Nevada Heat (32 page)

“You're braver than me, Miranda," Shelly said with a shake of her head.

"What do you mean?"

She shivered. "The very idea of havin' to cook for Jesse, Birdwell, and the Sullys! Lord. Makes me tired just thinkin' about it."

Miranda laughed and the sound floated out to Buck, who broke off his singing. He turned in his saddle to glare at the women. “If you two don't quit your yammerin' and get them durn horses movin', we're gonna be at this here trip forever!"

“For heaven's sake!" Miranda called back. “You'd think somebody held a gun at your back and forced you to come along!"

“You best believe it!" Buck tipped his hat back on his head and grinned. “It'd take a bullet to make me go shoppin' with jabber-mouthed females!"

Suddenly he grabbed at his chest, his mouth dropping in shock. A split second later Miranda and Shelly heard the accompanying shot. The women watched in horror as a bright blossom of red appeared and spread with terrifying speed across Buck's white shirt. Slowly, the man bent over and slumped from his perch on the horse's back to the rocky ground below.

Chapter 19

"Son of a…" If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Jim would never have believed a man as big as Birdwell could run that fast.

"What's goin' on, Jim?"

The blond man turned and watched as Dave Black approached. Shaking his head, Jim said disgustedly, "Hell, I don't know! Seems like everybody's just bustin' outta their britches today!"

Dave stood beside the other man and looked in the direction Jim was pointing. A few hundred yards away Birdwell, astride a huge black horse, thundered out of the stable yard and down the main road out of the canyon.

“Where's he goin'?"

"Shit." Jim pulled his hat off and slapped it against his thighs. "Could be anywhere! First Forbes, then Jesse, now Birdwell."

"What?" Dave grabbed the outlaw's arm and spun him around. "What are you talkin' about? Jesse? Forbes?"

Jim pulled back a bit. "Yeah."

"Tell me. All of it." Dave's eyes narrowed meaningfully. "Now."

"Sure thing, Dave," Jim said quickly, and launched into the story of the morning's odd goings-on. Almost before he finished speaking, Dave cursed viciously, then sprinted toward the stable and his own horse. "Well goddamn," Jim muttered, and jammed his hat back on his head.

“Who you goddamning, big brother?"

Jim barely glanced at Bill. Instead his gaze followed Dave Black, astride his lean brown gelding, as he raced out of the stable on the same trail Birdwell had taken only moments before.

"Jim?" Bill asked.

But Jim didn't answer. Shaking his head and muttering, the blond started toward the stable yard, where a cloud of dust still hung in the unusually still morning air.

"Jim? Where the hell you goin'?"

Without turning around, Jim shouted, “I'm goin' after the rest of 'em. I'm durn tired of bein' left standin' here by my lonesome." He glanced back at Bill. “I'm fixin' to find out what the blue blazes is goin' on! And durn it, somebody is gonna tell me!"

Bill grinned. Always ready for an adventure, he trotted after his brother calling, "Well, wait for me, son!"

#

Miranda jerked back on the reins, pitting her own strength against that of the agitated horse. The hitched pair tossed their heads at the insistent pressure, but finally gave way and came to a stop. She pushed the brake handle forward, wrapped the reins around it, and jumped to the ground only a moment after Shelly.

Buck lay where he fell, his eyes closed and the patch of blood still growing at a terrifying rate. Shelly reached him first and dropped to her knees beside him.

Miranda moved more slowly, her gaze sweeping over the open countryside, searching for the source of the gunshot. Her first thought had been Indians. But she dismissed that idea almost as quickly as it had come. If there were Indians about, they'd already be swooping down on them. Carefully she looked toward the long, low line of rocks sprinkled along one side of the road. One man or many might hide among the jagged boulders in safety, and though the road was too far away for a pistol shot, a good man with a rifle wouldn't have any trouble picking them off one by one.

Her stomach tightened in fear and she cursed herself. There was no gun on the buckboard. How could she have been so stupid? She couldn't remember the last time she'd left the canyon without her rifle. Somehow she'd allowed Jesse Hogan to so fill her thoughts, she'd forgotten the most important rule of survival Birdwell and her father had ever taught her. Never go anywhere unarmed.

Jesse. She drew in a shaky breath and squinted into the sunlight. What she wouldn't give to see Jesse ride up right now.

Her mouth dry, she lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped off the packed-dirt road into the desert sand. Miranda's feet shifted unsteadily as she made her way to Shelly and Buck.

If she'd only brought her rifle. Or even a shotgun. Something. Of course! Suddenly she stopped and looked frantically for Buck's horse. His rifle would still be in the saddle scabbard. "Dammit." Her shoulders slumped and the last ray of hope died in her breast Buck's horse, frightened by the gunshot and his rider's collapse, had taken off at a dead run. Miranda held her hand up to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun. She was barely able to make out the animal, still running back toward the canyon.

Miranda bit at her lip and blinked back the useless tears beginning to fill her eyes. No time for crying now. They needed help. Quick.

There was still no sign of life from the rocks and Miranda couldn't help wishing that whoever was there would make his presence known and be done with it. The waiting was worse by far.

She walked to Buck's side and dropped to the ground beside Shelly. Her friend's fingers flew down the line of buttons on Buck's shirt until his bare chest was lying open to the sunlight.

Miranda sucked in air through clenched teeth. It looked bad. High on the right side of his chest, blood still poured from the open wound at an alarming rate. Shelly gave the hem of her blue cotton skirt a vicious yank and tore off a long strip of fabric. Folding it over and over several times, she placed the pad over the wound and pressed down firmly. Then she looked up and met Miranda's gaze.

"He needs a doctor."

"I know." Miranda turned and once more scanned the rocks. "We'll have to get him in the wagon somehow and get him to town."

Shelly nodded grimly. It wouldn't be easy. Buck wasn't a small man by any means. But they didn't have much choice, either.

"No, you ain't."

Both women turned startled gazes on Buck.

His eyes open and glazed with pain, the man looked at each of them in turn. "You got to get outta here. Now."

"We're not going to leave you here, Buck," Miranda told him. "You'll die if we do."

"Hell, we'll all die if you don't." He winced, licked his dry lips, and said softly, "Whoever done this ain't gonna just leave. Get my rifle, Miranda."

She shook her head. "It’s gone. The horse ran off."

"Sorry son of a mule. Shoulda shot him years ago." Buck grimaced and drew in a shaky breath. "Then take my pistol. You two climb up on that blasted wagon and hightail it back to the canyon. You can send somebody back for me."

Miranda glanced at Shelly then reached for Buck's pistol. She held the revolver for a long moment, balancing its weight in her hand, then shoved the barrel down beneath the waistband of her skirt. She didn't bother to look at Buck again, she simply said quietly, "All right, Shelly. I'll move the wagon closer, then we'll drag him aboard."

Shelly nodded and Buck muttered something about "damn blasted females." Miranda pushed herself to her feet and took a step toward the buckboard when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

Turning her head slowly, she searched the rocks one more time. Her breath caught and her stomach plummeted to her toes. A lone rider had emerged from behind the rocks and was headed directly toward them at a gallop.

No time now for the wagon. She went back to Shelly and Buck and dropped to one knee. Coolly, deliberately she drew out Buck's pistol. Thumbing back the hammer, Miranda lifted her right arm level with her shoulder, took careful aim, and fired.

The rider kept coming.

She'd known even before she took the shot that there wasn't much chance of her hitting the man. Not with him in motion and the limited range of a handgun. But she wanted him, whoever he was, to know that she was armed and not afraid to shoot.

As the rider closed the distance between them, Miranda saw him raise his arms. An instant later sand spat up into the air in front of them and was immediately followed by the sound of a rifle shot. Reluctantly Miranda lowered the pistol. Whoever it was, he'd made his point. Even astride a running horse, the man was able to make the shot he wanted. And next time he might not be satisfied with spraying sand at them.

"Miranda…"

She took Shelly's reaching hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze before standing up. From the corner of her eye, Miranda saw the other woman scoot around Buck until she was blocking his body with her own.

“Dammit, get outta the way, woman!" Buck's voice was weaker. “I ain't never hid behind a woman before and I ain't about to start now."

"Shut up, Buck Farley," Shelly whispered over her shoulder, "or so help me, I'll shoot you myself!"

"Hmmph!"

Miranda ignored them. Narrowing her gaze, she studied the rider who was almost upon them. He was familiar. His shape, the way he sat a horse… but who? She held her breath as the man's face finally came into view.

Tom Forbes.

Fear coiled in her stomach and shot out shaky tentacles that reached for every nerve in her body.

#

Leaning low across his horse's neck, Jesse raced down the open road. How long ago had Forbes left town? How big a head start did the man have on him?

The horse's labored breathing and the pounding of its hooves against the dirt road thundered in Jesse's brain. Over and over the hollow, empty sound echoed through him, teasing his raw nerves into a spiral of panic. If he was too late… if Miranda and the others were dead when he found them…

Two years he'd chased Tom Forbes. Every waking thought bent on justice. Revenge.

Now nothing mattered except Miranda. He grasped the reins tighter, and for the first time in years Jesse Hogan found himself praying.

#

“Well, now," Forbes said, and drew his horse to a stop right in front of the little knot of people. "'Bout time you folks got here. Swear I been waitin' on you bunch forever!"

Miranda kept her eyes on the big blond with the cold gray eyes and took a step closer to Shelly.

Forbes tilted his hat back and grinned easily. “You know that wagon don't make good time at all. All I had to do was ride off the trail and set here to wait!"

"What d’ya want, you son of a —“

Shelly reached back and laid a warning hand on Buck's arm.

“You shut your mouth, mister." Tom Forbes's easy grin faded and he tried to look through the women to the man behind them. “You're lucky you ain't dead now. Can't understand why not myself. Don't believe I've ever missed a shot that easy."

"You didn't miss." Miranda spoke up and was rewarded when Forbes's gaze shifted back to her. “He's hurt bad. He needs a doctor."

“I don't think so," Tom answered, and reached for his holster.

“You can't just shoot him!"

“I already did, Miranda. Now I'm just fixin' to finish the job."

"No." Shelly and Miranda spoke as one.

"Get the hell outta the way," Buck groaned. “I don't need your durned help!"

"Listen to the man, Miranda." Tom stared at her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a parody of a smile. "As soon as I'm finished, you and me'll be goin'."

"Going where?" Miranda swallowed heavily and tried to keep her voice from shaking.

"Mexico first, I figure. After that…" He shrugged. “I been waitin' on you a long time now, M'randa. You didn't really think I'd let you marry that Hogan fella, did ya?"

She watched as his long fingers smoothed over the steel-barreled pistol. His thumb moved to draw back the hammer and Miranda wondered wildly if she would be able to swing her own gun up and shoot him before he had the time to kill her friends. He must have read her thoughts in her eyes because he said quietly, "Drop that pistol, M'randa."

She didn't move. He cocked his pistol and waved it negligently toward Shelly. “Drop it now, woman."

She hesitated and Tom Forbes could see the wild thoughts running behind her eyes. He swallowed back a grunt of admiration. She was a hard scare. Slowly, deliberately Forbes pointed the barrel of his pistol at Shelly's breast, then turned his stony gaze on Miranda.