Rose (28 page)

“Tyler, grab a rifle and follow me.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to chase them off. They don’t know the ranch, and they can’t see us in the dark. We ought to be able to get a couple of them before they know we’re out there.”

“But they’ll kill us once they locate where our rifle fire is coming from.”

“We aren’t going to stay out there. Zac, you stand by the door. Don’t open it until you hear my voice. Do you understand?”

The child nodded.

Rose hadn’t gone five steps outside the door when she wished she were back inside. She had never realized how comforting it was to be behind a thick wall. No bullet could penetrate those logs. Out here there was nothing to stop them.

“They’re by the corrals,” she whispered to Tyler.

“I bet they’re pulling them down, the bastards,” he hissed back.

They were. They tied several ropes to each post and one by one pulled them out of the ground. They probably would have burned them if it hadn’t been raining so hard.

“Sons-of-bitches!” Tyler hissed and raised his rifle.

“Wait!” Rose hissed. “We’ve got to shoot together. We won’t get more than one or two shots before they see us.”

“Let’s get the men pulling up the posts.”

“No, let’s go for the old man and the man next to him. If we get them, maybe the rest will leave.”

“Okay.”

“Three quick shots, then head for the house as fast as you can go.”

“Gotcha.”

Rose waited until the men in question were still. “Now!” she hissed and fired as rapidly as she could.

She saw the old man flinch before she turned her rifle on the man next to him. She fired both her shots, grabbed Tyler by the arm, and hollered, “Let’s go.”

She didn’t try to hide or be quiet. The raiders had to know where the rifle shots came from. They knew they would be trying to get back to the house. Using the speed of their horses, they would try to get to the house before Rose and Tyler.

Rose ran as fast as she could, but she was no match for Tyler’s long legs. He was in the house before she was much more than halfway there. Then she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Someone was bearing down on her at breakneck speed. No, it was two of them. Fear gave her limbs extra speed. She would make it, but it would be close.

Then she stumbled and fell. Over a dropped rifle.

Oblivious to the mud that covered her, she leapt to her feet. The men were practically on top of her. She feinted to one side causing one rider to miss her, but that brought her directly into the path of a second. He aimed his gun straight at her.

The explosion was terrifying. But Rose felt no pain. Her legs didn’t buckle under her. She kept running. She made it to the porch, dashed through the door, slammed and locked it behind her.

Zac stood at the window, a rifle in his hands, his face white as a sheet.

“He was going to hurt you,” Zac said.

“He fired before I could,” Tyler said as he rammed his rifle through the window and peppered shots into the night. “And the little bugger hit him.”

“He was going to hurt you,” Zac repeated.

Rose realized the child was in shock. He had shot the man when he was about to kill her, but now reaction had set in. That scared her. He was too small to suffer such a fright.

Rose ran to Zac and grabbed him up in her arms.

“It’s okay,” she crooned. “You’re a very brave little boy.” Zac didn’t move. He felt like a wooden doll in her arms. Glancing
out the window, Rose saw that both raiders were gone. “You saved my life,” she said to Zac, gently taking the rifle from his grip. “Your brother is going to be very proud of you.”

“When is George coming?” Zac asked.

“Soon,” Rose assured him. “I’m sure he’s on his way right now.”

“They’re leaving,” Tyler called out. “They’re riding off.” He started toward the door.

“Stay here,” Rose ordered. “It could be a ruse. They may have chased their horses off to draw us outside so they can kill us.”

Tyler regarded Rose thoughtfully. “You’d make a good Indian fighter,” he said. “I’d never have thought of that.”

Rose was so surprised she couldn’t think of anything to say.

She felt Zac’s body relax a little. Then his arms flew around her neck in a viselike hug. Rose thought she would strangle, but she didn’t loosen his grip. When he started to shake, she held him closer, hoping her warmth and nearness would give him the comfort he needed.

She had shot her first man tonight, too, but the only feelings she had were relief that the danger was over and anger that these men had tried to kill them. She knew she would have no compunction at shooting again if they came back.

“George is coming,” Tyler called.

“Don’t go out. It may be a trick.”

“They’re coming at a gallop. Only George and the twins could ride like that in the middle of a rainstorm.”

Rain was coming down hard now. It was impossible to see anything at all.

“Turn up the lamp and set it in the window,” Rose said. “But stay down just in case.”

Unable to peel Zac’s arms from her, she picked him up and moved to the door. She opened it slowly. When nothing happened, she opened it further and stepped outside.

Gusts of moisture-laden wind reached her far back in the breezeway, but she pressed forward. She wanted to see George. She needed to know he was all right.

He came out of the gloom like a boulder in advance of an avalanche. He was off his horse and sweeping the two of them into his arms before she could even call his name.

“Are you all right?” he asked, burying his face in her shoulder, Zac crushed between them. “Where’s Tyler?”

“I’m right here,” Tyler said, emerging from the bedroom with the lamp turned as high as it would go. The light barely illuminated the faces of the others gathered close behind George.

“Did they attack the camp?” Rose asked, her grip on George not loosening.

“They hit us first.”

“Anybody hurt?”

“They got Alex,” Monty said, pushing his way past Rose and George, still locked together. “Did they do any damage here?”

Rose let her arms slide from around George. “They killed the bull. Zac tried to hide it, but they came up too fast.”

Uttering a particularly foul curse, Monty rushed off into the night. Hen and a couple of the men followed him.

“Come inside,” Rose said. “I’ll fix some coffee and warm up the stew. You’re dripping wet.”

“What happened?” George asked.

While Rose made coffee, sliced bread, and heated a venison stew, she told George about the attack. “If Zac hadn’t shot that man, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

With the return of his big brother, Zac’s spirits had made a remarkable recovery. The light had returned to his eyes, energy to his limbs. He couldn’t wait to tell George all about his part in the shootout.

“He was a real mean-looking fella,” the boy said, delighted at the way the room full of grown men hung on his every word. “I was sure he would shoot Rose dead right there in the mud.”

The condition of Rose’s dress was proof enough of that.

“So I grabbed a gun and shot him.”

“But you don’t know how to shoot,” George said.

“I’m a natural,” Zac answered, proud of himself. “I just pointed the gun, and I hit him.”

“Rifle,” Tyler corrected, disgusted with his little brother’s attempt to show off. “And you couldn’t have done more than wing him. He rode off fast enough.”

“He didn’t shoot Rose,” Zac said.

“And that’s all that’s important,” George said.

The conversation became general until Monty returned. He was like a gust of wind himself, entering with all the compressed energy of a giant spring.

“They shot the milk cow, the filthy bastards,” he said, going straight for the coffee Rose held out to him. “But they didn’t get the bull. The lazy beast was snuggled up under a bit of chaparral trying to keep his precious hide out of the rain.”

“They would have if Rose and I hadn’t driven them off,” Tyler said, determined to get his portion of praise for the night’s work.

“You left this house?” George said. He sounded so shocked and furious that Tyler wilted instantly.

“It was my decision,” Rose said, coming to Tyler’s rescue. “I was mad they would attack children. Then when they shot your bull—”

“They didn’t,” George pointed out.

“I thought they had,” Rose insisted, “and it made me mad. They couldn’t see us in the dark, so Tyler and I took a few shots at them.”

“Atta girl,” Monty said, grinning.

“That was a crazy thing to do,” George said, throwing his brother a fierce glare. “You could have been killed.”

“I could have been killed in my bed,” Rose shot back. “Besides, I didn’t see why I should wait here, quivering with fright, while they tore down the corral and worked up their nerve to attack us again. I thought we could drive them off, and we did.”

George still looked unhappy, but he didn’t say anything more.

“They may try again,” Salty said. “We ought to set a watch on this place as well as the camp.”

“That’ll stretch us real thin,” Monty said. “Anybody got any ideas how we can do it and finish the roundup?”

For the next hour they kicked around ideas about what needed to be done. By the time they had figured out a plan and worked out a schedule for who would guard what when, the sun was coming up.

The rain had stopped. Everything looked fresh and new.

Except the men.

“Where is Hen?” George asked suddenly. “I haven’t seen him in hours.”

“He went to look for the bull with me,” Monty said.

“Did he come back with you?”

“Sure.”

“He didn’t come in,” Salty said. “I remember it was just you and Ben.”

“You sure? He was right on my heels at the door.”

“I wasn’t paying much attention, but I think he went into the other side of the house,” Ben volunteered.

Monty dashed out of the room and was back inside a minute.

“He’s not there. Hasn’t been there as far as I can tell. The rifles and ammunition are still on the floor.”

Rose felt a sudden apprehension. She went to the bedroom. She didn’t have to count the boxes to know that several were missing.

“He went after the McClendons,” Monty said. “That’s got to be it. I should have gone myself.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” George contradicted. “You’d get yourself killed. You can’t go up against thirty or forty men.”

“Hen did.”

“We don’t know what Hen has done, but he’s not going to face that crowd. He’s too smart.”

“I’m going to help him.”

“You’re going to stay here and have your breakfast. Then we’re going back to camp and get on with the roundup.”

Monty looked ready to fight. “He’s my twin. I can’t leave him out there alone.”

“He’s my brother,” George said, “and if I know anything about him, he wants to be out there alone. He’s a wolf, Monty. Those men are in more danger than he is. You’re a bear. You would charge right in the middle expecting to take them by force.”

“What do you take me for, some kind of fool? We didn’t hold this place for four years by ourselves by getting our heads blown off.”

“He doesn’t think you’re a fool,” Rose interceded. “He’s just worried about you.”

“Well, I’m worried about Hen.”

“We all are, but you won’t help matters by charging into the middle of you don’t know what. He’ll come home when he’s ready. Now sit down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Twenty minutes later the uneasy silence was broken by the sound of a single horseman riding up to the house. Monty jumped up and hurried to the window. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he exclaimed. “It’s Hen, and the damned fool is leading a milk cow.”

“Everybody sit down,” George said when the whole crew seemed ready to dash for a window or the door. “Act like you hadn’t missed him.”

A little later, after he’d washed up, Hen entered the kitchen, sat down in the place Rose had set for him, served himself, and started eating. About the time he swallowed the second mouthful, just before the room exploded with curiosity, he lifted his head and looked at George.

“Zac, you’d better go milk the cow. If George has to drink coffee for breakfast, he won’t be worth shooting.”

Hen flashed George a rare smile and turned back to his breakfast.

“I don’t ever recall being more frightened in my life. Not even during the war,” George told Rose.

They were lying peacefully, side by side, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking. George still had to remind himself that Rose had married him, that she would be his wife for as long as they lived. It still seemed hard to believe.

Their lovemaking had been particularly intense tonight. Maybe it stemmed from the danger of the previous evening. Maybe it stemmed from realizing he could have lost Rose. Whatever the reason, he felt closer to her than ever.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to realize they would attack the house,” George said, wondering for the dozenth time if his survival instincts had deserted him. “You could have been killed before I got here.”

“Tyler was wonderful. I don’t think he’s a very good shot, but he’s fearless. I think he almost had a good time.”

“Not as much as Zac. That little rascal is still chattering about what happened.”

Slipping out of George’s embrace, Rose sat up in the bed. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you until now, but I’m worried about Zac. He didn’t have a good time. He was white as a sheet after he shot that man. I had to pry the rifle out of his grasp. He didn’t recover until you got here.”

George felt the harness of responsibility settle a little more heavily on his shoulders, the bands of guilt draw a little tighter around his chest. Would he manage to get Zac and Tyler to adulthood before something else went wrong?

Thank God he wouldn’t have any children of his own.

“I’ll try to spend a little more time with him.”

“Don’t let him know why you’re doing it,” Rose said. She chuckled softly. “Zac is very proud of himself. It would hurt his pride if he knew I told you of his weakness.”

“But you just said he was petrified.”

“He was, but didn’t you just tell me you had never been more scared in your life?”