Unbroken Hearts (32 page)

    
Which, it seemed to Sarah, was exactly
what the man had already done. She closed her eyes, but felt the steep angles
of his sour face inches from hers, heated and shaking with anger.

    
He unlocked his bony fingers and thrust
his hands painfully over her arms.

    
Sarah jerked angrily at the ropes around
her wrists.

    
Dullen, satisfied he'd riled her to an
intense discomfort, slowly rose and went back outside to talk with the other
men.

    
Fiercely driven by the encounter, Sarah
repeatedly jerked her hands apart, and suddenly she hit pay dirt with the
bindings. The hemp snapped and her hands were freed.

    
She listened to the rattling of men
cleaning up from their meal. Emily was mute and shaking.

    
The sun crawled down, and shadows
lengthened. Suddenly they heard an odd whoosh followed by a thud. Sarah
scrambled to her knees and peered out the window in time to see a new horror:
Suds, groaning and staggering, fell forward with an arrow stuck clean through
his back. As he hit the ground he heard another swoosh, and Hank shouted and
clutched at his shoulder. Dullen ran into the hut.
 

   
 
"Savages!" he
screamed.

    
Hank was running for the hut, too, and he
had to battle against Dullen to get inside. Hank's weight against the pine door
prevailed, and he staggered through, groped at the dank air, and fell to the
dirt floor.

    
Dullen knocked the table over and used it
to barricade the door. Then he squatted behind to protect himself from the
horrors lurking outside.

    
"We'll give you the women! You can
have our women!" he shouted. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and the
moist beads grew to heavy drops and ran down his face. He unholstered his Colt
and waved it frantically at Sarah and Emily.

    
"Git out there! Git!" he
screamed.

    
Sarah faced a terrible dilemma. She'd seen
Indians once before, and they'd helped her. But that thought offered little
comfort. These were obviously the attack-first and talk-later kind.

    
Fixing a blank stare on Dullen she slid
her hand into her pocket. Dullen, in a panic, didn't register that her hands
were free. She fingered the smooth derringer, the handle warm on one side from
the heat of her body. She sucked in a long breath, and took one long step
toward him.
 

    
Dullen's tight gaze was held captive by
something in her face, something unsettling he hadn't seen before.
Instinctively he began to inch away from her.
 

    
"Mister Dullen you just played your
last card," she whispered. Sarah quickly brought up the gun, and the
motion lifted her skirts. Aiming for his chest, she squeezed the trigger smoothly.
The bullet ripped straight through the fabric of her skirt on the way to the
target.

    
Dullen flashed a startled look. His mouth
yawed open. One hand clutched at his chest, and he reeled backward. A question
lit his face as he fell in the dirt.

    
Sarah ran to over to where he lay, and she
kicked his weapon out of his limp grasp. A red stain was spreading across his
chest.
 

     
"You shot me." It was a
statement of wonder and disbelief, these last words, and with them his face
went slack.
 

     
For the first time, Sarah saw him
without a scowl marring his features.

     
Emily's eyes were saucers.

    
"Emily, I'm so sorry you had to see
that." Sarah coughed from the dust kicked up in the small space.

    
"Y-you did right, Sarah. H-he had it
coming," whimpered Emily.
 
"Cal would of done the same." The girl shook convulsively.

    
Sarah swallowed hard. "True
enough."
 

    
Hank was lying semiconscious, groaning and
bleeding profusely. Sarah untied Emily, hugged her shaking body to her breast,
and then looked over Hank.
 

    
"Please help me," he
begged.
 

    
Sarah crouched beside him, gripped the
arrow, and yanked. Blood oozed from the wound, and her stomach churned as she
ripped strips of fabric from the bottom of her skirt to bandage the man's arm,
pausing several times to wait for her hands to stop trembling.
 

    
She listened for signs that the Indians
might be attacking the hut, but it was quiet. What were they waiting for?

    
She nervously hovered over Hank and
pressed her hand firmly over the rip to slow the bleeding; she expected the
Indians to crash through the door at any moment.

    
Minutes passed, and Sarah and Emily heard
the racing hoof beats of a new group of riders arriving in the small clearing
in front of the hut. Emily whimpered fearfully.

    
More Indians? They didn't dare go to the
window to check.
 

    
Now they heard a chorus of shouts and
voices, in the strange language. Sarah could have sworn one of the voices was
Cal.

    
Suddenly the door flung open with such
force that it slammed against the earthen wall. A charging bull with
six-shooters drawn and red bandana covering his face stormed into the
room.
 

    
"D-don't shoot us!" Emily's
outstretched hands quaked like leaves in a storm.

    
The man's eyebrows shot up when he saw
Dullen's body sprawled face up in the dirt and Hank's unconscious form in a
heap near the table.

    
He lowered his guns and suddenly two more
men appeared behind him, weapons at the ready. They stared dumbfounded at the
carnage and holstered their arms. When all three jerked bandanas down to necks
to show their faces Sarah and Emily shrieked.

    
"Cal! Roy!" Emily bolted from
her corner and plowed her head into Roy's belly.
 
Cal moved quickly to Sarah, bent and kissed the top of her
head. She tried to rise on weak knees. Cal caught her in a tight embrace and
murmured into her hair.

    
"Oh darlin'. Oh Sarah." He
caught her hands and kissed her bruised and bloody wrists.

    
The third man was Aiken. He walked over to
where Dullen lay and with his toe he pushed at the body. "Dead," he
proclaimed loudly. "The mighty Jack Dullen has rode on," he repeated,
as if he didn't believe it himself. The sheriff gaped at Sarah as he lowered
his pistol back into its holster.

    
Cal nuzzled Sarah and whispered low, for
her ears only. Then he settled her into a dusty chair and threw off his hat. He
raked a shaky hand through his hair, and looked closely at the torn bottom of
her skirt. His eyes steadily traveled upward, to where the fabric spread across
her knees, and he spied the telltale powder burn.
 

    
Roy and the sheriff followed Cal's eyes,
and they saw it, too. They all knew what she'd done. Cal was overcome with
pride while Roy's eyes betrayed fascination and admiration for the woman. And
Aiken wore a stunned look, as though he were seeing a legend.

     
Cal exchanged a teasing look with
Roy, and suddenly grinned.
 

    
"Sarah, what the thunder do you think
you were doing?" His voice was rough but his eyes caressed her.

    
"Yeah," added Roy. His boyish
smile reached up to his blue eyes. "You beat us to it!"

    
Sarah thrust her chin up defiantly.
"This wasn't a prayer meeting," she blurted, "and you cowboys
took your sweet time getting here."
 

    
She ran her hand over the hole in her
dress. "I've been itching to use my wedding present."

    
"When a woman's got an itch it has to
be scratched."

    
Two Indians came through the open door.
Sarah and Emily stiffened as they recognized one as the warrior they'd met the
day their uncle was killed.
 

    
"It's OK," Cal spoke quickly.
"This is Lone Eagle, our cousin. Our uncle Arthur was married to his
mother, White Dove."
 

    
Lone Eagle stepped forward and raised his
hand. "Ka-Hay. Woman of One-Who-Shoots-Straight. We meet again."

Chapter 30

    
Sarah yanked at wagging bonnet strings in
the grass-rippling breeze. Her husband flung an arm around her, drew her close
and settled his arms lightly around her waist.
 

    
Cal Easton kissed the face of the woman he
intended to love forever with all the fire in his soul. He moved his hands down
her arms and lingered over the bandages that still covered her wrists.

    
"Emily will miss Roy," Sarah
whispered.

    
"She can visit our new sheriff after
school every day at his office. And Roy'll be here every Sunday for
dinner."
 

    
Wes Aiken had lit out of town before
Dullen was six feet under, and, to the great relief of the town's citizens, Roy
had agreed to serve as the sheriff until a replacement could be found.

 
   
Cal brushed his hands up to
Sarah's shoulders. He inhaled her sweet honeysuckle scent.
 

    
Sarah gazed into deep brown eyes. So much
had changed, but they would all be together, a bigger, stronger family, new
branches growing on a sturdy tree.
  

 
   
Sarah had told Cal all that
Dullen spilled to her concerning the deaths of John Easton and Grace Farrel.
But she'd held back the part about Grace being pregnant. Somehow she couldn't
bring herself to tell; he would know she knew about his intimacy with another
woman. And keeping quiet on the subject saved Cal the added pain of lost
fatherhood.

     
After the shoot-out, and Ned's bloody
arrival at the ranch, he'd lived through a nightmare. When he realized Sarah and
Emily were missing, Cal had dispatched hands to Lone Hawk's camp to ask his cousin
to send out his best trackers.

    
Bailey and a small army of hands had
beaten a path to Dullen's ranch. Meanwhile, Cal and Roy saddled up and raced to
Sheriff Aiken's office.

     
Cal was half insane with fear by the
time they found the sheriff. Aiken was scared witless due to Cal putting a
horse-choke around the man's neck and a gun to his head.
 

    
Aiken had never seen such a madman as Cal
was that day, and he cooperated fully, described the hut, and they'd all lit
out on fresh horses from the livery, arriving in time to see Lone Hawk's men
surrounding the place.

    
Cal would be eternally grateful to his
Indian cousin.

    
Most of Dullen's hands had hit the trail
when they heard about Dullen's death and the installation of the new sheriff,
Roy Easton. The rest quit town when they got news from the banker, Mr.
Abe Wright. He'd frozen Dullen's accounts. Their dead boss didn't have enough
cash on hand to meet the next payroll.

    
Cal sighed. Now his Sarah was safe and
content.

    
"I hadn't thought about Emily
visiting Roy in town each day after school. You know she'll be beating him at
poker." She grinned, reached up and brushed the hair from Cal's eyes. "Dr.
Rutherford said Paco will be fit
 
in
a week. And Ned was out of bed this morning, and starting to walk again, though
he has to lean on Geneva." She smiled.

   
Cal thought about Geneva Grayson, the spinster schoolmarm, fussing about
Ned, protecting him like a mother grizzly, feeding him homemade soup and
reading to him as he lie in Roy's bed recovering. Ned was as good as before, in
fact even better, because Dr. Rutherford had removed the old lead ball lodged
in his leg at the same time he'd treated the new wound.

    
"Sweetheart, can you keep a
secret?" Cal winked. Before she could reply he said, "Ned told me
that he's asked Geneva to marry him in the spring."

     
"Oh Cal! How wonderful! You
know they're perfect for each other!"
 

    
Cal gazed at his wife tenderly. "I
was thinking. If Ned wants he can keep on working here, and they could move
into the little cabin along the creek."

    
Sarah was no longer surprised at her
husband's thoughtfulness and generosity. That was what he was inside and she
loved him all the more for it. She smiled shyly and pressed her hands to his
broad chest.

    
"Honey, can you keep a secret?"
She tossed him an exaggerated wink. "Dr. Rutherford said, come spring,
we'll have a little one." Her jade eyes widened and she moved her hands
down to her belly.

  
  
Cal's breath caught in his throat
and his brown-gold eyes glistened.

    
"Oh honey. You're feeling ok?"

    
"Of course!" She frowned at his
concern. "I've never been better."

    
He kissed his young wife lightly and with
trembling hands he pressed her into his warmth. "You make me so
proud," he whispered. "You are the finest birthday gift a man ever
had." Then he pulled away, wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand,
and hesitated. "But don't ever tell Roy I said that."

    
Sarah laughed merrily. "Never. Roy
has his mules."

    
Cal squeezed her hand, and his next kiss
held a warm invitation. Sarah gave equal response and wrapped her arms around
his neck to pull him closer.

    
When he pulled away desire lit in his eyes
and spread fire between them. It drove her half-crazy with longing. She was at
home, in Cal's embrace, loving Cal.
 

    
"I'm thinking of a fine way to
celebrate our news," he murmured.

    
"Mmmm," Sarah purred low in her
throat. "But first, let's tell Mama."
 

    
She took his hand and led him back home.