Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) (49 page)

      
“Got me a real interestin' piece o' news, Longlegs.” Kyle spat a wad of tobacco and grinned at his tall companion as he dismounted in front of the corral. He had just come from Miles City, where he and Carrie had gone for supplies.

      
“You hear something in town?” Hawk strolled alongside the banty-legged Texan as he led his horse into the stable and began to unsaddle him.

      
“Seems our friend th' baron went 'n' got hisself shot.” His shrewd blue-gray eyes looked at Hawk thoughtfully. “Jist a graze, worse luck. He wuz ridin' in thet fancy rig o' his'n, comin' in from town, on a real deserted piece o' th' trail. Rifle shot tuk a piece outta his shoulder, but if his wheel hadn't a' hit a rock an’ throwed him ta th' side o' th' rig, it'd a been plumb center.”

      
Hawk whistled. “Some fancy shooting. Like the kind that killed Frank.”

      
“Thet's whut I'm thinkin',” Kyle murmured. “Same kinda rifle, Remington 44.40. Caleb Rider carries one on his saddle.” He continued rubbing down his horse, waiting for his friend to reply.

      
Hawk shrugged. “So do half the cattlemen in the territory. So did Noah.”

      
“Yeah, but Noah's daid, 'n' th' rest o' 'em cain't shoot a gnat off’n a toad's ass neither.”

      
“Who stands to gain if Krueger's. dead? Looks to me like we're the best suspects. Rider's out of a job if the baron dies. Doesn't make sense unless—” Hawk stopped suddenly.

      
“Whut'r yew thinkin'?” Kyle threw the rubdown towel across the stall post and gave the horse an affectionate swat.

      
“Is my dear onetime stepmother still the baron's houseguest?”

      
Kyle snorted in disgust. “Yep, thet vain little bitch's still swishin' her fancy tail ‘round town. She gits so much pleasure lookin' at her own shadow, cloudy day'd sure sour her outlook on life.” He looked at Hawk expectantly.

      
“Krueger have any kin you ever heard of besides that brother who just died?”

      
The Texan scratched his matted red hair beneath the greasy rim of his Stetson. “Not that I heerd—say, yew don't mean
her
?”

      
Hawk nodded. “She's his sister-in-law. Might be possible. I sure believe she could twist Rider around her finger. Lola's damn clever, especially where money's involved.”

      
Hunnicut let out a whoop. “Whooee! All we got ta do is sit back 'n' let them varmints do fer each other!”

      
“I don't like it, Kyle. That's too neat and simple. Circle S will be dragged into it one way or the other, I'm afraid.” Recalling Lola's vindictiveness when he had scorned her the night of Krueger's party, Hawk felt distinctly uneasy. He knew what she was capable of.

      
“Pears ta me we'd better split up this here job o' work. I'll jist keep me a real close eye on ole Caleb. Yew kin tend ta thet devil woman.” Kyle nodded as if it were settled.

      
“Thanks,” Hawk said wryly.

* * * *

      
Karl Krueger was in no mood to waste time. His shoulder ached abominably and he was tired and rattled. If he hadn't been thrown to the side of the carriage... He swore again, thinking of how near a miss it had been. But who? Someone at Circle S would surely top the long list of his enemies. But bushwhacking simply wasn't Sinclair's style, non the Texan's, for that matter. Still, they were his enemies and he must get to the bottom of this quickly. Strike before they struck again.

      
He sat behind the big walnut desk in his study, propped uncomfortably in the overstuffed leather chair. With a painful grunt he pulled the bell and summoned the butler. “Get me Caleb Rider at once.”

      
At that precise moment Caleb was in his cabin—in the midst of an ugly confrontation. Lola stood in the doorway, glaring at him with the fires of hell in her icy blue eyes.

      
“I told you it's stupid to come here,” he rasped. “What if the baron sees you? Or one of them backstabbing foreigners who work for him?”

      
She dismissed that with one disdainful swish of her skirts. “Forget servants! Why, after all the delays while you engaged in petty thievery, did you botch the job?”

      
He bristled. “Petty thievery—you're a fool! We've taken over five thousand head from Circle S since spring! Anyway, I told you, I only do a job when the time is right. It was just a piece of rotten luck that I missed. I won't the next time.”

      
“When will that be, in the spring?” Her sarcasm was laced with barely leashed anger.

      
“You just leave it to me, lady,” he ground out.

      
She snorted and spat a startling
 
Anglo-Saxon vulgarity at him. “If I do, we'll both die of old age and so will Karl!”

* * * *

      
As usual, Carrie came to town that Friday to pick up supplies. After her hands had loaded the wagon, she paid Cy Cummins while the crackling hostility between them mounted. Lord, she was sick of the priggish bigots in this place! Just as she emerged from the door of the emporium, she almost collided with Lola Jameson.
Wonderful
, she thought,
what a perfect ending to a great morning.

      
Stiffly Lola nodded. “I don't make a habit of running other people's errands, but Mrs. Grummond is the only dressmaker in town, so I decided I had better humor her or she'll never finish my new fall gowns. Here!” With that brusque, peevish announcement, she thrust a note into Carrie's hand and stalked across the street.

      
Baffled and irritated at the surly attitude shared by visitors and locals alike, Carrie looked down at the flowery script. “What does that hateful old harridan want now, after telling me she didn't need my kind of money?” She ripped the envelope open and read:

My Dear Mrs. Sinclair:

In clearing my inventory, I found two rather expensive items that your late husband purchased for you before his death, a jade green satin ball gown and a chocolate-brown velvet evening cape. Since they were paid for in advance, I feel morally obliged to give them to you.

Please meet me at my shop when you finish at Mr. Cummins'.

Emma Grummond

      
“ ‘Morally obliged’ indeed! The old witch couldn't find anyone else tall enough to fit them or who could afford to pay for alterations!” Carrie debated the desirability of another wearying confrontation in town, but the gown and cape sounded luscious. Why let that old bat chop a foot off ‘them, let the seams out, and resell them to Mrs. Cummins?

      
She wondered why Noah had ordered such a lavish surprise, then recalled how he had solicitously showered her with gifts while he thought she was pregnant with his child. Doubtless it was part of her reward for being such a good brood mare! With a determined stride, she changed course, heading down the street to Mrs. Grummond's shop.

      
“I don't like this, Lola,” Caleb whispered as he paced back and forth in Mrs. Grummond's rear parlor.

      
“The old biddy's gone to Wyoming Territory to visit her sister. No one saw you force the lock on the door. Just relax and listen for your true love,” she scoffed.

      
“What makes you so sure she'll come? What if she's heard the dressmaker's out of town?” His hard face was creased with worry. Caleb Rider didn't like intrigue.

      
“No woman could resist those clothes made up in her best colors. Anyway, she's so ostracized in town no one would tell her the time of day unless she paid them. She doesn't know Emma's gone. She'll be here.” Lola sounded confident, but she was nervous. This had to work. And if it did—how beautifully simple a solution to everything. She fairly purred when she heard the front door open.

      
“Mrs. Grummond? I'm here for the gown and cape.” Carrie noticed the dust covers on the reception-room furniture, and a prickle of unease came over her. Just then a muffled female voice called her to the back room. As she stepped through the linen curtain into the hall, steel-hard fingers grasped her from the side, lifting her off her feet. When she began to scream, a thick cloth emitting a sickening sweet odor was jammed across her face, into her mouth.

      
After a minute's furious struggle, everything went black and she collapsed. Caleb scooped her up, marveling at her slim, long-legged loveliness. For all her height, she weighed surprisingly little. He could smell the faint essence of wildflowers over the ether.

      
“Quit mooning over that slut and let's get out of here,” Lola hissed. “Has she got the gun? Good! Town gossip says she never goes anywhere without it anymore. Sure you didn't have something to do with that, Caleb?”

      
She laughed as his face darkened in remembrance of the time she had pulled the Sharps pistol on him and ordered him off Circle S.

      
“All right, let's get her over to the hotel and into that room to wait for Krueger.” He cursed himself again for a fool, listening to Lola's wild schemes. Still, it just might work. He wanted revenge on Carrie, on Kyle, on her half-breed lover, too. Yessir, it just might work at that.

      
They wrapped Carrie's unconscious body in a thick piece of carpet. Then Caleb slung her over his shoulder and carefully followed Lola from the back of the dress shop to the waiting wagon. It took them nearly a quarter hour to get inside the Excelsior Hotel without being seen. With Lola in the lead, checking the corridor and stairs, they made their way undetected to the back room Rider had reserved in Krueger’ s name the previous evening. He deposited Carrie on the bed and began to strip her body with obvious relish.

      
“Leave her underwear on, Caleb,” Lola said sharply, half afraid he was becoming so carried away he would rape the unconscious woman right before her eyes and ruin the precisely timed scheme she had so meticulously worked out. “You can have your fill of her later.” She checked the delicate gold watch pinned to her bosom. “Karl should be finished with his meeting at the bank any time now, so get over there and grab him. You remember what you're supposed to say?”

      
He got up from the bed with evident reluctance, his eyes still fastened lasciviously on Carrie's bare flesh. “Hell, yes, we've rehearsed it a dozen times.” He swore testily.

      
Karl Krueger was in a good mood despite the recent attempt on his life. The new expansion he planned had been well received at the bank and the covert profits from Circle S cattle sales were on the rise again. When Hunnicut and Sinclair got too nosy, he would simply have Rider deal with them as they had tried to deal with him.

      
He was crossing the street from the bank, heading toward his rig, when the sinewy form of Rider materialized and hailed him. Krueger responded. “What is it, Caleb?”

      
Rider's normally guarded, humorless face was creased with a broad carnal grin. “You got a lady waiting to meet you, real private like, boss.”

      
Krueger looked blank. “What are you talking about?”

      
“My old boss lady is waiting for you in room sixteen at the Excelsior. She told me to ask you real nice.” His expression was leering and suggestive. “You never can figure women, Baron. I bet she and her Injun loverboy had a fight. Might be your chance to move in on Circle S.” He shrugged and waited for Krueger’s reaction, his palms sweating despite his calm outward demeanor. Damn, much simpler to face a man down in an open fight than this twisty stuff!

      
Krueger’ s face scowled for several seconds, then a malevolent grin replaced the frown. “So, she is a changeable little cat once more. This time my terms will not be so generous. Come, guard the door.”

      
Lola checked Carrie's gun one more time. She could scarcely wait to see the look on Karl Krueger’s haughty face before she shot him. Scorn her for this piece of red-haired fluff, would he!

      
Carrie moaned and moved one hand faintly across the bed. Carefully Lola pulled open an eyelid, gauging how close to consciousness she was. Lola did not want to give her any more of the drug for fear of having her unconscious when the sheriff found them. Still, Carrie must remain under until Karl was dead and she and Rider were clear of the scene. Her long and checkered career had enabled Lola to pick up all sorts of useful information, carefully filed for future reference. The administration of drugs was only one of her talents. She was also a crack shot.

      
After Krueger knocked discreetly on the door, she smiled. Perfect. In a breathy whisper she called, “Come in.”

      
When he opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit hotel room, Krueger could see Carrie's partially nude form laying sprawled across the bed. Why did she seem to be asleep? He was rather unnerved at her boldness, but then realized she must be planning to use her body to get what she wanted. Without taking his eyes off the woman on the bed, he closed the door.

      
Suddenly he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol hammer being cocked. He whirled to confront Lola's cold blue eyes, glowing malevolently in the semidarkness.

      
“Don't move and don't bother to call for Caleb. He's right here. Disarm him, darling.” She held the deadly Sharps pistol levelly on the big German as Rider slipped in the door and quickly pulled Krueger’s derringer from his inside pocket.