The Redhead and the Preacher: A Loveswept Historical Romance (31 page)

Pratt looked up at Bran, his eyes filled with puzzlement. “You’d make me a full partner?”

“I’m considering it. But first, tell me everything you know.”

Pratt began to smile. This was looking better and better. Suddenly he could see a way out, a way to escape and pin the trouble on a man already known to be a killer. He took a deep breath. Why not? It made sense. Every outlaw from here to the Mississippi would know that Pratt was the king and Night Eyes would take the blame.

As the preacher, Brother Adams would be above suspicion, the perfect partner. And he didn’t know that his cover was blown. It was just about perfect. Once he took care of a little problem, Pratt would be in the driver’s seat and he couldn’t be exposed without the redhead and the preacher going to jail.

“Okay, Rev, I don’t suppose it matters none that you know. I work for Aaron Larkin, the federal marshal. He’s the man behind all this. He’s going to marry Mrs. Mainwearing. I’m supposed to take you out. Then, once he gets your place, he’ll have the biggest mining claim in the territory.”

“So Marshal Larkin killed Moose?”

“Not with his own lily-white hands, but he had it done.
Pulie, the man killed in the mine, was the one who actually did the deed.”

“You got any proof?” Bran asked, his mind racing. It made some weird kind of sense. A federal marshal could go anywhere and do anything. He mingled with the worst of the criminal elements and the town leaders. He could break thieves out of jail and set up bank robberies.

“Just check it out over in Denver. Most of those mining claims have been transferred into Larkin’s name, including Moose’s.”

“Moose’s?” That caught Bran by surprise. “You mean Mrs. Mainwearing doesn’t own her mine?”

“Oh, she owns the land all right, but the mineral rights belong to Larkin. Moose signed them over one night in a poker game. When he sobered up, he realized what he’d done and tried to buy them back.”

“Why’d Larkin have to kill him then, if he already owned the mining rights?”

“Because Moose had already been to San Francisco and married Sylvia. After the poker game, he claimed he’d put everything in her name. Larkin was scared to take the claims to court. He decided that he’d just marry her and then he wouldn’t have to worry. But the lady is no fool. She won’t make up her mind.”

“You mean between Larkin and the judge?”

“Larkin ain’t used to being crossed. He’s smooth, but he’s crazy and he’s spent a lot of time getting this thing set up right.”

“So he started running off all the prospectors. Then he had Moose killed so that left the way clear for him to marry Sylvia. If she didn’t go for that, he’d get rid of her and use his IOU’s to claim the mine.”

“Yeah, but then he thought Sylvia might pick the judge instead of him.”

“Were you trying to kill the judge?”

“No, just scare Sylvia. It didn’t matter who I hit. As soon
as she heard the first shot she drove those horses like some wild woman. I never seen nothing like it.”

Wild woman
. Bran’s lips twitched slightly. Sylvia was a lot like Macky. She didn’t scare, either.

“Trouble was,” Pratt went on, “Larkin didn’t know Sylvia was sending for a gunfighter. Now he’s running scared. What do you see as our next move, boss?”

Night Eyes had done his job as he usually did, but this time exposing the truth could bring harm to Macky. He wished he could see a way out, but there was no clear answer, not yet.

“All right, Pratt,” Bran finally said. “I want you to get back to your cabin and wait for the marshal to contact you. I want to know every move he makes. If we can set him up we’ll be secure for life.”

“Sure,” Pratt agreed eagerly. “I’ll let you know everything that happens.

“It would be a mistake for you to run away, Pratt. If you do, I’ll chase you down to the ends of the earth.”

“I won’t run,” Pratt promised eagerly. “Why would I walk away from a sweet deal like this?”

“Just to remind you how serious I am,” Bran said. He took careful aim and fired, the bullet amputating the tip of the little finger on Pratt’s right hand.

Pratt grabbed his hand and screamed. “Son of a—! What’d you do that for?”

“So you won’t forget our agreement. I’m a man of God, remember, and I believe in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Would you rather I start with your eye?”

As Bran rode back toward the cabin, the sky clouded over. They might have snow, but the temperature seemed too warm.

Everything was coming to a head now. Before he confronted Macky he needed to make sure that his plan could work. She had to be convinced that Pratt was leaving town,
and would never tell the truth about the bank robbery in Promise because he’d be implicated by the gold coins Bran had in his possession, the coins that had come from Macky’s purse. For the first time, Bran was grateful for his reputation.

He’d have to keep a close watch on Pratt. Even with the little reminder he’d given the outlaw, he couldn’t be certain that Pratt wouldn’t try to double-cross him. Still, he was counting on what he knew about men like Pratt. They thrived on their own reputations and being a partner with a famous gunfighter would give him the fame he craved. Fame and fear, either one ought to work.

With Pratt under control, the threat of Macky’s arrest was lessened. Bran hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about the marshal, but she didn’t have to know about that. Once the marshal was gone, the sheriff in Promise could be told the truth.

Then Macky could make her own choices about her future. And he’d see that she had every chance to become a farmer if that was what she wanted. As for Night Eyes, he could disappear forever. It was time. He was tired of being on the move. Night Eyes had searched for the killer of his parents for most of his life. That seemed less important now.

Macky was here, and alive and waiting for him.

Bran felt his insides twist at that thought. In the strangest moments, like now, when he should be concentrating on the problem at hand, his mind would catch on some obscure little detail about Macky and he’d lose his train of thought.

Suddenly he was remembering that soot-covered sock on her head. The one she’d accounted for by saying it was a treatment to make her hair more manageable. He laughed lightly. The last thing in life he wanted to be manageable was Macky’s hair. He preferred it flying wildly around her face when he was loving her, like some shimmering veil of fire.

Maybe he was getting too involved in his role. He was a
gunfighter, not the preacher he was pretending to be. He was a killer, not the husband he wanted to be. But it didn’t matter any more. He knew the minute he saw Pratt at the cabin that he was a liar when he said he didn’t love that woman.

“May God smite you dead if you fail, John Brandon Lee,” he whispered to the wind.

W
ith a muttered oath, Bran pulled his coat tighter and rode his horse back toward the cabin. He’d better be right about Pratt, else Macky’s fate was sealed. What happened to him didn’t matter, but Macky deserved a future.

He’d known that he had to end their growing intimacy, but every time he’d attempted to do so, Macky had burrowed through his defenses and left him even more vulnerable. And he’d let himself reach out to her. But now, he had to find a way to shut all his feelings for her out of his mind until he could be sure she was safe.

Bran met Macky running to the trail toward him, worry making little wrinkles across her forehead, her glorious hair flying behind her in the wind.

“Oh, Bran, I heard shots and I thought—”

“You thought what?” He swung down from the horse to catch her as she whirled herself into his arms.

“I was afraid you’d been shot. What happened?”

He could feel her heart hammering against his chest. She was holding him so tight he could barely breathe. “Mr. Pratt had a little accident. He decided that he’d make a sacrifice to show repentance for his life of crime.”

She leaned her head back and studied him, not sure whether he was serious or teasing. “Is he all right?”

“No, but he’s working on doing better. But I don’t know how long I can control him. We’re going to arrange a little visit to Denver for you. You can stay there until this is settled.”

“And what’s my reason for leaving my husband?”

“Well, the town still believes that you’re carrying a child. Let’s let them keep thinking that. You’re going to Denver to consult a doctor.”

She nodded, then slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. “Oh, Bran, let’s get out of here, go so far away that nobody will ever find us.”

“There is no place far enough, Macky. Marshal Larkin isn’t going to let us go.” A statement more true than Macky could know. “We’d never be able to live without looking over our shoulder. This has to be resolved another way.”

“Bran, Pratt knows who I am. Sooner or later, if he doesn’t get his money, he’s going to tell—whether I’m here or not. I won’t let you get involved.”

“I already am. The marshal knows I’m the man Sylvia hired. The only thing he doesn’t know yet is about your part in the robbery.”

That stopped her. “Are you and the marshal working together like Pratt said?”

“Of course not. But I don’t trust him and I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“Oh, Bran, what if he figures out that you’re wanted on that old murder charge?”

“He hasn’t yet.”
And with a little luck, he’ll be so involved in acquiring the mine that he won’t. And you’ll be long gone by the time he does
.

She’d known that he wouldn’t listen. He’d decided to
protect her and he would, at any cost. For now, she’d let him think that she was going. But come morning she’d find the marshal and tell him about her part in the robbery. She’d convince him that Bran knew she was running from an angry husband and agreed to go along. Everybody in Heaven liked Bran. Sylvia would vouch for him. With his reputation they’d believe that he thought he was protecting her.

As they stood, big drops of rain began to fall. Macky grabbed Bran’s hand and together they dashed to the cabin, separating as Bran took the horse to the shed and Macky ran into the house. She lit the fire and stood rubbing her hands together over the flame. If Bran had his way, this might be their last time together.

Moments later, she heard the cabin door close. Macky sat down on the bed and began removing her shoes. Bran added another log on the fire and slid out of his wet coat as he tried to gather his wits. Macky unbuttoned her dress. She wasn’t preparing supper. She was preparing for bed.

He couldn’t stay there without making love to Macky yet he didn’t want to leave her alone. “ ‘Lead us not into temptation,’ ” Bran whispered. “Pack your clothes, Macky, we’re going to town.”

“We are not, John Brandon,” Macky said, stepping out of her dress. “I may have to leave you, but not tonight. You always pull back as if you’re afraid of caring about me. You think that I’ll be better off without you.” She let the dress fall to the floor.

“You will.”

She began unfastening her crinoline. “As far as Heaven is concerned, I’m your wife. As far as I am concerned, I am your wife.”

“But you’re not. I won’t let you do this, Macky.”

Ignoring him, she removed her chemise, followed by her drawers. Finally she looked up. “I’m trouble, remember? I told you that in the beginning. Nothing’s changed. You can’t stop me from loving you one last time.”

And he didn’t.

He didn’t even try.

The pounding that woke Bran the next morning was insistent and loud. It took him a moment to bring himself back to the present, to the now empty bed he’d shared with Macky.

Pulling on his trousers, he made his way to the door and opened it.

He didn’t recognize the man standing there, but there was no mistaking his concern.

“Preacher, I need your help. Please. Rachel said you’d come.”

“Rachel?”

“My—my missus,” he exclaimed, wringing his hands. “I’m Lars Pendley. It’s our little girl, Rebekah. She’s done wandered off first thing this morning, chasing a stray pup that took up at the house. We can’t find her nowhere.”

Bran remembered the woman who’d sat beside Macky, the woman with the baby and the blond little girl with blue eyes. Bran reached for his shirt, pulled on his boots, and quickly looked around. Macky was nowhere to be seen. The fireplace was cold, and from what he could tell, the only thing she’d taken was her brother’s clothes. A trip to the corral revealed that Solomon too was missing. Bran didn’t stop to look, but he’d bet his last dollar that the money from the holdup was gone as well.

With a groan Bran saddled his horse and took off toward town. “We’ll mount a search party,” he said to the worried man. “You go on back home and tell your wife not to worry. We’ll find the little girl.”

Bran didn’t know where Macky had gone, but he had a bad feeling in his gut. Now this. When he needed to go after Macky he had to help locate a lost child. He gave the horse a nudge. He didn’t know how long Macky had been gone. He only hoped she wasn’t with Pratt.

• • •

Aaron Larkin had taken over Heaven’s empty sheriff’s office as his living quarters. Willa’s Boardinghouse was too public and an invitation to share Lorraine’s bed hadn’t materialized as he’d anticipated.

Inside the office there was a desk, a potbellied stove, and one barred cell containing a bunk across the back side. With a mattress and blankets, he’d managed to turn the bunk into a bed. Tobe, the boy who helped out in the saloon occasionally, brought a load of wood. Still, the jail was bare and mean. He’d spent an uncomfortable night and the morning didn’t promise much more.

Through the window the sky looked like rain and the wind was cold. He could build a fire to take off some of the chill while he decided what he wanted to do next. He was tired of being cold and living on the pitiful salary the government paid him.

Once he had the mine in his grasp, he’d be in a position to take over the whole town. Then he’d resign from his job as the judge’s lackey and he’d never be cold again.

He’d drawn this job out too long. In the past he’d been quick to choose his victim, then he’d move on. That way, nobody ever connected him with the crimes he’d planned.