Judith E French (27 page)

Frightened, Tamsin turned her back on him and tried to keep down the nausea rising in her throat. She’d put Jack Cannon behind her, and she didn’t want any reminders of her foolhardy association with him.

“Jack’ll be glad to see you, bitch,” Cannon taunted. “He don’t like fancy pieces turnin’ their backs on him.”

She clenched her teeth and tried not to listen.

“He’ll be right pleased.”

“He has nothing to do with me.”

“Tell him that. My little brother’ll be comin’ fer me. He’ll be comin’ soon.”

Tamsin shivered and prayed that Boone was wrong.

An hour before dawn, the urgent ringing of an iron bell startled her from a light doze. She’d slept in brief stretches, crouched in a corner of the cell as far from Boone Cannon as she could get.

“What’s that?” she cried, not realizing that she’d spoken aloud. The lamp had burned out, and in the blackness it took her a moment to realize where she was.

“That’ll be Jack,” Boone cackled. “Told ya he’d come, bitch.”

Tamsin tried to see out the window, but clouds covered the moon, leaving the alley pitch-dark. She felt her way to the front of the cell and began pounding on the bars. “Deputy! Deputy Long! Come here! Quick!”

Outside, the bell pealed frantically.

“Fire!” a man bellowed. “Fire in the church!”

Footsteps clattered past the jail windows.

“Hurry! The school’s goin’ up, too!”

Tamsin continued to shout for the guard. “Long!”

Banging echoed from the front office. “Fire! Open the door! The whole town could burn. It’s real bad! We need more hands!”

“No!” Tamsin screamed.

Joel Long’s sleepy voice was barely audible as the door hinges squeaked. “What can I—”

The deputy’s words twisted to a surprised gasp and then a gargled choking. Something heavy sagged against wood, then hit the floor.

Footfalls grew closer and the inner door to the cell area swung wide.

“Brother? You in here? Light a lamp, damn it. How am I supposed to see anything in here.”

Tamsin went numb.

“Jack! I expected ya to throw a rope on the winder bars and yank ’em out,” Boone said.

“No need, was there? Bring the light, Billy! Billy and me just walked in the front door, all friendly like.”

A circle of yellow light illuminated Jack’s smiling face. “You owe me for this, Boone. Didn’t I warn you about whores and whiskey? If you’d listened to me and stayed out of that saloon, you wouldn’t be in here looking like a slab of beef, would you?”

“Shut up and open the door,” Boone growled.

The second outlaw dangled a ring of keys in one hand, a drawn Colt in the other. “Guess you’re lookin’ for these.”

Tamsin backed to the far wall of the cell.

“Reckon you’ll be glad you come fer me, brother,” Boone said. “Look-ee here.”

Jack’s accomplice, the one he’d called Billy, undid Boone’s lock. Jack came toward Tamsin. “Well, well.” He motioned for Billy to open her cell, too.

“Leave me alone,” Tamsin said.

“Come down in the world, haven’t you, Miss High-and-Mighty?”

“Take him and go,” she pleaded.

“And leave you here to face all the trouble?” He pushed back the door. “Come on, Red.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Tamsin. We haven’t got all night. I’ve got a dead lawman out there, and we can’t wait all night for you to make up your mind.”

“Just go, please.”

Jack shrugged. “That’s your last word?”

“Yes!”

He glanced at the outlaw with the gun. “What’s the rule?”

Boone laughed. “No witnesses.”

“Sorry, Tamsin. I’d like to make an exception for you, but …” He motioned to Billy. “Kill her.”

Tamsin’s heart skipped a beat. “No! I’m coming. Don’t shoot me.”

Jack advanced on her. She shivered but forced herself to come toward him. “You’re certain this time?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ll come.”

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her close. She gasped but didn’t cry out as he slapped her hard across the face. “I owed you that one,” he reminded her. “That’s your first lesson.”

Blood trickled from Tamsin’s split lip, and it took all her willpower to keep from throwing herself on him and trying to pound his nose as flat as his brother’s.

“Jack!” Boone urged. “Yah waitin’ for the swivin’ posse to come back?”

Jack released his grip on Tamsin and started for the door. Billy looked at her questioningly. She took a deep breath and hurried after the outlaw leader.

Outside, two silent men on horseback waited. At the far end of the street, pandemonium reigned. Tamsin could see people crowding the street. Flames shot through the roof of the Methodist church, engulfing the schoolhouse and turning the sky red. Shouting townsmen ran through the smoke and confusion with buckets of water amid crying women, barking dogs, and panicked livestock.

Jack swung up onto a gray horse, sidled it over to the high wooden walkway, and offered Tamsin his hand. She took it, and let him pull her up behind him.

“Don’t fall off,” Jack warned. “If you do, Billy will put a bullet in you. He’s a good man. I never have to give him an order twice.”

“Hey, there!” Sheriff Walker ran toward them. “What do you think—”

A rifle cracked from a rooftop across the street, and Walker dived for cover. Jack put spurs to the horse, and they galloped away from the fire and out of Sweetwater.

“Morgan! Ash Morgan!”

Ash handed his water bucket to the next man in line and turned toward Sheriff Walker. Ash’s eyes stung with smoke, and his face felt scorched by the heat of the flames. Coughing, he walked back toward Walker.

The sheriff held his arm clutched against his chest. “Your woman just broke out of jail,” Walker said. “And she took Boone Cannon with her.”

“What?” Ash stared at him in disbelief. “Tamsin broke out of jail? That’s not possible. And what the hell is this about Boone Cannon? She was the only prisoner in—”

“Boys from south of here brought Cannon in after midnight. Seems the rest of the gang came after him. I’d lay odds they set the fire as well.”

Ash pulled his shirttail out of his trousers and wiped his eyes. He heard what Walker said, but the words didn’t make sense. “Tamsin’s gone? Cannon’s bunch took her? Where was your deputy? Why didn’t he protect her?”

“Long’s dead. Knifed to death.” Walker grimaced. “I’m bleedin’ like a stuck pig. I came on them while they were makin’ their getaway and caught a slug in the arm.”

“Jack? Was he with them?”

“Couldn’t make out faces. Doubt if I’d recognize him if I had. But I saw your woman. She’s part of this, Morgan. She shot Sam Steele, and she’s as guilty of Joel Long’s killing as any of the rest.”

“You’re wrong,” Ash shouted. “They must have taken her as a hostage. She wouldn’t—”

“Shit, I saw her. She didn’t try to run. One of them called to her, and she took his hand and climbed up behind him. Face it, bounty hunter. She made a fool of you.”

Ash’s gut cramped as though he’d taken a bullet. Fear for Tamsin’s safety squeezed his chest and made it hard to draw breath or think straight.

Walker was out of his mind! Nobody could make him believe Tamsin capable of such a crime or of going willingly with the outlaws. He had to go after her—had to get her away from Jack before what happened to Becky …

Cold fury replaced the confusion in Ash’s mind. Years of hunting dangerous men had made him methodical. “You forming a posse to go after them?”

“Hell, yes. Soon as I get the doc to sew up this arm. You volunteering?”

Ash shook his head. Other searchers would only slow him down. “I work best alone.”

“Still defending her?” Walker spat on the ground by Ash’s boots. “You’re bad as she is. Get in my way, and—”

“If Boone Cannon was in your jail, you should have set more than one man to guard him. Did you think Texas Jack would let you hang his brother? Joel Long was nothin’ but a kid. He didn’t have the experience to deal with the Cannons, but you should have. Long’s blood is on your hands, Walker.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know Jack Cannon would set Sweetwater on fire?”

“You should have known he’d do something crazy. You’re not fit to wear that badge.”

Walker took a step toward him. “And you are?”

“I don’t want your job. I just think this county deserves better than it’s gettin’ for its money.”

The sheriff’s angry retort was lost in the commotion as Ash headed for the boardinghouse and his gear. Minutes, even seconds, counted. But if he ran off half-cocked, he’d end up dead, and Tamsin would pay the final price.

In his room, Ash gathered ammunition, strapped on his gun belt, and picked up his rifle. Shouldering his bedroll, he moved out into the hall. Dimitri and his wife were there.

“I heard what happened,” the lawyer said.

“Cannon took her. She didn’t go on her own.”

“No,” Dimitri agreed. “I didn’t think she would.”

“Bring her back safely,” Helen called after Ash. “She loves you.”

“And he loves her,” Dimitri said softly. “He just hasn’t admitted it yet.”

In the stable, Ash saddled both Shiloh and Dancer. The stallion rolled his eyes and tossed his head, but Ash
yanked the girth tight, strapped on his bedroll, and led both horses out of the building. Max Spence, the barn owner, waited outside in the yard.

“I don’t think the fire will come this way, Mr. Morgan, but if it does, I’ll get your other animals to safety.”

“You’d better.” Ash took a firm hold of Dancer’s bridle, thrust a boot into the stirrup, and mounted the big bay stud. “That mare’s worth more than your house.”

“You’re going after the escaped outlaw, aren’t you?”

Ash grabbed Shiloh’s lead rope and kicked Dancer hard in the sides. “I’m going after my woman.”

He followed the road west, away from the scattered houses, toward the mountains. He didn’t know how long Cannon would keep to the trail or what direction Jack would take if he left it. When dawn came, there might be tracks to follow.

They had a start. On a horse like Dancer it would still take time to gain on them. If they stopped to take their sport with Tamsin, there was nothing he could do to help her.

But he didn’t think Jack would be so careless. Jack hadn’t lived as long as he had by being stupid. He had to think like the outlaw. What would he do if he were Texas Jack? That was easy. He’d push hard until the horses faltered. He’d slow the pace, but he wouldn’t go to ground until dark.

And when he called it quits, he’d need grass for the horses and water for the animals and himself.

If he were Jack, he’d go to his uncle’s cabin and stay there a few days before cutting south to Mexico.

Old Leon’s place lay northwest, a long journey if Ash retraced his path southwest through the pass to Jacob’s cabin and followed the canyons north. But it wasn’t that far from Sweetwater, maybe a hard day’s ride.

“He’s headed for the cabin, damn it,” Ash shouted. Jack had to be, because if he wasn’t … Ash blinked the dust and wetness from his eyes and lashed the stallion into a dead run.

Tamsin’s thoroughbred was still running hard at daybreak when Ash reined him in and switched to Shiloh’s back. With an inner hunger that food wouldn’t quell, he knew that it was too late to search for tracks. Either he’d guessed right and Cannon was headed for his uncle’s or he’d lost them entirely.

Lost her forever.

The trail he’d followed since he’d left Sweetwater had become fainter and fainter, ending in the charred remains of a house, burned out like his own hopes.

For hours Ash had tried to think of a rational plan to get Tamsin away from Cannon without putting her life in jeopardy. So far, he had none. All he could think was that if he’d been with her when Jack came to break Boone out of the county jail, Jack would be dead and the young deputy alive. Most of all, Tamsin would be safe.

He’d made the wrong choice when he’d decided to follow Henry, and guilt plagued him with the throbbing agony of a broken tooth. He’d sworn to take care of Tamsin, and he’d let her down as much as he had Becky. If he didn’t get Tamsin back alive … But that wasn’t a possibility he could let himself consider.

It seemed that he’d been a loner most of his life, grasping at something shining and having it slip away … his daddy’s hand … Aunt Jane’s warm kitchen … the acres
he’d cut out of raw Colorado land. He’d never wanted much, a sense of justice and a place to share with someone who cared whether or not he came home at night.

He’d let rigid duty and an old code keep him from seeing that Tamsin MacGreggor glittered brightest until she’d slipped through his fingers.

Circling ahead of Cannon’s gang and arriving at Leon’s first would give Ash an advantage. When he’d gone there before, he’d stuffed the chimney so that if they lit a fire, the house would fill with smoke.

That idea was no longer an option. Jack held Tamsin hostage. Ash couldn’t let them reach the cabin. Cannon wouldn’t hesitate to trade Tamsin’s life for his own. Worse, he might kill her out of pure spite if he found out who was chasing him.

The odds were still in Jack’s favor. Walker had seen four outlaws, but Ash wasn’t sure that there hadn’t been another. In three of his earlier robberies, Jack had put a shooter on a high spot. And Jack Cannon was a man who liked to perfect a scheme and stay with it.

By midmorning, both of Ash’s horses were thirsty and showing the effects of a hard ride. He stopped long enough to let them drink the contents of the two canteens he’d brought with him, saving none for himself. When they finished, he remounted and rode until the sun was high overhead.

When he topped a high bluff, he edged the horses into the shade of a grove of pines and used his spyglass to search the valley.

Far below he saw four horses and riders following a game trail. One animal carried double. Ash’s heart leapt in his chest. Tamsin was alive, and he had time to right the wrong he’d done her.

He scanned ahead of the leader, then right and left, hunting for a scout. He located the fifth man, his horse
plainly played out, lagging several hundred yards behind the others.

Ash stroked Shiloh’s sweaty neck and murmured to him softly. The roan’s sides were damp, and he was breathing hard. Tamsin’s stud was fresher, but the route Ash figured to take down this ridge hill was fit more for mountain goats than horses. When push came to shove, he had to put more trust in the stocky gelding’s agility than in the racehorse’s speed.