Dorothy Garlock (29 page)

“So you know?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. The booze comes down-river and is stored in the hills. Boone and Spinner take turns guarding it.”

“What does Papa do?” she asked softly.

“I can’t tell you for sure, but someone has to sell the booze to the saloons and the speakeasies.”

“When I was younger, I didn’t think about what Papa did. Later, I was afraid to ask, for fear they would tell me something I didn’t want to hear.” Suddenly Annabel melted against him and laid her head against his shoulder. When he pressed his cheek to hers, he felt the wetness of her tears.

Her whispered voice came against his throat. “Papa wants me to live in a big house and mix with high-toned people. What will they think when they find out that I’m the daughter of a bootlegger?”

“Former bootlegger,” he corrected. “They’ll think that you’re sweet and pretty and that you play the violin like an angel. If your being the daughter of a bootlegger made any difference to them, they wouldn’t be worth having for friends anyway.”

“I don’t want to mix with high-toned people, but I can’t disappoint Papa. He’s worked to get that kind of life for me for so long.”

“Have you told him?”

“I can’t. I’m all he’s got. He hated that he couldn’t provide more for my mother. Now he wants to do it for me.”

“Don’t worry about it now. Things have a way of working out. Sweetheart, it hurts like hell to think you don’t trust me. I promise you that I’ll never keep anything from you.” He held her head against his shoulder, kissed her lips, then pressed his cheek to hers.

They sat quietly for a long moment, then Corbin said urgently, “Annabel, honey, listen closely to what I’m going to say. There’s a car coming down the road. It may be coming here and it may not be, but I want you to get out of the car and run for that high grass there on the other side of that open place. Lie flat on the ground and cover yourself with my dark coat.”

“Oh, but—” She lifted her head to look.

“Do as I say. I’ll tell you everything I know as soon as I know it. You’ve got to help me. Understand?”

“It could be Boone—”

“Not truck lights. Go!”

As soon as Annabel was out of the car, Corbin reached beneath the seat for his gun. He got out and yanked up the hood covering the motor and pulled out the cushion from the front seat. He looked around and saw that Annabel had done exactly as she had been told.

Leaving the doors of the car open so that it appeared to be an old wreck, he bent over and ran toward the shelter of a pile of dead wood, where he could see both the front and back of the house as well as the tall grass where Annabel was hidden.

His hunch had been right.

The car sped up the lane toward the house. It was a sedan with powerful headlights. It stopped beside the house and three men sprang out. Two of them, one with a flashlight, went up onto the porch and, with guns drawn, entered the house. The third man ran around to the back.

“No one’s here.” The shout came minutes later as the men emerged out onto the back porch. “Check the barn and sheds. Morey, take a look at that car over there behind the hedge.”

Corbin sidled around the woodpile and watched as the man, with gun drawn, ran toward his car. He flashed his light inside. After a quick search of the car, he backed away, then, holding the gun out in both hands, fired into the gas tank.

The fire from the explosion lit the area. Corbin was caught in the light momentarily and moved quickly around the woodpile, keeping it between him and the fire. From where he was concealed, he was relieved to see the man moving back toward the house away from where Annabel lay in the grass.

“You damn fool! Why’d you do that for?” The angry shout came from a man coming out of the barn.

“It’ll let him know we mean business.”

“Horseshit!”

“Fire the house.”

“Use your head for something more than to hang your hat on. We can come back and burn it if we don’t find him. It might be a draw to bring him out.”

“I fired his car. If he leaves, he’ll be walkin’.”

“Let’s get out of here before that bunch of hillbillies next door comes to see about the fire. We’re in a hell of a mess as it is.”

As soon as Corbin saw the taillights of the car at the end of the lane, he caught up a feed sack and hurried to beat out the flames eating at the short grass before it reached the tall dried grass where Annabel lay.

“Annabel, they’re gone. Get out of that grass,” he shouted. A minute later she was beside him, gasping and coughing. “Use my coat and beat out the flames on this side.” They worked for several minutes, then Corbin grabbed her hand and ran with her toward the barn. “That’s all we can do. The fire will go toward the lane and burn itself out.”

Inside the barn, out of the light of the burning car, Corbin put his arms around her and held her tightly. He could feel the pounding of her frightened heart against his. Her head lay nicely on his shoulder, and her face fit into the curve of his neck. Thankful that she was safe, Corbin closed his eyes and let his lips caress her forehead before he spoke.

“You did good, honey.”

“Why did they burn your car? Who were those men? How did you know they were coming?”

“They burned the car out of pure meanness. It was logical to me that if someone knew about the stockpile, they knew where Donovan lived. That’s why I moved the car. The marshals didn’t blow up the cave. I’m sure of that. They don’t operate that way. The men who were here were looking for someone, possibly your father or Boone. They were going to burn the house but decided not to because whoever they are looking for may come back. They may change their minds, return and leave a man to lie in wait. We should get away from here fast.”

“Oh…” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was so…scared!”

“We’re all right for now. Don’t be scared. What’s in the house that you treasure the most?”

“My mother’s picture and my violin,” she answered without hesitation.

“Get them and a blanket. Get a jacket for yourself, and do you have a heavier pair of shoes?” When she nodded, he said, “Put them on.” The fire was dying down when he looked out the door. “Run to the house, get those things and hurry back. I’ll watch. I’d not put it past those thugs to stop and come back through the woods.”

“Boone, Tess and Jack might come back.”

“We’ll wait down along the road in case they do. Hurry, now.”

Corbin was waiting for her at the end of the porch with a feed sack and a tarp when she came out of the house. He put the violin case and pictures in the sack and wrapped it securely in the tarp. At the deadwood pile, he pulled out several tree limbs and a large number of small branches, buried the sack in the hole and covered it with the limbs, piling more and more on until it was deep at the bottom of the pile.

“I think they’ll be safe there even if they fire the barn and the house. There would be no need to fire a woodpile.”

“Do you think they will?”

“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t want you here if they do. We’re going to have to hurry. Are you up to it?”

“Yes, but how about your leg? Only a few days ago you were using a cane.”

“It’s sore.” He grinned and pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I promised I’d not lie to you. If I think it’s going to give out on me, we’ll stop.”

Corbin tied a cord to the blanket and adjusted it on his back so that his hands would be free.

“What if Papa comes back? I should leave a note and tell him what happened.”

“You can’t do that, sweetheart. If your papa is as savvy as I think he is, he’ll take one look and get the heck out of here.”

“He’ll be worried about me.”

“When he sees that the truck is gone, he’ll figure you’re with Boone.”

“I was hoping he’d come home; now I hope he doesn’t…for a while anyway. I hate leaving Mildred and the…chickens.”

“I propped open the back door of the barn so that the cow can get out if something scares her, and I made an opening in the wire so your chickens can get out too. In the morning they’ll be scattered all over. The rooster, Peter the Great, will keep his women together,” he added in an attempt at humor.

“Thank you.” She didn’t smile and looked so sad that he bent his head and kissed her, then took her hand and they walked away from the farmhouse.

Chapter
21

T
WO MILES NORTH OF THE FARM, Boone turned the truck onto a little-used road leading toward a high wooded area that lay in the bend of the river. The comforting pressure of Tess’s shoulder and hip against him had eased his anxiety and given reason to his thoughts.

Spinner had set off the charge that blew the cave. Knowing the man, Boone reasoned that if marshals had found the cache, Spinner would have let them take it and been glad to escape arrest. This looked like gang warfare, and Boone feared that Murphy had been double-crossed. Had the deal gone as expected, Murphy would have brought the representatives of the new owner to the cave and turned the inventory over to them himself.

He had been wrong to accuse Corbin Appleby.

“Corbin didn’t have anything to do with blowing up anything. I don’t like it that you accused him.” Jack’s curt voice broke the silence.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” was Boone’s answer. He wasn’t ready quite yet to admit aloud he had been hasty in accusing Jack’s friend.

“I’ve known him longer than you have. He isn’t a sneak. If he was a marshal, he would have said so.”

“I might’ve been hasty.” The truck bounced over the rocky upward trail.

“I’ve got a right to know what I’m getting into.” Jack held on to the truck door to keep from crowding Tess, who sat between him and Boone.

“Yeah, ya do.” Boone didn’t answer until he drove the truck into a thick stand of brush and turned off the headlights. “We’ve been storin’ bootleg whiskey in a cave up here. Murphy went to sell it and our contracts with the speakeasies we supply to a big dealer out of Chicago. He may have been double-crossed. If anyone other than Murphy came to the cave, Spinner was to blow it. I think that’s what happened. We walk from here. I dunno what we’ll run into.”

“Then why did you accuse Corbin?”

“Forget it, kid. Give the pistol to Tess and get the rifle. Honey, can you shoot?”

“I know about guns. I can shoot.”

“Good. Stay between me and Jack. If I tell you to lay flat, do it. If I tell you to stay behind me—”

“I’ll do what you say,” she answered calmly.

Boone took a small lantern from the back of the truck, shook it to be sure it had fuel, then lit it. He turned the wick until there was just a faint light, then picked up the shotgun. They fought their way out of the brush that hid the truck and headed north.

The sound of a motorcar reached them, and Boone stopped to listen. When the sound faded, he moved on. The path he followed was steep and rocky. Jack was puffing when they came up and onto a grassy bench. Boone hurried across the open space and into the trees, where he stopped and blew out the lantern.

“Are ya holdin’ up, Tess?”

“I’m all right.”

“It’s not far now. Spinner has a cabin about half a mile from here. Are you rested enough to go on?”

Tess nodded; then, realizing that he might not have seen her, she said, “Yes.”

Jack wondered how Boone could tell where he was going in the almost pitch-dark of the wooded area. Jack couldn’t see beyond Tess, who was directly in front of him. The pace was slow but steady. When Boone stopped and held out his arm, Tess ran into him.

“The cabin’s just ahead. Between here and the cabin is a small stream. It’s only about ankle-deep, or was the last time I was here. When we get there, hunker down. I’ll go on and see if Spinner is there.”

“I want to go—”

“No, Tess,” Boone said firmly. “Yo’re to stay with Jack. I’ll come back if the coast is clear.” He hugged her for a minute, then spoke to Jack. “If I get pinned down in there, could ya make yore way back to the truck?”

“Not in the dark, but I think I could find it in the daylight.”

“I think what we’re dealin’ with is city boys. They’ll not know how to handle themselves in the woods. If ya have to hide out, follow Tess’s lead. She knows how to get through the woods as silent as a ghost.”

“We’ll make out,” Jack said. “Be careful.”

They followed Boone and when he held out his arm, Tess and Jack stopped and he went on. Tess reached for Jack’s arm. She was trembling violently, her eyes on the place where Boone had disappeared and the faint outline of the cabin beyond.

Tess was almost too frightened to breathe. Her heart thumped and goose bumps climbed her arms. The rough but gentle man with the dark whiskers on his face had taken over her heart, leaving no room for anyone or anything else. To her he was like a drink of water to a man dying of thirst. A strangled sob escaped her.

Oh, God, Boone. Come back. Please come back. I love you so damn much.

“He’ll be all right,” Jack whispered.

It seemed like forever before a dim light came from the cabin. Then the lantern was waving, and Boone whistled shrilly. He loped toward them.

“Spinner is hurt. Watch your step. There’s a log footbridge.” He stopped and held the lantern low so Tess and Jack could cross on the logs. “He’s in bad shape. Come help me get him into the cabin. He looks like he’s been through a sawmill.”

For an instant Tess’s sensitive nature rebelled when she first saw Spinner lying on the ground in front of the cabin. She turned her face away. His face was blue-black as if covered with coal dust. His eyes were swollen shut. His hair was matted with blood. The buttons had been ripped from his shirt. Blood oozed from a hundred cuts on his shoulders and chest.

His split lips parted and he whispered, “Tell ya nothin’, ya sons-a-bitches.” He continued to mutter unintelligibly.

“Spinner, it’s me, Boone.” Boone, kneeling beside him, put his hand beneath his head and lifted it.

Spinner tried to open his eyes “Boone? I blew … it.”

“I know you did. Did they come here?” When Spinner didn’t answer, Boone asked him again, “Did they come here?”

“Caught me … by the cave. Beat me … shot me. Lookin’ for ya. I got to the plunger and … blew the sons-a-bitches. …” His voice trailed. His hand fell away from his side and blood oozed from a wound. Boone realized that he’d been shot as well as beaten.