is making sure
of that. Bodine’s going to be too busy to come looking for either
of you for a while—and by then our business will be all
settled.”

He suddenly drew his gun, pointed it at
Billy’s head, and put his finger on the trigger. “Spill your guts,
Reb. Or I’ll spill the kid’s brains all over this here damned
barn.”

* * *

Chance Navarro had watched Wolf and Rebeccah
ride back toward Powder Creek from a hidden ledge on Elk Hill. He
waited until he saw that they were both headed toward the Rawlings
ranch, and then, when they were safely past, he rode like hell for
the Double B.

His palms itched with the fervent desire to
carry out his plan. In fact he itched all over. It had been a long
time since he’d done anything like this—too long. He could hardly
wait to do it and watch it. But he couldn’t stay around for too
long, Chance knew. He’d have to get out of sight and back to
Rebeccah’s barn before all hell broke loose and people started
coming from miles around. Damn, he wished he could watch it from
beginning to end!

Chance no longer wore the dapper broadcloth
suit, narrow black tie, and elegant derby that were familiar sights
to the residents of Powder Creek. What good would it have done
wearing that mask when he and Stoner grabbed the kid if he still
had on his trademark gambler’s garb, a dead giveaway that that
other kid might have recognized? No, since yesterday he’d shed his
fine clothes for a red woolen shirt, plain trousers, a thick gray
duster, gray sombrero, and black silk scarf. No one seeing him at a
distance would recognize him as Chance Navarro, gambler dandy. He
had thought of everything.

He rode right up to the Double B ranch house
and went inside, smiling to himself.

As expected, no one was about. Every man in
the area had joined the posse organized by the deputy, Ace Johnson,
and Culley Pritchard to hunt down the men who’d taken the sheriff’s
boy. There was a note nailed to the front door for Wolf Bodine.
Telling him there was trouble—telling him to come to the
Pritchards’ or the Bradys’ or Mayor Duke’s house when he got home
and find out what had happened while he was gone.

Navarro whistled as he strolled into Bodine’s
house.

Nice place. Everything clean and cozy and
pleasant.

Too bad it was going to burn.

He went up the stairs, glanced in at the
boy’s bedroom, and then the one that had belonged to the old lady.
He went at last to the room that belonged to Wolf Bodine.

He stared at the oak-framed bed and wondered
if Rebeccah Rawlings had ever lain in it.

His eyes shone with scorn. The woman was a
fool. She had chosen to place her trust in a dull small-town
sheriff instead of hooking up with the gaiety and excitement he
would have offered her. She had chosen Wolf Bodine over him. She
didn’t deserve a silver mine. She didn’t deserve to breathe. She
was just as stupid and ignorant as all the others.

Chance went over to that bed and closed his
eyes, trying to summon up the image of Rebeccah Rawlings lying
there with Wolf Bodine. Oh, yes, he could see it. He could see them
together in this very bed, the springs creaking as she laughed
about how she had spurned him, keeping her little secrets from him,
sending him away night after night with nothing but an occasional
good-night peck, while she let Wolf Bodine do whatever he wanted.
...

“You made a mistake, Miss Rebeccah Rawlings,”
Chance whispered to the silent, empty room. “A very big
mistake.”

He took the box of safety matches out of his
pocket and, smiling, set to work. The magical fire sprang to life
before his glowing eyes, and he threw the box of matches onto the
bed.

He watched for a few precious moments as the
sparks caught, grew, burst into beautiful shooting orange
flames.

A glorious shudder went through him, and he
laughed aloud.

Lovely. Prettier than any sunset he’d ever
seen. Prettier than any woman he’d ever known. A fine, beautiful
fire.

The sight of it took his breath away.

He turned and ran lightly down the stairs and
out the door, hoping Bodine came home in time to see it. With any
luck the sheriff would try to rush inside and save some of his
possessions—family photographs maybe, or the old lady’s
jewels—would get trapped ... and die.

Navarro whistled as he sprang into the saddle
and turned his horse toward the woods. He looked back once and saw
smoke shooting through the roof and out the upstairs windows, and
flames sparkling against the darkening sky.

A fine, beautiful fire.

Wolf heard hoofbeats approaching when he was
half a mile from the Double B. When he saw Culley Pritchard riding
hard toward him, he started to call a greeting, but the friendly
words froze on his lips as he observed the flushed tension in the
rancher’s face.

“Thank the Lord you’re back, Wolf,” Culley
exclaimed as he drew up alongside.

“What’s wrong, Pritchard?”

“It’s Billy. Sorry to tell you this, but two
men grabbed him yesterday while you were chasing after Miss
Rawlings.”

The color drained from Wolf’s face. At the
same time, his blood seemed to chill, the iciness seeping into his
bones.

“Go on,” he said harshly as the rancher
watched him with sympathetic eyes. “Tell me all of it.”

“We’re looking for him, Wolf, but damn it, he
hasn’t been seen since. The bastards knocked down Joey Brady and
they shot Sam—but Toby patched him up. Anyway, Joey went for help.
Ace and me formed a posse, and we’ve been trying to follow their
trail, but they lost us last night. These hombres are wily. The
other boys camped out down by Squirrel Lake and hope to pick up
their tracks again today, but I came back thinking I might hook up
with you. Why the hell would someone grab Billy? What for? Do you
have any idea what’s going on here?”

“I just might,” Wolf muttered grimly.
Damn Bear Rawlings and his phony silver mine
. “Two men,
you said? Any idea who they were?”

Culley shook his head. “They were wearing
masks. Joey couldn’t recognize them. Did you find Miss
Rawlings?”

“She’s home, safe for the moment.”

Safe. Was she really safe? Was anyone in
Powder Creek really safe until this silver-mine mess was cleaned
up? First it was Rebeccah who was carried off by those no-good
desperadoes and now Billy. Wolf felt certain that whoever took
Billy had to be after the mine. Someone knew they could get to
Rebeccah through him. Someone in town, listening, watching—someone
who’d heard talk, or observed without being noticed.

“Do you smell smoke?” Wolf asked suddenly,
and Culley started.

“Damn right I do. Look!”

Wolf followed the direction of his pointed
finger and saw the black plumes of smoke surging up above the trees
ahead. “It looks like it’s coming from the Double B. Culley, you
ride to the Moseleys’ and bring help. Leave someone to spread the
word—and hurry!”

As Culley Pritchard wheeled his horse toward
the Moseley ranch, Wolf veered off the trail and straight into the
woods. He knew a shortcut to the Double B. It was a rougher road,
full of treacherous low-hanging branches, but it would take less
time than the main trail. He was about to spur Dusty to a roaring
gallop when he heard the steady thud of another horse’s hooves and
the crunching of brush. Some instinct caused him to swerve behind a
stand of cedar and rein Dusty to a standstill.

A blur of a figure flashed past him, headed
toward Rebeccah’s ranch. Wolf caught a glimpse of a dark duster and
hat, but didn’t recognize the rider crouched low over his horse’s
mane. But he knew it wasn’t one of the ranchers or cowboys from
town, and sensed it wasn’t a friend who had spotted the fire and
was riding for help. There was something furtive about the man
who’d come tearing through the forest, something he couldn’t define
or explain. Wolf hesitated. He ought to get to the Double B pronto
and save what he could of whatever building was on fire. He could
at least begin throwing buckets of water at the fire until help
arrived to put it out. But something told him to follow the man
racing away from the ranch. He felt in his bones that the rider was
connected somehow, that all of this was connected somehow. Billy
missing, the ranch on fire—disaster was striking everywhere he
looked, and he had a feeling it all revolved around those papers
certain folks thought Rebeccah held. Rebeccah ...

Fear brushed his spine. Why had he left her
alone?

Without another glance toward the fire, Wolf
urged Dusty along the wooded trail in pursuit of the rider.

* * *

“It’s done,” Chance announced, his gun drawn
as he stepped into the barn to meet Neely Stoner’s questioning
gaze. Stoner let out a grunt of approval.

“What about her? Did she talk?”

“First she claimed there was no mine,” Neely
Stoner sneered. “Claimed Bear made the whole thing up. Said she had
a letter to prove it, but Bodine is carrying the letter on him.
Convenient, right? She must think I’m a damned fool.”

“Did you threaten the kid?”

“Yep. Then she swore there was a mine, but
she wouldn’t say a word until we let Billy boy go.”

“Let me handle her,” Chance urged.

Stoner nodded. He smiled with anticipation.
“Don’t mess her up too bad, whatever you do. I want a go at her
before we hightail it out of here. And I want her still lookin’
pretty. It’s more fun that way. You savvy?”

“You’ll have to wait your turn for her, my
friend.” Chance fingered the holster of his gun. “If I get the
information we need from her, I get her first. And by the way, her
cabin’s on fire.”

“Already?” His mouth dropped open. “You damn
fool! Son of a bitch, Navarro! Couldn’t you wait until we were
finished here?”

“It’s more exciting this way,” Chance
murmured, his eyes very bright in the dimness of the barn.

Stoner yanked the barn door open again and
saw the black ribbon of smoke streaming up toward the sky. He
couldn’t see any flames yet.