Jodi Thomas (13 page)

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Authors: The Lone Texan

BOOK: Jodi Thomas
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Roak leaned forward on the edge of his chair. “Happen to catch his name?”
Daniel shook his head. “Might have been the fellow with them when I met them at the hotel the night we brought the boys’ mother in. I think he said his name was Shelley something.”
Standing slowly, Roak asked, “It wouldn’t have been Shelley Lander, a lowlife who passes himself off as a gentleman from time to time. Wears a light-colored suit that doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in years. Hair combed back like he thinks he’s a peacock.”
Daniel nodded and met Roak’s stare. They didn’t have to say more. They were both thinking the same thing: Shelley Lander owned a gambling place down by the docks.
“Go,” Daniel whispered. “I’ll watch these two until you get back.”
Roak didn’t have to ask the Ranger to swear; he had his word. Drum grabbed his new hat from the peg and was through the office to his horse before he let out a breath. He rode straight to the coastline, where he knew Shelley Lander’s place stood far out on a neglected dock.
He tied Satan to a pole and almost knocked men down as he ran. The place was in chaos.
Drum pushed his way through the front door and down the hall. The first room he came to had four bodies. Only one looked like he’d had time to pull his weapon from leather. The rest were still holding their cards when they fell.
He moved to the next room. A sailor and a barmaid were dead.
Drum rushed to the third room, an office. Shelley Lander lay on a ratty couch, holding a towel against his head. Blood stained his shirt along his shoulder.
“I need medical attention,” he whined. “I’ve told all of you everything I know; now you’ve got to find me a real doctor.”
Captain Harmon stood in front of the gambler. “You haven’t told us what happened to Sage McMurray and her companion.”
Drum moved in to listen.
“I don’t know. Ask Tony. He let them in. I’d only had time to say hello to Sage when the firing started, and I didn’t even see the nurse. Tony would know if that beanpole of a woman was with her.”
“Tony’s dead,” Harmon answered. “Looks like he made it to the big room just about the time a bullet went through his forehead.”
“Oh, God!” Shelley yelled. “This is more than I can take. First they clean out my safe, and next they kill the only good bodyguard I’ve ever hired. They took everything. Everything. Not just my money but all the stuff I was keeping for people.”
“Not an answer to my question,” Harmon muttered. “Where are the women, Shelley? I don’t care about the safe.”
Shelley ignored the questioning and started bemoaning his fate. Drum’s gaze met the captain’s. He knew Cap. He wouldn’t have long to wait.
Harmon raised his hand and hit Shelley hard across the face with the flat of his palm.
“What are you doing?” Shelley screamed. “You can’t hit me! I’m the one who’s been robbed. I’m wounded.”
The captain straightened. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have hit you, Mr. Lander. I need an answer to my question, and you’re the only one around alive who can comment. What happened to Sage McMurray and her friend?”
Shelley snorted. “Forget about her. I’m the one who will be dead when all the people who trusted me with their valuables find out I’ve let them be stolen. They won’t consider that I had no choice but to open the safe. No. They’ll blame me.”
Drum moved in front of Shelley, knowing the order would come.
Sure enough, the captain turned and said calmly. “Shoot the man, Roak. If he doesn’t know what happened to Sage, he’s of no use to us.”
“What?” Shelley’s eyes widened as he stared at Roak’s weapon sliding free of leather. “You’re going to shoot me because I don’t know what happened to the twit?”
The captain turned as if he were leaving. “Don’t worry, Shelley, Roak here is my best shot. He can put the bullet through your ear so you’ll still look good laid out on the board in front of the undertaker. If you’re one more casualty of this robbery, no one will blame you for opening the safe.”
Harmon raised his eyebrows. “Which reminds me. Why
are
you still alive, Shelley, when all your men are dead?”
“They must have thought I was dead,” he said far too quickly for it to be the truth.
“You know who they are, don’t you?” Harmon looked like he was piecing a puzzle together. “It makes no sense you’re left alive.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No. I never saw any of them before.”
Drum grabbed the man’s hair and held his head still as he shoved the barrel of his handgun against Lander’s ear. “I’m only asking once, Shelley. Who took the women?”
Tears ran down the man’s frightened face. “I only saw one woman. Sage. I didn’t see any other woman, I swear. If they took Sage, she’ll be on her way to a place called Skull Alley.” Shelley’s wild eyes glared at Roak. “You’d be better off thinking her dead than thinking of her there. It doesn’t matter who they take in; no one except outlaws ever comes out of that place.”
Drum shoved the man’s head so hard he tumbled back on the couch with a thud. Shelley cried out in pain, but no one was listening.
The captain blocked Roak’s path. “You know where this hideout is?”
“I know. It’s a long dangerous hideout west of here. You’ll never find the opening to the alley unless you’ve been there. Once in, the canyon walls hem you in for miles,” Drum answered as he holstered his gun. “I’m going, but don’t try to follow me. They have enough guards that they could pick Rangers off one at a time. They wouldn’t even have to fire, just send a few rocks over. Once you’re in, if you make it past the guards and rattlesnakes, the settlement is full of men who kill for sport.”
The captain frowned. “Her brothers will all three come after her. There’s nothing I could do to stop any one of them.”
“Tell them I’ll bring her out,” Drum said. “Alone. It’s the only way. If they tried to go in firing, they’d die.”
Shelley laughed as if he knew a secret joke. “No one’s ever come out of there.”
Drum stepped around Harmon and said over his shoulder. “He’s wrong, Cap. I made it out once, and I can do it again.”
CHAPTER 12
 
 
B
ONNIE AWOKE WHEN THE COWBOY LIFTED HER DOWN from his horse. She felt as if every bone in her body had been broken and put back together backward. She wasn’t sure she could have stood if he’d set her on her feet.
She’d cried and fretted for what seemed like hours, then she’d done the unthinkable when in danger: she’d fallen asleep. Here she was, convinced she could survive in this barbaric place, and what does she do the first time she’s tested? She sleeps.
The cowboy carried her through a low door and into a dark little house that was smaller than the hotel room back in Galveston.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said as he lowered her to her feet.
“Safe!” she said, trying not to wobble. “I was safe back in Boston. I was even safe in Galveston. How can you possibly think I could be safe out here in the middle of nowhere with a man whose name I don’t even know?” She was getting wound up, and once she was wound, she would steam for a while. “I’m out here in the wilderness with all kinds of things outside that door just waiting to kill me or eat me. And inside seems no better. How am I safe in here with a man who’ll probably ravish me or kill me at any moment?”
She drew in a breath to continue, when he stopped her with a short question.
“Which do you want first?”
“What?”
He squatted and lit the fireplace. It was well after sunup, but the rain at the open door made it seem like night. “I said, which do you want first, the ravishing, or the killing?”
Straw caught twigs aflame. The fire flickered. Bonnie stood frozen, her back to the fireplace. Her worst fear was about to be realized. The constant harping of her mother to stay away from all men had been right.
Never in her life had Bonnie Faye ever been speechless. Until now.
The giant stood and stared down at her. “I vote for the ravishing. I’ve never done it with a woman I thought could take my weight before.” A grin grew slowly across a face that hadn’t seen a razor in a week.
Bonnie Faye did a second thing she’d never done before: she fainted.
CHAPTER 13
 
 
B
Y DAWN SAGE HAD KICKED, SHOVED, AND BITTEN SO many times that they covered her head with a burlap bag that smelled of potatoes and tied her onto her horse both at the horn and thigh level with belts. She could make out daybreak and knew they were traveling west. As the hours passed, she tried to rest as much as she could, knowing that night would be her best time to escape. She’d need all her energy then.
For almost four years she’d been up North in what most call civilization. She hadn’t needed her survival skills. Her life hadn’t depended on constant vigilance. Only, now she was back where her life might depend on what she observed and knowing the right time to act. Though her eyes were midnight blue and sunshine streaked her brown hair, Apache blood ran in her veins. Her mother’s people had thrived on this land for generations, and she felt those ancestors near as the hours passed and her senses honed. She thought of nothing but breaking free.
The men talked among themselves. Slowly she pieced together facts. Four voices. Two of the six who’d helped row her away from Shelley’s place were either silent, or they’d disappeared somewhere during the night. The others didn’t seem to be celebrating their bounty. She got the feeling they were hired men doing a job, and that job wasn’t over until the bag of contents from the safe was delivered.
She might not have sight, but she knew enough to describe each. One she called Big Hands, because when he’d lifted her, his hands circled her waist. His voice, mostly orders, came from in front of her.
Another man she thought of as Frog. His voice was low and raw as if overused. He smelled unwashed. Sage was glad he rode behind her, downwind of her. He didn’t seem to like having her along, but he did whatever Big Hands told him to do.
The third man she guessed was thin and wiry. He paced when they were stopped and circled round the others when they rode. She guessed that he must be of a small build, maybe so small he couldn’t have lifted her up into the saddle. His words came quick, and usually when he passed beside her, he’d warn her not to fall asleep. Twice when she’d thought she heard other travelers near, he’d whispered that he’d put a bullet in her back if she so much as sneezed. After that, she thought of him as Sneezy.
The last, she hadn’t decided what to call, for he spoke little and kept his distance. Mostly, she heard the other three talking to him, and from that she knew, he was having trouble handling his horse.
They followed no road or even a trail, which was probably wise, since they were surely being followed by now. Several times during the night Big Hands ordered everyone to pull up until he decided on a direction in the dark.
Each time they stopped, Frog released her bound hands from the saddle horn and lifted her down. When he pulled off the bag, she tried to hold her breath until she was a few feet away from the smelly man. He’d mumble a few swear words, then loop a rope over her neck. “I ain’t losing you in the dark,” he’d say as he pulled it tight, “but you can walk around a little if you want.”

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