Authors: Maclain's Wife
The pinto had thrown a shoe. Pa swore up a storm and threatened to shoot the blasted animal, but Polly would no longer be terrorized by his threats.
She calmed the little mare and tapped on a new shoe right there on the trail. The falling ice had turned to a bitterly cold rain, and the wind drove it straight through her clothes. She'd forgotten how miserable riding in this weather could be.
Living in Ben's house had spoiled her. She'd gotten used to the cozy rooms warmed by the stoves, and the snug roof and walls that kept the cold out. But her life there had been an illusion–the pretty things and comfortable life hadn't protected her.
She rested the mare's hoof in her lap and hammered the shoe into place. She heard her pa's grumbling criticism and refused to listen to it. She laid her cheek against Renegade's rain-wet coat, and the mare gave her an affectionate nudge in the back.
She missed her roan, but this pinto was growing on her. She set the hoof down, checking the shoe. The mare pranced, a little uneasy when Ensel approached.
A wad of tobacco shot to the ground near her feet. "Roy wants you ready to ride. Could be one of the deputy's scouts in the woods. Don't know for sure. Cain't waste time finding out. We'll lose 'em over the mountain pass. A storm's coming in."
"Help me put out the fire." She dropped her tools in the pack. "Don't just stand there, get to work."
"What happened to you? You got bossy." He kicked mud over part of the fire.
"I grew up." She swung the heavy pack over her shoulder. "Why did Pa come back for me?"
"He got one of them wires from Dixon."
"Great. I didn't know Dixon knew my father." She laid the heavy bag on the packhorse's back. "I should have guessed it."
"You should just tell Roy where the gold is." Ensel put out the last spark, then jammed his hands into his slicker. "He's gonna hurt you if you don't tell him. You're my cousin, and I've known you all my life. I don't want Roy to hurt you."
"I don't know where the gold is." She grabbed the pinto's reins.
"Shoot, Polly, Roy's gonna have your head."
She mounted up. "I'm a stepmother now. I have to make sure Pa is far away from Indian Trails and is going to stay away. Will you help me?"
"Do what? Lie to your pa?" Ensel shook his head, scattering rain from the brim of his drooping hat "I cain't do that."
"Remember the time I saved your life? When we were ten and both of our pa's were out on a job? You shot yourself with your new revolver and I stitched you up?"
"I remember. I'da bled to death without you." Ensel stared hard at the misty horizon.
Pa splashed through the puddles toward them. "You two quit gabbin'. We've got lawmen on our butts. Mount up. Ensel, you stupid ass, don't just stand there in the rain. Get those packhorses tied up."
Polly watched Ensel's jaw tighten.
"Missy." Pa's bruising fingers yanked at her arm. "I've got enough trouble. Don't you think about making more by trying to run off."
"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." She would lead Pa away from Emily. As for Ben–
The wound in her chest cracked open a little more and she refused to think of him.
She never wanted to think of him again.
"I'll try to help you." Ensel whispered low enough that his words wouldn't carry on the wind. "You've always been good to me, Polly. I'd thought more than once about lookin' you up, seein' if maybe you'd help me find some honest work. I figure I'd be a good lawman."
"I bet you would." Polly mounted, studying her cousin who'd always been too gentle-natured to ride with Pa. "You help me, and I'll find a way to help you."
"Deal." Ensel didn't look so sad as he led the packhorse away, head bowed at Pa's sharp scolding.
"I've been following them for the last mile." Milton drew his gelding close and gestured off in the distance. "They're heading for the mountain pass."
"In this storm?" Ben gazed at the angry clouds shrouding the mountain peaks from sight. It was damn cold, and getting colder. Polly didn't have a coat. "Roy figures we won't follow them through a storm. He's wrong."
"It's dangerous." Marshal Powers stared at those clouds. "This rain is likely to turn freezing, and we'll be riding our horses right along the edge of those bluffs. It's a long way down."
"I'm willing to risk it." His life was nothing without Polly. He wanted her back. He wanted her safe.
"I'm glad we can count on you, MacLain." The marshal's gaze met his. "I'll let the judge know–"
"I'm here for my wife, not for me." Ben squinted at the small band of outlaws headed for the pass. "Let's go get her."
They rode swift and silent. Surprise was their only advantage and they wanted to keep it. Ben and the marshal plotted out strategy as they rode. The men agreed–an ambush would be best.
As he cut his palomino through the scrubby forest out of sight of the outlaws, he spotted Polly on the trail below. The brim of a Stetson shielded her face from his sight. She wore an oiled slicker and battered leather gloves. Her head was bowed, but she didn't look beaten. She looked strong and noble and proud.
She was leading her father away from Emily. His chest ached with long-denied emotion–with a love for her he'd refused to let himself feel. He wanted a friend, a lover, a companion, but he hadn't wanted the emotional risk. He'd just fooled himself, that was all.
He loved her.
"Ben." The marshal kept his voice low. "We've got to keep moving."
He spurred Fugitive and cut around a grove of scrubby trees. Whatever would happen to him, he accepted it. He'd broken the law years ago and was paying for it now. But Polly's life was in danger–and he would make damn sure she was safe. No matter what it cost him.
Ben, Milton and two marshals took the lead, leaving the others to wait. Ben spotted a narrowing of the trail and they headed for it. It was as good a place as any to set up an ambush. The rain turned to ice as they took cover.
He backed his horse behind an outcropping of rock and waited, revolvers cocked and ready. Freezing rain hammered the earth, drowning out the telltale sound of approaching horses. He listened, senses sharp. He didn't miss how Marshal Powers kept a close watch on him.
Like the melting ice sluicing down the back of his neck, Ben felt their approach. He was tensed, ready, heart thundering in his veins. He wanted Polly–and he was going to make Roy Brown pay for trying to take her.
Determined, he eased his horse out from behind the massive boulder. Looked like Roy was in the lead. Where was Polly? Ben had to reach her first, before the battle started. All he cared about was her.
Distant gunfire exploded, stealing their advantage. Ben couldn't find Polly. He fired, driving his gelding into the middle of the fray, despite the volley of bullets. He defended himself, squeezing his triggers as he searched. Outlaws tumbled to the ground; a deputy took a shoulder wound and crawled out of the road. Where was Polly? Ben helped defend the lawmen, but his gaze was still searching for his wife.
She was nowhere to be seen.
And neither was Roy Brown.
In the confusion of the outlaws running and the deputies following, Ben swung his palomino around and searched the terrain.
There–a movement up the steep mountainside caught his gaze. The falling ice hid them, but the white and dark patches marking the pinto's rump were distinct against the ice-encrusted granite.
Ben tried, but couldn't see well enough to fire. He gave the palomino a nudge, and the brave horse lunged up the steep embankment, great hooves digging hard for purchase on the slick rock.
The gelding slid back a few steps, then charged over crumbling earth and gathering ice. Ben felt the powerful animal struggling beneath him, but his attention was riveted on the sight of that pinto disappearing in the thick mist.
Then he saw the mare move rump-first into view. The horse scrambled. Her high shrill neigh of alarm set Ben's teeth on edge. He spun the palomino out of the way, but it was too late. Sliding backwards, the mare struck the gelding's shoulder and knocked the animal to his knees. Ben felt Fugitive slide, but all he could see was Polly on the mare's back as the pinto rolled onto her side and Roy Brown's pistol lifting upward.
Fast as lightning, Ben fired. The old man tumbled into the horse's path, his revolver firing wild. Ben launched out of the saddle, but he was too late as the pinto's feet kicked at the sky and her back hit the ground.
"Polly!" Fear energized him. He grabbed the mare by the bit and helped her roll onto her feet, knowing Polly could be crushed, even dead. Pain speared his heart into a thousand pieces, and he hated that he hadn't saved her, hadn't been able to do the impossible and pluck her from the back of the mare.
"Ben." Her voice came like a ghost's through the crackle of ice and hissing wind.
Blood smeared the left side of her face and mud marked the other. Her shirt was torn at the shoulder and her slicker was askew, but she was alive.
She was alive. He wanted to haul her into his arms and hold her tight, to never let her go, to breathe in the scent of rain in her hair and taste the wonder of her lips.
But she walked right on past him. Rocks tumbled down the steep mountainside as she turned all her attention to the mare. "Shh, Renegade. It's all right" Her gloved hand eased along the mare's bleeding neck.
Ben caught the bit ring and helped hold the animal steady. The pinto's eyes were glassy and white-rimmed with fear. Her nostrils puffed wide and she kept sidestepping, even as Polly knelt down to strip off her shirt and bandage one lacerated fetlock.
"How did you–?" He gestured at the mare.
"I learned how to sit a saddle before I could walk." Polly ran her fingers along the mare's leg, looking for serious injury. "I simply slid off her rump when she went down. I got banged up some, but I'll live. I just hope she's okay."
The mare calmed at Polly's touch and flicked her head away from him to look at her mistress. Renegade nickered low, as if needing reassurance.
Polly straightened and wrapped her arms around the mare's neck. "You'd better see to your animal, Ben. He's cut up some."
Fugitive nosed him in the shoulder. The tough horse was all right, for he was a reformed outlaw, too.
"Hey, Ben." It was Marshal Powers gazing up at them, the look of victory strong in his shoulders and confidence in his voice. "I see you took down Roy Brown."
"Didn't have much of a choice." Ben watched Polly's face, but she didn't so much as wince.
He'd killed her father. Surely she had an opinion on that. Her steady hands kept calming the mare, who had looked down the fifty feet to the trail below and panicked.
"Here," he stepped forward, hand out. "Let me help–"
"I don't need your help." She bit out the words low and even, without a hint of emotion.
"I'll send a deputy up to get the body." Powers looked apologetic as he aimed his revolver straight at Ben's chest. "Come on down. We've got to handcuff you along with the other fugitives."
Ben nodded. He wasn't about to argue. Powers had given him the dignity of fighting for Polly's life, and he appreciated that. He laid a hand on Polly's shoulder. "Let me help you bring the mare down."
"I can do it." She stepped away from his touch. "The marshal's waiting for you,
MacLaney
."
His chest kicked. He heard her condemnation– and knew he'd earned it. He was what they said, a fugitive from justice, an outlaw wanted for bank robberies in two territories.
Polly turned her back.
He'd lost her, truly lost her. He didn't know how to reach out and try to make amends. In his heart, he knew there was no way he could.
He'd made her fall in love with him, an outlaw like her father.
Polly watched Milton handcuff Ben. He stood tall and strong, unbowed. The wind whipped the collar of his jacket against his neck and chin, and he looked for one brief moment as untamed as any outlaw.
Marshal Powers eased toward her, her father's dead body slung over one broad shoulder. "What arrangements do you want to make for your pa?"
"Ask one of his men." Polly felt her conscience wince, but the man had never truly been a father. She'd learned what a father was from the way Ben loved Emily. Her father had never loved her–he'd never loved anyone. He was like a wild animal, preying on the weak. "I'm no longer his daughter."
"There's a warrant out for you, too." The marshal eased to a stop beside her.
"Did Ben tell you?"
"No, I've had that wanted poster in my office ever since the Golden Gulch stage robbery." Powers looked her square in the eye. "I saw you catch the stage at Paradise Bluff. A lawman worth his salt can take one look at a person and see what's inside."
Polly leaned against the mare's shoulder because her legs were suddenly unsteady. "You saw me and let me go?"
Powers nodded. "Figured if it was all you could do to scrape up money for the stage, you weren't hiding any gold bars in those saddlebags. Likely someone set you up. Maybe your brother."
"He's dead."
"Yes, but maybe he thought he would live. He'd be able to go back and get the gold later and no one would suspect it." Powers nodded to the road below where the deputies stood guard over the outlaws, including Ben. "I've had my suspicions about Ben for awhile. A person can make mistakes, but it's how he fixes them that shows true character."
"He's a hypocrite. He wears a badge over that outlaw's heart." Polly nearly choked on the words, and turned away so this stranger wouldn't know how big of a fool she'd been.
"He's righting his wrongs. He's protecting the bank instead of robbing it. He's keeping the town safe instead of threatening it. It's not a man's past that ought to determine his future, but how he chooses to live each day."
"You must know something about that, Marshal."
Powers merely shrugged, but the twinkle in his eye proved she was right. "Me? No, I'm a federal marshal. I'm no outlaw. Do you need help getting that mare down?"
"I can handle her." Polly knew it would be a battle, but she and the mare would face it together. That's how trust was earned. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Whatever I can."
She looked again at the men down below. Her gaze found Ben without even trying. "My cousin Ensel has always wanted to be a lawman. I could post his bail, if there is one."
"I'll keep that in mind." Powers tipped his hat.
"What about Ben?"
The marshal sighed. "It's a matter for the judge. There's nothing I can do. Sorry."
She watched him carry her father's body down the steep slope.
It was over. She was free of her father. She felt strangely empty. Knowing Ben's gaze was on her, she turned her back and laid her forehead against the mare's warm neck.