Audrey and the Maverick (24 page)

The lash sung out again, to Julian’s left. His hand met its descent, and he used the force of the lash’s arc to coil it around his forearm. He yanked on the leather, uprooting the startled man who still gripped the other end of the whip. A quick right hook knocked the hooded bastard off his feet. He landed hard on the ground, unconscious. Julian recoiled the whip and lashed out at another of the men standing, then another before they could react to the first man being struck down. Horses screamed and reared, fearing the lash and unseating a few of their riders.

Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw a man raise his pistol and take aim at him. A rifle erupted behind Julian. The man fell from his horse. Julian turned to see who had helped him. Audrey! He cursed. Why hadn’t she stayed hidden? In the silence following the gunfire, Julian heard Audrey cock the rifle again as two men drew their weapons.

“That’s enough,” Audrey calmly ordered. Julian didn’t dare turn to look at her again; he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the men. God, they would shoot her. “I’ve got plenty more bullets in this gun, gentlemen. You might be able to kill Mr. McCaid. And you might be able to kill me, but I can guarantee I’ll take a few of you with me.” Another pause. “Who wants to die first?”

Julian heard a rider approaching from the enemy’s side. A body was draped across his saddle. The man wore no hood. Julian heard Audrey’s gasp about the same time he recognized Hadley hanging limply across the man’s lap.

“Hold up, men. This has gone too far. Hadley’s hurt. Fred, Joe, you others, stand down. Now.”
Fred? Deputy Fred?
Julian wondered.

“Good evening, Mr. Baker.”

Julian heard Audrey’s voice behind him. He took a step back toward her, then another, aiming for the break in the circle where she stood.

“Put Hadley in the wagon bed, Mr. Baker,” Julian ordered. “I’m sending him down to the marshal in Cheyenne.”

“He ain’t goin’ to no marshal, Mr. McMaid. He didn’t mean to be involved in all this tonight. Hell, he was workin’ for you until you beat him up.”

“Oh, he’s going, all right. He killed Malcolm Sheridan.”

“My boy wouldn’t have done that. Not Hadley.”

“He told us himself, Mr. Baker,” Audrey interjected. “And tonight he tried to kidnap me.” Some of the men looked at her then, Julian included. She was a sight, dressed in her bloodied robe, her feet bare.

“You boys ready to call it a night?” Jace calmly asked in that haunting voice of his. He sat astride his horse at the far edge of the light cast by the torch. “Or do I need to kill a few of you? I’ve shot my share tonight, but I wouldn’t feel bad taking a few more.”

“Goddamn, it’s the Avenger!” Two of the men spun their horses and headed off into the night.

Julian wondered how long Jace had been there, and why he now revealed himself. He did little without conscious intent. Judging from the way a few of the men had jumped when Jace first spoke, none of them had heard his approach. Julian tossed the whip into the bed of the wagon, away from the reach of the men. Audrey handed him the rifle, which he trained on the group.

“I’m done.” Mr. Baker spit off to one side of his horse. “This didn’t go like we planned. The sheriff said to cut some fences, burn McCaid’s barns, run his herd off. Now my boy’s hurt. Men are dead. This ain’t right. It’s gone too far.”

“Shut up, Baker. You’re in it as deep as we are,” the man Audrey shot said as he mounted his horse, his right arm hanging limply at his side.

“Baker,” Julian said, cutting into their bickering, “put your boy in the wagon bed. I meant what I said. I’m turning him in.”

“No. He’ll be the scapegoat for this whole night. You can’t have him.”

“Do it,” one of the hooded men ordered. “Give him over, Baker. I don’t want the marshal coming up here for him, asking questions.”

“No—” Baker continued to argue, until a bullet from one of the hooded men’s guns silenced him. He and his son slid off the saddle. Then, without further discussion, the remaining men turned and rode back toward town.

Julian felt the tension in the knotted muscles of his back as he bent down to lift Hadley. The boy lay at an odd angle, his neck broken. Julian hoisted him into the wagon, then lifted his father in as well. Jace picked up the unconscious man who’d whipped Julian and dumped him into the wagon. He tied Mr. Baker’s horse to the back of the wagon.

Julian climbed up into the bench. He didn’t want to linger here, so far from the main buildings of his ranch, but one look at Audrey’s face stopped him. Moonlight glittered along the wet tracks on her cheeks. He uncocked the rifle and set it under the bench, then pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He closed his eyes against the panic he was only now beginning to let himself feel. She’d put herself in unspeakable danger. Why hadn’t she stayed hidden?

“Hush, sweet. It’s over. It’s done.” It had been so much worse than he’d feared it would be.

Jace exchanged a look with Julian. “I’m sorry about Malcolm, Audrey. He came to get me in town, told me what these men were doing,” Jace said. “We got to the ranch just before the first group. We split up—he went to warn you at the house. I should have stayed with him. I didn’t know about the Baker kid.”

Audrey drew a ragged breath against Julian’s chest. Malcolm had brought Jace, and Jace very likely saved Julian’s life tonight.

She pulled free of Julian’s fortifying hold and reached for Jace’s hand. “Thank you, Jace.”

“He was brave, Audrey. He loved you,” Jace rasped.

Audrey nodded, swiping at the tears on her cheeks.

“We better get back.” Julian took the reins in one hand and wrapped his other arm around Audrey. She curled into his strength and tried to shut all thoughts out of her mind, but couldn’t get fear to leave her alone. She’d lost Malcolm, and she was soon to lose Julian.

Her world had gone to hell.

As they drove back onto the main area of the ranch, Audrey looked at the devastation that lay about her. Dead sheep were everywhere. Wounded sheep limped and bleated and bled. Some thrashed about on the ground, unable to stand, more dead than alive. Men moved among them, cutting the throats of those whose wounds were too great to heal.

Audrey glanced at Julian. His face was hard, expressionless. He drew up outside the kitchen door to the house and set the brake, then jumped out of the seat and reached up to help her down. Blood seeped from open wounds on his left forearm. She knew his back bled—she’d seen it when he stood among those men. They’d gotten one effective lash in before he stopped them, but he had shredded his arm to do that.

She didn’t immediately release his shoulders. “Julian, come inside—let me tend your cuts.”

“No. I have things I need to see to out here.”

Jace dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the wagon next to the Baker horse. He walked over to them. “Don’t be stubborn, McCaid. Let your woman patch you up. I’ll take these turds over to the others. You can come out when you’re not bleeding.”

“Jace—you’ll stay the night with us, won’t you?” Audrey asked.

“I can’t. I gotta head out to Meeker’s Pass. The silver’s coming in tomorrow.” The two men exchanged a look.

“Do you need me?” Julian asked.

Jace shook his head. “No. Just thought I’d tell you.” He climbed up to the wagon bench. He sat still a moment, then looked down at Julian. “If something happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Leah.”

Julian reached a hand up and shook with Jace. “You’ve got my word on it.”

Jace flicked the reins and set the wagon in motion.

Grim-faced, Julian turned Audrey toward the house. Inside, Bertie and all eight children were still seated around the table. Malcolm, thank God, was no longer there. The table and floor had been washed clean of his blood.

Bertie hurried over to them, giving Audrey an impatient hug. She drew back and gripped her arms, then her face, studying her. “Are you hurt, Audrey? I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Fresh tears spilled from Audrey’s eyes. “I thought it was over. I didn’t know he was one of them.” She looked at Bertie. “A friend of mine was the one who killed Malcolm.”

“Come sit down.” Bertie led her toward the table. “I’ll make you a cup of hot coffee.”

“I can’t—Julian’s bleeding. I need to see to his cuts.”

Julian felt a cold sweat chill his skin as he became the focus of the room. He held out his arm for Bertie’s inspection, hoping to distract her and everyone else from the cuts on his back.

Colleen poured out two bowls of water, one cold and one hot. She was returning from gathering fresh linens when she saw Julian’s back. “Mr. McCaid! What did they do to you?”

A herd of children rushed to see what she was seeing. He cringed. “It’s nothing. A scratch.”

“The man who came for me was one of the sheriff’s men,” Audrey started to explain what had happened. “My friend, Hadley—the one who killed Malcolm—was waiting for me. Mr. McCaid caught up to us. They fought. Other men came.” Audrey looked at Bertie. “One had a whip.”

Julian held his shoulders rigidly straight, weathering their examination. He was naked to their discovery of his secret, the part of himself he hid from the world.

Audrey brought a stool over near the table and ordered him to sit. Dulcie stood before him. Her hazel eyes were wide with hurt. His hurt.
Shit
. He wished he’d sent the children to bed before this. With a sigh, he sat on the stool and opened his arms to her. “Come,” he ordered. “Sit with me while Audrey patches me up, okay?”

She blinked a tear away and nodded. He drew her up to sit on his thigh, holding her with his right hand. Bertie fetched him a snifter of brandy. He downed the glass and handed it back to her for a refill; then Audrey began to clean up the long slices on his left forearm and wrist.

“What happened to your back, Mr. McCaid?” Dulcie asked, her whispered question carrying across the room.

“You don’t ask a man about his past, Dulcie,” Luc answered for him. “If he wants to talk about it, it’s his choice. But it ain’t right to ask him.”

Hearing Sager’s words come out of Luc’s mouth, Julian felt his heart tighten. These children listened. They learned. He mattered to them, and they to him. Spreading his hand against Dulcie’s small back, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

“My story begins long ago, before I was born.” He wished he could see Audrey, see her reaction to his words. “My grandfather was a full-blooded Cherokee. Many of the men in his village were forward thinkers. They saw the impact the white men had on the tribe’s traditional ways. Some of it was good, some bad, but the changes had come to stay. They began to buy land, build successful farms, and carve a place for themselves among the white men. My grandfather was one of those men.

“He worked hard. His farm thrived. One day he decided it was time to invest in some horses. He had plans to breed a strong freight team to get his produce to market. So he went to the county seat, where auctions of all types of goods were conducted, including slaves.” Julian looked at the children, who watched him with such rapt attention. Perhaps they thought it another of the fairy tales he told them. But this was a true story.

“On his way to the area where the horse auctions were, he passed a slave auction. There was a woman on the platform who was, he said, more beautiful than any he’d ever seen. She had pale white skin, long curly brown hair, and enormous brown eyes. She was an octoroon slave and was being sold. My grandfather never made it to the horse auction. He bought the woman instead.

“Theirs was a stormy relationship, but eventually he freed her, and then married her.” He looked at the children. “I am their grandson.”

“What’s an octoroon?” Joey asked.

“It’s a person who’s one-eighth Negro,” Julian explained. “I grew up with stories of my grandmother’s search for her brother and his children. The summer I turned fourteen, my uncles found her brother’s only surviving grandson at a plantation near where my grandmother had lived. His owners would not sell him to my grandfather.”

Julian’s lips thinned. He wondered what Audrey’s reaction was. “While my parents were away getting my brother settled at West Point, my uncles went to find our cousin. I knew where they were headed. They wouldn’t let me join them, but I stowed away on their ship. When they docked, I followed them to the plantation.

“By the time I got there, they had been turned away, empty-handed. I hid until night, then went to the slaves’ quarters. The first few I met were afraid of me, looking white as I do. But when I told them who I was, they remembered my grandmother. They took me to my cousin. His name was Jeremy. He was tall, like me, though dark-skinned. He had eyes so similar to mine.

“I convinced him to run away. We headed out that night, but went too far to the south when we should have gone east.” Julian shook his head, knowing what that tactical miscalculation cost them. “Jeremy’s owners caught up with us. They beat us both, then strung us up and whipped us. Jeremy never recovered. When he died, his owners claimed to own me. They put me in the fields, doing Jeremy’s work. My back festered. By the time my father and uncles found me, I was nearly dead.” Julian paused, wondering for the first time what his parents had gone through when they discovered him missing.

Dulcie’s eyes were wide and dark, her face pale. Her small hand was gently rubbing the back of his neck, as if to soothe him. “That’s a sad story, Mr. McCaid,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Quiet, Dulcie. He’s not finished,” Luc admonished.

Julian almost smiled, recognizing the bloodlust in Luc’s eyes. “No, it’s not the end. My wounds healed. Time passed. I grew into a man and went to college. When the war came, I joined the Union army. Eventually, my unit was sent to the western border where bushwhackers were ravaging the towns. That’s where I met Jace and Sager. My cousin’s owners were among those bushwhackers. We skirmished one night—”

“That’s when they stabbed you,” Kurt broke in, anxious he get to the details.

Dulcie touched the jagged scar on his chest. “They did this?”

“Yes.”