Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (15 page)

“Well, yes, but I’d really rather have a nice church wedding.”

I held my breath. So far she hadn’t tread outside of the story as Clyde knew it.

“It may be a while before we’re able to get out of here, especially if this storm dumps a lot of snow on us,” Clyde said. “Besides, Dom here’s a priest, so you’ll be married all official. If you want to do it again in a church later, you can do that.”

Lydia looked at Dom, reappraising him. He smiled and shot her a quick salute. She looked like she’d smelled something unpleasant, then turned back to Clyde.

“If he’s a priest, what’s he doing here with you?”

“Long story.”

“I’m rather fond of stories, as it turns out, and as you mentioned, with the blizzard blowing outside, we can do with distractions.”

She folded her fingers together under her chin, and alternated her gaze between Clyde and Dom, waiting.

Dom cleared his throat. “Well. My people are Italian. It’s traditional where we come from for youngest sons and daughters to join the church, become priests and nuns.”

Lydia nodded, as if the idea was familiar to her. By now, everyone else paid attention, too.

“As the youngest son of a poor family, it was my duty. At least that’s what my parents said. I’d never really cared for religion, but I did what they expected.”

“Were you born in Italy?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, ma’am. But we came to America when I was a young’un. We lived in New York City. We were poor, and I ended up stealing to help us survive. I guess it was in my blood by the time Mama insisted I join the priesthood. I tried real hard, but in the end I couldn’t follow the rules, and I found all the ceremony and the strict, grumpy old men exasperating. So I left.”

“How’d you end up with these men?”

Dom lifted and dropped his shoulder in an indifferent gesture. “One night I’d had enough, so I stole a bunch of money from that Sunday’s collection and left. Went out and got drunk, had a couple of whores, and felt better than I had in years. I finally hopped a train and headed west. Met Clyde in a bar in Chicago.”

Lydia held his gaze for a moment, then lifted a skeptical brow. “But you’re still a priest?”

“He’s still a priest,” Clyde said, interrupting. “And he’s going to marry you tomorrow.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lydia said.

“Doesn’t much matter. It’s still going to happen.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” she said. “There’s no hurry. Besides, my brother’s a minister, and I’m sure he’d like to perform the ceremony.”

The whole conversation with Dom had me nervous, but at least it distracted everyone. When the topic shifted back to marriage, I had a suspicion things would go south fast. Most of the men were interested by Dom’s story, but Clyde was tense, and Lydia, damn her curiosity, kept picking away at things trying to get to the bottom of it. She couldn’t leave it well enough alone.

Clyde glanced at me and held my gaze. I held it as best I could. He didn’t trust me, I saw that clearly enough, I hoped he didn’t call my bluff. I supposed it was too much to hope for, so I reached down and pulled the knife out of my boot, just in case.

Clyde slid his attention back to Lydia. “I’m sure your brother will understand. After all, it may be spring before we’re able to get out of here, and we all want you married before the baby’s born.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Shit,” I whispered, then opened my eyes.

Lydia cocked her head, clearly confused about what he’d said. “What baby?” she asked. But then she shot me a look that said she understood perfectly, just a second too late to take the words back.

“Good job, Clyde,” I said, trying to sound as sarcastic and casual as possible, while gripping the handle of the knife in my lap. Maybe I could still salvage the situation. I’d told him she was humiliated, so there was a chance he’d conclude she just wanted to deny the pregnancy.

Clyde didn’t buy it. He’d seen the confusion in Lydia’s face, and he’d seen the way she looked at me, the acknowledgement of her mistake clear on her face. His expression turned dark and fierce as the storm outside.

“You’re not pregnant, are you, Lydia?”

To her credit, she tried to save the situation, but it was too late. “Yes, actually I am. I just didn’t want anyone to know.” She tried for indignant. “I can’t believe he’d be so uncouth as to tell anyone.”

Clyde stood, sending his chair tumbling behind him. He sat at the head of the table, with Lydia next to him, her back to the fireplace. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet, drawing his pistol at the same time and jamming the muzzle against her temple. I sat across from her, between Pete and Clyde. I stood, too, showing him my knife. I stepped closer to Clyde.

“Let her go.”

“I should have killed you both. Guess I’ll have to fix that mistake.”

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, obviously expecting Clyde to kill her first. He surprised me by swinging the gun to aim it at me.

I dove to the side at the same time Lydia screamed and grabbed at Clyde’s gun hand. The gun went off and a bullet burned as it sliced through my side; but I was still alive, which was more than I’d expected.

I rolled away to catch my breath.

Clyde must have assumed I died, because he turned his attention to Lydia.

“Your turn, you little lying whore. But first, I think I’ll take a turn with you. It’s the least you owe me.”

He shoved her to the hearth.

“Clyde, you don’t want to do this,” Dom said. “It’s not right.”

Clyde snarled at Dom. “Keep your morals to yourself. The two of them made a fool of me, now they’ll pay for it.”

The rest of the men had found their feet by now, but they seemed confused, as if they were so used to following Clyde and doing his bidding, that when faced with stopping him from doing something, they didn’t know how.

“She was just trying to protect herself,” Billy said.

Clyde leveled his gun at Billy. “You want to be her protector, Billy? You saw what happened to the last one.”

He waved the gun in my general direction before bringing it back to Billy, who looked sick with guilt, but still didn’t move a muscle.

“I didn’t think so,” Clyde said.

He turned his attention back to Lydia and reached down to hike her skirt up. With his focus on her, I pulled myself up to a crouch. Billy saw me, but I put my finger to my lips to hush him.

“Please don’t, Clyde,” Lydia said.

Lydia sounded small and afraid. I couldn’t see Clyde’s face, but I could imagine it—a disgusting leer. I gripped my knife tight, and got ready to spring.

“Hey, Clyde,” I said.

He turned his head to see me, and at that moment, Lydia reached into the fireplace right next to her, grabbed a log and with a banshee scream swung it like she was trying to drive a railroad spike in one strike.

Clyde went down in a heap, holding his head and groaning.

Lydia threw the burning log aside, hissing in pain. She had to have burned her hand badly, but she still kicked Clyde in the ribs for good measure.

“Keep your filthy hands off me you pig.”

Slim chuckled.

“And what good were you lot?” She asked the rest of the men. “You’d have just stood there and watched while he raped me. What kind of men are you?”

“Sorry Miss Lydia,” Billy said, ducking his head.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” she said, indignant.

I was about to remind her what kind of men they actually were, and that she shouldn’t have such high expectations of them, when I heard a whoosh from the window. We all turned to see the curtains go up in flames. For a moment, we just stared as the fire ate at the curtains of one window, worked its way to the ceiling, and to the curtain of the next window. When the basket of kindling next to the fireplace caught with a roar, and sparks lit the table cloth, the men finally jumped into action, running for water.

I ran for Lydia. “Come on, we need to leave.”

“There’s a blizzard outside. Where are we going to go?”

I stopped and stared at her. Was she really advocating staying? “We’re leaving. Clyde’s not dead, and nothing good will come of us staying here.”

“The men won’t hurt me,” she said. “They’ll stand with me against Clyde.”

I shook my head. “No, they won’t. He’s their leader, and not all of them have decency in them. They’ve been following him for a long time. He’ll threaten them, and they’ll do as he says. Besides, in the end, they’re all a bunch of criminals.”

At the bunks, I grabbed as many blankets as I could. By now the fire raged pretty well, engulfing a lot of the cabin. The men splashed buckets of water on it, but it spread too fast.

I shoved Lydia toward the door. “Grab our coats,” I told her.

We shouldered our way out, past Pete, Jed, and Lyle.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lyle asked.

“I’m taking her to the barn,” I said. “I need to treat her burn, and she can’t help here, anyway.”

He grunted, then went back to fighting the fire.

We both slipped our coats on and hurried for the barn. The darkness prevented me from checking my wound, other than a quick touch with my fingers. Seemed to be a flesh wound, but I couldn’t feel an exit hole. It didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly. The cold would help keep the bleeding to a minimum, and my worst worry—other than getting the bullet out—would be infection.

In the barn I went for the supplies I’d hidden. “Start saddling two of the horses,” I told her.

“What are you doing?”

“Just do it. I hid some supplies over here. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.”

There were a couple of saddle bags hanging from pegs on the wall. I grabbed them and stuffed the few supplies I’d saved into them, but it was barely enough to fill one bag. I rolled two of the blankets.

She still worked on saddling the first horse when I joined her.

“Let me see your hand,” I said.

The burning cabin didn’t offer enough light for a thorough exam, but I could palpate the blisters. She’d probably sustained third degree burns.

She tried not to whimper when I touched her hand, but it had to hurt. “That was very brave of you,” I said.

“It was stupid. But at the time it seemed like a good idea.”

“Go put your hand in the snow. I’ll finish the horses.”

When I had the horses saddled and ready to go, I led them out of the barn and helped Lydia into the saddle, then handed her a blanket to wrap around herself.

I hoisted myself into the saddle and did the same. “Wrap the blanket around your head, too.”

I showed her what I meant. I’d tied the horses together so we couldn’t be separated in the blizzard. Riding in this weather was a fool’s errand, but it was the best chance we’d get to escape. With the weather, there wouldn’t be any guards in the pass, and with the gang distracted by fighting the fire, they wouldn’t come after us. At least, I hoped not.

“Let’s go,” I said. I gave the horse my heels and we rode off into the howling storm.

I was convinced we were going to die. We’d been plodding through the wind and driving snow for hours. At some point I noticed that the air had gone from dark to gray, and I had to assume the sun had risen. Otherwise, there were no landmarks, no signs of where we were. I couldn’t see mountains or ground or sky. I could barely see Emmett’s horse in front of me.

The blanket and coat made no difference in the driving snow and wind. Even with it pulled close around my face, my eyes felt like frozen pebbles, and each breath blazed a frozen trail into my raw lungs. I’d lost sensation in my fingers and toes hours ago. After a while, I wished we were back at the burning cabin. The only consolation was that I couldn’t imagine any situation in which Clyde and his men could follow us.

I hoped Emmett had some idea where we were going, but how could he? By now we were both snow blind, and the horses had to be, too. It seemed pointless to wander aimlessly. For all we knew, we were roaming in circles, or worse yet, we could amble right over the edge of a cliff and not realize it until we were halfway down.

I lost track of time, drifting in and out of fitful sleep, jerking awake as I started to slide out of the saddle.

Sometime in the late afternoon, the snow and wind let up long enough to get a sense that the sky had darkened. My stomach rumbled something fierce, and my bladder burned so badly I thought for sure it would burst. More than anything, though, I was grateful for the lull in the wind. The snow still fell, but at least the wind didn’t drive it like needles into any patch of exposed skin.