She couldn’t allow them to let their guilt eat at them so. “No. I liked it. I hope you’ll do that again.”
“Now?” Joshua asked.
Sarah was glad to hear that thread of humor back in his voice.
“Maybe not right now. Maybe give me a minute.”
Joshua tossed the cloth back into the basin and returned to bed. He helped pull her chemise down over her bottom, then pressed close to her back.
“Go to sleep,” he said, kissing her neck just under her ear.
“I love you, Sarah,” Caleb said. “More than I thought it possible to love.”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” Joshua agreed. “I love you, Sarah.”
“I love you both. You’re a miracle. My miracle.”
“Sleep now, sweetheart. We have a long train ride tomorrow,” Caleb said.
Sarah didn’t want to ride the train to Waco. She wanted to be anywhere else but there and nowhere else but with these two extraordinary men.
As she drifted to sleep, the sense of unease that had awakened her tried to return. She tramped it down. She was safe and secure, here between two men whom she loved, two men who loved her in return.
She drifted toward sleep only to come awake sometime later. Blinking, she tried to open her eyes, tried to figure out what jarred her from sleep this time. Groggy, her mind searched, curiously unable to focus.
Then the acrid smell of smoke assaulted her senses.
Chapter 17
One could always find someone who had a price, and sometimes that price had nothing to do with gold.
Liam Larson looked up at the dark sky, at the stars that twinkled high overhead. The night had turned exceptionally clear, not a single cloud visible. Nothing could compare to a
It made Liam feel closer to his lover.
He needed that tonight. Liam wasn’t a whimsical man or an overly sentimental one. Tonight felt different. Tonight, his soul needed a connection, however vague, to the one person in the world he would move mountains for.
Or kill for
.
He supposed the reason for these unusual feelings stemmed from his quest, from its being on the very cusp of completion.
Jamie could never again doubt his love when Liam had killed to honor it.
Across the street, he saw a small figure, furtive in his movements, his actions spare, nearly jerky.
Nervous excitement. He’s already seeing his own fame in his mind’s eye
.
Sam Jenkins, erstwhile stable hand and livery stooge, believed himself about to add a major feat to his non-existent list of life accomplishments.
The lad was almost pitifully easy to fool. Spying the small stack of dime novels in the area of the livery Sam called his home provided Liam with the clue to this young man’s ultimate price.
Liam offered him the chance to be one of the heroes he read about.
It was a simple matter to convince Sam that Liam was a special US Marshal on a secret mission. The fool gobbled up that story about the notorious Benedict Brothers, aided and abetted by the infamous Bat Masterson, a hero turned rogue, being the worst outlaws since the James-Younger Gang.
He’d even believed that Liam had connections, including a certain very famous raconteur
by the name of Ned Buntline, and that the writer would be thrilled and honored to feature Sam as the hero of a new series about the demise of these heinous criminals.
All Sam had to do for this great fortune to fall upon him was one simple thing.
Liam had wondered how he was going to manage to kill Mrs. Maddox. It hadn’t taken him long to understand that the sheriff of Denison was well-acquainted with the Benedicts nor for him to realize Sheriff’s deputies had been set about, vigilant, keeping an extra close watch over Sarah Maddox.
Under normal circumstances, there would have been no way for Liam to get close to her. So the challenge had become to make the circumstances vary from the normal.
Once he realized that Mrs. Maddox was being kept in one of the second floor rooms in the Katy Hotel—a room, in fact, that looked out onto Main Street—then he knew exactly what he had to do.
He would be able to shoot her from the roof of the dry goods store across the street if he could get her out onto the hotel’s verandah roof. The surface was sturdy and sound and only a couple of feet below the room’s only window.
He’d instructed Sam on what to do precisely and where he needed to stand once his assignment had been completed.
Liam checked his rifle, and then settled in to wait.
Slowly at first, as if dancing to a dreamy waltz, tendrils of smoke flitted into the night sky from the back of the hotel. The building, made entirely of wood, would offer no resistance to the kerosene-aided flames.
Liam didn’t allow himself to think about any innocents who might be caught in the conflagration about to erupt. If the poor sots had retired to their beds after imbibing an abundance of drink, then their deaths would be their own fault.
A man should never allow himself to be so out of control as to get drunk.
The fire wasn’t meant to be a killer, just a distraction. Anyone not impeded by drink should have no difficulty escaping it.
Now he could hear the crackling of the flames as they began to eat at the back of the hotel, consuming the dry wood and whatever trash lay about in back of the building.
The fire proved hungry and ate voraciously.
Soon an orange glow lit the night, overcoming the stars so they became invisible. Shouts of anger, fear, and panic filled the air. Sam stood, his gaze transfixed as he watched the hotel begin to burn in earnest. The boy had followed Liam’s directions to the letter. A shame, really.
Liam raised his rifle, his position on the roof a comfortable one. He gently swung the weapon between his two targets.
The window above the verandah roof opened, and one of the Benedicts slid out, dangled for a moment, then gained his feet. Turning, he reached up, his focus on someone inside the room, coaxing that person forward. A couple of bags came tumbling out, and then he spotted dainty, feminine feet.
Liam waited until the man nearly had his arms around the woman. He swung the gun to the right, aimed down, and fired.
Sam Jenkins was dead before he hit the ground.
Liam swung his rifle back toward his primary target, finding her and those bothersome Benedicts just as a cloud of smoke floated across the road and into his face. Determined, he bore down, blinked, sighted down the barrel, and fired a second shot.
* * * *
Caleb came awake and shot out of the bed.
“Damn it. The hotel’s on fire!” He reached down, laid his hands on Sarah, and pulled her to him.
“Joshua!”
“Yeah? Oh, Christ. Fire!”
“I can smell it,” Sarah said.
Caleb looked down into a face too pale with eyes too wide.
“It’s just like before, the smoke and the screams. My nightmare. My worst nightmare.”
Caleb knew she meant the Chicago fire and it was obvious she harbored some horrible memories from the ordeal. Hating the necessity, he gave her a single, hard shake.
“Sarah, wake up. No nightmare. We can get out, but we have to move now.”
Joshua threw on his trousers and handed Caleb his. He reached for Sarah’s skirt, the one she’d worn to dinner, and quickly helped her into it.
Caleb saw Joshua had their woman safe and took a bare moment to grab the saddle bag that contained their cash and one that had some of Sarah’s clothes in it.
He ran to the window, looked out, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Fire must be out the back. We don’t dare chance the stairs. We can gain the roof of the verandah, then the ground.”
“Yeah.” Joshua threw on his shirt but didn’t button it. He grabbed his gun belt and fastened it quickly.
Sarah came fully awake, and Caleb sighed in relief when she grabbed her skirt jacket, then reached for a few more of their things.
She didn’t fuss, just jammed things into a bag and tossed it toward the window.
Caleb calculated that from the time he’d awakened to this moment, not three minutes had passed. Joshua threw open the window.
“I’ll go first, make sure it’s safe. You hand Sarah out to me.”
“Go,” Caleb said.
The smell of smoke assailed them, and the sounds of panicked shouts from outside nearly drowned out the crackling of the flames as the dry wood of the building became fuel. Caleb caressed Sarah’s arms as Joshua disappeared out the window. He helped her sit her bottom on the window ledge.
“He’s just below, see? His hands are not even two feet below the window.
“Hand me the bags. Let me toss them before you toss me.”
“Damn, you’re bossy. I’m not going to toss you.” Caleb reached down, scooped the three bags, and shoved them out the window.
“Now, Sarah,” Joshua shouted, and Caleb understood his brother feared the building might explode into a fireball. They’d seen it happen during the war.
He nudged Sarah, and she let go of the ledge, trusting them to keep her safe. “Good girl,” he said.
It took him only a second to sit on the window ledge once Joshua had her, swing his feet out, dangle, and drop.
As he straightened, a shot rang out.
“Down!” The shout came from beside him, and he recognized Masterson’s voice just as he grabbed Sarah and spun around, covering her with his body.
A second shot, and then a third, both of them loud, swallowed every other sound for a few seconds. The sensation of being slammed by something hot and sharp made Caleb suck in wind. He knew that feeling, remembering Atlanta.
“Got him,” Masterson said.
“Damn it!”
“Caleb! No!”
His brother’s oath and Sarah’s scream faded into the background. He felt weak, as if his legs couldn’t hold him, and he sank to his knees.
“Damn it, I’ve been shot.” His own voice sounded funny to his ears.
“How bad?” Joshua demanded.
Caleb’s head began to clear. The shock of impact faded as the burning pain of injury flooded his mind, pushing away everything else. His hand covered his right arm where the pain surged, and he felt the hot stickiness of blood. It wasn’t spurting, so he guessed it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”
“Come on, Mary,” Masterson chided him as he knelt beside him, taking a quick look at his arm. He yanked a bandana out of his pocket and wrapped it around the wound, tying it tight. “In case you forgot, this damn building is burning down around us.”
“Right,” Caleb said. They were still in danger, even if the shooter had been taken out of the mix. Sarah sat down on her knees in front of him, her gaze fixated on the bandana.
“I’m all right, sweetheart. We need to get off this roof, now. Can we do that?”
“Yes. Yes, all right.”
Caleb let his gaze meet Joshua’s for just a moment, letting his twin know he was hurting but not badly hurt. People below them formed a bucket brigade. They paused in their firefighting to help them down. In moments they all four had feet planted on solid ground.
“Roof across the street,” Masterson said. Leaving the firefighting to the long line of people already pitching in, they headed in that direction. The full moon gave brilliant light this night. Caleb felt grateful for that. At least he could see where he was going even as he wondered if he would be able to climb the stairs in back of the building.
He noticed Masterson limping beside him. “That hip still bothering you?” he asked.
“Only when I jump out of windows and off low overhangs to escape burning buildings,” Masterson replied.
They headed down the alley and around the back of the dry goods store, looking for a way onto the roof.
“Ever think of maybe carrying a cane? I saw one in a store front in Chicago, all shiny black with a gold knob. Cost a fortune, but it had a certain elegance to it. I actually thought of you when I saw it.”
They stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the second story of the store. Masterson shot Caleb a look of sheer disbelief.
“Not in this lifetime,” he said succinctly.
Caleb chuckled, then focused on getting his wounded self up the stairs. They found a small ladder on the landing that led onto the roof.
The man lay where Masterson’s shot felled him. He’d dropped his rifle, and Caleb kicked it away for good measure. The would-be killer was still breathing, but from the looks of him, not for much longer.
Sarah stood beside Caleb. Then her attacker opened his eyes and focused on her.
Masterson squatted next to the man. “What’s your name, old son?”
“Larson. Liam… Larson.” He coughed, and Caleb felt Sarah flinch when some blood came out of his mouth.