Mary Connealy (39 page)

“Worrying has kept me alive this long,” Harley said.

Judd ignored him.

Harley asked, “You’re sure Eli got into the house?”

“I’m sure. I saw him run in.” The truth was he’d been looking out the other side of the barn at the exact instant Eli had run into the house. His view of the front door had been blocked. But he’d seen Eli head for the house and now he was gone. There’d been no resistance. Where else could he be but inside? He didn’t bother Harley with the pesky details.

“It don’t set right, Judd, turning Eli loose on that woman and her children.”

Judd looked at his partner with disgust. Harley was going soft on him. Harley had scouted the place for hours after they’d lured the posse then left ’em there guarding Sawyer Canyon like a pack of headless chickens. “McClellen’s wife is uncommon beautiful, and she had four of the prettiest little girls to ever roam the hills of Texas.”

“I don’t like to think about Eli in there with those defenseless females.”

Judd didn’t like anyone questioning him, and Harley knew it. Judd glared at him, but Harley didn’t look like he cared much what Judd thought.

Judd would have taken Harley on—he had it to do—but right now he was preoccupied with spying. “Sid’s in there with him. That might keep Eli under control.”

“You wanted Eli in there,” Harley said with cool contempt. “You know how he treats a woman.”

Judd took a second to check the two horses they’d brought into the barn with them. They were ready to ride when it was time to hit the trail. The mustang tried to bite Judd’s hand, and Judd clubbed the horse hard on the head.

“Eli could have been the lookout,” Harley added. “You’re hoping he kills the McClellen woman so you won’t have to.”

“You’re supposed to be keeping watch, Harley.” Judd went back to his watch. He didn’t look down the trail. Instead he scowled at Harley. “Don’t think about what might be happening in there. Have you seen any of our men on the bluff?”

“No, but I wouldn’t expect to. Do you think all the McClellen hands are dead?” Harley asked. “How much poison did you put in their coffee?”

“I put enough in to bring down a herd of buffalo. They’re dead.”

“You gave ’em a lot, but did they drink it?” Harley worked the action on his rifle.

“We saw the two in the bunkhouse laid out flat,” Judd growled.

“They looked dead to me, too. Now we’ve sunk to poison. I’m a gunslinger, Judd, and proud of it. My fights used to be fair ones—they were against horse thieves. Then, at least, they were against men. We were ruthless, but we had a code. We had some honor, Judd. But where is the honor in poison? Where is the honor in turning a coyote like Eli loose on a defenseless woman and children?”

Judd looked at Harley. He didn’t like the cold scorn he saw in Harley’s eyes. They’d been together a long time, and what Harley said was true. They’d been hard, brutal men. Judd reveled in that. But they’d been strong. They’d taken what they wanted face-to-face, with the power of their fists and guns. It had all gone wrong along the way. And now they’d sunk to this. They were sneaks, killing women and children and poisoning honest men. Judd refused to think about it.

“As far as that avalanche goes,” Harley said, “I’m not a man who believes in coincidence.”

Harley quit talking. The time for talking was past. He’d never killed a woman before. He’d never even stood by while someone else did. More than that, he’d never so much as raised his hand to a child. In fact, the few times in his life he’d even seen children, he’d been fascinated by them and found pure pleasure in watching the little tikes.

He wasn’t a back-shooter either. That one day, when Judd had sprung it on him that he wanted Harley to dry-gulch McClellen, he’d done it—taken his shot. But he’d had a chance to think it over since then.

Harley crouched here in this barn and knew shame.

He watched the house and thought of those little girls and the vengeful man behind him and he wanted out. He wanted out of this mess and out of this life. But how did a man turn his footsteps back from a path he’d been treading so long?

That’s when Harley heard a voice. A voice he hadn’t heard for years. A voice that whispered to him things his long-dead mama had told him about while she held him in her lap. About Jesus. About love. About God having a plan for his life.

Harley eased himself away from the door and forgot about keeping watch. He let all his life spin through his mind. All the little steps that, one by one, had led him to this place and this act of pure, unforgivable evil.

And that’s when he remembered something else his mama had said. Forgiveness. A man was bound to do wrong because that’s just the way humans were. But there was forgiveness for those who trusted in Jesus Christ. Harley reached out for it and felt years of death and hatred melt away from his heart.

Then he saw Mason tense. “Posse coming up the road,” Judd called out to the man who had just changed sides. “McClellen’s in the lead. He’s still a ways off.”

Judd lifted his gun to aim at the lead rider. Harley lifted his gun and aimed it at Judd and hesitated, torn now between his desire to save all these innocent people and his own complete unwillingness to take another human life—even a life so despicable as Judd Mason’s.

A soft rustling of cloth caught his attention by a little door near a corner of the barn. Harley didn’t turn to look. He knew that sound. It was soft material and lots of it. A woman.

Mason turned to the sound and with a sudden roar of rage he leapt to his feet and yelled, “I’ll get that meddlesome woman myself.!”

Harley turned to see her dart back outside.

Judd ran for the back door then suddenly he veered away from it. “She’s not getting away from me!” Mason shouted. “You and the men in the house will have to hold off the posse.!”

Mason didn’t notice Harley’s gun. He whirled and jumped on the back of the fiery little mustang. The horse reared and fought. Mason kicked it viciously. He didn’t go toward the back door. He headed for the wider door next to it. Harley heard a soft noise that sounded fearful, and he looked straight up over the smaller door. There was a little girl. Harley was so amazed it took him a second to realize the child was holding a rope. Harley’s eyes followed the rope and saw it was fastened to a basket of rocks.

If Judd went out that rear door after Sophie, he was going to get peppered with rocks. The little girl looked down from where she was perched above him, like a hovering angel. He saw the terror cross her face when she realized she’d been seen. Harley shook his head and pointed his gun at Judd, still fighting the horse.

The little girl stared at him with unconcealed relief, then—she smiled at him. Harley was in awe. The heartfelt smile of a brave little girl fighting for the people she loved was a gift as sweet as the loving words of his mother.

God rested His hand on Harley’s shoulder as surely as if He stood beside him in that barn. It was the finest moment of Harley Shafter’s life.

Mason spurred his horse and suddenly the feisty, little mustang went wild. After months of abuse, or maybe inspired by its Creator, it reared until it looked to be going over backward. Then, with a squeal of rage, the horse twisted its body and landed stiff-legged on the floor. It arched its back and, with an impossible gyration, hurled Judd to the ground. He landed, almost as if the horse had aimed, right underneath the little girl and her basket.

The ground caved in under Judd. Harley heard Mason scream in pain. A basket of rocks rained down on Mason’s head, and Mason was still.

Mrs. McClellen poked her head in the door and glanced up into the rafters. Harley looked up and saw the little girl grinning at her mama. Harley stood slowly and drew both women’s attention. Mrs. McClellen looked at him fearfully, and he quickly tossed his gun aside. “Don’t shoot, ma’am,” he said to the unarmed woman. “I give up.”

Clay and the posse came charging into the yard just as Harley marched out of the barn with his hands in the air.

H
e just surrendered?” Clay asked in disbelief for the tenth time.

“He had a gun,” Sophie repeated. “He didn’t so much as threaten us.”

“Just tossed his gun away and raised his arms? Harley Shafter?” Clay shook his head.

“If that’s his name, Clay. I don’t know the man!”

“Just like that? Did he think you or Beth were armed?” Clay shuddered when he thought about his little girl perched in those rafters under the rifle of a man as dangerous as Shafter. He was a known gunman and as tough as a hobnail boot.

Sophie set a cup of coffee in front of Clay, then got more cups out for the other men who had crowded into her kitchen. They were leaning against walls and sitting on the floor. All four girls had gone into one bedroom, just to make space in the cabin for everyone.

A very embarrassed Rio was leaning in the open doorway. Buff and Whitey had been knocked cold in the bunkhouse by whatever had been added to their coffee. Only the fact that they had eaten with Sophie and mostly drank the coffee she made had saved their lives. They were still too ashamed of themselves to talk. Of course, when had either one of them ever talked anyway?

Andy had the same rough bandage on his head Sophie had put on in the cave. He wouldn’t let Sophie doctor him. He seemed to think he deserved to get an infection and die for letting himself be drugged and then knocked senseless.

The wounded outlaws had been hauled away. It had been a real chore to get the two out of the trees. Sophie had answered the ranger’s questions with all the men listening. Now, except for the questions Clay couldn’t seem to quit asking, none of them had much to say to her at all.

In other words, everything was back to normal.

Sophie had run out of coffee cups, and Eustace had fetched all there were in the bunkhouse. And except for the silence and general air of humiliation amongst the men, it had become a party.

“What do you men want for supper?” Sophie asked into the silence.

“I can’t believe you put spikes in the bottom of that pit.” Clay nursed his coffee and shook his head. “That was a plumb mean thing to do.”

“Sorry.” Sophie served the third pot of coffee she’d made in the last hour.

“No, you’re not. You’re just trying to buck me up.”

“I taught her about those traps, mostly,” Adam put in. “But she came up with a few tricks of her own.”

“Living in a thicket gives a woman time to use her imagination.”

Adam nodded.

“And how many more of these traps are there?” Clay crossed his arms and scowled. “Mightn’t they be dangerous?”

Sophie noticed Clay conveniently forgot that she had tried to show him the traps on a couple of occasions. He’d smiled at her “little surprises” and put her off.

“I made them so you had to trip them. No one can stumble into one. Why, you and the men have been walking over the pit under the side door of the barn all week.”

Clay sat up straight and glared at her.

Sophie patted Clay on the chest as she passed him with the coffeepot. “I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t, but she hoped Clay appreciated that she tried to sound sincere.

The rangers came riding into the yard. They and the deputies had taken all eight of Mason’s men into town. Sheriff Everett’s jailhouse was fairly bulging at the seams. Most of the men were wanted for holdups and murders all across the West. There would be enough reward money to add another valley to the ranch if they had a mind to.

Ranger Jackson strode into the house. “I want you to tell me again just what Harley Shafter did when you went into the barn.”

Sophie crossed her arms and glared at him. “I’ve told you ten times already!”

Jackson said, “No, you’ve told me twice.”

“You’ve told
me
ten times,” Clay said. “But the ranger’s been gone for eight of them.”

Sophie sighed and repeated her story. Jackson listened, absorbing every word of it. Finally he said, “Shafter has been talking. He’s confessed to everything and spared himself none of the guilt. Every member of that gang will be found guilty because of what he’s said. And we found a lot of money on Mason. We’ll be able to return money to the heirs of most of the men who have been killed.”

“Why’s he telling everything?” Clay asked. “Usually a gunman like that is mighty closed-mouthed.”

“He said he heard God talking to him in that barn. He said he was ready to turn on Mason and protect the posse when it came into the yard.”

“It don’t sound to me like he’s taking responsibility for much if he’s trying to say he was on our side,” Eustace said with contempt.

“No, it’s not like that. He’s not trying to get out of any charges. In fact, he’s saying he deserves a noose, and he’ll take it. He just smiles when we try and break his story. Says he knows he deserves God’s wrath, but he’s made his peace and he’s ready.”

“Leave room for God’s wrath.” Adam looked across the room at Luther. “Just like you said.”

Luther nodded.

“I believe him.” Sophie, done with her inquisition for now, began slicing up a hunk of venison she’d put on the baking rack. “The look on his face when he surrendered was almost…” Sophie shrugged. “I know it sounds strange, but it was the impression I got at the time. It was almost…holy.”