The Gunfighter and the Heiress (19 page)

“Did she describe the men to you?” Bart questioned the marshal.

Dawson crammed the hat on his head then nodded. “Big-boned, wearing ragtag cowboy-looking clothes. Scraggly hair and red bandannas around their necks.”

“What!”
Van gasped in disbelief.

“Oh hell, you don't suppose it's the Harper Gang that hooked up with Marsh?” Bart croaked as he glanced up and down the boardwalk. “Could we be that lucky to apprehend them in the same town with Natalie's tormentor?”

Van sorely wished the threesome would lumber out of one of the saloons so he could pounce and be done with them.

“We better check Rattlesnake Saloon,” Bart advised.

“Might try the brothels, too,” Dawson suggested. “Or that fleabag hotel by the red-light district. They might be passed out and sleeping off a hangover.”

Dawson's voice trailed off when he noticed three riders approaching. He grabbed his gun and pointed it at the men in ragtag clothing.

“Put away your gun, marshal. That's your long-awaited Rangers,” Van smirked then stared down Montgomery, Bristow and Phelps. “I hope you delivered my two friends to the reservation unharmed and filed complaints about Lieutenant Suggs at Fort Sill.”

The Rangers—all sporting several days' growth of whiskers and a layer of dust—dismounted.

“The Indian Agent is checking into the situation,” Phelps reported.

Van scoffed cynically. “He might be in on the scheme. It wouldn't be the first time a corrupt agent cheated tribes.”

Montgomery slapped his dusty hat against his hip then brushed off the shoulders of his shirt. “We're planning to stay on top of the situation.”

“You do that, Monty, and so will I when I head that direction in the morning.”

“We'd still be there but we received word about a stagecoach robbery in no-man's-land and horse thieves north of Taloga Springs,” Bristow interjected as he stared deliberately at Van. “We need more Rangers to police this area and deal with a wide assortment of problems. Know where we could find a capable volunteer?”

“Don't look at me,” Van said. “I have my own problems. The Harper Gang, minus their little brother I had to kill in self-defense, is in town. The brothers are out for my blood.”

Phelps perked up. “If we capture them and collect the
rewards on their heads, maybe we can twist their arms a few dozen ways to find out where they hid the money from their bank robberies.” He stared directly at Van. “We were told we worked cheaper than you, so you recommended that
we
track down the outlaws that escaped from jail.”

Van was in no mood to rub that comment in the Rangers' faces. He wanted to find the Harpers. Now.

“I'll check the other hotels and give descriptions of the Harpers,” Bart offered, then wheeled away.

“I'll check Rattlesnake Saloon,” Monty volunteered. “I could use a drink anyway.”

“I'll be at the livery stable looking for the horses stolen from one of the nearby ranches,” the marshal said, then hurried off.

“Well, hell,” said Van. That left him to check the red-light district. He wondered what Nat would say—or think—if she saw him enter the bordellos. Would she care? He reminded himself that, come tomorrow, they would part company. He had served his purpose for her. With her staggering fortune, she could buy new friends, new beaus and anything else her heart desired.

The thought put a scowl on his face as he strode toward the brothels on the west side of town.

Ten minutes later, he had questioned the harlots at the first house of ill repute, then entered the second. Madam Sadie sauntered toward him, flashing a come-hither smile.

“You're the one called Crow,” she purred. “I heard you were in town and that you brought in prisoners. Perhaps you would like to unwind and relax now that you're off duty.”

Van glanced down at the bosomy redhead, dressed in an off-the-shoulder red velvet gown. She flashed him a seductive smile, then rubbed provocatively against his arm. He predicted he was destined to spend the next six
months—probably longer—comparing potential lovers to Natalie and finding them sadly lacking in every way imaginable.

“Thanks for the offer, but I'm looking for three men with scraggly brown hair and plain facial features. They are brothers and one is as unremarkable looking as the next.”

Madam Sadie frowned distastefully. “They were here late this afternoon. One of my girls complained that the oldest one was exceptionally drunk, loud and abusive. We were glad when they left, I can tell you for sure.”

“Do you know where they are staying?” Van asked urgently.

Sadie's bare shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Didn't ask. Don't care, as long as they don't come back here. They shortchanged all three of my girls before they staggered off.”

Van mumbled a hasty goodbye, then exited. Knowing where the Harper brothers had been, not where they were now was doing no good whatsoever. He hoped the other men had better luck tracking the outlaws.

Ten minutes later, the men congregated in the middle of Main Street. No one reported any sightings of the bandits.

“Maybe they decided to ride out when they heard you were in town,” Marshal Dawson speculated.

“Doubt it,” Van said. “They promised retribution. The Harpers are around here somewhere.”

“Just to be on the safe side, we better tell Natalie who those men are,” Bart advised. “Knowing her, she'll decide to arrest them herself.”

Van glanced up at the second story of the hotel, three windows from the left. Unease skittered down his spine when he noticed the curtains were open but no light flickered from a lantern. Then he glanced into the window of
the single room on the other side of the hotel. No light glowed there, either.

“Marshal, how long ago did you say my wife stopped at your office?”

Dawson rubbed his chin pensively. “Must've been at least three quarters of an hour. She was going to grab a bite to eat.”

Van sagged in relief. “Good. Since the hotel suite looks dark, that must mean she's still at one of the cafés. For a moment there I was wondering if the Harpers might have used her to bait a trap for me.”

“That's one way to draw out a man without facing his deadly pistol,” Monty remarked. “Better go find your pretty wife and keep track of her until we run the Harpers to ground.” He glanced at the marshal. “Afterward we'll see what we can do about the two stagecoach robbers and horse thieves preying on this area.”

“I'll check Canyon Café,” Van said. “You Rangers can check Caprock Café.”

“No sense bothering with Panhandle Café,” Dawson said, shuddering. “You have to have a cast-iron belly to eat there. That's usually where I pick up meals for my prisoners. I figure they deserve it.”

Van wished he'd thought to warn Natalie away from Panhandle Café when they arrived in town. Most cowboys were well into their cups when they staggered in there to eat.

“I'm ready to grab a bite,” Bart insisted as he kept up with Van's swift strides. “I hope we find Nat along the way.”

Bart glanced curiously at Van. “Do you still want that divorce you've been ranting about for two days?”

“Not unless Sunshine does. Hers is the only offer I'll probably ever get.” Van stepped onto the boardwalk, then
opened the door. He scanned the patrons at the tables but Natalie wasn't one of them. If she were here, he would have spotted that bright yellow gown in nothing flat.

“I wonder where she could be if she isn't here or in her room,” Bart mused aloud.

Concern furrowed Van's brow as he reversed direction. “Maybe she decided to lie down before eating. She's had a hard day, after all.”

“Could be,” Bart agreed as he veered back to the café. “I'll grab something for all of us and bring it to the hotel.”

Van nodded, distracted. Every minute that he couldn't account for Natalie's whereabouts intensified his concern. Not only were the Harpers lurking about, wanting Van's head served up on a silver platter, but rowdy cowboys were always causing trouble around here, too, blowing off steam before returning to their duties with the traveling cattle herds. Natalie didn't need to be roughed up again. She had been knocked around too many times this morning.

Van halted at the hotel desk to check with the clerk, who was certain he had seen Natalie leave, wearing the stunning yellow gown. He admitted that he had stepped out for a few minutes so he couldn't say for sure if she had returned.

“Damn it,” Van muttered as he bounded up the steps. He hated this feeling of fear that gnawed at him. He tried to tell himself that the Harpers couldn't have grabbed Natalie. She had learned to defend herself. But what if…?

He clenched his teeth when several grim scenarios leaped to center stage of his mind. If Natalie managed to escape Marsh and his henchmen, only to meet disaster as a pawn used to lure him in, he would never forgive himself.

He unlocked the door to the suite, then called out in the darkness. Even if he awakened her from much-needed
sleep he wouldn't apologize because he needed to know she was safe.

“Sunshine? Are you here?”

He lit the bedroom lantern only to see the bed hadn't been slept in and her satchel lay beside the end table. Van whirled around and hurried off to check the single room with the new glass window. Natalie hadn't been thrilled with the prospect of another long-winded lecture from him. Maybe she had gone to her own room to avoid him.

Van hammered on the door. “Natalie!”

He was met with silence. Another ripple of distress slithered down his backbone.

“Mr. Crow?”

Van whipped around to see one of the lanky teenage boys who had delivered bathwater earlier in the day.

The boy extended his hand, palm up. “I was told to give this to you tonight.”

Van unfolded the note and felt his breath freeze in his chest.

In the morning? Van swore silently. He'd never last that long. The suspense of not knowing if Natalie was being abused like the harlot Madam Sadie mentioned would kill him before midnight.

And that was the idea. He was supposed to suffer all the torments of the damned, wondering where Natalie was and whether she had come to harm.

After the teenager walked away, Van slammed his right fist into his left hand, wishing he could bash in all three of the Harpers' plain-looking faces. “Damn them to hell!”

“Van?”

He lurched around to see Bart at the head of the steps, carrying a basket of food in his uninjured arm. “I picked up three supper specials. There's plenty of food… What's wrong?”

“Everything,” Van growled furiously as he waved the note in the air. “The Harpers have Natalie. I'm supposed to wait until morning to find out where to meet them.”

Bart glanced down at the food basket. “Suddenly I don't feel a damn bit hungry.”

“I don't want food. I want to kill somebody. Starting and ending with those goddamn Harper brothers!” he raged.

“I'm sorry,” Bart mumbled inadequately. “I'd gladly exchange places with her if I could.”

“I
will
change places with her,” Van vowed as he stormed to his suite. He halted to glance grimly at his trusted friend. “Get her out alive, Bartholomew. No matter what else happens tomorrow, promise me that she'll have the chance to enjoy the grand adventure she's dreamed about.”

He didn't have to add that he would gladly become the sacrifice needed to ensure Natalie's safety.

Bart understood exactly what he meant.

N
atalie was not surprised when she realized the Harpers had descended into the labyrinth of canyons south of Taloga Springs to hide out. The outlaws found a cave large enough to accommodate them. They removed her from the tarp and dumped her in the corner. After building a fire near the mouth of the cavern, they commenced celebrating their scheme by opening two bottles of whiskey. To her vast relief, they passed out and didn't bother her.

With her feet curled up beside her, Natalie discreetly retrieved the dagger Crow had given her. Even though her hands were tied behind her back, she was able to saw at the ropes wrapped around her wrists. She nicked her skin and drew blood but she was determined to free herself. It was tedious work and she stopped countless times to rest her aching arms. Fortunately she had all night because the Harper brothers were sprawled on the stone floor, their greasy heads propped on their saddles, snoring up a storm.

It took several hours to free herself. The golden light of dawn spilled into the cavern by the time she slowly rose to her feet. After long hours of being tied up and hanging
upside down over the horse, it took several minutes before she felt steady. She removed her cumbersome petticoats, then drew the back hem of her gown between her legs to fashion makeshift breeches. Since she didn't have a belt to hold up the yards of fabric, she tiptoed over to make use of one of the holsters the men had tossed in the back of the cavern near a small tunnel. Natalie did not intend to follow it to see if it was an escape hatch or dead end. She was using the large exit—
if
she could leave without alerting the sleeping desperadoes.

Plus, she was
not
leaving without taking their arsenal of weapons with her, though she knew they had other weapons stashed on their person. But at least they wouldn't have extra pistols and ammunition to blast away at her if they awoke and realized she was gone.

She didn't want to repeat that unnerving fiasco of dodging bullets with Marsh and his goons.

When Georgie Harper rolled to his side and groaned Natalie froze to the spot. She hardly dared to breathe, for fear the sounds would echo around the cave and wake the bandits. She didn't want to fight her way to freedom as she had yesterday.

Sweet mercy! she thought as she plucked up the six-shooters and tucked them into the folds of her skirt-turned-breeches. She had crammed so much danger, excitement and new experiences into the past two weeks that it seemed like six months of living.

This is what Crow's life is like,
she realized with a start. He faced perilous situations constantly. Every day tested his physical stamina, heightened his acute senses and sharpened his wits. If she could become one-fourth as capable as Crow she would be well pleased with herself.

Her thoughts scattered when Willy Harper moaned groggily and squirmed in his sleep. Natalie glanced
anxiously toward the mouth of the chamber. She was as far from the exit as she could get and there were three burly outlaws standing in her way—lying in her path was more accurate. But still!

Inching along the wall, taking care not to let the spare pistols tumble from her improvised pockets and clank against the rock floor, Natalie moved along the perimeter, watching where she stepped. She stopped breathing when Charley mumbled inaudibly. She was afraid he'd rouse his brothers and the chase would be on before she had a head start.

To her vast relief, all three men remained asleep. She stepped outside to inhale a deep breath of fresh air. She would have gladly offered to purchase another two bottles of liquor for her captors if it would guarantee they'd be conked out until she was long gone.

Natalie moved swiftly down the footpath that descended thirty-five feet to the canyon floor. She did admit the Harpers had chosen an excellent fortress that provided a broad view of the crevices, arroyos and unique rock formations that towered overhead. She wanted to take time to wash her face and refresh herself in the clear spring, complete with a small waterfall that tumbled from the caprock to splatter off a stairway of limestone ledges. But time was of the essence. She had to tolerate the lingering odor of the mildewy tarp and smelly kerchief that clung to her clothing.

Her first order of business was to reach the four horses tethered near a stand of cedar trees at the base of an arroyo. She cast an occasional glance at the ridge above her to make sure the bandits didn't emerge like a swarm of angry hornets. Moving quickly, she straddled one horse bareback then grabbed the reins to the other three.

The sun cast colorful light and shadows on the rugged
rock formations as she reined north. At least she hoped it was north. According to Crow, she had a lousy sense of direction.

She grimaced in disappointment when angry shouts boomed around the stone walls. She glanced up to see Georgie Harper pumping his fist at her, promising hellish torment and torture. Charley and Willy promptly joined him on the ledge, calling her all sorts of foul names.

“Come back here!” Georgie bellowed furiously. “I'll show you no mercy when we catch up with you.”

“I'm gonna make you wish you were dead!” Willy yelled.

“And I'll help him,” Charley seconded. “You'll never get out of this canyon alive!”

Natalie ignored them. She didn't have time to exchange threats with the outlaws for she was hell-bent on escape.

From their elevated fortress, they pitched rocks at her, startling the horses. The horses danced sideways and threw their heads nervously while rocks pelted them. Natalie gritted her teeth and held tightly to the reins, though her weary arm felt as if it were being stretched past its limits.

Then the shooting started. She looked down at her makeshift pockets, noting two six-shooters had fallen by the wayside during her hasty descent on the footpath. Plus, the Harpers had spare hardware tucked in the waistbands of their breeches.

“Awk!” Natalie squawked when gunshots ricocheted off the rock walls, pelting her face with pebbles and filling her eyes with grit and dust.

Her eyes were watering so bad that she could barely see where she was going. She wiped them on the sleeve of her gown then yelped when another bullet thudded into the boulder near her shoulder. When the horses bolted
forward and yanked on the reins, nearly jerking her arm from its socket, she gasped in pain.

“Curse it!” Natalie grumbled as she fought to regain control of the startled animals. She didn't want to release them, knowing the Harpers would chase them down on foot, then chase
her
on horseback.

Natalie instinctively ducked when a bullet whistled past her head, nearly putting a new part in her hair. She spared a quick glance over her shoulder to see Georgie blasting away with one of the pistols she had lost on the footpath. Charley had grabbed the other one. The two men fired at her again.

They were excellent marksmen, she noted. Flying bullets missed her by inches but grazed the ribs of the mount she was riding. The horse reared up on its hind legs and screamed in fright. She clamped her arms around the wild-eyed horse's neck. But without a saddle to anchor herself, she slid backward and landed on the ground with a thud and groan, twisting her ankle in the process.

She cast a frantic glance at the Harper brothers who were cursing her as they stormed downhill to capture her. Her heart hammered a hundred miles an hour as she struggled to control the prancing horses, while the Harpers fired repeatedly in an attempt to force her to release the reins.

I'm not going to make it,
Natalie thought as she scrambled madly, hoping and praying she could claw her way onto one of the horses before a bullet brought her down.

One almost did. She tucked and rolled beneath one of the high-stepping horses then slammed her shoulder against a protruding boulder. She shifted before the frightened horse trampled her. Then she asked herself if it was better to be trampled than have three furious outlaws follow through on the vicious threats they hurled at her.

 

At dawn, Bart rapped his trademark knock on Van's door. He had intercepted another message, delivered by the second teenager who worked for the hotel. When Van didn't open the door immediately, Bart turned the latch and discovered it was unlocked.

“Van? The Harpers are holding Natalie in Phantom Canyon.”

He pushed his drooping spectacles back in place as he hurried across the sitting room. He had expected to see Van pacing the floorboards, awaiting the next missive. Surely he hadn't tried to drown his troubles by downing glass after glass of whiskey. Truth be told, Bart had been tempted to guzzle a few drinks to take the edge off his nerves. But he wanted to keep his wits about him. He and the Rangers needed to assist Van in rescuing Natalie—if it wasn't too late.

Bart glanced down at the scrawled handwriting on the note that said,
If you want to see your wife alive, come alone to Phantom Canyon.

“No chance of that,” Bart muttered on his way to the bedroom. “What the hell?”

His voice trailed off when he saw Van's everyday garments scattered on the empty bed—and no sign of the headband, buckskin clothing and moccasins he always carried with him.

“Hey, Crow! Are you in here?” Montgomery called from the sitting room.

“
I'm
in here but Crow turned Kiowa during the night,” Bart called to the Rangers. “He didn't bother to tell me that he wasn't waiting for the second message.”

When the Rangers formed a semicircle behind him, Bart gestured to the discarded white man's clothing. “He's wearing buckskin and the beaded headband his mother
gave him before she died during the army's ambush. I'd say he's gone on the warpath.”

“What chance does he have against those three outlaws?” Phelps asked no one in particular.

Bart well remembered what Van had said to him last night about sacrificing himself to save Natalie. He whirled toward the door. “We need to set a fast pace. The Harpers are holed up in Phantom Canyon.”

“I know where it is,” Bristow said as he fell into step behind Bart.

“So does Van. It's the place where three members of his family died,” he said grimly. “If there are such things as Indian spirits lurking in the Kiowas' former stronghold I hope they haunt the living hell out of the Harpers.”

“He should have waited for us,” Phelps grumbled as he hurried down the steps. “I know he doesn't respect the Rangers, but we can provide reinforcement if he needs it.”

Bart knew Van's only concern was the safety and welfare of his wife. It reminded him of another time and place when
he
had set aside his own wants and needs to ensure the happiness of the woman who had held his heart—and still did.

 

Natalie scrambled madly in an attempt to control the jittery horses. She yelped when an unseen hand snagged her arm and yanked her behind the oversize boulder. She tried to scream but another hand clamped over her nose and mouth while she was dragged against a rock-hard chest. Her captor jerked the reins from her hands so fast they burned in pain.

Dear God! She hadn't realized one of the Harpers had circled around to sneak up on her. If she didn't escape now she wouldn't have another chance. She dug in her
heels and pushed—hard—trying to knock her captor off balance.

“Calm down, sunshine. I'm on your side, remember?”

Natalie nearly wept at the sound of Crow's rich, baritone voice. She tilted her head sideways to stare into his grim expression. He wore the beaded headband, along with the buckskin clothes and moccasins he'd donned the day Teskee and Chulosa joined them in camp. Red, black and white war paint covered his cheeks, chin and forehead. If Natalie didn't know and love Crow to such a fierce degree, she would have been terrified. He looked as formidable and dangerous as she had ever seen him.

“How did you find me?” she whispered.

“Old Kiowa trick…and a lighted torch to follow the tracks through the dark alley. How did you escape them?”

“Old Kiowa trick,” she said and managed a faint smile. “I used the dagger you gave me to cut the ropes off my wrists. Also, I relied on everything else you taught me.”

Her comment prompted the slightest hint of a smile. It didn't last long. His expression turned hard as he tucked her behind the boulder for protection.

“Remember how I keep telling you to stay put, and you defy me with one flimsy excuse after another?”

She nodded her tousled head.

“This time I really mean it, sunshine.”

“You and your rules,” she grumbled as she waved around the pistol she extracted from the fold of her makeshift breeches. “Here I am with spare hardware and you're not letting me use it.”

Smiling faintly, he dropped a kiss to her lips, then crouched so he could spring into action.

“Crow, I—” Natalie clamped her mouth shut before she did the inexcusable and blurted out that she was crazy in
love with him, even when she knew she meant nothing special to him.

When he frowned questioningly, she shooed him on his way. He surged between the horses that still tugged at the reins he had clamped in his hand. Natalie shook her head in amazement as he crouched down between the skittish horses. She predicted the Harpers were going to be surprised when they raced across the canyon floor and realized Crow had materialized where she had been a moment before.

Despite Crow's orders to stay down while he took all the chances with his life and became the target to lure in the Harpers, Natalie came to her knees so she could poke her head over the boulder. Sure enough, the Harpers skidded to a startled halt when Crow expelled a war whoop and rose to his feet, while the horses circled him like a moving shield.

“Well, hell!” Georgie scowled, then took aim to fire.

“Where'd he come from?” Charley muttered sourly.

“I'll take care of him.” Willy closed his left eye to take Crow's measure on the sight of the gun barrel.