Over the Barrel (31 page)

Blair
froze.
 
Sloan and Madeline were both
gagged and tied back to back.
 
Sloan
had a deep gash on his forehead that was still fresh with blood and his left
cheek was badly bruised.
 
Malcolm
sat in his overstuffed chair and sipped upon a glass of whiskey while fingering
Sloan's gun.

"Grandfather!
 
What is this about?" Blair asked,
leveling her gun at his chest.

"Put
the toy away, child.
 
The game has
come to an end.
 
I was hoping we
could do this nice and peaceful-like, you know, make it look like an accident,
but I guess not.
 
Have a seat,
dear."

"No!
 
I demand to know what is
happening!"

"I
said," Malcolm's voice changed to a sinister tone.
 
He pulled back on the hammer and held
the gun to Sloan's head, "have a seat, Blair.
 
Put the gun down."

Blair
trembled.
 
She placed her gun on a
table and slowly lowered herself to sit upon the lounge chair.
 
Her eyes never left the gun that was
pointed at Sloan's head.
 
With a
satisfied smile, Malcolm disengaged the hammer.

"Good
girl.
 
I want it all, you see,"
Malcolm smiled.
 
"Not just this
ranch, which would fall back into my hands once you and your husband met an
untimely demise, but Farbor Mansion as well.
 
With you signing it over to me in
exchange for the ranch, it would have been mine."

"Did
you really find gold here?" Blair asked, with a quaking voice.

"Lots
of it, my girl.
 
Enough to hire some
people to protect my assets.
 
Unfortunately," he sipped his drink, "the ones who kidnapped
you were too stupid to take care of things.
 
They were supposed to tie you to the
back of your horse, Comanche style, and send you over a cliff.
 
Fools."

"Why do
you hate me so much?
 
I know the
truth about my grandmother.
 
Your
friend, Deuce, told me the whole story.
 
You raised my mother as your own child.
 
Why hate me?"

"Janie
was her mother's daughter.
 
Whored
herself out as soon as she had the chance.
 
She didn't want to stay with me.
 
She chose, instead, to follow your father to the missionary field and
got herself killed."

"She
contracted consumption while helping others.
 
She was a good person, Grandfather.
 
You raised her to be a loving and caring
woman."
 
Blair tried not to
watch Sloan as he struggled to untie his ropes.

"She
turned into a whore like her mother.
 
She never loved me.
 
Neither
of them did."

"You
could have had all of this without murdering anyone, Grandfather.
 
I would have given over everything, just
to have had someone to love me," Blair said, her eyes brimming.

"You
look so much like your mother," Malcolm sighed.
 
"I used to fall victim to her tears
as well.
 
No more.
 
Gentlemen!
 
Please, come inside."

Blair gulped
as her two pursuers entered the house.

"Nice
to see you again, Miss Blair," one man said.

Blair
squinted.
 
His face was covered with
ugly scars.
 
Could it be?
 
The kidnapper!
 
"Old Joe?
 
I thought you were arrested.
 
Where are your friends?"

He grinned
evilly.
 
"They didn't make it
out of the jail.
 
Both accidentally
hung themselves.
 
Do you see what
this girl did to me, Malcolm?
 
Hornet nest."

"She is
a clever one," another man—the one from Manitou Springs who had
given her the information about Deuce, said.
 
Blair felt like a total fool, having
fallen into the trap.
 
"Managed
to escape Deuce.
 
He's on his
way."

"Where's
Clay?"

"Trying
to rally that horse.
 
Beast already took
down one of the boys with a hoof after biting a chunk out of his neck.
 
Sure we can't just shoot it?"

"Nah,
we are gonna make sure the girl is trampled to death.
 
Don't want the law coming after us, do
we?"

"What
law?"
 
A third man wearing a
sheriff's badge entered the house.
 
"Did I hear someone call for a lawman?"

"Who
are you?" Blair asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Sloan
knows me.
 
We are old friends,
aren't we buddy?
 
Take off his
gag."

"He
used to be sheriff in the town where I lived," Sloan growled.
 
"He was helping me investigate my
late wife's murder.
 
He was on the
trail the day I brought your kidnappers to justice."

"Sweet
thing, she was, that wife of yours.
 
Nice and sweet," the sheriff chuckled, grabbing his crotch.
 
"She broke up a lot of families,
she did."

"You
men chose to bed her.
 
You can't
blame her for your losses!" Blair exclaimed.
 
"You're a sheriff!
 
Why are you with these men?"

"Lawmen
don't get paid a lot.
 
Even bounty
hunting has its flaws.
 
I was
offered a sum that I couldn't resist in these hard times."

"And
you?" she glared at Sloan.
 
"Where do you fit into all this?"

"He
sniffed out our trail and got too close to home.
 
Other than that, your boyfriend is
innocent," the sheriff said, answering for Sloan.

"He is
my husband."

"I've been
having you followed since the day you picked up that damn horse.
 
Not once have you two made it to either
a church or a justice of the peace.
 
You are as much of a whore as the others," Malcolm said.
 
"He's contacted his agency, but the
message was intercepted and changed to read that he had reached a dead
end.
 
Just in case Pinkerton decides
to send in assistance, we need to dispose of him.
 
Make sure this looks like an
accident."

"What
about the other one?" the kidnapper gestured to Madeline.

"I'm keeping
her.
 
She'll be quiet," Malcolm
said.
 
"She will be a witness
as to how her poor mistress died, in case we need an alibi."

Blair's head
was spinning.
 
She had to find a way
to stop this insanity!
 
"What
will you do with Aunt Imelda?"

"Exactly
what you wished, my dear.
 
She will
become our servant.
 
I was thinking
about bringing old Deuce back with me and letting him have her."

Blair
shuddered.
 
As much as she despised
her aunt, she would not wish her to be subjected to a disease-ridden
rapist.
 
"From what Deuce said,
she would enjoy that attention extensively.
 
After what she did to me, such pleasure
would be too good for her."

"True.
 
Clay!
 
What happened to you?"

"Damn
horse got in the way of my face.
 
Sorry, Boss.
 
He took
off."
 
The man pressed a dirty
cloth on the large wound across his cheek and nose.

"He'll
be back.
 
For some reason, that
animal always returns to her.
 
Take
them out to the corral and tie them to a post.
 
The sunshine will do them good.
 
No, leave that one here with me,"
Malcolm said, gesturing towards the frightened Madeline.

"I'm
sorry," Sloan said quietly, after the outlaws walked away, leaving him and
Blair in the blazing late-summer sun.
 
"I had no idea that things were what they were."

"You
deceived me.
 
You lied to me about
everything."

"I lied
to you about my job and the chance meeting.
 
Nothing else."

"Well,
I think that is quite enough.
 
There
is only one thing I care about right now, and it's getting away from here
alive.
 
Afterwards, I never want to
see or hear from you again."

"I know
you are angry with me, but right now I need you to focus on how we can escape
and stay in one piece.
 
Do you still
have the knife I gave you?"

"It's
tucked in my boot."

"Try to
get your foot back to my hand.
 
I am
going to try to pull your boot off and get it out."

Blair bit
down on her tongue as they twisted and maneuvered to free the knife.
 
She used her stockinged foot to push the
sharp blade into Sloan's grip.
 
She
frantically looked around as he began to saw through the thick ropes, swearing
that her pounding heart could be heard clear across to the main house.

"Got
it.
 
Your turn, kiddo.
 
There you go," Sloan said, freeing
her.
 
"We need weapons."

"My gun
is still inside on the endtable.
 
I
can sneak through the house and try to get it."

"Under
any other circumstance, I would discourage you from taking this risk, but we
don't have much of a choice here.
 
Be careful.
 
Blair?"

"What?"

"I love
you."

Blair did
not respond.
 
She looked into his
blue eyes and sighed.
 
"I liked
you so much better when I thought you were just a rough-edged man who got
sprayed in the face by a skunk."

"Well,
if it makes you feel any better, I liked myself better then, too.
 
I think I once told you that I loathed
liars, and I was one of the worst.
 
I am sorry."

"I
forgive you," Blair murmured, "but I can't trust you.
 
It's over, Sloan."

Sloan's eyes
were filled with pain.
 
"I
understand.
 
I hope we get a chance
to talk more later though."

"If we
live."

"We
will live.
 
Because of you, I finally
have something worth living for, Blair.
 
You are my life, and without you nothing matters."
 
Blair said nothing as he gently kissed
her cheek.
 
"All is clear.
 
Hurry!
 
Be careful."

Blair ducked
behind barrels to hide herself as she scurried back towards the main
house.
 
Silently, she opened the
front door and snuck into the sitting room.

"Madeline?"
she whispered.

The maid
turned her head from Malcom's lifeless body that lay sprawled on the
floor.
 
In the older woman's hand
was a cast-iron frying pan.
 
"Miss Blair?
 
He wanted
me to cook for him.
 
After what he
had done to you and Mr. Sloan …"

"Shhh,
it will all be fine.
 
You did very
well.
 
Thank you."
 
Blair held the sobbing woman in comfort.
 
"Now listen carefully.
 
Sloan and I are going to try to get out
of here.
 
I want you to go down into
the root cellar and hide.
 
Do not
make a sound.
 
We will be back for
you when it's safe, I promise."

Blair slid
her gun into the back waistband of her trousers and then removed two rifles
from the shelf.
 
She loaded both,
threw a handful of ammo into her pockets, and with a kiss on her old friend's
cheek, ventured back out the front door.
 
Sloan was waiting in the shadows.

"Grandfather
is dead.
 
Madeline struck him with a
frying pan," Blair whispered.

"Is she
all right?"

"I told
her to hide in the root cellar until we came around back for her.
 
As long as she makes it over there and
is not seen, she should be safe.
 
We
need horses.
 
How can we get them in
broad daylight?"