The Gunfighter and the Heiress (17 page)

Van noticed Natalie didn't blink an eyelash while she stared Marsh down. “You are sorely mistaken if you think there is any love lost between us. Donovan Crow has no sentimental attachment whatsoever for me. I made a business arrangement with him and that is as far as his feelings go.”

Bart glanced speculatively at Van, who refused to react to her comments. He was in the middle of the most crucial
assignment in his life and he was determined to remain professional and detached. Natalie's life depended on it.

Besides, how could he jump down her throat for embarrassing him beyond words for that tied-to-the-bed stunt if she were dead? He had to rescue her—
somehow.

“We'll see what Crow has to say after he bears witness to the results of your torture,” Marsh sneered then massaged his injured arm. “A few brands burned on your legs and arms should convince him that I mean business. Start a fire, Green,” he ordered the barrel-bellied goon who had regained consciousness after Natalie had knocked him senseless earlier.

“My pleasure,” Green said, and smiled vindictively.

Bart surveyed the scene unfolding before them for another anxious moment then he cast Van a how-much-longer-are-we-going-to-let-this-go-on stare.

Van decided he had all the information he needed. He picked up a fallen limb and hurled it sideways to bounce off a tree trunk. All three men jumped back a step, then wheeled around to point their weapons toward the unidentified sound.

“What the hell was that?” Marsh grumbled. “Jenson, go find out.”

Jenson didn't look thrilled with his orders but he skulked off in the direction of the noise.

Van pitched another limb in the opposite direction and Green lurched toward the new sound.

“Maybe it's the renegade Indians I managed to avoid last night,” Natalie supplied helpfully. “My husband told me a war party of Indians escaped the reservation to raid and plunder. Crow even admitted that he had lifted a few scalps in his time. I hope we don't lose our scalps because I still have use for mine.
Yours,
I could care less about, however.”

Van managed a faint grin, as did Bart. The three green-horns from Louisiana looked concerned when Natalie laid it on thick. She used every possible weapon in her arsenal. My, but the little minx was imaginative, Van mused.

His thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when Marsh knocked the cap off her head. He grabbed a fistful of her long auburn hair and yanked hard, forcing her head to an awkward angle that made her yelp in discomfort.

“You listen to me, you smart-mouthed bitch,” he jeered viciously. “No matter what else happens, you are going to die for the trouble you've caused—”

His voice transformed into a pained howl when Natalie raised her knee and drove it into his groin. Marsh involuntarily released his fierce grip on her hair to cover his crotch. He choked for breath as he dropped to his knees, gasping and groaning.

While Natalie struck out to clip Marsh in the head and jaw with two well-aimed blows from the toe of her boot, Van sprang into action. He went in low and fast, signaling Bart to stay put for necessary backup. By the time the three captors realized he was charging at them, Van had already fired off shots with the six-shooters clutched in each fist.

Jenson went down with a yelp of pain and grabbed his wounded thigh. Green screeched when Van's bullet plowed into his gun hand. Marsh tried to bolt to his feet to use Natalie as his protective shield but she kicked him in the chest with both feet before he could put his pistol to her head.

Van headed straight for Marsh when Bart stood up, pointed both peacemakers at the downed men and yelled, “Stop where you are or you'll be as dead as a man can get!”

 

Natalie stared in disbelief when Crow swooped down on Marsh like an avenging angel of doom. He lifted Marsh off the ground by the nape of his shirt and shook him until his head whiplashed twice. She was enormously relieved to know that Crow and Bart had survived whatever attack Kimball and his three mercenaries might have launched on them. At least she wasn't responsible for their deaths.

She wasn't sure she could have lived with that.

If Crow hadn't showed up when he did, she would have been disfigured with burns. She had exhausted every attempt to counter Marsh and his vicious henchmen and she had been operating on nothing but resentment, sarcasm and bluff for the past half hour.

Her thoughts trailed off when Crow stuck his snarling face in Marsh's and said, “You'll pay dearly for hitting my wife. You'll lose the hand you used to strike her.”

Natalie lifted her left knee and gestured her disheveled head toward her boot. “Want to use the knife I borrowed?”

“Have you used it already, sunshine?”

She gave him a bemused look. “No, I was saving it as my last resort.”

She didn't know why he looked so relieved, but she didn't question him while he loomed over Marsh's five-foot-ten-inch frame like a spitting cobra. Crow grabbed Marsh's right wrist and drew blood with one swipe of the sharp blade.

Marsh screamed like a stuck pig. “Stop! I'll give you half the Blair fortune if you let me go,” Marsh bartered frantically. “The jewels, the money, the shipping business. You'll be wealthy and never have to work again.”

Crow smiled nastily, much to Natalie's delight. The expression caused Marsh to quake in his boots, especially
when Crow grabbed a handful of his dingy-blond hair and laid the blade of the bowie knife against his scalp.

“No!” Marsh screeched, his tombstone-gray eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Why did you kill your wife?” Crow demanded as he yanked Marsh's head back at an unnatural angle. When Marsh didn't reply, Crow drew beads of blood along his hairline. “Answer me or I'll lift your scalp.”

When Crow leveled his trademark stare on Marsh, he practically swallowed his Adam's apple. “I wanted control of the Blair fortune,” he chirped. His face turned a lighter shade of pale while blood dribbled across his forehead, then ran down the length of his nose.

“Which one of you stabbed Kimball and left him in the livery stable?” Crow growled, turning to stare at Natalie.

She blinked in surprise at this news. Then she puffed up with offended dignity. How could he think she was responsible? Would he ever take her at her word or would he always insist on hearing the truth from someone else first?

“Jenson did it,” Marsh blurted out.

“Under Marsh's orders,” Jenson insisted as he pressed leaves over his wound to stem the flow of blood.

“You are both under arrest for murder and conspiracy to commit murder.” Crow stared directly at Jenson. “You stabbed Kimball in the back and didn't give him a fighting chance.”

Natalie regretted Kimball's senseless death at Marsh's orders. He had been a philanderer, a lush and compulsive gambler, but he hadn't been as bloodthirsty as Marsh.

“I suppose Kimball served his purpose in your scheme of fraud, murder and greed,” Natalie hissed at Marsh. “Just as you used Mother for your purposes, then disposed of her.”

Sweet mercy, the urge to wrest loose from the ropes that held her to the tree so she could choke the life out of this selfish, ruthless bastard nearly overwhelmed her. “Cut me loose, Crow,” she growled. “Marsh is mine. You had your turn with him already.”

Crow smiled faintly, then shook his raven head. “He's all mine, sunshine. I'll have a complete, detailed account of his crimes when I'm through with him.” He glanced over his shoulder at Bart who still held the other two men at gunpoint. “Tie up the henchmen, Bartholomew. You can turn Sunshine loose
after
Marsh and I stroll off for our private chat.”

“I'll tell you what you want to know right where we stand,” Marsh insisted frantically.

Natalie smiled wryly. “Apparently you've heard about Crow's thorough tactics of acquiring confessions. I'm glad I'm not in your shiny boots, Marsh. Having brands burned on your skin is mere child's play for Crow. He might start there but he will finish elsewhere. In case you don't survive, I wish you well while you roast in hell.”

“Come along, Marsh, let's see how much pain you can endure before you pass out or die…whichever comes first,” Crow said as he quick-marched his captive upstream.

Natalie listened with satisfaction while Marsh begged, pleaded and bargained for mercy. She hoped he found none forthcoming from Crow.

Bart picked up Jenson's discarded pistol, then walked over to cut the rope that held Natalie to the tree. Then he strode off to retrieve Green's weapon. She knew Bart needed her assistance tying up the prisoners because he was still nursing a mending arm. She secured Green and Jenson for safekeeping while Bart kept his pistols trained on them.

While she treated the henchmen's injuries, she heard Marsh screaming bloody murder in the near distance.

“I recommend that you two give me your statements about your involvement with Marsh,” Bart advised the prisoners. “Unless you want to take your private turn with Crow.”

“I hired on with Marsh in New Orleans,” Jenson said readily, and then cast an anxious glance in the direction of Marsh's high-pitched howls. “He paid me to track down his runaway stepdaughter. I found out that she'd dressed in widow's digs and took the train to Fort Worth and beyond.” He glanced down to watch Natalie cut open the front of his breeches' leg to inspect his wound. “We were hired to capture Natalie in Wolf Ridge, but she left town before we arrived. The hotel clerk said she got married, so we followed her.”

Bart glanced at Green who cradled his injured arm against his ribs. “What about you? Do you have anything to add to Jenson's statement?”

Green bobbed his frizzy brown head. “I heard Marsh tell Jenson that we only needed three horses to chase down Natalie when she rode out of Taloga Springs—”

“Shut up!” Jenson snapped tersely.

“Hey, I'm not taking the blame for Kimball's death,” he protested hotly.

Both men clammed up when another agonized shriek erupted from the underbrush.

Natalie glanced up at Bart then her gaze drifted to the place where Crow and Marsh disappeared from sight. “Do you think I should—?”

“No,” Bart interrupted. “Some things are best not to watch, Nat. There are reasons why Donovan Crow has an exceptionally high rate of success in acquiring information
that leads to convictions in court. I'm not questioning his methods in extreme cases like this one. Are you?”

She shook her head somberly. Bart was right. Whatever Marsh received as incentive to tell the truth could never adequately compare to what he deserved for committing his vicious crimes.

A
nother half hour passed and Marsh's howls of excruciating pain dwindled to whimpers. Finally, Crow appeared from the shadows of the trees, his expression grim. “Arsenic,” he murmured as he halted in front of Natalie. “Delivered in increasing doses in the meals Marsh personally served to your mother, while pretending to be a devoted, pampering husband. He has been embezzling money from your shipping company for the past few years, using the pretense of promoting the business and luring in new clients. Anything else you want to know right now or can we wait—
ooofff…
”

His breath gushed out when Natalie, so overwhelmed with anger, grief and relief leaped into his arms, causing him to stumble back a few steps before he regained his balance.

She locked her legs around his lean hips and hugged the stuffing out of him while blood-pumping tension, anger and fear that had sustained her swooshed out. Tears poured down her cheeks like falling rain. She wasn't sure how
long she held on to him for dear life, letting the jumble of bubbling emotion inside her erupt like Mount Vesuvius.

Crow wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the crown of her head. “It's okay now, sunshine.”

“I'm-m s-sorry,” she blubbered then hiccupped. “I d-didn't want you t-to have to b-be the place I fell apart…”

“Take a deep breath and let it all out,” he murmured comfortingly. “You were incredible this morning, did I tell you? Three-to-one odds and you held out longer, better, than most men I know.”

She raised her tear-stained face and hiccupped again. “You were there watching?”

He nodded and flashed a lopsided smile. “I wanted to intrude earlier but I couldn't get a decent shot without the risk of hitting you by mistake. I figured you'd never let me hear the end of it if I did.”

She teared up again and sobbed out, “They shot my horse.”

“I know. I saw him. Luckily, he was back on his feet when Bart and I reached him. The bullet grazed his rump. I'll tend to him later. He'll be as good as new in no time.”

“Thank you…” Natalie broke off into weeping sobs, embarrassing herself again.

She had held up under the pressure of the fast-speed chase and the dangerous confrontation with Marsh and his henchman, but now she was bawling her head off like an abandoned baby. Crow and Bart probably thought she'd gone loco, but she couldn't seem to regain her composure. Not yet anyway, not until she vented the turmoil of emotion roiling inside her.

Crow cradled her in his arms, then carried her to the stream so she could wash her face. He grabbed the monogrammed kerchief he had taken from Marsh, dipped it in water, then blotted her swollen cheek and tender lip. He
was so gentle and patient with her that she broke down and cried all over again.

“Damn, sunshine, I never realized you had so much water in you,” he teased.

“I'm a big sissy after all,” she said, and hiccupped.

“No, you're brave and daring and amazing. Bart said something to that effect, too, while we watched you battle your enemies.”

High praise from Crow was heady stuff and it helped Natalie regain control of her frazzled composure. She even managed a watery smile. “Thank you. I'm indebted to you.”

“Now, take another deep, cleansing breath and expel it slowly,” he instructed.

Natalie did as he suggested.

“Do you want a shot of whiskey to calm your nerves?”

“No. I had more than I'll need for a year after the first night we met.”

“If we leave now, we can reach Taloga Springs by late afternoon,” he commented as he blotted the swelling around her eye. “Are you up for the ride?”

Natalie nodded, then raked the wild tendrils from her face. “I'm sorry about Kimball,” she murmured. “I couldn't have tolerated being married to the self-absorbed dandy but he shouldn't have died needlessly.”

“I'm sorry about him, too.” Crow drew her to her feet. “Marsh never intended for him to receive his fee for marrying you. In fact, Marsh hadn't planned for Kimball to leave Texas alive.”

Natalie muffled a sniff, then squared her shoulders. She was bound and determined to appear strong and unrattled in the presence of the prisoners. “You will, of course, receive a generous payment for coming to my rescue today. Bart will, too. It wasn't part of our original
negotiation to put you at risk by fighting this battle for me. I tried to lead Marsh's brigade away from you to protect you from—”

“Lead them away? Protect me?”
His silver-blue eyes widened in disbelief and his dark brows shot up his forehead.

“Well, certainly. These men were
my
problem, not yours.”

He sent her a withering glance and shook his head in dismay. “Sunshine, I can take care of myself.” He curled his hand around her forearm to steady her while they walked uphill. “Don't ever put your life in danger for me again. Understand?”

For the sake of argument, she didn't reply. Nonetheless, she would do whatever necessary to protect Donovan Crow from harm. Always. Even if he didn't love her, she had fallen as deep in love with him as she could get. Although Natalie had been brave while dealing with her enemies—because her back had been against the proverbial wall and she had nothing to lose—she was the world's biggest coward when it came to telling Crow how much she cared for him. She vowed to take that secret to her grave—and she was damn lucky that day hadn't been today!

 

George Harper had taken only one step outside Madam Sadie's Brothel in Taloga Springs when he noticed the procession, led by Donovan Crow, riding through town. Drunk though he was, he sobered up in one helluva of a hurry. When he ducked back inside the door to prevent being seen, he slammed into his brothers, Charley and Willy, who were directly behind him.

“What the hell's wrong with you, Georgie?” Charley muttered crossly. “You stepped on my foot.”

George gestured for his younger brothers to poke their heads around the partially open door to see for themselves that Crow was back in town. “That woman riding behind Crow on his devil horse must be his wife.”

“I wonder if Crow received all three messages we sent to scare him before he left his headquarters in Wolf Ridge,” Willy said.

“I was hoping to rattle the hell out of him and leave him wondering when and where we'd strike,” Charley commented. “He's saved us the long ride to Wolf Ridge.”

“We can take him by surprise right here,” Willy enthused. “Maybe we can get the drop on Crow before he and the city marshal figure out we robbed the stagecoach last week while we were hiding out in no-man's-land.”

George grimaced. He had masterminded the stagecoach holdup, but he'd been too drunk to sit a horse. He'd sent his younger brothers to rob the passengers for traveling money to finance the trip to Wolf Ridge so they could kill Crow. It had worked out well, he did admit. Now law officials were looking for
two
masked men not three. Plus, Crow might not suspect they were in town and that would give the Harper brothers a prime advantage.

“Look yonder at that fella named Marsh that we met in the saloon yesterday,” Charley pointed out. “He was a cocky, arrogant bastard then. Look at him now. He's hunkered over his horse,
backward,
and he looks like he's had the spirit sucked outta him. I swear, Crow must've put one of his powerful Indian curses on him.”

George well remembered when Crow had captured him and his brothers, then tied them backward on their horses, forcing them to stare at where they had been instead of where they were going. Made it damn hard to get the drop on that wily half-breed when you were facing the wrong direction.

“I'm more than ready to see Crow pay his due for killing Robbie,” Willy said vindictively. “Then I wanna get the hell out of Texas before the marshal sics the Rangers on us again. Don't know which is worse, having Crow breathing down our necks or them Rangers hot on our trail.”

Charley frowned curiously while George stared at the prisoners riding backward then broke into a grin.

“What are you grinning about, Georgie?” Charley asked, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

George inclined his shaggy head toward the woman. “We don't have to take on Crow. We'll take his bride for bargaining power and he'll come to us. We can pick him off, retrieve the hidden money from the bank robberies, then ride like hell for the New Mexico border.”

Charley and Willy grinned broadly. “I like the sound of that, big brother,” Willy snickered.

“I like the sound of Crow being
dead
even better,” Charley added as he and his brothers watched the procession halt at the city marshal's office to quick-march the three wounded prisoners inside.

 

Natalie was exhausted from the ordeal with Marsh and his henchmen. The long restless night and lack of sleep had taken its toll. She was anxious to exit the marshal's office and return to her room for a relaxing bath. When she pivoted away from the cells where Crow had stashed the prisoners, Bart flung up his hand to forestall her.

“You need to file formal charges for assault and battery,” he insisted. “Then Van can relay the information to Marshal Dawson that Marsh gave him.”

Resigned to the delay, Natalie plunked into the battered wooden chair beside Dawson's scarred desk. The marshal, who looked to be a half-dozen years older than Crow and
Bart, inclined his broad head, then removed his sweat-stained Stetson hat from a mat of coarse black hair. The monobrow over his large hazel eyes made him look a bit fierce, but he had a cordial smile.

“I can tell by looking at you that you had a tough time with those brutes, Mrs. Crow,” Dawson commiserated as he sank down at the desk. He pulled an official-looking form from the bottom drawer. “By the time I verify your battered condition and your husband gives his testimony, I can guarantee the circuit judge will have your assailants behind bars for a long time.”

Natalie gave Dawson the boiled-down version of the attack, omitting her death-defying attempts to escape. She saw Bart leaning against the doorjamb between the office and the jail, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at her cut-and-dried report.

“There are other serious charges against Marsh and Jenson,” Bart inserted as he pushed his drooping glass up the bridge of broken nose.

Crow ambled from the jail cells. “Come on, sunshine, you need to rest.” He hitched his thumb toward Bart. “Bart is my lawyer and business agent. He can answer most of your questions about the other charges while I'm gone. After I escort Natalie to the hotel, I'll be back to finish up all the reports.”

Natalie found herself hoisted from the chair and shepherded out the door to retrieve the horses. As was his habit, Crow urged her to walk
between
the horses, not
in front
of them as they moved toward the livery stable.

Crow called a halt outside the general store. “Wait here,” he commanded, then left her holding both sets of reins.

He returned two minutes later to join her in between the shield of horses. Natalie recalled she had used a version
of this technique when she darted under Jenson's horse, then used the animal as her armor of defense. This afternoon, however, she doubted the precaution was necessary, because Crow had locked up the prisoners that meant to do her harm. Then again, why break a good habit? This, after all, was a rough town, she reminded herself as they entered the livery stable.

 

When Van and Natalie entered the hotel lobby, the clerk came to attention and smiled politely. “We repaired the window in one of the rooms you rented. It's as good as new.”

“Thanks. And please send up hot water for bathing in my suite,” Van requested before he followed Natalie up the steps. When they reached the landing, he gestured to the left. “You'll be staying with me.”

“That isn't necessary—”

“Yes, it is,” he interrupted as he guided her toward his suite. “I have a few things to say to you before I return to the marshal's office.”

“Can't it wait? I'd love a warm bath first.”

“Sorry. No.” Van closed the door behind him then rounded on Natalie. He must have looked ferocious for as brave as she was in most situations she took an involuntary step back. “You had your emotional meltdown and now I'm going to have mine,” he growled at her.

She stared up at him as if she had no idea what might have set him off. So he told her sharply and succinctly. “Do not ever tie me to a bedpost and sneak off in the darkness to defend yourself against three killers,” he roared, his frustration pouring out like molten lava, his voice rising with each word. “I don't care how independent you want to be and how skilled you
think
you are at survival and combat, you are no match for ruthless murderers!”

“But I—”

He made a slashing gesture with his arm to silence her. “I'm not finished yet,” he snapped. “This is when I get to do all the talking and you do all the listening.”

The comment didn't sit well with her. He really hadn't thought it would. She tilted her skinned chin and narrowed her dark onyx eyes in annoyance, but he was more aggravated than she was so he didn't give a damn.

“In the first place, I was embarrassed and humiliated when Bart came to speak to me last night. He had to cut me loose and he had a good laugh at my expense, thanks to you,” he added, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Her lips quirked, as if she intended to smile, but he hurled a stony glare at her. “This is not funny, damn it. Besides that, it cost precious time hunting you down. The whole blessed night, while I tried to find you, I kept asking myself if you had deceived me time after time and had left the jewels and money for safekeeping so the rightful owner couldn't take it away from you.”

“Rightful owner?”
she scoffed. “
I
am the rightful owner.”