The Outrider (Redbourne Series #5 - Will's Story) (7 page)

Will held his gun on the man who had attacked
him.

It was only a matter of minutes before his
brother climbed back up the hill, his bounty incapacitated and strung over his
shoulder. When he reached the top, he placed two fingers in his mouth and
whistled.

Will turned to see Lexa, Rafe’s large, strawberry
roan mare, running along the ridge of the ravine until she reached the small
clearing just a few feet from their position, kicking up dirt in front of him
and shaking her head with a neigh.

“Where did you come fro…?” His question trailed
as Rafe shouted directions at him.

“Will, get my bag,” his brother urged. He quickly
lashed the subdued attendant to the axle of the stagecoach, along with his
cohort, and rushed to the side of the dying man.

“Lexa, girl!” Will said, reaching up to rub the
mare’s face. “It’s good to see you, my old friend,” he said, sliding his hands
over her back and to the saddle bag where he thought Rafe would keep his curative
bag. His brother had attended medical school for years before an unfortunate
incident caused him to deviate from his course to become one of the most feared
and revered bounty hunters in the territory.

Will retrieved the sleek black leather bag by its
handles and hurried back to where Otis lay lifeless on the ground. “Is he…” he
couldn’t formulate the rest of the words.

“No,” Rafe said, reaching up for his bag. “He’s
just passed out. For now. But if we don’t remove the bullet straightway and
stop the blood, there will be no waking up.”

“What can I do?” Will asked, feeling more
helpless than he had in a long time.

Rafe looked up at him. “Hold him down.”

Will had learned a long time ago not to second
guess Rafe. Otis certainly didn’t look like he was going anywhere, but he knelt
down next to the man and braced himself against his body.

His brother pulled some long metal tweezers from
his bag, along with a bottle of liquid. He poured the disinfectant over the
wound, then gingerly slipped the prongs of the medical tool into the hole in
Otis’s shoulder. The man convulsed in pain, straining against Will, who used
every ounce of his strength to keep him as still as possible.

“Got it,” Rafe said as he blew out a long breath,
holding up the blood-covered slug.

Otis’s body went limp.

“He’ll rest easier now,” Rafe assured him as he
pulled a familiar white poultice from his bag and applied it to the stage
driver’s wound.

Their mother’s salve worked wonders on all sorts
of injuries and Will had no doubt that it would help stave off infection and
aid in Otis’s recovery. Rafe pulled a roll of white gauze bandage from his bag,
binding the wound tightly. Finally satisfied that his patient was cared for, he
pulled himself into a standing position.

“You did good, little brother,” he said as he hauled
Will into a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you, Rafe.” Will clapped his
brother on the back before pulling away. “How did you know I was out here?”

“Didn’t.” He dusted his hands on the legs of his
trousers, trying to wipe the blood off of them. “I’ve been after this Kelton
McElvoy and his cohorts for weeks, and their trail led me here. Seems the good
Lord just knew you needed looking after today,” he said with a playful grin.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my days on the
trail, but never anything like that,” Sven said with admiration as he stepped
in between the two men. “So, you’re Rafe, the bounty hunter brother? I’ve heard
a lot about you.”

Rafe extended his hand, one brow raised as he
looked at Will.

“Sven,” the Norwegian offered awkwardly. The two
men were of similar heights, but somehow his brother still seemed bigger than
life.

“You coming home?” Will asked, knowing his mother
would appreciate seeing her son.

“’Fraid not for a while. There’s another job
waiting for me after I turn in these brutes and collect my bounty.”

Will understood.

Rafe was still hurting after being left standing
alone on his wedding day, jilted, brideless. It would take time, but he knew
that eventually his brother’s heart would heal.

“Hmhmmm.”

Will had nearly forgotten about Mr. Warding and
he turned to see the cowardly man peek out between the spokes of a wagon wheel.

“How long might it be before we can get back on
the road?” the little annoying man asked as he pulled himself out from beneath
the stagecoach. The back of his trousers caught on the metal step rung. The
loud rip of the thick material filled the momentary silence.

Mr. Warding’s face turned a bright shade of red
and his eyes grew wide, unblinking. He threw his hands to his behind and melted
into the side of the coach.

They all laughed as the man opened the door and
climbed backward into the passenger compartment, quickly pulling the door shut
behind him. He poked his head out the window and looked up toward the axle to
where his attendant now sat, slumped over and unconscious, but restrained.

“Why is my man, Kells, tied to the wagon?” He
looked at Will. “I demand you release him immediately,” he said as if trying to
regain some of his dignity.

It wasn’t working.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, Mr.
Warding.”

“Why in heaven’s name not?”

“Because Kelton McElvoy is a wanted man,” Rafe
said, standing to his full height as he approached the stagecoach, “and I aim
to take him in.” He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Mr. Warding. “Do
you see any problem with that?”

Mr. Warding opened his mouth nearly as wide as
his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but shook his head slowly.

“Good,” Rafe said with a curt nod, then strode toward
his prisoners.

Mr. Warding looked over at Will. “Your superiors
will hear about this,” he said, flipping his nose into the air and slowly
backing into the shadows.

Will snorted a laugh.

McElvoy roused, jerking on his hands to try to
get them loose from their bindings.

“I best be getting on the road,” Rafe said as he checked
on the man he’d shot. He dropped his head and closed his eyes before untying
the men now in his custody from the axle and with little need for persuasion
placed them on horses that had all been strung together and secured to Lexa’s
saddle. He picked up the body of the now lifeless man, threw him over his
shoulder, and turned back to Will. “You fellas need anything else before I go?”
he asked as he tossed the corpse over Lexa’s rump.

Will didn’t know how Rafe did it, but he always
managed to take down the bad guys—even when the odds were against him. A big
part of him wished he could be more like his brother.

“You going to be all right with all of them?”

“Awww, they won’t be any more trouble, now will
you, fellas?” he called out to the men now restlessly sitting bound astride
their mounts.

“You won’t make it to Edmonton alive, Redbourne,”
McElvoy spat as he attempted to loosen his hands again.

With all of three men secured together, as well
as their horses, McElvoy had no chance of going anywhere or doing anything that
Rafe didn’t want him to.

“Are you doing okay?” Will asked, meeting his
brother’s eyes.

A flash of pain glanced off his brother’s face,
then was gone.

“My shoulder’s a little stiff from the fight, but
I’ve had worse.” Rafe shrugged.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Will nodded. His brother wasn’t ready to talk
about it. “Well, your timing was excellent—as always.” Will shook Rafe’s hand,
then pulled him in for another hug.

“Glad I was here,” Rafe whispered with a firm
clap to Will’s back, smiling as he pulled away. “Tell Mama…”

“I will.”

Rafe nodded and headed back toward the horses.

“Be safe,” Will called after him. He wanted to
say more, but it wasn’t the time. He just hoped his brother would come around
sooner rather than later, but the realization hit that this could be the last
time he would see Rafe before he left for England. He waved and watched as the
bounty hunter led his charges across the ravine and out of sight.

Sven came up to stand behind him. “You Redbournes
sure are a breed of your own,” he commented as he placed a hand atop Will’s
shoulder.

Some of us, maybe…

He glanced over at Otis, who looked to be resting
peacefully. Color had returned to his face and it no longer glistened with
sweat. They would have to double back to Colorado City where Will knew of a
skilled doctor who could take care of Otis while they finished the job.

It didn’t take long for Will and Sven to fashion
a makeshift travois for Otis out of the canvas covering the luggage on the back
of the wagon and two felled lodge poles they’d been able to strip and secure
with rope. Will and the Norwegian strode over to where the stagecoach driver
lay and set the man carefully on the canvas structure that had been strapped to
Indy’s tack.

As Will placed a blanket over Otis, the man stirred
and reached out to grab a hold of his arm.

“You’ve grown into a fine man, Will Redbourne.
Thank you for what you done here.”

“I’m glad you’re still with us,” Will said with a
smile. He patted the man’s hand, then pushed himself into a standing position.
“We’ll see you soon,” he said as he walked over to Indy and mounted.

Sven climbed up onto the stage, his horse secured
to the rear of the wagon, and they headed back for Colorado City.

Will finally let himself relax a little as they
made their way back the direction they’d come earlier that day. After they
dropped Otis off with the doc, he hoped they could get back on the road without
any more delays on their way to Denver. At least they could catch the train to
Kansas City from there. It would be good to get home and spend some time with
his family before his oceanic journey.

Visions of his ship, bobbing in the harbor,
waiting to carry him and his crew across the sea filled him with anticipation
and he smiled as he imagined the cool breeze of the salty sea on his face. He
opened his eyes, surveying the ocean of surrounding grassland swaying in the
warm spring wind and sighed. He’d waited a long time to earn enough money to
purchase that ship, he supposed a few more days wouldn’t hurt anything. As long
as the man didn’t sell it to someone else in the meantime.

Kansas,
Four Days Later, Thursday

Elizabeth’s flesh puckered and the hairs stood up
on the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder around the mercantile,
but didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary.

“Did you find a color you like?” Grace asked,
eying the bolts of material in front of her.

“I’m sorry. What?” Elizabeth asked, pulling
herself away from her suspicions. “Oh, um…” She forced a smile onto her face
and held up the vibrant blue cloth. “What do you think about this one?”

“I think you’ll put all of us to shame in that
color.”

Pleased by the compliment, heat touched the edge
of Elizabeth’s face and she smiled softly. However, she still couldn’t shake
the feeling that she was being watched and she glanced over her shoulder once
more.

Grace and Ethan had been kind enough to put her
up for the last few days, but it was time for Elizabeth to move on. Will was
expected home soon and she wanted to be gone before he arrived.

“I just don’t think I can go through with it,
Opal,” a young woman in a yellow dress with dark ringlets framing her face said
to her friend. “I thought I could, but with my father still ill, I’m afraid my
mother won’t be able to do it alone. Besides, what if I get to Silver Falls
only to find out that Adam MacKenzie is not who he says he is? What if he’s
actually a drunk? What if he can’t read? Or worse yet—poor? I just don’t think
I have it in me.”

“Oh, Winnie. He’s already expecting you. Paid for
your passage to Colorado and everything,” Opal said. “Besides, what would you
tell him?”

Guilt settled into Elizabeth’s gut as she
listened in on the women’s conversation, but her interest was piqued. Paid
passage to Colorado.

“I thought we were going to do this together,”
Opal persisted with a pout. “There aren’t many men in this town, and I don’t
know about you, but I don’t want to wait around any longer. We aren’t getting
any younger.”

“We are hardly old maids, Opal Gailey!”

“If we stay in this town much longer, we might as
well be.” The young woman in the lavender dress picked up a travelling bag. “I
think this one will be just perfect for our trip to Silver Falls, don’t you?”

“Eliza?” Grace called from the front counter by
the window.

Elizabeth stood up straight and picked up a large
leather satchel, pretending to be checking the quality of the bag. She smiled
at the young women who now looked in her direction, set down the bag, and
started toward the front of the store.

“Coming,” she called, hesitant to pull away from
the conversation between the two young women. She wanted to know more.

Elizabeth had seen playbills with ads for those
interested in becoming a mail-order-bride, but had never imagined that a woman
would actually do it—travel across the country to the wilds of the west and
marry a man she’d never met. It was so brazen, so improper, but right now, the
opportunity looked more appealing than she would have ever expected.

When she reached Grace, her friend peeked out the
window and subtly pointed across the street.

“I think you’ve caught the eye of that gentleman
over there.”

Elizabeth followed her friend’s glance to where a
tall, lanky man in a brown leather fedora stood watching them. The hairs on her
arms rose and suddenly she felt the chill of the cool afternoon, even from
inside the mercantile.

“Do you know him?” she asked Grace.

“I’ve never seen him before—though I’ve only been
in Stone Creek myself for just a little more than half a year. Some of the
ranchers and farmers here keep to themselves and there are plenty of faces
still unfamiliar to me.”

Elizabeth did not recognize the man, but there
was something about him that seemed familiar.

“I think we should be heading back,” she said,
trying to ignore the pit that rested at the bottom of her stomach.

After Grace had paid for her goods, they stepped
out onto the boardwalk. Elizabeth could not take her eyes off the gentleman,
though she tried to hide her interest beneath the large hat Grace had insisted
she wear.

When the man caught her eye, he took a step out
into the street and headed toward them. He jumped up onto the wooden walkway
and removed his hat with a slight bow.

“Excuse me for staring,” he said, his soft
British accent a reminder of home, “but aren’t you Miss Elizabeth Archer?
Sterling’s daughter.”

Heat drained from Elizabeth’s face and her heart
thumped heavily inside of her chest. Her mind raced, but she was unsure what to
say. She’d thought of a thousand different questions people might ask her and
had prepared her answers carefully, but that was not one she had anticipated.

Grace stepped forward and offered her hand to the
man. “I am Grace Redbourne, and this,” she said, turning her shoulders and
raising a hand toward Elizabeth, “is Eliza Beth Jessup. May I ask
your
name, sir?”

“Of course. Where are my manners?” he asked,
wrestling with the hat in his hand. “My name is Gregory Cromwell. I am a
professor at the University of London. Forgive my error.” He bent at the torso
enough to look around Grace at her. “Though the resemblance is uncanny.”

Elizabeth fought the urge to pull her own hat
lower on her head to further obscure her face.

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable,
ma’am,” he said, clearing his throat and looking back at Grace. “The daughter
of an acquaintance of mine recently went missing and when I saw your friend
here,” he gestured toward Elizabeth, “it was like seeing a ghost.” He took a
step sideways and addressed her directly. “You look just like Miss Archer, my
dear.”

American accent
, she reminded herself before speaking.

“Sounds like something out of one of my adventure
novels,” she said, trying to sound excited.

“I couldn’t help but notice that pendant you are
wearing. It is very becoming. I’m sure a piece like that comes with quite a
history.”

Elizabeth reached up and caressed the ruby
dangling from her neck. Why had she worn her mother’s necklace?

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. I bought it off a
peddler somewhere outside of Boston,” she lied, refraining from adding any
history about the jewel. She bit her lip.

“Shame. Yes, well, I hope I haven’t taken too
much of your time.” He turned to leave, but stopped and looked at Grace.

“Ms. Redbourne, was it?”

“Yes,” Grace said with a smile.

“Are you, by chance, a relative of Will Redbourne?”

Elizabeth swallowed hard.

“Why, yes, Professor.” Grace glanced over at her.
“Will is my brother-in-law. How do you know him?”

Elizabeth wanted to shrink away. If this man was
an acquaintance of her father and he was looking for Will, it could only mean
trouble.

Grace looked at her, a conspiratorial glint in
her eyes.

“He was a student of mine at university a while
back.”

“What brings you so far away from home,
Professor?” Grace asked.

“Will has not told you, has he?”

“Told us what?”

“Ahhh, it is to be a surprise then,” he said,
switching his hat between his hands. “I will not ruin it for him.” He tipped
his hat. “Ladies, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He placed
the fedora back on top of his head and winked. “I’m sure I will see you tonight
at Redbourne Ranch. Will and I have some business to discuss.”

“Will has not returned yet from his last trip.”

“If there is one thing I have learned about Will
Redbourne, my dear, it is that he always follows through on his commitments.”
He smiled, then turned away from them and walked into the livery.

Elizabeth relaxed her shoulders and let out the
breath she had been holding. She searched her memory, unable to recall ever
meeting a Professor Cromwell, but he certainly seemed to know her.

Grace hooked her arm through Elizabeth’s and
leaned in close to her ear. “Elizabeth Archer, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Elizabeth pulled back for a moment trying to act as
if she had no idea to what the woman was referring, but she’d been discovered.
She could see it in Grace’s eyes. Her secret was out.

“Don’t worry,” she said matter-of-factly, “my
lips are sealed.”

“Grace, I…”

“No judgements from me, Ms. Arch—I mean, Eliza Beth.
We all have stories. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she said, a
thread of excitement weaving its way into her words.

Relief washed over her like water from a warm
bath. The drama in her life could rival any of the penny dreadfuls she’d read,
but she was glad she finally had someone she could confide in. Someone she
could trust.

“What kind of a story could you possibly have?”
Elizabeth asked.

“The kind that involves betrayal, treasure, and
love,” Grace responded without missing a beat.

Elizabeth stopped in front of the livery where
their carriage had been boarded and looked at her friend with a full dosing of
skepticism, shaking her head and hands on her hips.

“Honest,” Grace said, crossing her heart.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, but she could see the
sincerity written on Grace’s beautiful features.

“What do you say we talk over a slice of warm
peach cobbler?” Grace tugged on her arm, pulling her into the quaint little
restaurant nearby that served the townspeople of Stone Creek. They took a seat
at a table in the corner of the room, lit by two large curtain-bordered
windows.

Grace pulled the scarf from around her neck and
set it on the empty chair next to her, then looked up at Elizabeth, waiting.

Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s a long story.”

“My favorite kind.”

Will’s heart swelled as they crested the summit
down into the valley of Stone Creek.

Home.

Redbourne Ranch could be seen in the distance and
the thought of Lottie’s home cooking made his mouth water. Sven could do many
things, but preparing a tasty meal wasn’t one of them.

They’d made sure that Otis would be well taken
care of in Colorado City before seeing Mr. Warding into Denver. Will stretched
in the saddle and took a deep breath of afternoon air, enjoying the familiar
smells of the surrounding land. This last ride had taken something out of him.

“Why don’t you join us for supper?” he asked Sven.
“Lottie always makes more than enough, and if you are as tired as I am, it will
do you some good to have a place to hang your hat for the night.”

“I’d be much obliged. Thank you, Will.”

As they pulled up in front of the ranch, Leah
Redbourne descended from the homestead, wiping her hands on her apron, to greet
them.

Will’s body ached and he struggled to keep
himself upright in the saddle. He hadn’t felt so bone tired in a long time. A
hot bath and a shave sounded like heaven. If his mother had anything to say
about it, he would have both before he would be allowed into the kitchen.