“Thank you.” The younger girl wrapped an arm around Will’s waist, and he casually dropped his arm across her shoulders. “Maybe it’s the baby.”
“A baby?” For some unknown reason, Abby was weeping again. She didn’t seem able to stop herself. “You and Will are having a baby?”
The young couple smiled at each other, and Abby thought she’d never seen a happier pair.
“Oh, Carrie. Will. That’s just wonderful.” She hugged them both, then glanced shyly at Rourke. “We were going to leave, but now that I’ve just found you again, I have to stay long enough to see where you live. There’s so much to catch up on.”
Seeing the question in her eyes, Rourke nodded. “I’ll go to the stable and get our horses.” Turning to Will, he said, “Just tell me where you live. I’ll bring the horses around when I’m ready.”
“We’re the last house in the row,” Will said, pointing to a neatly whitewashed house at the end of the street.
Carrie and Abby, arm in arm, were already strolling along the street. Rourke watched as Will walked along behind them. Turning, he made his way to the stable.
Watching from a hotel room, a lone figure waited until Rourke had gone inside the stable. Then the figure turned and picked up a shirt. Sunlight streaming through the window glinted on a wine-colored birthmark, shaped like a diamond. Pulling on the shirt, the figure picked up a gunbelt and checked his guns carefully. Then he slipped out the door and headed toward the stable.
Chapter Thirty-one
Pulling open the stable door, Rourke shouted for the owner. There was no reply. Probably at the courthouse, Rourke thought. Practically everyone in town was there. After the trial the citizens had continued to mill about, gossiping, visiting. Many of them would probably neglect their chores for the rest of the day.
Walking the length of the barn, he found the horses and began saddling Abby’s mount first.
He should be feeling as if the worries of a lifetime had just been lifted from him. Wasn’t he free at last? Why then this nagging feeling that nothing had changed? Because, he realized with sudden clarity, he couldn’t let go of the past yet. There was still a man out there who had raped and brutalized his beautiful, helpless Katherine. A man who could toss a helpless infant into a stream as easily as if he were a rag doll. A man who was nothing more than an animal. A crazed animal who had to be put to death.
Recalling the judge’s words of warning, Rourke paused in his work. The judge was right. Revenge was a terrible poison. But he couldn’t stop himself. It wouldn’t be put to rest until the last man was found and punished. Only then would the dreams stop tormenting him.
He tightened the cinch, then lifted the saddle to his own mount. Deep in thought, he didn’t hear the door to the stable open. It wasn’t until he felt the cold steel of the pistol against his temple that he realized his mistake.
* * *
“Oh, Carrie, it’s beautiful.” Abby sighed as she followed her sister about the rooms of the little house. “I can’t believe it yet. Your very own place. With room to sew dresses for all the ladies in town.”
They stood in the middle of the parlor, which Carrie had turned into a sewing room. There were baskets of fabric and lace, and tables covered with patterns. In the corner was Aunt Vi’s little chest, containing her treasure of ribbons and scraps of fabric.
“We love this town. Will sees a real future for us here. He’s been scouting the fertile valleys nearby where they claim a man can own as much as he can clear and harvest. And with Will out in the fields all day, it gives me something to do. Aunt Vi knew how much I loved to sew. I’m so glad she urged me to follow my heart.”
At Abby’s nod of approval, Carrie said, “This is the dress all the ladies in town have been dying to buy.” She proudly lifted a green gown from a wooden peg.
“Oh.” Abby touched a hand to the lush green satin trimmed with delicate roses and pale green leaves about the softly draped neckline and gathered skirt. “Carrie, I think it’s just about the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”
“I made it for you.”
Abby could only stare at her sister. “How could that be? You didn’t even know you’d ever see me again.”
“I knew,” Carrie said softly. “I always knew I’d see you again. And when I did, I wanted to have this dress ready for you. It’s the gown I’d always pictured you wearing.” She laughed, that clear, childish laugh that Abby had always loved. “You ought to be married in this, you know.”
“Who’d marry me?” Abby scoffed. But her heart had already leaped at the thought.
“Rourke. His feelings are there in his eyes every time he looks at you.”
Abby blushed, making Carrie laugh even more. “You can’t hide a thing like that from me. It’s in your eyes too.”
The two girls fell into each other’s arms again, and then Carrie steered her sister toward the bedroom. “Come on. You’re going to wash off the grime of the trail and try on the gown I made for you. And while you do, you’re going to tell me all about Pa and Aunt Vi and everyone else from the train.”
Abby went very still, wondering how to tell her little sister. She started with the good news about Aunt Vi, then ended with the cholera and their father’s death. By the time Abby had told Carrie about the massacre in the Sierras, and about her father’s admission that she was really Lily’s daughter, she and Carrie had shed a hundred tears.
“But we’ve found each other again,” she whispered, clinging to Carrie as she wept. “And you and Will are happy. It’s all I ever wanted for you.”
When Will entered, the two girls looked up.
“You mean Rourke hasn’t come with the horses?” he asked.
Alarmed, Abby said, “We were so busy talking we forgot the time.”
“I’ll go find him,” Will offered.
“No.” Abby touched his arm. “You stay with Carrie. I’ll go to the stable.”
“Hurry back,” Carrie called as her sister ran to the door. “I’ll have supper ready.”
* * *
Proudly wearing her new gown, Abby paraded past the shops and stores, feeling the stares of the people of the town. When she passed the hotel, she peered inside. The men from the jury were having supper, along with most of the men from town. There was a festive air, as people celebrated the end of an exciting trial.
When she came to the stable, she was surprised to find the door closed and bolted from the inside.
Pounding on the door, Abby shouted. “Rourke. Are you in there? Rourke, it’s me. Open up.”
She felt a tiny thread of fear. What if he’d left without telling her? Her heart denied it immediately. He wouldn’t do such a thing. He wouldn’t.
“Rourke.”
Just as she lifted her fist to pound again, the door was thrown open and she was yanked inside. The door slammed shut and she heard the bolt shoved into position. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that she was staring at a gun pointed at her head. And the man holding the gun was Flint Barrows.
“Flint.” She saw the evil grin on his face and felt her heart plummet. “Where is Rourke?”
“Your handsome lover is over here,” he said, jerking her roughly by the arm.
As they rounded a stall, she came to an abrupt halt. Her heart nearly stopped beating.
Rourke was sitting astride his horse, his arms tied behind him, a noose, tied to a wooden beam, around his neck. His handkerchief had been stuffed into his mouth to keep him from warning her.
“Now isn’t this cozy?” Flint said. “We have the man who killed my brothers and the lady he loves.”
“Your … brothers?” Abby felt her head spinning. What was happening here. None of this made any sense.
“The two men traveling with the Borders brothers happened to be my brothers, Ben and Carl.”
“The Borderses,” Abby muttered, stalling for time, “and the Barrowses?”
“That’s right. The famous Barrows brothers.”
“But there were three men traveling with them.”
Flint laughed, and Abby felt her nerves tighten. “My two brothers and me.”
“You”—she moistened lips gone suddenly dry— “were with them when they killed Rourke’s wife and baby?”
“Now aren’t you the smart one? You figured that out all by yourself.” Flint laughed again, and Abby found herself staring into the eyes of a madman.
Flint slapped at Rourke’s mount, causing the horse to sidestep. The noose around Rourke’s neck tightened, forcing him to sit higher to keep from being strangled.
“Let him go, Flint,” Abby pleaded.
“Now why should I do that? It would spoil all the fun.” His voice lifted to a screech. “I’ve had a long time to plan this. I used to lie awake nights thinking how I’d get even with the man who killed my brothers. Course,” he added with a sly smile, “I didn’t know the gunman on our wagon train was the man I was looking for. I was busy with a little Indian kid when he burst in on us. All I saw was a blue uniform and the flash of a gun. But when I saw that wanted poster with Captain Daniel Rourke’s name on it, I managed to put it all together. And his testimony at the trial filled in the last gaps. Now that I know who he is, I intend to have my revenge.”
Her mind raced. She had to get Rourke down from there before Flint carried out his threat to hang him. She forced her voice not to waver. Attempting to sound seductive, she said, “Let him go and I’ll give you anything you want.”
Flint threw back his head and roared. “Honey, I’m going to have what I want anyway. You don’t have to give. I’ll just take. Hell, taking’s half the fun.”
Glancing up at Rourke, he gave him a satanic grin. “Now I’m going to show you what I did to your wife before I killed her. Cause I want you to suffer a long time before you die.” Pressing the gun to Abby’s throat, he said, “Take off that pretty dress, Miss Abby Market.”
“No.”
Still grinning, Flint slapped at Rourke’s mount again, causing the horse to back away. The noose around Rourke’s neck tightened.
Flint’s smile vanished. “Now you strip, lady, or your lover’s going to swing.”
With trembling fingers Abby unbuttoned the gown and slipped it from her shoulders.
From his position on the horse, Rourke watched with a feeling of helpless rage. It wasn’t enough that he had been forced to endure visions of Katherine all these nights. Now he would have to spend a lifetime seeing Abby’s face as well. For the rest of his life he would hear her cries while this madman had his way.
As Abby slid the gown from her shoulders, Flint moved closer. “You’re even prettier than I expected. It’s going to be fun watching that creamy skin melt at my touch.” He turned toward the man on the horse. “I’ll take it slow and easy so you get plenty of time to watch, Rourke.”
With his head turned, Flint didn’t see the movement as Abby slid her hand into the pocket of her gown and withdrew the little handgun. When Flint turned toward her, his eyes widened in shock and surprise.
“Why you little…”
As he lunged she fired. He fell against her and she fired again, then leaped to one side as his body crashed to the floor.
For long moments she stared down at the figure slumped on the floor of the stable. Then she stared at the gun in her hands.
“You once told me to keep it with me at all times.” She gave a shaky little laugh, and Rourke feared she might become hysterical. “I’m a fast learner. And once I learn something, I never forget.”
Stepping around the body on the floor, she stared up at Rourke. Then, in a tight, little voice, she said, “Now I’m a killer too, Rourke. As much a killer as you.”
Lowering his head, he moaned softly. What had he done? Dear God, what had he done to Abby?
With trembling fingers she cut Rourke’s hands free, and then the noose.
Before he could even comfort her they heard footsteps running toward the stable and the sound of voices raised. When Rourke opened the door, and the sheriff and a crowd from the town rushed in, Abby was standing in the middle of the room, one trembling hand holding the front of her gown closed, the other still holding the gun.
Rourke longed to go to her and just hold her. But half the town was standing there, staring at her as if she were mad.
At Rourke’s insistence, Abby was escorted back to her sister’s while he went to the jail to give the sheriff” an account of the incident. Dazed, Abby allowed herself to be led away.
* * *
Out of habit, Rourke sat at the rear table of the saloon. He downed the whiskey in one swallow, then poured another.
What had he done to Abby? He tipped his head back and drank. Made a killer of her, that’s what he’d done. Hadn’t she said as much?
Several of the townspeople glanced his way but, seeing the dark scowl on his face, decided to leave him to his own company. Rourke wasn’t the kind of man you pushed.
Seeing her in that goddamned gown had only made it harder to bear. There she was, looking like some kind of a dream, and he had to watch her being tormented by scum like Barrows. Helpless. He’d been completely helpless. All he could do was watch. Watch her defend herself. Watch her kill Flint Barrows. And then watch her endure the stares of the townspeople.
She deserved so much better.
He poured another drink, drank it, then corked the bottle and stood. He’d take the rest with him for the trail.
Stowing the bottle in his gear, he mounted and rode to Carrie and Will’s little house. As he walked to the front door, he steeled himself. He would make it quick and final.
Abby opened the door at his first knock.
“Come in.”
He shook his head. “What I have to say is better said out here.”
Puzzled, Abby stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her.
Rourke studied her in the glow from the windows. He felt his throat go dry. For a moment the air rushed from his lungs, leaving him speechless. How had he ever thought her skinny? How could she have ever considered herself plain? She was stunning. A riot of fiery curls spilled about her cheeks and danced on her shoulders. She was wearing the new gown, which nearly matched her eyes. Embroidered roses and little velvet leaves competed with the creamy skin of her throat and bare shoulders. It showed off her tiny waist and displayed enough rounded flesh at the bosom to make his heart pump a little faster. No man could ever dismiss her beauty. A man could kill for her. Or fall to his knees and beg. If, he thought with a pang, the man had a right. She deserved a man who could offer her everything. A home. Family. A future.