Just Her Type (25 page)

Hearing voices beyond her door, Mackenzie inched nearer. She pressed her ear to the wood, but stepped back when she realized that both men were speaking loud enough so she could understand them.

“Rutherford ordered me to bring her out to the stable.” The door was too thick. She could not identify the voice. “I guess he figured one lesson wasn't enough fer her.”

“Never thought he'd be so easy on her.”

“Why not? She's pretty, ain't she?”

“The only thing Rutherford likes to fondle is gold.” The two men chuckled with good humor.

“He's a fool.”

“Yeah, I'd have taught her to obey at the same time I taught her a few other things. Maybe Rutherford's too old.” She heard a key rattle in the door.

“Do me a favor, will ya? Go out to the stable and tell 'em to get ready. It might take me a few minutes to get her bound up good and tight so she don't scratch out my eyes.”

“You want some help?”

“Naw,” came the muffled answer. “I can take care of her real easy all by myself. Wouldn't mind doing that. Maybe later, huh?”

“Doubt it. Rutherford'll never be that generous. Make sure she doesn't get away from you.”

“I'll be sure 'bout that.”

Mackenzie backed away. Grabbing the metal bowl in the washstand, she stood behind the door. The key turned slowly in the lock. She wondered why the man was taking so long. By this time, her guard must be halfway to the barn.

The knob turned. She murmured a silent prayer. The man stepped into the room. He wore a battered hat and a handkerchief over the lower part of his face. If Rutherford's men were dressed like this again, Douglas might still be free. Now she must escape.

She lifted the bowl. It clanged against his shoulder. He cursed as she tried to shove past him. A hard arm halted her. He slammed the door in her face. She hit him. He swore again, but caught her hands. Trying to pull away, she tripped on her ruined skirt. Her breath exploded from her as she fell. He pinned her beneath him. With a low chuckle, he rolled her onto her back. He held her wrists to the floor in one of his broad hands and with the other reached to pull the kerchief away.

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. If she screamed, no one would come to halt this man from raping her. When eager lips touched hers, she opened her eyes and gasped, “Luke!”

“That's the second time you've tried to hit me over the head.” He drew her up to a sitting position. “Are you all right?”

“What are you doing here? If Rutherford finds you—”

“He won't. I know a few tricks myself.” He picked up the hem of her skirt and fingered the burned spot. “I heard about this. I didn't think even Rutherford was this crazy.” Grinning grimly, he murmured, “Guess I was wrong again. What else has he done to you?”

“Nothing, except a few threats.”

A tender expression wiped the rougher emotions from his face. “Mackenzie, how's our baby?”

She drew his fingers over her abdomen. “The baby is fine.” Her smile faded. “Where's Douglas?”

“He's safe. So is Horace. That's all you need to know.”

She nodded, understanding what he did not say. If she was recaptured, she could not be made to reveal what she did not know.

He tossed her a pair of trousers and a shirt. “Change.”

She nodded again. She might be able to sneak off the ranch disguised as a cowhand. She let him unhook her skirt as she undid the buttons on her shirt. As she reached for the flannel shirt, his hands encircled her waist.

“This is hardly the time for—” Her words were smothered beneath his lips as he pulled her tight to him. All fear vanished into the sweetness of his kiss. Her fingers stroked his back as she imagined the passion they would delight in when they were safe again.

“Unfortunately you're right,” he said with a sigh as he placed a crumpled hat on her head. “Tuck up that hair and let's get out of here.”

She buttoned the wide trousers around her and belted them in place with the rope Luke handed her. “You're well prepared,” she said with a smile.

“Had a lot of time to plan this.” His eyes raked her as she tied the bandanna he provided around the lower half of her face. “I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things that won't matter if we don't get out of here. Horace told me he'd give me only until sundown. That gives us only another hour to get away before he arrives.”

“Let's go.”

“Here.” He held out a pistol. “Douglas told me you can shoot.”

“I'm not a sharpshooter, but I can hit a can off the fence.” She slapped the brim of his hat lower. “This is going to make a great conclusion to your series on Wyoming.”

“If I live to write it.”

Luke put out his hand to keep Mackenzie from stepping from the shadow of the back porch. “Why tonight?”

She saw the movement along the ridge. There were too many riders for a posse. This was another army. The rivalry between the Terrible Trio was about to become a war.

“How will they attack?” Luke whispered.

“I don't think they have any choice but a direct assault. They must know about what's been happening.”

“O'Grady knows. He was at the Benton House when Douglas and Horace arrived looking for me.” He smiled grimly. “He must have heard every word Douglas told the desk clerk.”

“Giving him the excuse to do what he's wanted to do.”

“I'm surprised he's letting Connolly share the glory, but he may need the men. We've got to get out of here.”

“How?”

He crouched behind a pile of barrels and drew his gun. “That's a good question, and I wish I had a good answer.” Putting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned her against him. “How good are you at improvising, sweetheart?”

“I think I'm going to learn how good I am at it right now.”

“Just keep that sense of humor. I think we're going to need something to laugh about before this is over.”

Mackenzie gasped as a spurt of gunfire echoed between the buildings, then more guns were fired. And more. And more. The high ranges war had started. Luke tensed beside her, but no fear tightened his face.

She pulled her pistol and rested her thumb on the hammer. In the twilight, there was no way to tell friend from foe. She cringed when she heard a man scream.

“Are you going to be all right?” Luke whispered.

“Eventually.”

His soft laugh was out of place, but she clung to the sound. It became clear Rutherford's men were being herded toward the barn to the side of the house.

A shot pinged off the barrels in front of them. Luke rose and fired a single shot. Even as a man screeched, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to her feet.

She ran as fast as she could after him. Bullets struck the ground by her feet. Luke dove headfirst behind a trough. He pulled her down next to him.

Lying on her stomach, she tried to breathe. Luke was peering around the far edge of the trough. A sound brought her head up. Even before she could think, she raised her gun and fired at a man who was aiming a rifle at Luke's back.

The man fell into the trough, spraying her with water. She stared at the unmoving form, then turned toward Luke.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Mackenzie shivered. Later she would think about the horror of killing a man. All she wanted now was to survive. “Can't we get out here?”

“Soon. It looks like our boy Jim's side is being whipped. I think we can make a run for it. Around the barn and toward the road. We'll meet up with Horace and send him back here to clean up.”

Mackenzie took his hand as she scrambled to her feet. She did not look at the man facedown in the trough or at any of the other bodies littering the yard. When Luke grabbed the dead man's rifle, he nodded toward the left. She raced toward the back of the barn, then inched through the shadows.

His hand halted her as she heard exultant voices. She recognized O'Grady's Irish brogue. Edging past Luke, she peeked around the barn. She gasped. The sight was unmistakable. A horse, a crowd of eager men, a rope being thrown around a hefty tree branch.

A lynching!

Luke caught her hand as she stepped out of the shadows. “You can't go out there!”

“I can't let them hang Rutherford!”

“It's what he deserves.”

“He must have a trial.” She walked toward where the men were gathered for the lynching.

She had not guessed she would try to save Jamison Rutherford this night. Not Rutherford, but Bentonville. If they lynched him, the law would be dead in town. She could not let that happen. Not to Bentonville.

She elbowed the men aside as she drew the handkerchief down over her chin and pulled off the hat so she could shake her hair free. They stared at her in disbelief.

“It's Mackenzie Smith!” cried one of O'Grady's men.

Connolly and O'Grady regarded her in astonishment. That they were allies was incredible. The truce would last only until they began to prey on each other again. She looked past them to where Rutherford was trussed up under the tree.

“Mackenzie!” cried O'Grady. “We searched the house, but couldn't find you.” He pointed to Rutherford. “He refused to tell us what he'd done with you.”

“That's because he didn't want to admit I'd gotten away.”

Connolly grumbled, “Someone take her up to the house. This is no place for a lady.”

“It wasn't my choice to be here, but I'm staying to report on this for the
Bugle.
” She crossed her arms, letting her pistol catch the light of the torches several men held.

“Now, see here—” Connolly glanced past her and swore. “What's
he
doing here?”

Mackenzie smiled as Luke came to stand beside her. “He's a newspaperman. This is news. Neither of us is leaving.”

“Gentlemen,” Luke said with a terse nod. He balanced the rifle easily against his hip.

“Connolly's right.” O'Grady jerked his thumb toward the road. “Get out of here, Bradfield.”

Putting his hand on Mackenzie's arm, Luke said, “I think you gentlemen would be distressed to see your names in the
Bugle
if you don't let Sheriff Roosevelt handle this.”

“You can't threaten us.”

“He isn't,” said Mackenzie. “No one wants Rutherford to get what he deserves more than I do, but it must be done legally.”

“Why?” Connolly chuckled as he poked his boot into the bound man's side. “That's just a waste of time.”

She motioned toward Rutherford. “Go ahead. Put him on a horse and wrap a rope around his neck. Give it thirteen turns and a loop in a proper hangman's knot. Do all that, but think about how it feels, for you'll be suffering the same as soon as the circuit judge reaches Bentonville.”

“No one will listen to you or—” O'Grady began.

“Maybe not. Certainly no one cares what happens to him. However, there remains the matter of other crimes. Arson. Rimrocking.” When she stared at Connolly, he looked away. “Rebranding. Rutherford isn't the only one guilty of that, is he, Aaron?” O'Grady flinched as she glared at him. “Those crimes will be coming to trial soon. How much do you think I'll be listened to then?”

A rumble of dismay swept through the men. Connolly and O'Grady exchanged a long look.

Connolly stepped forward. A false smile nearly cracked his tight face. “Of course, you're correct, Mackenzie. The law must be upheld. Boys, get Rutherford up on a horse. We'll take him to Sheriff Roosevelt.”

Not to be outdone, O'Grady ordered, “Help the Circle Seven boys!” As his men surged forward, he said, “Mackenzie, all of this doesn't need to go in the
Bugle.
”

“I decide what does and does not go into the
Bugle
,” she said stiffly, but she smiled at Luke. In his eyes, she saw he understood the true reason why she did not want Rutherford lynched. Facing a long trial with a hanging at the end would torture him as he had Cameron.

When Connolly asked how she had gotten out of the house, her smile broadened as Luke gave her much of the credit for the rescue he had orchestrated.

A shout severed the night. A form burst out of the crowd. Mackenzie backpedaled. An arm caught her, tearing her away from Luke. Fingers stripped the pistol from her fingers. It struck the ground as she was pulled back against a hard body.

Shock and horror froze O'Grady and Connolly. Their men wore the same terrified expressions. Her heart stopped when she saw the cut ropes where Rutherford had been lying. When she started to shriek for Luke, an arm clamped around her throat, snapping her head back against Rutherford's chest.

“Shoot him!” Connolly motioned to his men, but no one fired.

They could not, she knew, because she stood between them and their target. Luke! Where was Luke? She could not see him. Then she saw a motion from the far corner of her eye. Was that him? What was he doing?

“Get back,” growled Rutherford. “Let me go.”

“Let Mackenzie go first,” O'Grady ordered.

“Aaron, me boy,” he taunted in a parody of his rival's Irish accent, “you're a fool to think I'd release her so you can hang me. Back away or …”

Rutherford's broad arm tightened around her throat. Clawing at him, she tried to escape. She had to breathe. When his arm loosened slightly, she sagged against him. Through the rush of sound in her ears, she could hear Rutherford speaking.

“… or she'll die.” The arm constricted again, and she moaned.

A detonation sounded like a distant thunder. She was released. Collapsing to the ground, she had time to take only a single breath before a weight crushed her. Digging her ripped nails into the ground, she tried to escape. She had to breathe!

Her hands were seized. Material ripped as she was pulled free. When her face was tilted to meet Luke's eyes, she saw his fury, which dimmed even Rutherford's.