Ashes and Memories (27 page)

Nods and affirmations answered Reece’s question. He nodded at Stanton. “I’ll be at the hotel if you need me.”

Reece glanced at the door to the saloon, considering going inside and getting cleaned up before returning to the hotel. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, and he needed a shave badly. Instead he decided to go back to the hotel and check on Ralphy one more time before getting down to the business of the day. He still had a town to run.

#####

Emma knew the minute Reece walked up behind her. She didn’t have to turn around, she felt his presence, and a warm tremor ran up her back in response.

She forced herself to focus on Ralphy, on the mug of soup she held to his lips. He’d opened his eyes just moments after she’d arrived, and she’d been able get him to swallow a little broth. His eyes were glazed, his skin still ashen, but he was awake, and that was what mattered.

“Ralphy,” Reece said, moving to the other side of the cot and sitting gingerly on the edge.

He glanced up at Emma and the heat of awareness rushed through her, warming her cheeks and causing her hand to falter on the mug as she pulled it away and placed it on the bedside table.

“He’s still weak,” she told him. “But he’s going to pull through.”

She wanted him to touch her, she realized with a start, wanted him to kiss her and whisper soft, seductive words to her. Would she ever be able to be in the same room with him again and not think about his hands caressing her body? Would she ever be able to forget the way his body had filled the emptiness she’d never felt until now, now that she knew he might never touch her, never kiss her, never make love to her like that again?

How could she bear it?

She would not be brushed aside, and she would not forget the things he’d revealed to her last night. It was a decision she’d made this morning as she’d lain in the cold bed after he’d left her alone there. Eventually he would have to deal with her and with Ralphy, and with the darkness inside himself.

“Why did you come back that night?” Reece was asking.

“Miss Emma,” Ralphy croaked.

Reece glanced at Emma again, his gaze sliding from her eyes to her lips and down her body in a slow perusal that rocked her to her core. His countenance darkened, and he frowned and looked back at Ralphy.

“I wanted to make sure,” Ralphy struggled to say. “I wanted to see she was safe.”

His words pierced Emma’s heart. He’d come back for her, to make sure she was all right. Tenderness flooded her heart, and she caressed his cool cheek.

“That was very brave,” Reece told the boy, his voice sincere, his expression tender.

Ralphy’s eyes closed, no matter how valiantly he struggled to keep them open. In seconds, he was asleep again.

Reece released a ragged sigh, tucking the covers around Ralphy and touching a hand to his brow.

“He’s cool,” he said. “No fever.”

“He’s going to be all right,” Emma assured him. “Doctor Stevens said he’s made it through the worst.”

Reece nodded and came to his feet. He’d reached the door before Emma found the courage to follow him. She didn’t know what she would say when she caught up to him, only that she had to say something. But by the time she reached the front door, he was halfway across the muddy street. She could call after him, but something stopped her. Pride perhaps. He acted as if nothing had happened, as if everything was the same today as it had been yesterday when nothing was the same, nothing would ever be the same again.

Reece strode determinedly across the street, unable to get away from Emma and Ralphy quickly enough. Ralphy was going to be all right. Emma was going to make him crazy. He couldn’t stand to be near her and not touch her. He wanted to tell her that last night meant nothing, that it would never happen again, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, of her finding someone else, falling in love with someone else. But he wanted her on his terms, terms he knew she would never accept, terms she would be a fool to accept.

“Saddle my horse,” Reece ordered sharply as he reached Wilson.

“Yes sir,” Wilson said, rushing off to do his bidding.

Reece gazed at Stanton where he sat astride his horse. “I’m coming along.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect,” Stanton said, “but you look like you’ve been through hell. Maybe you should....”

“Maybe I’ll decide what I should and should not do,” he said harshly.

Stanton stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before shrugging. “You’re the boss.”

Reece gazed back at the hotel, hating himself for looking, as if he had to have one last glimpse of her before he rode away, and hating her for standing there staring after him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three hours out of Providence, Reece began to regret his hasty decision to join in this posse, and he began to blame Emma for his misery. He was here because he had to get away from her. She’d run him out of his own town.

He was tired and dirty and cold. He’d worn the same clothes for two days, and he was sorely in need of a bath.

He had to think, and he couldn’t do it in Providence where everything, including his own bed, reminded him of her. He had to get a grip on himself.

Being in the open country helped. The cold, fresh air kept his senses sharp. But there were too many long periods of solitude when they would fan out and ride apart to cover more ground like they were now. There was nothing to do but think, which was what he needed, he reminded himself, but sometimes he feared the thinking would drive him insane.

His mind still took him in circles. He’d made love to her. He’d crossed a line he had never crossed before, and he didn’t know how to deal with this new experience. Yes, he’d had lovers before, but the difference between the kind of woman a man slept with and the kind of woman a man married was something he’d learned and understood from adolescence. And he’d never crossed the line between the two before. Until last night.

Things were different here in the West, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that morning, as if that mattered. The way of life that protected a lady’s virtue and valued honor and gentility no longer existed. That was reality.

And if he believed all of that, why was he having such a hard time dealing with this? She’d been willing, she’d enjoyed it. It was over and done with. And it wouldn’t happen again. Emma wanted more than his body, she wanted his soul. She childishly believed she could change him, save him. Well, he didn’t want to be changed or saved. He knew exactly where he was going and he knew how to get there. And there was no place in his life for a woman.

Two gunshots rang out in the chill air, the signal that one of his men had found something. A good fifty yards separated Reece from his closest men on either side. They both looked toward him in unison. Reece nodded and they spurred their horses into a gallop, riding in the direction of the shots. By the time they reached the dead campsite, half a dozen of the other men were already there.

“They were here as recently as this morning,” Lewis declared.

“Tracks lead in two directions,” Stanton was saying, “one set toward the mountains, the other north toward the badlands.”

“How many of them?” Reece asked, his blood pounding with the thrill of the chase. He needed to vent his anger on someone, and Garrett and his gang would suit that purpose perfectly.

“About seven or eight. Three or four riding in each direction.”

“All right,” Reece said in a loud voice so that everyone could hear. All of the men were assembled now, nearly fifteen strong. “We’ll split into two groups. Count off, starting with you, Lewis, you’re number one. The next man is number two all the way through the ranks. Odd numbers ride with me toward the badlands, even with Mr. Stanton toward the mountains. We meet back here at nightfall tomorrow.”

The men counted off and assembled into two groups while Reece gave his final orders to Stanton.

“Both groups will act independently,” he told him. “You have complete authority over your men. Use your own judgment as situations arise. You know what to do.”

Stanton nodded. “You want them dead or alive?”

“I don’t give a damn.” Reece turned and took a few steps before stopping. Emma’s face rose in his mind, her eyes accusing, her expression reproachful.

Stanton started to ride off, but Reece called after him, “Alive! Bring them back alive if you can.”

Stanton nodded, turning to go again, and again Reece’s words stopped him. “No, damn it. You catch them, you execute them on the spot.”

He wasn’t about to let a woman soften his resolve. What the hell did she know about dealing with desperados or anything else, for that matter?

“Yes sir, Mr. MacBride,” Stanton said, wheeling his horse around again.

“Stanton!” Reece called, furious with himself for vacillating. Indecision diminished a leader’s authority and undermined the respect of his men. “I don’t want any of your men endangered. I want this to be a clean operation. Do what you have to do.”

Stanton touched the brim of his hat and kicked his mount into a trot, joining his men who had assembled at the edge of the campsite, while Reece silently berated himself for his indecision.

Emma was to blame for this new development in his character. The voices tormenting him had been silent for thirteen long years until she’d come along. Now she was making him think about consequences, making him hear his grandfather’s voice and all the advice the old man had given him over the years. Advice that had turned out to be useless in the real world, he reminded himself. No one valued honor or courage or integrity. They were empty words like faith and hope. And dwelling on consequences and emotions could get a man killed.

“Let’s go,” Reece called when he couldn’t bear the endless contemplation any longer. Hell, he hadn’t thought so long and hard since... in a very long time.

Reece urged his horse into a gallop, and the pounding rhythm and the wind in his face cleared his mind. They rode flat out for several miles before his mount started to tire and he signaled to slow the pace.

They rode more slowly, carefully searching the area for any tell-tale signs. And they found plenty. The outlaws weren’t very cautious about hiding their tracks. Perhaps they didn’t think anyone would follow. Perhaps they thought they could just ride into Providence and shoot up the place and get away with it. They would soon learn how wrong they were.

For the remainder of the day, fatigue, hunger and pain kept Reece from thinking about Emma. He rode in silence, pushing himself, forcing himself to go on when his body cried out for rest. Finally around dusk they caught up to their prey where they’d camped for the night. The outlaws relaxed as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

“There are four of them,” Lewis whispered as they crouched in the dense woods a good hundred yards from the camp.

“Is Garrett with them?”

“No.”

“Damn!” Reece swore. Garrett was the one he wanted. As long as Garrett was on the loose, the danger wasn’t over.

Garrett was the leader, and he was the one who wanted vengeance. The others might drift away, find greener pastures elsewhere, but not Garrett. Reece knew his type, and he knew Garrett wasn’t finished with Providence.

Reece drew a heavy sigh, then began describing his plan to Lewis. “You and the men will wait for my signal. I’m going in alone.”

“But Mr. MacBride, why not just wait until they turn in and then take them?”

“There are seven of us and as many horses. If we wait that long, we might inadvertently alert them, and that’s the last thing I want. I don’t want them dead yet, not until I’ve had a chance to question them. No, I’ll distract them while you and the men get into position. They don’t know who I am. I’ll act like I’ve stopped by for a meal. In the meantime, I want the camp surrounded as quietly and quickly as possible I don’t intend to take a bullet if they decide to shoot first and ask questions later. And I want at least one of them alive so he can tell me where Garrett is.”

“Hello the camp!” Reece called as he led his horse toward the outlaws a few minutes later. He heard a pistol cock and in a split second calculated how long it would take him to draw his own gun. He had the advantage because the sun had begun to set, casting him in shadows, while his challenger stood with his back to a campfire.

Only one of them stood. The other three stayed where they were on the ground in complete unconcern.

“What the hell do you want?” the man who stood in the middle of the camp asked. He brandished a Colt Peacemaker as he eyed Reece suspiciously.

“I just thought I might ask for a little coffee,” Reece said, slowly approaching the camp with his hands up. The blood pounded through his veins in anticipation and exhilaration coursed through him. He almost wished they would try something. “I’ve been riding all day, and it’s mighty cold.”

“You alone?” the gunman asked.

“Just me. Thought I’d make it to Providence by nightfall, but I kinda got lost.”

“Hell, Providence is a good five hours from here.” The outlaw holstered his gun with a nod. “Help yourself to the coffee, and then you’d best be moving on.”

Reece nodded in answer. He approached the fire cautiously, making a mental note of where everyone was before he hunkered down and poured coffee into a tin mug he found beside the fire.

“Where you fellows heading?” he asked, stalling for time while his men got into position.

“Canada,” the one who’d drawn his gun replied.

Reece studied them without seeming to, and he realized one of the men was injured. “What’s wrong with your friend there?”

“Just a fever.”

“Well, I hope it ain’t catching.” Reece took a swallow of strong, bitter coffee.

The sound of a twig cracking broke the silence like a cannon shot. Reece braced himself as the others eyed him suspiciously.

“What was that?”

“How the hell should I know?” Reece replied innocently. He stood straight and gazed around as if searching the encroaching shadows. In reality, he was measuring the outlaws, and he knew which of the men in the shadows was likely to draw first and which one was more likely to survive what was coming.