Sweet Talking Lawman (26 page)

He nodded and a grin
split his generous mouth as he stroked her face tenderly.  “We’re trained
for this, sugar.  My men and I are good at what we do.  Don’t
worry.  I just can’t give my full attention to what I’ve got to do if I’m
havin’ to worry about keepin’ you safe.”

Mesa nodded and
looked over where Levi still sat the horse he’d remounted.  “I’m staying
here with Bob.  We will not come any further.  I’ve promised Rafe
that, so get off that horse and cover his back.  You hear me?  This
man has finally asked me to marry him and if anything happens to him, I’m
holding you responsible.”

Levi swung down
nodding, a smile as big as the south showing his white teeth in the
darkness.  “Really?  He finally proposed?”  His softly spoken
question sounded jubilant.

Rafe cut him a scowl,
but as usual, Levi ignored Rafe’s expression of displeasure.  “Shut up,
Levi.”  The sheriff growled.

“I’ve got his back,
Mesa.”  Levi assured her.

Bob dismounted and
took the reins of the palomino from Rafe.  He and the others began to
secure the horses to the trees, making sure they used the lead ropes attached
to the halter each horse wore beneath its bridle.  If there happened to be
gunfire, they didn’t want the horses breaking loose and running wildly through
the woods.

While the men did
that, Rafe slipped his arms around Mesa and held her close.  “It’ll all be
over soon and we can bring our baby girl home.”

She nodded her head
against his broad chest.  “Just don’t take any chances, Rafe.  I couldn’t
stand it if you got… hurt.”

“That’s not gonna
happen.  You and I have a lot of time to make up for.  You just stay
here with Bob and start planning our wedding.”  He nuzzled her ear and
then found her lips for a quick kiss.  “I don’t want to wait long, you
know.”

All too soon the four
lawmen were gone, Rafe taking Spur with him, and Mesa was left alone with Bob
and the horses.  The men moved much more quietly afoot than they had
astride the horses and the sounds of them moving softly through the brush
gradually faded, and then disappeared.

Soon the sound of the
night settled in around them, and Mesa was filled with fear and worry.  So
much could go wrong for Rafe and his men.

“About how far away
are we from the buildings you remember?” she whispered to Bob.

He shrugged. 
“It was a long time ago, Miss Mesa, but I think it’s probably less than a
mile.”

“Maybe we could go a
little closer so we could hear better,” she suggested.

He shook his
head.  “You gonna break yore promise to the sheriff?”

She huffed in
frustration.  “No, it was just a thought.”

“Good,” the old man
muttered.  “I don’t want that man mad at me.”

She paced restlessly,
but time seemed to stall.  Needing to do something, she checked the lead
ropes and slipknots that secured each horse, stroking each animal for a few
minutes, trying desperately to fill the minutes.  Finally she made her way
back to where Bob had hunkered down on a fallen tree.  “How long have they
been gone?”

He grinned at
her.  “They might be getting close to the place by now, but they’ll scout
around the area and then get back together to make up a plan before they go
in.  It’ll be a while yet.”  Gently he took one of her hands and
encouraged her to sit on the trunk of the downed tree next to him.

“Did I ever tell you
about when I first met yore daddy?” he asked.

Understanding that he
was distracting her and thankful for it, Mesa gave him her attention. 
“No, you never did.”

The old man was a
masterful story teller, and soon enough his account of that encounter drew her
in.  Her father had been a colorful character, and she’d missed him every
day since his death.  Just hearing about some of the high jinks the two
men had gotten in to when they were young, made Mesa feel closer to her father.

^^^

Afoot, the small
group of lawmen followed the edge of the road, and as they approached the bluff
they could see lights through the trees and could hear talking.  The men
at the top of the bluff weren’t concerned with being discovered and it
reflected in the abundant flashlights and portable lanterns illuminating the
area and the loud boisterous conversations among them as they worked.

The lawmen watched as
they loaded bundle after bundle into the back of the two pick-up trucks and
into the back end of the SUV.  A quick scouting of the area failed to find
any unseen lookouts posted, so the officers spread out along the perimeter of
the area on either side of the two track road that appeared to offer the only
escape path.  When they were set, from his concealed position, Rafe called
out loudly.  “Morgan County Sheriff’s department has you surrounded. 
Put your hands in the air.”

At the first sound of
his voice, the seven men they had seen dropped the tightly sealed parcel they
carried and one went for a gun that was strapped on his hip.  A quick shot
from Rafe’s pistol impacted the man’s leg and he dropped with a howl of pain.

Beside Rafe, in the
darkness, Spur quivered with excitement and whined.  For a moment the men
hesitated, but slowly, one by one, they lifted their hands in the air. 
Rafe sent Levi and Clark in to secure them with handcuffs while Anderson and he
remained in concealment.

It felt too easy, and
Rafe couldn’t ignore that nagging thought as the last perp was cuffed, and he
and the deputies began taking stock of what was being loaded into the waiting
vehicles.  The back of his neck prickled with unease, and Rafe reached
back with one hand to rub the unpleasant feeling away.

He walked over to the
men who sat on the dirt behind the SUV and looked carefully at each one. 
The man he’d shot in the leg sat next to the others, and when Rafe perused his
face closely a flicker of recognition sparked in his mind.  “What’s your
name?” he asked.

The man ignored him
and dropped his head to shield his face.

Rafe swore softly and
turned, looking for Levi.  He spotted his head deputy lugging one of the
heavy parcels from the recently refurbished cabin to the back of one of the
pick-ups.

When the deputy
tossed the package up to Anderson who was stacking them in the bed of the
truck, Rafe approached.

Spotting him, Levi
turned a frown in his direction, as he wiped at the sweat on his brow. 
“We should’a waited until they had the trucks loaded.  Sure would’a saved
us some work.”

Rafe offered his
observation a brief grin of acknowledgement.  “Walk over and take a good
look at the guy I wounded.  He looks familiar to me, but I can’t place his
face with a name.”

Levi cast the man a
quick glance and then walked over for a better look.  When the perp ducked
his head down, Levi nudged him gently with the toe of his boot.  Since
that brought no response, he shifted his stance and placed his boot against the
wound that was still oozing blood and nudged again, this time with a little
more emphasis.

The perp growled an
empty threat and cut an angry glare at the deputy standing over him.

Levi swung around to
look at Rafe.  “You know who we got here, Sheriff?”  It was a
rhetorical question.  “We got Paulie Swartzel, Mayor Shiver’s number one,
right-hand man.”

As he spoke, the
night was suddenly interrupted with the blast of a gun, and the handcuffed man
at Levi’s feet, slumped down lifeless, a bullet neatly placed between his eyes.

Everyone dropped to
the ground and scrambled for some kind of cover, including the prisoners at the
back of the SUV.

The officers drew
their weapons, prepared to return fire, but having no idea where to aim the
shots, they cut fearful eyes at the surrounding darkness.

“I knew that was too
damned easy,” Rafe muttered under his breath, waiting for the next shot so he could
have an idea where to return fire.  He didn’t have to wait long before
another shot from the darkness stole the life of another of the prisoners.

“He’s trying to take
out the witnesses,” Rafe shouted to his deputies.  Even as he spoke
another shot rang out and this time, several of the lawmen spotted the flash of
the shot and returned fire.  Rafe worked at getting his remaining
prisoners behind the SUV and from there, into the brush at a different angle,
so the shooter no longer had a clear shot at them.  He secured his
prisoners there by stringing a plastic tie strap through their handcuffs and
around a sizable branch of the tree.  “Now,” he warned them, “make all the
noise you want to make, but you saw what he did to the other two men.  He
doesn’t plan to leave any witnesses.”

Having given that
warning, he melted into the darkness.  He had seen the muzzle flash of the
gun and began working his way silently through the dense shadows in that
direction, making sure he was shielded from his deputies, also, since they were
returning fire.  He wanted this s. o. b. and he wanted him bad.

His movement seemed
incredibly slow to him.  It was a ‘one step forward, then stop and listen’
process, and by the time he reached the approximate area, he was almost positive
that the shooter was gone.  That sent a frigid shock through his
blood.  Mesa was vulnerable and there was a chance the shooter might
stumble into her and Bob in the darkness.

He hesitated, then
knew what he had to do.  Pursing his lips, he whistled shrilly and was
rewarded by the sound of Spur tearing through the bushes in answer to the
whistle.  Thankfully he deputies realized that the dog was answering his
call and Levi was close on the animal’s heels.

Rafe gave a hand
signal and spoke softly.  “Seek.”  Then he turned to his head
deputy.  “Spur’ll track him.  Take care of what needs doing here and
call in the night shift to help secure the area.  I’ve got to make sure
Mesa and Bob are safe.”

At that moment, Spur
whined and looked over his shoulder to make sure he had his handler’s
attention, then with his nose to the ground, he slipped into the brush with
Rafe right behind him.  At a steady jog, they followed the scent track,
the dog’s long tail waving happily as he did his job.  They had traveled
about two hundred yards when ahead of them, in the distance, Rafe heard two
shots fired.  His heart staggered.  Those shots came from where he’d
left Mesa and Bob.

Forgetting the scent
trail, he called for the dog to heel and then with his handgun ready, he ran as
hard as he could toward the sound.  He was almost there when he heard
another shot and a muffled shout, followed closely by the sound of hoof beats
fading in the distance.

Oh please, God, he
prayed silently as he tore through the scrub oaks, let Mesa be safe.  As
near as he was to panic, he slowed his charge as he approached the area where
he’d left Mesa with Bob and the horses.  He knew that getting himself
killed wouldn’t help anyone so he stopped and listened before exposing
himself.  He heard a couple of the horses shifting restlessly over by the
scrub oaks where they’d been tied and then the sound of a groan, but no other
noise.  Rafe circled around to get a better view and saw only the palomino
mare was gone and then, his heart faltered again as he spotted the shape lying
motionless in the shadow of the biggest tree.  Keeping his attention
shifting between the surrounding woods and himself, he rushed to the form, gun
in hand.  Kneeling beside it he almost gasped with relief when he
recognized Bob.  He eased his hand to the man’s neck to check for a pulse
and was surprised when he heard a gun cock and the old man rolled onto his
back.

“Som’a bitch,” Bob
growled.  “Move and I’ll kill you.”

“Bob, it’s me, Rafe.”

The old man let the
gun in his hand fall to the side and gasped.  “That som’a bitch took
Mesa.  Go get her.”

“How bad are you
hit?”  Rafe asked, anxious to do as Bob asked, but knowing he had a duty
to the old cowboy, also.

“I’ll live.  Go
after them.  Take the roan colt.  He’s fastest.”  Bob pushed at
the lawman leaning over him.  “She took a shot at him and I think he’s
wounded, but he was able to get on the horse behind her.  They’re headed
to her house to get a vehicle.  Go on, now.  Get.”

Rafe nodded. 
Speaking into his lapel mike, he informed Levi that Bob was hit and that the
shooter had Mesa.  “You’re on your own, until I finish this,” he said as
he swung up on the young roan stallion.  “Get an ambulance out here or get
Bob to the road to meet it, as quick as you can.”  He turned the stallion
toward Bob.  “Levi’ll be here in a few minutes and he’s calling an
ambulance.”

The old man lifted
one hand and waved weakly as the big lawman reined the colt back over his
haunches and booted him in the side.  “Just go,” he groaned, but knew Rafe
hadn’t heard him.  The blue roan stallion was already tearing through the
woods as fast as he could run, the bulldog right behind him.

As he rode, Rafe
tried to work through different scenarios in his mind, but knew ultimately,
he’d have to take things as they came.

^^^

Mesa felt the pistol
that the man held against her side gouging painfully with each stride that the
palomino mare took.  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t hit him when she fired
that same gun.  She was a reasonably good shot and missing at such a
crucial time was infuriating, especially when he managed to wrest it from
her.  She was trying not to panic but fear was still a bitter taste in her
mouth.  She knew this man had no intention of letting her live. 
She’d seen his face.  She prayed that Bob hadn’t been killed, but knew
that even if he had survived the initial shot, he was an old man that alone was
enough to threaten his future.  She didn’t want to die.  She didn’t
want to leave Raale, or Rafe…or Jory.  Her jaws clenched in anger. 
She had too much to live for to let this man take her life.  If he did
kill her, she decided silently, he’d pay a price, because she would go down
fighting for everything she held dear.

Behind her on the
horse, Fisher swore silently.  Damn woman.  He hadn’t dreamed she’d
have a gun.  Of all his hits, none of them, not a single one of them, had
ever come close to getting him.  He shook his head, knowing that losing
consciousness would be his end.  Finally, beyond her shoulder he could see
the lights of the house and barn appearing in the distance.  His
confidence grew as they drew closer, and he actually felt stronger.  He
wasn’t beat yet.  When they got to the house, he’d make her get a key and
find a first aid kit, then he’d kill her and hit the road.  Once he was
away from here, he knew a man that could fix him up.  Damn Shiver for
sending him a bunch of incompetent errand boys to break down the lab and get
the meth moved.  It might take a while, but he’d see that the ‘honorable’
mayor paid for being so stupid.

Mesa slowed the mare
to a slow lope as they traversed the lane that led to the barn.  In her
heart, she was satisfied that as soon as he knew what had happened, Rafe would
be on their trail.  She had to try to slow things down and give him a
chance to get here.  She reined back on the mare slightly, slowing her
even more.

“Why’re you
stopping?” growled the man behind her.

“When a horse is
allowed to run to the barn, they get excited and it’s harder to control them,”
she explained.  That much was true.  “This mare has been known to
just go nuts when she gets excited.”

He pushed the gun
harder against her and she winced.

“You’ll make sure
that doesn’t happen, right?” he said.

“That’s why I’m slowing
her down,” Mesa tried to control her fear and her anger, but her anger was
growing stronger.

The well trained
animal beneath them slowed even more with the shifting of their weight to stay
balanced and finally dropped into a walk.

“I need a car. 
Take me to the house.”  Fisher sat up straighter behind her and began
casting his attention about, making sure there was no one else around.

Mesa reined the horse
toward the house but then paused.  “That truck has the keys in it,” she
said indicating the truck that Uncle Rance always drove.  She’d taken to
driving it around the ranch since she’d been home to make sure it ran and she
knew the fuel gage was broken.  It always showed a full tank, but she also
knew it was getting low.  Knowing that getting away from this man was the
only thing that would keep her alive, Mesa began nudging the mare in one side
with her heel.  Responding as she was trained to do, the animal began
moving sideways, away from the nudge.  The harder the nudge, the quicker
she moved.

“Hold on,” Mesa
cautioned, “she’s starting to lose it.”  She nudged the mare back the
other way and then pulled the slack out of the reins.  Again, as trained,
the mare shifted her weight onto her haunches and began backing up at a rapid
pace.

Backing as quickly as
she was rounded the horse’s powerful hips beneath her and to the man clinging
behind Mesa, it felt like the horse was dropping out from under him.

“Make it stop,”
Fisher ordered, and for the first time, Mesa detected a note of fear in his
voice.

“I can’t,” Mesa
gasped, “she’s fixing to blow sky high.  We’ve gotta get off.”

For the first time
since he’d forced her to mount the horse in front of him at gun point, the
handgun moved away from her side and she felt the man slipping to one
side.  Quickly she booted the mare in the other direction, causing him to
slip faster and then he was dropping to the ground, losing his hold on her.

That was the break
she’d been looking for.  Instantly she whirled the mare around and they
charged back up the lane in the direction from which they’d come, leaving
Fisher scrambling to his feet behind them, throwing vulgarity after her. 
The next sound was the pop of the gun, as he took time to throw a couple of
shots in her direction.  Leaning low over the mare as they tore down the
lane, Mesa felt a sudden slap against her left leg and then it went numb, but
she held on and was out of pistol range in seconds.  She looked down and
saw the dark stain spreading into her Wranglers and knew she’d been hit. 
Surprisingly, she only found it irritating that he’d actually managed to hit
her, and then caught herself laughing because she knew it would hurt like hell
in a few minutes.

At the end of the
lane, being safely out of the range of the pistol, she pulled the mare into a
walk and turned into the shadows of the nearby trees.  She wanted to
remain close enough to watch the place and see if the man left and if he did,
to make sure she knew what he was driving.

She’d only been there
a few minutes when she heard a horse tearing down the old two-track road in the
woods.  Feeling sure it would be Rafe, she rode out onto the two-track,
and sure enough, he was astride
To
, racing
full out toward the barn.

When he spotted her,
he checked the young stallion’s speed and brought him to a stop.  Rafe
bailed out of the saddle and almost drug her off the mare.

Rafe could hardly
believe it when Mesa rode the mare out of the woods as he approached the
entrance to the lane.  To see her sitting astride the mare alone gave him
such a surge of relief that he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t cry.  He couldn’t
wait to touch her, to know she was real and not just an illusion brought to
life by his fervent hope and prayers.  When they were both on the ground
and she was penned in his arms, he whispered a sincere prayer of thanks to God
for her having managed to escape the gunman.

“He’s at the
barn.  I made him think I was losing control of the mare and he slid off,”
Mesa explained hurriedly.  “Did you find Bob?”

He nodded. 
“He’ll be fine.  Levi was getting an ambulance started when I left
Bob.  The old guy was more concerned about you than he was himself.” 
He could feel Mesa starting to shudder in his arms and held her tighter.

“Rafe,” she started,
her voice shaking with trembles.  “You might need to get me to the
ambulance, too.  He threw a couple of shots and one of them hit me in the
leg when I was riding away.”

“Oh, Lord,” he
groaned, pushing her back until he saw the dark stain saturating her pants
leg.  He sat her down on the edge of the lane and snatched off her belt to
fashion it into a tourniquet around her leg.  That done, he sat back on
his heels and looked at her.  “Sugar, I can’t get an ambulance in here
until I can make sure it’s safe.  That means I have to leave you here
while I go in and secure the place.”

She nodded, thankful
to be sitting down.  “Then get moving, Sheriff Storm Horse.  I’ll
wait right here for you.”

He slipped a finger
beneath her chin and lifted her face for a quick, tender kiss.  “I’ll do
this as fast as I can, Mesa,” he assured her huskily.  “I love you.”

She nodded
again.  “And I love you.  Now go.”

An exhausted Spur
arrived, his long tongue hanging out one side of his mouth, panting from his long
run.

Rafe patted the
ground next to Mesa.  “Spur, down.”  He spoke softly and patted the
obedient animal as it followed his instructions.  “Stay,” he said, quickly
turning his attention to his surroundings.  He stroked her face tenderly. 
“He’ll wait with you.”

She nodded and
watched silently as he secured both horses to a tree and faded into the
darkness afoot.

^^^

Fisher knew he’d hit
the bitch with one shot and hoped she died a slow, painful death.  He made
his way into the barn.  Growing up in the city, he didn’t know much about
animals, but he did know that ranchers kept medicine available to doctor their
livestock.  He needed to find it and see if he could stop the bleeding
from where she’d shot him in the side.  It was bad.  He knew that and
he really didn’t want to die.  Not out here in some stinking barn in the
sticks, from a wound inflicted by a damned woman, no less.  His plan, if
he had a plan, was to go out in a blaze of glory, taking as many others as he
could with him. His whole life he’d spit in the eye of conventional values as
often as possible, and he saw no reason to change his behavior now.

Staggering through
the barn, he found the cabinet and sink in the small room next to the cross-tie
wash rack, where the medicinal supplies were stored.  Pulling his shirt
out of his waistband, he used some clean rags kept in plastic bags to wash the
wound, and he shook his head angrily when he realized how serious the injury
actually was.  It was above and just to one side of his belly-button and
he recognized that it was life threatening, probably having torn through some
intestines.  Soon the fluids in his intestines would leak out into the
open cavity of his belly, and not long after that peritonitis
would develop, sending his temperature soaring and
him out of his head with pain.

He swore loudly and
vehemently at the circumstances and the woman that had caused this.  The
best he could hope for was to get in a vehicle and get to the nearest
hospital.  All of a sudden, he wasn’t concerned with going out in a blaze
of glory.  He wanted to live.  He affixed a clean rag over the wound
and tied it in place with another, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. 
Then he made his way back to the front of the barn and the truck that was parked
there.  Just as he reached the exit, he spotted a shadow moving toward the
door and swore silently.  Somehow, that damned hick sheriff, or somebody,
knew he was here.  He paused, then shrugged.  If he didn’t get to a
hospital soon, he was dead anyway.  He rushed the entrance of the barn and
popped off a couple of rounds in the direction of the shadow and staggered on
toward the truck.  He didn’t wait to find out if his shots had found the
hoped for target or not, but turned the key and fired up the engine.  Then
he floored the pedal and sent a storm of dust and gravel as the truck
fishtailed away from the barn to the highway.