RenegadeHeart (31 page)
Authors: Madeline Baker
Tyree swore as he realized she was reaching for her gun.
Quick as a cat, he grabbed her wrist. Annabelle screamed with rage, her free
hand clawing at Tyree’s face, her legs kicking wildly as she fought to keep
hold of the gun.
Tyree dragged Annabelle off the bed and they struggled in
taut silence for several moments. Once, catching sight of the hatred that
twisted Annabelle’s face, Tyree wondered why he had ever thought her beautiful.
He had almost succeeded in wresting the gun from her hand
when Annabelle kicked him in the groin, hard. With a grunt, Tyree doubled over,
striking Annabelle’s shoulder and knocking her off balance so that she fell
back on the bed, dragging Tyree with her. There was a muffled explosion as the
gun, pinned between their bodies, went off.
Annabelle writhed violently, her arm knocking the oil lamp
off the table beside the bed, her hand pushing against Tyree’s chest. An
expression of horror contorted her face as Tyree stood up and she saw the blood
welling up from her left breast. Then a shudder convulsed her body and she lay
still, her green eyes vacant of life.
For a moment, Tyree stared at Annabelle, unmindful of the
flames caused by the spilled oil lamp. Somehow, he thought it fitting that
Annabelle had died by her own hand. And her own hatred. Then, as the fire began
to lick at the sides of the bed, he turned on his heel and vaulted out the
window.
He lingered in the darkness, watching the flames spread,
watching as the hired hands fought to put out the raging blaze.
It was after dawn when he started for Yellow Creek.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rachel was sitting in the kitchen, staring into a cup of
cold coffee, wondering…wondering if Tyree had left her for good. Wondering how
he could leave without a word after the night they had shared. She would have
sworn he loved her, would have staked her life on it even though he had never
said the words. Now she was not so sure. Where was he?
A knock at the back door disturbed her thoughts and she
hurried across the room, her heart beating fast. Perhaps Tyree had come back to
her. Dear God, please let it be Tyree.
Her face mirrored her disappointment when she opened the
door and saw Clint Wesley standing there, his face a mask of concern.
“Morning, Clint,” she said without much enthusiasm. “Come
in.”
“Rachel, you darn fool, I just got through talking to
Candido. Are you out of your mind, running off into the desert like that? You
might have been killed. Or worse.”
“I’m fine,” she replied dully. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No.” Clint shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Did
you find him?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Clint did not believe her, and he was about to say so when
footsteps sounded in the hallway. He drew his gun as Logan Tyree stepped into
the kitchen.
Too late, Rachel started to call out a warning. Then, with a
shrug, she sat back in her chair, a sudden intuition admonishing her not to
interfere between the two men this time.
Tyree did not seem surprised to find the marshal standing in
the kitchen with a gun in his hand. Calm as could be, he crossed to the stove
and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in his life, he knew
exactly what he wanted. It was a good feeling.
He shifted his coffee cup to his right hand, smiled lazily.
“Morning, Marshal,” he drawled, his eyes fixed on the Colt .44 nestled in
Wesley’s hand.
“Keep your hand away from that gun,” Clint warned curtly. “I
don’t want to have to kill you.”
“No?”
“No. I want to see you hang for the murder of Job Walsh,
among other things.”
“I’d like to avoid that, if you don’t mind.”
“Shut up!” Wesley snapped. He cocked the Colt, his mild blue
eyes alight with the force of his hatred. If it weren’t for Logan Tyree, Rachel
would have been his wife long ago.
Tyree stirred impatiently. “Wesley, I don’t want to draw on
you, but if you don’t put that gun down, I’m gonna take it away from you.”
Wesley snorted. “I may not be a fast gun, Tyree, but I think
I can crank off a round or two before you can…damn!” He swore as Tyree’s bullet
slammed into his forearm, knocking the Colt from fingers gone suddenly numb.
“You talk too much,” Tyree mused, holstering his weapon.
Without a word, Rachel picked up a tea towel and wrapped it
around the shallow wound in Clint’s arm.
“This doesn’t solve anything,” Clint said through clenched
teeth. “I intend to see you hang if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“Wesley, you’re a damn fool,” Tyree observed without rancor.
“And you’ll never amount to anything as a lawman if you don’t wise up. When
you’ve got the drop on a man, you don’t stand around listening to him jaw. You
either take his gun from him, or you kill him.”
“Thanks for the lesson,” Wesley muttered sarcastically.
“No charge,” Tyree replied with a grin. “As for killing
Walsh, you’ve got no proof that I gunned him. No witnesses. No evidence.”
“I’ve got proof,” Clint said triumphantly. “I’ve got your
signed confession.”
“Really? I’d like to see it.”
“It’s out at the Slash W. Annabelle showed it to me months
ago.”
“Forget it, Marshal. The Slash W went up in smoke late last
night.”
Rachel and Clint stared at Tyree, mouths agape, and then
Wesley sighed heavily.
“All right, Tyree,” the marshal said wearily. “You win.” He
glanced at Rachel, then swung around to face Tyree again. “You’re no good for
her!” he lashed out. “You told me so yourself.”
“That’s true,” Tyree said soberly.
“I’d make her a better husband than you ever could.”
“True again,” Tyree agreed with a shrug.
“And I love her.” Clint looked at Rachel, his eyes pleading
with her. “I do love you,” he said fervently.
“I think he means it,” Tyree said. “Any fool can see he’s
crazy about you.”
Clint smiled exuberantly. Things were going better than he
had dared hope. “He’s a drifter, Rachel. I’ll bet he’s never stayed in one
place longer than a few months at most.”
“All true,” Tyree agreed, grinning broadly. “But you’ve left
out one thing. I love Rachel. And she loves me.”
“Yeah.” Wesley sighed heavily. Anyone could see that Rachel
loved Tyree. It was there in her happy smile and in the warmth of her eyes when
she looked at Tyree.
“Clint, I’m sorry—”
“It’s all right, Rachel,” Wesley said, forcing himself to
smile. “Be happy.” Picking up his gun, he shoved it in his holster and left the
house. Somehow, in his heart, he had known Rachel would never be his.
“Well?” Tyree said, taking Rachel in his arms. “Say
something.”
“I love you.”
“I know that,” he growled. “Dammit, Rachel, I hope you know
what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know,” she said quietly, and then she smiled up at him,
her face radiant, her eyes glowing. “You were right all along,” she said,
laughing merrily. “The beautiful princess should always marry the dragon.”
“Told you so,” Tyree said, grinning at her. It wouldn’t be
easy, hanging up his gun, settling down in one place. But with Rachel by his
side, he could do it. By damn, he could do anything!
For a moment, Rachel fretted over the way she had hurt
Clint, and then she brightened. Carol Ann would be there to comfort Clint, to
give him the love and support every man needed. They were perfect for each
other.
And then Tyree was kissing her, kissing her as if he would
never let her go, and there was no room in Rachel’s heart or thoughts for any
other man. Only Tyree, always Tyree…
About Madeline Baker
Madeline Baker started writing simply for the fun of it. Now
she is the award-winning author of more than thirty historical romances and one
of the most popular writers of Native American romance. She lives in
California, where she was born and raised.
Madeline welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
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Renegade Heart
ISBN 9781419942884
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Renegade Heart Copyright © 1989, 2013 Madeline Baker
Cover design by Dar Albert
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Electronic book publication January 2013
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