Defiant (41 page)

“And tell everything they know about you?”

“Hell, you already know.”

“Do I?” Sinclair said thoughtfully. “I might just owe you my life. I'm not sure I wouldn't tear up that poster if we save the bank. I can't do that if they're still alive and talking.”

Wade stared at him hard, wondering what game he was playing now. Matt Sinclair wanted Mary Jo. That had been clear the first time he'd met him. And Sinclair was a lawman. He wouldn't give up a catch like Brad Allen. Matt Sinclair would become a hero, just as Jeff so wrongly believed Wade was. But Sinclair would be a real one. “I'm through running,” Wade finally said.

A frown crossed Sinclair's face, then disappeared. “Fair enough,” he said. “Give me a fresh description of Kelly and the two gunhands with him.”

By evening, two of Matt's telegrams had been answered. He now had a lot of information on Kelly, and it matched everything Allen had told him. He also had the promise of assistance tomorrow from a neighboring lawman, but that might be too late. He had to depend on his townspeople, men he'd deputized before. But he worried about them. They weren't killers. He could only hope Brad Allen was right, that Kelly and his bunch were cowards at heart.

He'd stationed men in windows throughout town, coordinating shifts, concentrating on the morning hours but leaving skeleton crews of watchers at night. He wanted to leave little to chance. The banker had dispersed the money to every trusted man with a safe and had left only a minimum amount of money in his own safe. Matt was not, however, going to share this information with the man in the jail. Sinclair believed Brad Allen, but …

He had told no one about the change in prisoners. Brad Allen was his own business, and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with him. Jail seemed to be the safest choice at the moment.

Brad Allen, or Wade Smith, continued to puzzle him. Matt had never met a man like him, one so contradictory to everything Sinclair believed about men like him. Foster, as he called himself now, radiated danger and untamed violence, and yet he was obviously willing to sacrifice himself. Matt still wasn't quite sure why.

Matt wanted to believe him. Hell, he did believe him. He'd known killers, and there was always a blank-ness in the eyes, a coldness they couldn't cover. His prisoner's eyes were different. Bleak. Sometimes angry. But they weren't empty.

Matt stopped at the hotel and bought supper for both of them, shoving the plate through a space at the bottom of the cell, then poured his prisoner another cup of coffee, which was so strong it almost didn't need a cup to hold it. He met Allen's eyes, but didn't say anything. He wanted the man to stew, to get angry. Perhaps he'd learn more that way than through sweet reason.

He asked only one question before going out again. “Any chance Kelly might come at night?”

“I don't think so. He can't see at night, and he likes to be in total control.”

That coincided with all the information Matt had collected from the telegrams he'd sent. Kelly liked to ride in quietly, go into a bank, terrorize everyone there, and then ride out, guns blazing. Matt hadn't yet received a reply to his telegram about Brad Allen. He almost hoped he wouldn't, and several times he'd considered releasing him. Despite that arm in a sling, he might be handy. Mary Jo had said he saved young Jeff's life.

A most unusual man, this Brad Allen/Wade Smith, but one Matt wasn't ready to trust completely. He was safer where he was.

Matt checked the streets, then returned to the jail, napping on and off in the office, leaving several more times to check the streets, always securing his office before going. Allen was quiet, but he wasn't resting. Matt felt as if he had a prowling tiger back there, and he didn't feel easy about it.

There was no window in the cell. No moonlight. No sky. No breath of air.

Wade tried to force himself to relax. He'd done the best he could, the only thing he could. It was probably the only time in his life he had done the right thing. He hoped to God it was right.

But the silence, the darkness, the closeness of the cell all brought the nightmares to life. Only he wasn't asleep. They weren't dreams, but a succession of memories. Even the most recent—from last night—were cloaked in regret. He prowled the small space, wishing he could take it back for her sake, for Mary Jo.

I love you
. He kept hearing those words. They echoed in his mind and heart. They should have healed, but they only exacerbated the wound.

She needed someone like Matt Sinclair. Wade had come to respect him in the last few hours. He was honest, certainly smart and probably brave. He said little to Wade, but it was obvious he believed at least some of his tale, and that preparations of some kind were going on. He wished like hell he could be a part of them.

If he were Matt Sinclair, he wouldn't take a chance on someone like Wade either, even knowing only part of the truth.

The walls were closing in on him, crushing him. He tried to blank out his mind, but he couldn't. A hundred possibilities flitted through his mind. What if Kelly went directly to the Circle J? What if he didn't come here at all? Wade was so damn helpless. Just as he had been before.

Mary Jo didn't sleep at all the night after Wade left. Although he'd said he would try to get back, she knew in her heart he was really saying goodbye.

She wished she knew exactly what he was going to do. Despite the fact that he'd denied doing anything for her, she knew he was risking everything for her and Jeff. She wished she knew what everything was.

What haunted him so?
They know something about me
. She kept trying to think what it could be, what could be worse than his first confession to her, that he'd killed three men in cold blood.

She knew him well now. Or thought she did. He still kept many parts of himself guarded. But she knew everything that was important: his loyalty, his courage, his gentleness with both her and her son.

She had lost before because there wasn't anything she could do. She wasn't going to lose now if she could prevent it. She wasn't going to let him walk away because he thought that was the best thing for her. It wasn't. It never would be.

If he didn't return in the morning, she would take Jeff to the Abbots as Wade suggested. She would go into town herself, ride her mare, which would be faster than the wagon. She would take Tuck with her.

She could fight this time. She
would
fight for him. For all three of them.

Mary Jo rose before sunset. She dressed and went outside and watched the sunset come up, but today its beauty hurt instead of sending a thrill through her. She kept seeing Wade ride off, as he had twenty-four hours earlier, his back stiff and straight until he'd looked back
…

He'd given himself away then, in that one backward look. There had been a world of longing in that gesture. She wiped away a tear from her face, then went to fix breakfast for Jeff and the two men.

Sinclair took breakfast to Wade. “When do you think they might come?”

Wade wished he knew. It had been twelve years since he rode with Kelly. The man always looked for an advantage. Wade took the proffered cup of coffee and hesitated. He'd been thinking all night and had an idea. He didn't know how Sinclair would take to it. “You wouldn't have some spare men?”

Sinclair looked at him curiously.

“For a posse. Kelly will be expecting a posse to chase Shepherd. And he'll take advantage of that, of you and most of the men leaving town to look for Shepherd.”

“You wouldn't be here just for that purpose?” Sinclair asked with sudden suspicion. “Get us out of town and they could hit the bank and break you out?”

“Kelly's not that smart.”

“But you are,” Sinclair said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Wade shrugged. “It was just an idea. Send out a few men, some that wouldn't be too useful here.”

“I wouldn't have any idea where to send them.”

“South, toward Mary Jo's place. He's somewhere in that direction and it's the logical route for a posse to take. Only figures a wanted man would flee to the mountains.”

“You'd know about that, wouldn't you?”

Sinclair was needling him again, and Wade didn't like it, but he wouldn't let it show. He shrugged.

“That's where I found that body a month ago.”

Wade kept his eyes level. Sinclair wasn't going to let go of that bone. “I wouldn't know about that.”

Matt Sinclair sighed. “You sure you don't know where Kelly is?”

“He let me find him once. He won't do it again, not until he wants to be found.”

Sinclair got the coffeepot and poured them both another cup of coffee, handing Wade's through the bars of the cell. “I wish I knew what to make of you.”

Wade shrugged. “It's not complicated. If I had the use of this arm, I would have gone after him myself. The only thing I care about is two people who were real good to me.”

Sinclair eyed him skeptically. “That doesn't go along with the rest of the package you've given me.”

“Let's just say I got religion.”

“I don't believe that either, but we'll discuss it later. I'll go see about forming a posse.”

After he left, all Wade could do was wait. The hours passed particularly slowly because he didn't know what was going on. Only the growing heat in the jail told him the sun was rising. The shades were still down on the windows and only a little light filtered through.

Time. Christ, he hated this enforced idleness. He wished he was out there with Sinclair. He knew about ambushes. He knew more than he wanted to know about them. Time. So much time to think. So much time to remember. So much time to regret. He swallowed a deep breath to keep from pounding on the barred door. He forced himself to sit, to wait, to blank out his mind. It had worked once. It didn't work now. He heard men ride out, and he wondered about his gray. He would make sure Mary Jo got him.

He heard the lock turn in the front door, and he moved up from the cot where he'd finally sat after pacing for an hour or more. He stood and went to the barred door, expecting Sinclair to come with more questions.

It was Sinclair all right, but Mary Jo was with him. He went still, wondering how much the sheriff had told her. His fist clenched the bar. He didn't want her to see him like this, like a vicious animal in a cage. But he should have known she would come. At least Jeff wasn't here.

“I told you not to come,” he said tightly.

“Tuck came with me.” Her voice was low.

“Did you withdraw …?”

“The bank's closed.”

Wade looked over at Sinclair, who had raised the shades and was now peering out the windows as if he had no interest at all in the two people staring at each other. Wade wanted to jam his fist in the man's face. He'd had no right to bring Mary Jo here. And then he realized the fallacy of that thought. Hell, Sinclair had every right, and that was galling. Wade didn't have any rights now. He'd given them up when he walked in here yesterday and broke Shepherd out. That fact, though, didn't make this easier to take.

She looked so goddamn beautiful.

And Sinclair hadn't told her a thing. He knew that from the look in her face. It hadn't changed since yesterday morning at sunrise. Or was it a year ago? A lifetime? Her eyes still shone when they looked at him, even as he stood behind bars.

“Jeff?”

“He's at the Abbots'. I think he'll stay there this time. At least he promised when I told him he might put you in danger if he came.” She looked embarrassed. “It was the only argument that worked.”

“It didn't work for you?”

“No,” she said softly. “I couldn't let you go.”

“You should have,” he said bitterly. “It would be better for all of us.”

She moved closer to him, almost leaned against the bars and put one hand on his.

“Don't,” he said in a strangled voice, tearing his hand from hers and retreating from the bars, leaning against the stones of the back wall, looking at another wall, anyplace but at her, at those trusting eyes. After a moment, he looked past her to Sinclair. “Can't you take her to the hotel?”

Sinclair hesitated, looking from one to the other. “I really think that would be best, Mary Jo. We're expecting a little company. I want you off the streets.”

“Why are you holding him?”

Sinclair looked toward Wade, then back at Mary Jo. “Safest place for him at the moment.”

“But …”

She wasn't going to go on her own. And every moment she stayed here was dangerous. Wade wanted her off the street, safe in the hotel. Hell, safe at home. “Tell her,” Wade said suddenly. “Go ahead and tell her everything.”

Just then, all three of them heard a number of hoofbeats on the dry-packed dirt street. Matt Sinclair looked out and grinned suddenly, then took the keys to the cell door and opened it.

Wade found himself staring at him.

“Just stay with me,” Sinclair said. “Don't say a damn thing.”

The door flew open and a tall man entered, flanked by two others. All three wore badges. Sinclair greeted the leader with familiarity. “Glad to see you, Dave.”

“When I heard Kelly was down this way, you couldn't keep me away. Been riding all night,” the newcomer said. He looked at Wade and Mary Jo curiously. “I'm Marshal Dave Gardner from Lake City.”

Sinclair made the introductions. “This is Mary Jo Williams, who owns a ranch about twenty miles from here and Wade … Smith, her foreman. He's the one who recognized Kelly.”

Dave Gardner nodded at Mary Jo, then fixed a stare on Wade. “You sure it was Kelly?”

Wade had stepped outside the cell. He nodded, wondering what kind of game Sinclair was playing. “I'm sure.”

“You think they're going to hit the bank here?”

“That's what he thinks,” Sinclair answered for him, cutting off any additional questions.