The Outlaws (13 page)

Susan looked down at the man. “Is he dead?”

“I think he moved one of his hands.”

The sun was rising higher, bright and hot. How long could a wounded man survive in July heat with no water, no medical attention? Tessa wondered.

“We have to go out and get him,” she told Susan. “Bring him into the store. Dr. Ealy’ll be back sooner or later.”

Susan stared at her.

“We’ll roll him in a blanket and each take an end. “If he’s too heavy, we’ll drag him.” Susan nodded her face pale, but determined.

As the two women eased the wounded man onto the blanket after removing his gun belt, he groaned and opened his eyes briefly. Tessa, who’d thought at first he was a stranger, tensed, recognizing him as the man who’d humiliated her when Peppin halted her near Dolan’s store.

They were rescuing an enemy.

“What’s the matter?” Susan asked as Tessa stopped helping her. She cast an uneasy glance at the spot where Dolan sharpshooter’s waited.

“Nothing.” There was no point in making Susan more upset than she already was. Tessa forced the blanket ends nearest her together.

He was a stocky man, heavy, and hard to pull across the ground to Tunstall’s store. Perspiration beaded Tessa’s face and trickled between her breasts by the time they reached the nearest door which led to part of the store where Susan and the Ealy’s lived.

Susan hurried to fetch cloths and a basin of water then started to wash the blood from the man’s head, but Tessa, after she’d hidden his Colt and gun belt in a hall cupboard, couldn’t bring herself to help. She stood back watching Susan,

It was all very well to be a good Samaritan, but she didn’t want to touch the red-haired man.

He opened his eyes and immediately reached a hand toward his head.

“Don’t,” Susan said mildly. “You’ve been wounded.”

He paid no attention, pushing away her arm and probing his wound.

“Just a crease.” he muttered, wincing. He tried to sit up.

“I think you ought to rest,” Susan objected.

He seemed to really see her for the first time. “You’re the Gates woman,” he said, lying back. He glanced from side to side and spotted Tessa. His eyes widened.

“Yes, I’m Susan Gates.”

He looked back at Susan. “Hank Kilgore,” he muttered. “How’d I get in here?”

“We saw you lying in the field to the east. You’d been shot.”

Frowning, Hank made another attempt to sit up. Susan helped him. He drew up his knees, put his arms about them and leaned forward, head down.

“Hurts something fierce.”

“I’1l see if I can find some opium,” Susan said.

Tessa hurried after her as Susan left the room.

“Mr. Kilgore is one of Dolan’s men,” she whispered to Susan. “And not a very nice one.”

“I can’t see that it makes a difference. It’s our duty to take care of the injured.”

“I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any Dolan man.” Tessa bit her lip as soon as she’d spoken, for Susan knew very well that Mark Halloran had brought back Ezra at Tessa’s request.

“I especially can’t trust Mr. Kilgore,” she went on. “He--”

Jules called to Tessa from where he lay on a cot. She broke off to go to him.

“I want my own bed,” he complained. “It’s lonesome here.”

Tessa could see for herself that Jules was much better, but she didn’t dare leave Susan alone in the store with Hank Kilgore.

“We’ll wait for Dr. Ealy to return,” she told him. “If he says it’s all right, I’ll take you back to Uncle Alex’s.”

Tessa stayed with Jules for a time, telling him the story he liked best, about how his great-great-great-grandfather Nesbitt, fighting for England in the war against Spain, had saved his company from death by a daring ruse.

“When I grow up, I’m going to be a brave soldier too, Jules told her.

“You don’t have to be a soldier to be brave.”

“Ezra is brave,” he said. “Like Billy.”

Tessa frowned, but said nothing. She hoped she wouldn’t have to dissuade Jules from

tagging after Billy the way Ezra did. She was so tired of shooting and killing. Was there no place in the West where people lived in peace with one another?

Tessa sought out Susan, found her leaving the room where Hank Kilgore lay on the
floor. “I think the opium is putting him to sleep,” Susan whispered.

Tessa peered in at him. He looked harmless enough, curled on his side, eyes closed. And Susan was right. They couldn’t have left him in the field, even if she’d known beforehand who he was.

The Ealy’s returned in the early afternoon and the doctor got Hank in a chair to examine his head. “Most likely a brain concussion from the bullet striking against your skull,” he told him. “That’s what knocked you out. You’ll have a headache for a day or two.”

““Funny thing, Doc, I can’t rightly recall getting shot, don’t even remember why I was in that field.”

“Don’t worry about it. That often happens with head injuries. You’ll be all right.” “I’m obliged to you,” Hank said. “And to the ladies.”

Tessa didn’t like the way his eyes rested speculatively first on Susan, then on her.

“He works for Mr. Dolan,” she told the doctor.

Hank nodded. “That’s right, I do. But it ain’t safe for me to go outside, what with McSween’s boys in that warehouse in back of here and them others in Montano’s store across the way. No, I reckon you’re stuck with me, but I don’t aim to cause no trouble.”

Tessa mistrusted every word he said. She was glad she’d had sense enough to hide his pistol before he regained consciousness.

“You could leave after dark,” she said. “The moon’s not half-full.” Again he eyed her. She didn’t care for his probing look.

“I’m a mite dizzy at the moment,” Hank said, leaning his head against the back of the chair he sat in. He closed his eyes.

Dr. Ealy shook his head at Tessa and she turned away. After all, Hank Kilgore did have a concussion and could well be dizzy and in pain. Why did she feel so strongly he was faking?

Jules walked into the room.

“Can we go home now?” he asked.

Dr. Ealy put his hand on Jules’ head. “You look fine to me, young man.”

“I’ll take him home then,” Tessa said. “Thank you, Doctor, for helping Jules. I was so--”

In a whirlwind of motion, Hank Kilgore sprang from the chair, knocked Jules aside and grabbed Tessa from behind. Hooking his arm about her neck. In his other hand he brandished a knife.

It was in his boot, Tessa thought confusedly. He had a knife in his boot sheath, and she’ hadn’t thought to look for one. Jules sobbed, but Hank held her so tightly she couldn’t turn her head to see if he was all right. She could hardly breathe.

“I’m taking her with me so they won’t shoot,” Hank growled. “You don’t try to stop me and I won’t hurt her.”

He tightened his grip on her throat, making her gag. Black specks danced before her eyes.

“Where’s my gun?” he hissed into her ear.

“If you know, tell him,” Dr. Ealy advised.

“Jules?” she managed to choke out, for she could hear him crying.

“He’s all right. I’ll take care of him,” the doctor said.

“The gun,” Hank snarled.

“Hall cupboard,” she gasped.

Hank pulled her with him as he backed through the door. Without releasing her, he yanked open the cupboard, bent to put the knife in its boot sheath and yanked the Colt from his gun belt. He thrust the gun into the front of his pants, leaving the belt on the shelf.

He pushed her ahead of him through the front door of the store. The sudden glare of the sun and his arm still tight about her neck made her stumble. Hank yanked her to her feet, warning, “Keep walking.”

Since having him carry her would be even worse, she tried to stay on her feet as best she could as they made their way west toward Dolan’s store.

No shots were fired and she saw no one but she knew men from both sides were watching them walk along the road under the lowering sun.

Someone will shoot, she told herself. Billy or one of the other expert marksmen. There must be a way they can miss me, but still hit him.

Not a shot was fired as they passed McSween’s, the Stanley’s, then Mills’. They came even with the Whortley hotel. Dolan’s store was across the street, but Kilgore turned toward the hotel instead. He freed the Colt from his pants, jamming it into her side as he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her as someone opened the hotel door to let him in.

Once inside, he set her on her feet. She put a hand up to her neck, drawing a deep breath.

The room was filled with men. Hank grabbed her wrist, holding her firmly as everyone began to talk at once.

“…can’t keep a woman captive.”

“Wish I’d got myself one like her.”

“McSween’s filly.”

Tessa looked desperately from one bearded face to another, hoping against hope that she’d see Mark.

He wasn’t in the room.

“Hell, Hank, you’re gonna have to let her go,” a man with a drooping mustache said,

“She ain’t no dance-hall floozy. It don’t look good, one of us kidnapping a lady like her.”

“She’s McSween’s whore, That don’t make her a lady in my book.”

Tessa swallowed, feeling herself flush under the hot, avid stares of the men nearest her. She straightened her shoulders, then turned to glare at Hank. “Is this how you thank someone for saving your life?” she demanded.

He blinked. Before he could speak, she rushed on.

“I demand to be released this instant. I tried to help you, not harm you. You have no right to bring me here.”

“Hush up!” Hank snapped.

“Jim Dolan ain’t gonna like ...” the man with the mustache began.

“You shut up, too,” Hank told him. He pushed through the men, pulling Tessa after him.

When she saw he meant to take her up a flight of stairs, she began to struggle. Hank lifted her onto his shoulder and carried her up the steps. He threw open a door into a sour-smelling room where dirty covers trailed off a bed. He shut the door. Locked it. Threw her onto the bed.

Tessa scrambled to her feet. He shoved her backwards onto the bed again. She kicked at him. He grabbed her feet, thrust her skirts up and wrenched her legs apart, wedging his body inbetween
them. She struck his face, her fingernails clawing, and he slapped her hard, twice.

“You gonna be nice or you gonna fight?” he asked. “You want to fight, the next time I’ll use my fist.”

“Let me go!” she cried.

“Afterwards,” he said. “You can go afterwards.”

He wrenched at the bodice of her gown and buttons popped off as it opened. He hooked two fingers in her camisole and ripped it from her breasts.

His eyes glittered as he looked at her exposed body.

“No!” she screamed, trying to twist away from him. “No!”

Chapter
9

Mark came out of the back room of Dolan’s store where he’d been closeted with Jim Dolan. Damn it, He’d ride the hell out of town this minute if it wasn’t for those marksmen of McSween’s.

He didn’t want any part of what was going on and he’d just told Jim he didn’t mean to use his gun on any man. He’d added that Jim ought to get things quieted down—stop the shooting.

“You tell McSween that,” Jim had growled. “He started it.”

Mark didn’t believe him, had said so and had been called a stupid son-of-a-bitch.

Mark stalked over to the barricaded window at the front of the store. Willis Jones turned from his gun hole.

“You missed all the excitement,” he told Mark, who shrugged.

“Kilgore took a woman into the hotel,”

“I’m not interested in Kilgore’s putas,” Mark snapped, turning away.

“She wasn’t no whore. She was a pretty little blonde. Looked like that gal who lives with the McSween’s.”

Mark whirled. Grabbed Willis’ shirt front. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Hey, let me loose,” Willis protested.

“The woman,” Mark demanded. “Who was she?”

“Don’t know. She looked like that gal from McSween’s.

“Kilgore took her into the hotel?”

“Yeah.”

Mark let go of Willis and strode to the front door.

“Wait,” Willis called. “You’ll get shot, Halloran. They got men posted.”

“Mark flung open the front door, slammed it shut behind him and ran zigzagging across the street toward Whortley’s Hotel.

He heard a rifle crack. Another. Dust puffed ahead of him. More shots. Something stung his arm. Three more steps and he was inside the hotel.

“Jesus, man, you’re bleeding,” Matthew told him as he closed the door. “Your arm…”

Mark scarcely heard him, pushing past, looking from one side of the room to another. He saw only men. “Where is she?” he demanded.