Wyoming Bride (25 page)

He was impatient to be gone, but he made sure that he and Hannah both had full canteens, enough food for three days, and bedrolls tied behind their saddles. He didn’t want them to end up in a situation where they needed rescuing themselves.

“Which way should we go?” Hannah asked.

Flint knew the decision he made now could be important, especially if Ransom and Emaline were in trouble. “I sent Cookie and the hands to round up cattle on the northeast corner of the ranch. If Ransom and Emaline are with the hands, they’re fine.”

Hannah frowned. “Then why are we in such a big hurry?”

Flint sighed. “I’m concerned that Ransom might have decided to ride fence along the border I share with Ashley Patton and ran into Patton’s hired gun. I think we should go there.”

Hannah was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Her eyes looked frightened. “You’re scaring me.”

“Maybe you should stay home.”

She shook her head. “I’d be more afraid to stay at the house by myself. I presume you don’t intend to get into any gunfights.”

Flint snorted. It wasn’t a question, so there was no need for a response, but he could tell from the look on Hannah’s face that she thought he wouldn’t fare well if he did. He didn’t wear a Colt .45 because he’d had enough of killing men during the war. Hannah didn’t know that. Neither did Ashley Patton or Sam Tucker.

But woe betide the man who made the mistake of thinking he wouldn’t defend himself … and those he loved.

“What’re you doin’ here, Creed?”

“Looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”

Hannah stared at the Colt .45 in Sam Tucker’s hand. Ashley Patton’s gunman sat on horseback on the other side of a wrought-iron gate. Tucker hadn’t waited for Flint to make an overt threat. He’d simply pulled the Peacemaker from his holster the instant he saw the two of them and held it on them the entire time as they approached.

Hannah had never had a gun aimed at her, and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. Her heart kept trying to pound its way out of her chest. There was so little distance between them now, Tucker couldn’t miss. She would have been happy to turn around and come back another time, but Flint kept riding, so she kicked her mount and remained by his side.

Flint didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the gunman. Hannah wondered why not. There wasn’t another soul around.

Patton’s sprawling ranch house sat on a majestic rise a quarter of a mile away. She wondered if the sound of a gunshot down here would carry all the way up there. It seemed to Hannah that Tucker could shoot them both dead and bury them, and no one would be the wiser.

She eyed Flint askance and whispered, “I’m scared, Flint. Why aren’t you?”

“Tucker is a bully and a backshooter. He doesn’t have the guts to pull the trigger when I’m staring him in the eye.”

Hannah wasn’t reassured. She figured there was always a first time for everything. Her heart fluttered like a frightened bird as they closed the distance to the man with the gun.

When they reached the fancy gate, which had an arch at the top with the OOX brand in the center and was flanked on both sides by a whitewashed split rail fence, Tucker said, “You can turn around now and go home.”

“I asked you a question,” Flint said. “Have you seen Ransom?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” the gunman said.

“Is Patton at home?” Flint asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“Go get your boss.”

“What if he don’t wanta talk to you?”

Flint leaned over in the saddle to release the latch that held the iron gate closed, and a deafening gunshot reverberated in Hannah’s ear.

She pulled the reins taut to keep her horse from bolting but then sat frozen in fear. Her overworked heart had jumped to her throat, preventing speech. It took her a second to realize she hadn’t been shot. She slanted her gaze toward Flint, expecting at any moment to see him topple from the saddle. Instead, she saw his hand gripping the stock of his Winchester.

He had the rifle halfway out of the boot when Tucker said, “That was me, callin’ my boss. Put it back, or I’ll blow your head off.”

Hannah gasped, found her voice, and said, “That would be murder!”

“No, missy,” Tucker said with a crooked, toothy grin. “That would be self-defense.”

“Let’s go, Flint,” Hannah begged. Tucker was clearly hoping to provoke Flint so he would have an excuse to shoot him. Actually, it didn’t look like he needed much of an excuse.

Flint eased his hand off his Winchester, sat back in the saddle, and stared daggers at Patton’s hired man. “I always figured you were crazy, Tucker.”

The gunslinger kept the .45 aimed at Flint and smirked. “Trespassin’ is a shootin’ offense.”

In the distance, Hannah saw a rider loping his horse down the hill. She pointed and said, “Flint, look! Is that him?”

“Yeah,” Flint said through tight jaws. “That’s Patton.”

Tucker’s lip curled. “The boss can tell you hisself he ain’t seen nothin’, ain’t done nothin’, and don’t know nothin’.”

It seemed strange to Hannah that Tucker had his boss denying knowledge of doing Ransom harm when Patton hadn’t been accused of anything yet.

Hannah watched a muscle work in Flint’s cheek, but he remained silent, apparently waiting for Patton to arrive.

When the rancher pulled his horse to a stop beside his hired man, Flint said sarcastically, “Appreciate your range hospitality, Patton. I don’t usually get greeted with a bullet.”

Patton seemed unperturbed as he replied, “It’s a long way up to the house. I asked Tucker to fire a shot to let me know if I had company. Sorry if the noise bothered you.”

Hannah found herself being examined like a prime piece of horseflesh Patton was considering buying, before he said, “Who’s this?”

“Mrs. Hannah McMurtry,” Flint said curtly.

“Why haven’t I met you before, Mrs. McMurtry?” Patton said.

Hannah glanced at Flint, wondering if he realized the mistake he’d made. She watched him flush, turn to her with a look of regret, resettle himself in the saddle, and say, “I mean, Mrs. Hannah Creed.”

Patton smiled, an expression that never reached his eyes, touched the brim of his hat with a forefinger, and said, “I see congratulations are in order. Welcome to the Territory, Mrs. Creed. This is rather sudden, isn’t it? I hadn’t heard we had such a lovely lady in the neighborhood. Where did you and Flint meet?”

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but Creed interjected, “Where’s my brother? What have you done to him?”

“I have no idea where Ransom is,” Patton replied with a bluntness equal to Flint’s.

“You threatened him.”

“I threatened to take Emaline from him, if I could,” Patton replied easily.

“So where is she?” Flint snarled.

For the first time, Patton looked surprised. “At home with her father, I expect.”

“You know damned well she was traveling with Ransom.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Patton said. “Where were they headed?”

Hannah saw the trap Flint had set for himself. If he said Ransom had gone to Denver with Emaline, why was Flint looking for him on the range? “When I left the house, Ransom and Emaline were there. Now they’re both gone. I have to wonder why you’re keeping me away from your place. Do you have Emaline up there?”

“I do not.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Are you accusing me of lying?”

Hannah heard the menace in Patton’s voice and wondered if Flint was going to provoke him into a gunfight, especially when Tucker had never holstered his weapon.

Flint glanced at her, seemed to reconsider, and said, “I suppose it’s possible they’ve gone to the fall roundup.”

“You haven’t looked there yet?” Patton said.

“No,” Flint admitted.

Patton eyed the setting sun and said, “Guess you’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning to find out, unless you want your new bride spending the night under the stars.”

Flint eyed the sun, which had dropped almost to the horizon, and said, “Let’s go, Hannah.”

Hannah kneed her horse to stay beside him as he rode away, but she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder to see what Tucker was doing.

He still had his gun out, pointed at Flint’s back.

Hannah couldn’t quite breathe right, knowing a gun was aimed at her back, but Flint appeared to be right. Tucker was mostly bark and no bite. At least, to a man’s face.

“Where to now?” Hannah asked.

“Home.”

“Not to the roundup?”

“It’s a four-hour ride from here in the dark.”

“Why are you so sure Patton’s involved?”

“Patton threatened Ransom to my face at my brother’s engagement party. He meant what he said. He wants Ransom out of the way so he can have Emaline. Not to mention the fact that Ransom and I are all that stands between him and owning most of the land along this stretch of the Laramie River.”

“He can’t get away with killing people willy-nilly, can he?” Hannah asked skeptically.

“He can do whatever he wants. There’s no law out here on the prairie, Hannah.”

“What about the army?”

“The army’s here to keep the Indians under control.

They don’t have authority in civil matters.”

“So who keeps the peace?”

Flint patted the stock of his rifle. “There’s a sheriff in Cheyenne, but out here, it’s every man for himself.”

Hannah stared at Flint wide-eyed. She’d known the West was unsettled. She’d seen how the wagon master’s word was law on the trail. She’d observed for herself that only the strong survived. But she’d never imagined an influential rancher like Ashley Patton would take such terrible advantage of those weaker than himself. “Why don’t the smaller ranchers band together to help each other?”

“That’s exactly what we did when we created the Laramie County Stock Association,” Flint said. “The problem is, Patton has been able to convince folks he’s one of the good guys. He’s planning to join the Association.”

“Can’t you keep him out?”

“Not unless we can catch him in the act. And that’s hard to do with the distance between spreads here in the Territory.”

“How can one man intimidate so many others?”

“It’s one thing to face a man in a fair fight, but Patton’s mad dog has no conscience. If Tucker’s threats don’t work, he rustles a man’s cattle or burns him out or buries him.”

“Has Patton attacked the Double C?” Hannah asked.

“Over the past month, a hefty percentage of our herd has gone missing. Ransom and I are sure it’s Patton and his man Tucker, but we have no proof. I warned Ransom to leave Patton alone until I got back. I hope to hell he didn’t decide to confront that son of a bitch.”

Hannah heard the bitterness in Flint’s voice. And the anger. “What are you going to do?”

“You and I are going home and get a good night’s sleep. It’s possible Ransom and Emaline returned to the house while we were gone. If so, all’s well that ends well. If not, we leave early tomorrow morning for the roundup.”

“And if Ransom and Emaline aren’t there?”

“I’ll be making another visit to Ashley Patton.”

Emaline debated whether to build a fire. On the one hand, it would keep four-legged predators at a distance. On the other, it might attract predators of the two-legged variety. In the end, she had no choice. After the sun went down, the windswept prairie was surprisingly cold. Besides, she wanted to make soup for Ransom, and she needed coffee to stay awake.

Not that there was much she could do for him, now that his wounds had been sewed up. He was unconscious, restless, and feverish. She used a wet cloth to soothe his forehead and cheeks and chest, and she talked to him, because that seemed to calm him.

“I don’t expect help to come right away,” she told him. “We might be here a day or so on our own. Eventually, Flint will check in with the roundup, and he’ll find us. We have to hang on until then.”

It had dawned on Emaline that Ransom’s injuries were going to be difficult to explain to her father. The two of them were supposed to be shopping in Denver. Papa was going to know that she’d deceived him. He was going to know that she and Ransom had snuck away on their own. He was going to be angry with Aunt Betsy for letting it happen, which wasn’t fair to her aunt.