The Badger City Gang [Bride Train 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (21 page)

Shots and screams rang out. The kitchen door slammed open. She leaped to her feet as Rivers ran through, Rusty following. She saw Ross lift his hand, a knife poised to throw, but Rusty got between them. She raised her fist as Rivers looked over his shoulder. He turned back, lifting his hands to grab her. She set her feet and slammed her fist into his chin.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

Pain erupted in her fist, bringing hot tears to her eyes. She hopped around, cradling her hand, but it didn’t help.

Rivers thrashed on the floor for a moment before Ross had him trussed. After the initial shock faded a bit, Kate stomped over to the groaning man. He looked ridiculous in his expensive suit, complete with hat. She drew back her foot and kicked him, hard, right between his legs. He screamed and curled into a ball. Now her foot hurt as well as her hand.

“That make your hand feel better?” asked Ross, pointing to Rivers, still rolling and moaning.

She shook her head, managing to crack a smile. “Not really, but at least I’m not the only one hurting.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should have worn boots.”

Rusty choked a laugh and hugged her. She rested her head against his broad, strong chest. His now-familiar scent soothed her, as did the warm hands rubbing her back. Her fear, bottled up all day from necessity, leaked out and was absorbed by his strength and power. The shaky feeling that threatened to make her burst into womanly tears faded. She sighed and finally relaxed. His arms tightened around her. He rested his chin on her head. After a moment he pushed her back, hands on her shoulders, and glared.

“You could have been killed!”

Though he barked the words like a vicious dog, his forehead wrinkled in concern. The ring around his stormy blue eyes seemed thicker and darker than usual.

“But I wasn’t,” she shot back.

She pulled away and crossed her arms under her breasts. She knew her answering glare was more of a pout, but it was the best she could do. His eyes dropped from her mouth to her breasts.

“Dammit, Kate!” He lifted his hands over his back, grabbed his oversize shirt and hauled it over his head without bothering to undo the buttons. “Stand still!”

He shoved it over her head and pulled it down, bending to yank it as far as possible. She stuck her hands through the arms. He folded back the sleeves until her hands were free, being very careful with her right. When she was covered as decently as possible he tenderly examined her hand. She bit her lip to hold back a cry of pain as he gently manipulated it.

“Nothing’s broken, thank God,” he said. He released her hand and glared down. “I swear, Kate, if you try anything like this again I will—”

“We’d better show Zach you’re safe,” said Gideon, interrupting.

Barstow pushed his way through the door, closely followed by Zach. He closed his eyes for a moment when he saw her. Then he opened his mouth and roared.

“Never again! You’re going to stay on the ranch where we can keep an eye you!” He hauled her into his arms and gave her a tight squeeze. “God, Kate,” he whispered. “I thought it was you screaming.”

“The lady can take care of herself,” said Barstow drily. He looked down at Rivers, now merely groaning, and winced. “Sure hope he can talk by the time the trial starts.”

“No one can say anything against me!” Rivers clutched the bars and roared from his cell. Only two men stood near him, the banker, Hugh Jennet, and the newspaperman, Buford Hames.

“This is outrageous!” puffed Jennet. He looked at Hames scribbling madly beside him. “Make sure you write how a well-respected elected official is being treated with ridicule!”

“And that we got a witness to his crimes,” added Sheriff Barstow.

Rivers screwed up his red face like a child having a tantrum. He tried to shake the bars loose. “You can’t take the word of a whore over mine!”

He suddenly jumped back, barely avoiding the punch from Doc that would have squashed his nose like a tomato. Zach hadn’t been in Tanner’s Ford long, but everyone knew Doc was a gentle man. He never hurt anyone, even a dog, yet he attacked an unarmed man behind bars? Trace Elliott grabbed Doc’s hand before he could yank the gun from Luke Frost’s holster. Luke’s face was twisted in a snarl, his scar almost glowing in the lamplight.

Barstow’s two-fingered whistle pierced the shouts filling the jail. Zach wasn’t the only one to wince. The room was jam-packed with angry men. When the posse hauled Rivers into jail, it seemed every man in town followed. No wonder, as small towns rarely got much excitement.

The same thing happened down in Texas. The whole county went into an uproar when the bounty hunter announced he’d killed Peyton McInnes and set the glass jar with a pickled head on the bar’s counter. The bounty hunter got free drinks for the rest of the night. Zach later learned that many of his neighbors immediately accused Dougal of hiding Peyton so he could rob them as well.

Only Garcia had seen the truth. He never spoke of it, but when the three of them turned up at the ranch asking for work, he just pointed to the bunkhouse and told them to settle in. He and Rusty were grown men of nineteen with Gideon a lanky seventeen-year-old string bean. They’d worked for the brand as hard as if it was their own place and gotten the first taste of respect.

If they wanted the same respect from Tanner’s Ford, they had to earn it. Helping catch Rivers was a start. Rusty and Gideon had many a hand slap them on the back in thanks, but they had a long way to go. Since he had little to do with the capture, he needed to prove he was just as worthy.

“You lot are makin’ more noise than a pen full of pigs at feedin’ time,” roared the sheriff. “Unless ye’re a deputy, get yer trotters outta my jail!”

After roaring the order, Barstow met the eye of every man in the room. Zach saw pain and fury in the glare that hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“That includes you, Doc,” Barstow added in a less forceful voice.

No one moved except Doc. He stabbed the sheriff, a far bigger man, in the chest as if his finger was a knife. The older man’s face was almost purple and he shook with rage.

“Molly was doing so well, laughing and thinking about having a husband and babies, like a young girl should,” howled Doc. “But now she’s curled in a ball, just like after we rescued her from that damn whorehouse! Sarah Frost is in bad shape, and so’s my wife. I want to see this bastard get everything he deserves, and more!”

Doc tried to attack the mayor again, but Barstow held him back. After a moment Doc pulled himself together, standing with dignity to stare at Rivers.

“I give my life to save others,” he said. The room was quiet other than agitated breathing and shuffling feet. “But I want you dying in pain, slowly, over and over, for each life you’ve destroyed.”

Ross MacDougal rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder. Doc looked up at him with hollow eyes.

“It doesn’t help, but I understand,” said Ross gently. “I want to skin him just the same, but your wife and daughter need you. Let’s go home.” The fingers of his free hand twitched as he glared at Rivers. Zach expected him to pull his knives and skewer the man then and there. The ex-mayor must have thought the same thing as he backed as far away as he could in the small cell. Ross curled up his lip and scowled. “I don’t want to breathe the same air as this piece of filth.”

“You’re right.” Doc ran a shaking hand through his graying hair. “I’m a peaceful man, but if I had a gun, I’d shoot the bastard in the balls.”

“He already got a good kick there, thanks to a certain lady,” said Ross. Many snickered when Rivers bent and covered his balls with his hands.

“I’m buying the first drinks for the Running W,” said a grinning man with curly red hair. From Walt’s description, it was Oz Cutler, of the Circle C.

“You up for a bit of whiskey at Baldy’s?” asked Rusty. He had to speak into Zach’s ear because of the noise.

Zach shook his head. “You and Gideon did all the work. I just rode drag. I’ll drop by later.”

“You sure? It’ll be a good time.”

“Free whiskey,” added Gideon.

“Got something to say to the sheriff.”

Rusty and Gideon shared a speaking glance. “You gonna tell him ’bout Peyton?” asked Rusty. He scratched the back of his neck when Zach nodded. “Guess it’s gotta come out some time. Best do it while they ain’t mad at us.” He slapped Zach on the back. Gideon gave him a strange look.

“You want that whiskey or not?” asked Oz. He and Gideon sized each other up. They looked about the same age, but Oz was about four inches shorter.

“Long as you’re buyin’, I’m drinkin’,” replied Rusty, butting in.

“I’ll go along with that,” added Gideon.

“Out!” yelled Barstow.

Zach backed into a dim corner to let the others pass. They swarmed onto the street, loudly rehashing what they thought had happened. Already the rumors had Kate tackling Rivers and hog-tying him all by herself. Each man seemed to want to top the others. Their excited shouts finally faded as they jammed into Baldy’s Saloon.

Zach hated those who spread rumors. They’d been on the receiving end of too many after the bounty hunter announced Peyton’s death. His Spanish wasn’t good enough at first to understand what Garcia’s men talked about, but their looks said enough.

But Peyton was just a train robber. A thief. That was small potatoes compared to Rivers. It was one thing to know evil existed, another to discover it in your own town. Worse, the townspeople had made Rivers an elected official and put their trust in him. If Zach wanted the trust of those in Tanner’s Ford, he had to tell the truth about Peyton.

But his thieving wasn’t what stuck in his craw.

He didn’t blame his uncle as much as his mother. She had abused their trust and spurned their love. He couldn’t count the number of false smiles she had given over the years in response to his father’s love. She had cheated on her husband all their married life. Not physically, thank God, but in her heart.

Her black, corrupted heart.

What really twisted his guts was that, deep inside, a part of him still loved his mother. At the same time he was disgusted at himself for being taken in by a scheming woman. It didn’t matter that he was a child. She’d taken everything good in his young life and twisted it into something corrupt and ugly. How could he trust a woman’s welcoming smile after a lifetime of lies?

He thanked God his father never found out the truth.

The truth.

Zach wiped his clammy hands on his pants and straightened his spine. He looked at Sheriff Barstow, Judge Thatcher, and the two Elliotts, Ranger and Trace. They wore deputy stars on their shirts. He didn’t like getting this close to the law, especially four of them with badges, but Tanner’s Ford was now home to the McInnes men. It was time for him to talk.

“What you doing on this side of the door, son?” Thatcher gazed at him with blank eyes, seeing and judging but revealing nothing.

“You got something to say, spit it out,” said Barstow.

The back of Zach’s neck prickled as if the rough rope of a makeshift noose already ringed it. The vigilantes hanged men for less than what Zach had done on that train. Thatcher knew something about him, sure as shooting. Barstow looked intrigued. The Elliotts just waited, seemingly disinterested, but Zach saw the twitch in Ranger’s gun hand. Zach let out a long breath, one he realized he’d been holding since they decided to make Montana Territory their home.

“We’d better take this outside,” said Barstow, eyeing the mayor.

Zach led the way through the door. Thatcher stopped on the boardwalk and turned to him. Barstow kept the door open a few inches to watch Rivers, who’d gingerly sat on the hard wood bed once the crowd left.

“Heard you’ve been a judge in these parts a while,” said Zach. Thatcher nodded. Tension squeezed Zach’s chest. “I expect you heard about Peyton McInnes, leader of the Badger City Gang.”

Another nod, another notch of rising tension. Every man’s gun hand was twitching near their holsters. He realized if he made a wrong move, he might end up dead. Keeping his eye on Thatcher, he slowly, carefully, unbuckled his gun belt. He held it out to one side, his peaceful intentions obvious. The hands of the hard men facing him relaxed. Now able to breathe, he straightened up, setting his shoulders back as his father had taught him. A man stands up to his past so he can face his future.

“My family came to Alder Gulch in sixty-three with my uncle. We got ourselves some claims and worked hard, but not Uncle Peyton. He and his Badger City Gang liked to rob the mule trains as they left the mines, fully loaded,” said Zach quietly. His heart pounded so fast he could barely hear himself speak.

“Far as I know Peyton didn’t shoot anyone. He said he gave some of the money to miner’s widows, but I don’t know about that. My father and Peyton looked like twins, only Pa had a dark freckle on one side of his nose. After Peyton and his gang took a lot of gold from a mule train, Pa got worried he’d get blamed. We sold our claims and moved to Texas in sixty-six. Peyton followed, just ahead of the law.”

“He was caught a few years back,” said Barstow. “Heard they brought his head back East, pickled in alcohol, as proof for the reward.”

Zach’s heart spasmed as if an arrow pierced it. “That head had a dark freckle.” He croaked the words.

Thatcher’s eyes widened in understanding. “What happened to Peyton?”

Zach’s stomach roiled, filled with bile. He forced the words past gritted teeth.

“He stepped into Pa’s life as if nothing had happened.”

Zach closed his eyes, hating the thought of seeing their pity. It would shame his father’s memory. He’d accepted that his mother was a lying, scheming, woman who eagerly jumped into another man’s bed. He’d quickly realized Ma always preferred the wilder brother but married Pa because he was a good provider.

He wasn’t the only one with a coldhearted mother. Rusty’s ma hadn’t even waited for her husband’s dead body to be hauled from the saloon before she’d gone upstairs with the man who shot him.

All three of them knew a man could never trust a woman. ’Course, they hadn’t really known many women. Kate’s open, laughing smile and eager touch drifted through his mind. He’d never seen Ma so relaxed, so openly joyful, even when Peyton was visiting.