Robin Lee Hatcher (34 page)

Even as Rand gave Hawk a quick rundown of events, they swung into their saddles and turned their horses toward the Bar V. They rode hard. Ingrid would keep the deputy with her as long as possible, but all too soon either the sheriff or the deputy would discover the cell was empty.

Hawk supposed a jailbreak wouldn’t go far in convincing people of his innocence, but he would worry about that after Bethany was away from Vince and the Bar V.

He pictured his wife in the hands of his enemy. The man was dangerous — he would obviously do whatever it took to accomplish his goals. That thought twisted his gut. If anything should happen to Bethany and the child she carried, he’d never forgive himself.

“Maybe you should ride to the ranch and get more help,” he called to Rand above the sound of galloping hooves.

“I’m stickin’ with you. I broke my promise to Bethany the last time. It ain’t happenin’ again.”

Hawk wasn’t sure what his friend meant, but he didn’t argue. There might not be time to get more men. Who knew what Vince planned for Bethany? Did the man know she was pregnant? What would he do if he did?

Hawk should have had things out with Richards long before this, long before the Silvertons ever came to Sweetwater.

Bethany stood at the dining room window, staring at the snowy landscape.

“Soon this house will be yours, my dear.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Vince sat at the large table, eating his breakfast. Another plate had been set on the table to his right. Her plate. She’d refused to eat.

Ingrid and Rand would have found her note by now. They would have told Hawk about it. She pictured him, trapped behind those bars. He would want to come after her. He would want to demand an explanation, one she couldn’t give him. Not yet. Not until he was proven innocent of the murder of Rick Saunders.

“Bethany.” Vince’s voice had sharpened. “I’ve had enough of this. Come to the table and sit down.”

She placed a protective hand on her stomach, reminding herself why she hadn’t fought him while still in her father’s study. She wouldn’t allow harm to come to this baby. Help would come. She believed that with all of her heart.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Vince’s hand landed on her shoulder, and he turned her toward him. “I said, sit down and eat.”

She bit back the fear that rose in her throat. “I’m not hungry.”

He stared at her a long while. Then his eyes widened with surprise. “You think he’s coming for you.”

She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

“Despite my warnings of what I can and will do, you still think he’ll be free. You still think you’ll be reunited with him. You are quite naive, my dear. Quite naive.”

She tilted her chin higher and forced her gaze to remain steady.

She would not let him see that she was afraid.

He took her by the elbow and propelled her to the table, forcing her to sit with a none-too-gentle pressure on her shoulder.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, more to himself than to her. “It might not hurt to prepare for visitors.” He left the dining room but returned within moments. He had a thick, silky cord in his left hand. “I’m sorry to do this, my dear, but it is probably for the best.”

She didn’t understand his intent until it was too late. His grip was strong, and although she struggled once she realized what he meant to do, he had no trouble binding her wrists together and then tying her to the chair.

“Now I shall finish my breakfast while we wait to see if your husband has managed to escape the last trap I laid for him.”

Bethany grew still. “You killed Saunders, didn’t you?”

He smirked.

That was answer enough.

FORTY-ONE

“All right, little lady.” Sheriff Cook stared down at Ingrid. “I don’t cotton to putting a pregnant woman in jail, but I’ll do it if you don’t tell me where to find Chandler. And don’t think that you’re not in trouble. Bustin’ a man out of jail is no small matter. Now where did he go? Has he got a place to hide?”

“He is not hiding, Sheriff.” She hoped this was the right time to say what she must. “He went to the Bar V. Mr. Richards has taken Bethany, and Hawk went to bring her home.”

The sheriff muttered a curse beneath his breath, then caught her reaction. “Sorry.” He turned toward his deputy. “Get a few men together. We’re going to the Richards ranch to bring Chandler back.” He looked at Ingrid again. “You stay here with Doc Wilton. Don’t you budge an inch. You hear me?”

She nodded.

“Doc, you make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

Riding right up to the main house wasn’t much of a plan, but Hawk didn’t see how to do it any other way. There were too many Bar V ranch hands and no cover to hide behind. It seemed best to use the bold approach and hope the sheriff and his posse would be close behind them.

He and Rand trotted their horses into the yard and dismounted. A quick glance told him that two men were right inside the barn, another couple outside the bunkhouse. No telling who or how many might be inside.

As they stepped onto the veranda, Hawk noticed that Rand had his hand close to the gun in his holster. His own fingers itched to be holding his Colt.

“Keep Bethany safe, Lord,” he whispered.

He knocked on the door. No one answered right away, so he knocked again. This time, the door opened, revealing a fellow Hawk didn’t know. Judging by his clothes, he was a servant.

“I’m Hawk Chandler. I’ve come for my wife.”

The man looked uncertain. “She’s in the dining room.” He stepped back, allowing Hawk and Rand to enter, and motioned toward the room to the right of the entry.

Hawk stopped in the doorway of the dining room. Bethany sat at the table, her hands in her lap and her lap covered with a blanket. Vince stood beside the chair, one hand on her shoulder.

Hawk’s response was a powerful combination of relief and fury. His wife and baby were safe, but currently within the grasp of a criminal. He saw red.

“Bethany expected you,” Vince said. “But it was a mistake to come. Surely you know that.”

“I don’t want trouble with you, Richards. I just came for my wife.”

“She’s left you. Haven’t you heard?”

Hawk took two more strides into the room. “I heard. But she didn’t write that note of her own accord.”

“Are you so sure? She and I spent time together in Philadelphia. We formed an attachment that she couldn’t forget. Surely she told you.”

Hawk heard something behind him and turned in time to see Rand go down, thanks to the butt of a revolver cracking against his skull.

“I’ll take your gun, Chandler.” McDermott, the Bar V foreman, stepped over Rand.

He had little choice but to comply.

“What do you want me to do with them, boss?”

“Take Howard out to the barn and tie him up. I’ll deal with Chandler myself.” Vince raised the gun that had been in his free hand all the time. “He won’t be any trouble while we wait for the sheriff.” He motioned with the business end of the gun. “I think you should sit down over there.”

Eyes on Bethany, Hawk moved toward the indicated chair. She was afraid. He saw that. But she wasn’t afraid for herself. Her fears were for him. He hoped she could read his feelings as easily as he could hers.

“Do you know what I have on my desk, Chandler? Plans for the new Bar V. A bigger Bar V once I’ve married the Widow Chandler and her property becomes mine.”

He forced himself not to react. “Aren’t you jumping the gun? I’m not dead yet.”

“You will be after you’re found guilty of the murder of that young fellow Saunders.”

Bethany paled. “You said — ”

Hawk saw Vince’s fingers tighten on her shoulder, cutting off her words. It was all he could do not to vault across the table. Only he knew he’d be shot dead trying, and that wouldn’t help his family. “Why are you so sure I’ll be found guilty?”

“Because I own more than land in this territory. I own people too. That’s something you couldn’t begin to understand.”

“I take it you were behind the rustling?”

Vince chuckled.

“And the gunman who tried to kill me?”

“Yes, I hired him. He was supposed to be a good shot, but as it turned out, I’m glad you killed him instead. It makes you look guiltier of Saunders’s murder.”

Vince left Bethany’s side and walked around the table, motioning with his gun again, warming to his story. “You should have taken the money I offered you. Now you’ll end up with nothing. You’ll end up at the end of a hangman’s noose.”

Hawk looked at Bethany. “What makes you think she’ll marry you, even if I’m dead?”

The barrel of the gun pressed against his head behind his left ear. “Because she’s going to do what I say from now on. Because if she doesn’t promise, she can watch me shoot you right now.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered.

It was Bethany’s plea that distracted Vince, giving Hawk the chance he needed. He grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his hand against the table. Once, twice. The third time, the revolver spun away from them. Hawk bolted from the chair, grappling Vince. They hit the floor and rolled toward the window, then back again. As Hawk slammed against the overturned chair, he managed to get his hands around his enemy’s throat. Fury tightened his grip.

He knew the moment the fight was his.

It would be easy to kill Vince, to choke the life from him. It would take only seconds to have his revenge for the stolen cattle, for the shooting, for Saunders, for Bethany, for the danger this man had put his unborn child in.

Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
Romans, chapter twelve.

He wished he hadn’t read that chapter of the Bible so many times. Right now, he wanted to do things his way.

But he couldn’t. He loosened his hands and pushed Vince away from him. His enemy lay still, gasping for air, his own hands now at his throat. Hawk rose and hurried around the table to Bethany, grabbing for the revolver on his way. When she didn’t get up to meet him, he yanked the blanket from her lap, revealing the cords that kept her bound, confirming his suspicions. It made him want to strangle Vince all over again.

He tried to keep both the doorway and the man on the floor in sight as he freed Bethany.

“You can’t stay here, Hawk. You must run. You must hide until we find some way to prove your innocence.”

He gathered her to him with one arm, still watching for other signs of danger. He hoped the sheriff would arrive soon. It’s what he and Rand were counting on when they rode in here.

“I’m not running, Bethany. We’re going to have to trust God to work this out.”

In a scratchy whisper, Vince said, “God can’t help you. You’ll hang.”

“Only if he wills it, and I’m trusting that he won’t.”

Sounds from the entry hall drew Hawk’s attention toward the dining room entrance. He moved Bethany to stand behind him, the revolver ready. When he saw the sheriff, he put the gun on the table and raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

Vince got to his feet. “About time you got here, Cook. Chandler just tried to kill me.”

“Only after you threatened me and my wife. And if I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead right now.”

The sheriff looked from Vince to Hawk.

Bethany stepped from behind him. “Hawk’s telling you the truth, Sheriff.”

Sheriff Cook nodded, his expression grim. “Maybe we’d all best go into town so I can sort things out.”

“Wait.” The manservant who had opened the door for Hawk and Rand appeared in the entry hall. “Sheriff, I can tell you what’s been happening around here.”

“Hutchens,” Vince said, the name sounding like a growl, “none of this concerns you.”

For an instant, it looked as if Vince’s threatening tone had done its job. But then Hutchens drew himself up, saying, “I’ve kept quiet long enough. When you tie a woman to a chair and lay in wait for her husband with a gun, it concerns me. When you order a man killed and then attempt to put the blame on someone else, it’s my concern.” He looked at the sheriff again. “I can tell you what you need to know about Mr. Chandler and the death of the man called Saunders. And you’ll find proof about more illegal dealings in Mr. Richards’ office.”