Once an Outlaw (25 page)

And he thought of the night he’d spent with her, of her passion, her sweetness, and her fire. But he couldn’t think of that one wild beautiful night without thinking of all the other nights to come …

And he spurred the horse until it flew along the rocky trail toward the crest of Bitter Rock.

There’ll be time—time to tell her, to hold her—to make all of this up to her
, he told himself, as the horse’s hooves flew and he leaned low in the saddle.

He prayed he was right.

ELL, HONEY, BY NOW IT SHOULD ALL
be over and done with.”

Ben Ratlin stood at the cliff’s edge, surveying the gorge filled with brush and rocks, while the stream made a clattering sound as it cascaded down the steep sides. “Jenks should be back here anytime.”

A leaden weight filled Emily’s chest.
Over and done with
. He meant that Agnes and Carla Mangley were dead. So were the rest of the stagecoach passengers.
Bessie and Ham
. Though the morning sun glowed hot, she shivered and leaned back against the tree trunk, chilled and sick.

If only I’d gone to Clint in the first place, as soon as I began to have suspicions
, she thought.
Those people would still be alive. They needn’t have died…

But how could she have known that Pete and Lester and Uncle Jake were all involved in something so horrible? She’d wanted to believe in them, wanted to trust them when they said they were going straight, starting over, that all they wanted was to be a family again. And even when her suspicions had sharpened—that night she’d seen Uncle Jake riding out in the dark—she’d only
feared he might be planning a holdup again, a simple holdup.

That would have been bad enough. But never in her worst nightmares could she have guessed he or Pete or Lester would be mixed up in murder.

The same kind of murder that had claimed Clint Barclay’s own parents, she realized, and it seemed like a knife speared straight through her heart.

“Why?” she asked dully as Ratlin turned back toward where she sat a few feet from the campfire. She watched him gulp the last of his coffee across the flames. He’d already shot and skinned a rabbit, eaten it for breakfast, and licked his fingers. Calm as you please. All while waiting for Jenks to return.

“I just don’t understand why all those people had to die,” she whispered.

“Money, Miz Spoon.” Ratlin gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Being old Jake’s niece, I’d think you’d know—money’s at the core of everything. Me and Jenks and Sleech used to ride together. Different names, different times. Held up banks. A few trains. Did some gunslinging. Took in some nice bundles of money. Easy money. Till I got careless one time and ended up getting caught red-handed.” His great shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Ended up in prison—that’s where I met your uncle. But Jenks, he didn’t get caught—and he went straight, more or less, ’cept for a little rustling on the side. He drifted, working here and there as a ranch hand.” His eyes took on a sly glint. “Sleech got a job in a Leadville silver mine—ended up foreman. That mine belonged to two brothers, Richard and Frank Mangley.”

Frank Mangley. Disgust broke over her as she realized the implications of his words, added to what she’d heard at Cougar Pass. “Do you mean that Frank Mangley is behind
this? He … he wants to murder his brother’s widow and daughter? Why? Because he doesn’t want to share the mine with them?” she asked incredulously.

Ratlin’s grin was pure evil. “That’s about it, Miz Spoon. Not every family’s as cozy as yours. Especially since Mangley found a new vein of silver—worth five times what the rest of it was. The widow Mangley doesn’t even know anything about it—I mean, she
didn’t
know anything about it. And now… she never will,” he finished with a dry chuckle.

“You’re despicable,” she whispered, shaking her head. Dazed horror filled her. “And as for Mangley …”

Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t think of anything low enough to say about Frank Mangley. Ratlin merely shrugged again and poured more coffee into his tin cup.

“Mangley’s a smart man. He worked out this plan with Sleech. Sleech got word to me—knowing I was getting out soon—and to Jenks, who came to Lonesome and got himself a job as a wrangler at some ranch. I brought in your uncle—who, by the way, insisted he wouldn’t do the job without his son and nephew. Yep, we put ourselves together a good bunch—all hard men, experienced. And now all that’s left is to divvy up the money. And take care of you,” he finished matter-of-factly.

“You don’t have to kill me. I won’t tell anyone—I wouldn’t turn in my own family,” she said. But it was a lie. Once, perhaps, it would have been the truth, but that was before … before the murders. She knew that changed everything, and, she feared, so did Ratlin.

The thought of turning in Jake, Pete, and Lester ripped her apart, but she’d do it if she got away. She couldn’t let them go unpunished for cold-blooded murder. They might kill again …

A lump of grief filled her throat, so painful she could
scarcely draw breath. But Ratlin just shook his head at her, then set down his cup in the dirt.

“We can’t take that chance, honey. Now can we? For all we know, you’d run straight to Clint Barclay. Jenks said you were sweet on him.”

A tremor shook her. Sweet on him. “Jenks was wrong.”

He cocked his head at her. “Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. But once he gets back here, I promised him he could have some fun with you. So … you’ll have a little more time.”

Emily fought back the tears that burned behind her eyelids. She sagged back against the tree trunk, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. And she wouldn’t give up.

The odds were that she’d never get away, never see Clint again, never have the chance to tell him she loved him or to be held once more in those strong arms. She’d never know the fire of his kisses or feel again the beating of his heart against her own.

But she was going to try.

“Could I have… some of that coffee?” she whispered. She was pleased by how weak her voice sounded. She made her body go limp, as if she lacked all strength. “I… feel… faint.”

“Faint, huh? Better not. Jenks is gonna want you conscious—alive and kicking, as they say. He likes a woman to have a bit of fight in her,” Ratlin remarked. He studied her across the flames, then suddenly reached for a tin cup in his pack.

“Just don’t try nothing else. You saw last night, you can’t get away. You don’t want me to have to raise my fist to you again, do you?”

Emily shook her head. Last night, after she’d cut through the rope and Ratlin had caught her trying to
mount his horse, he’d struck her across the face, then tied her hands again, even tighter than before. Her cheek still throbbed, but if he believed that would stop her from trying to escape, so much the better.

Her heart pounded as he poured hot coffee into the cup and brought the steaming brew around the campfire to her.

Emily stayed completely still as he set the cup down on the grass and squatted before her, working at the rope.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She took a moment to rub her bruised wrists before picking up the cup. Still, Ratlin knelt before her, eyeing her with cold indifference.

“Better drink up quick, because any time now Jenks is going to—argghh!”

He screamed as Emily hurled the hot coffee into his face and then before he could do more than recoil, she shoved against him with all her might. The outlaw tumbled backward, sprawling across the campfire and as flames enveloped him, he screamed in agony.

Emily was already up and running. Ratlin’s horse was saddled this morning, and she tossed a foot in the stirrup and swung herself up. The outlaw had rolled from the fire, trying to smother the flames as he writhed about in the grass. She knew if he caught her he’d kill her on the spot, Jenks or no Jenks. Desperately she lifted the reins, barely glancing at him as she spurred the horse toward the trail.

She heard the thunder of hooves coming toward her even before she could see the oncoming rider. Oh, Lord—
Jenks
. Panic raced through her but she kept going, her heart in her throat. Suddenly a horse careened around a curve and loomed on the trail just before her. She screamed and tried to ride past, but the rider reacted like lightning, swerving to block her path and she saw the dark flash of a gun barrel in the sunlight.

“Emily!”

It was all she could do to stay in the saddle as Clint reined in and stared at her, a blaze of relief suddenly transforming his grim features. Behind him, Pete and Jake yanked their mounts to a halt.

“Sis—you all right?” her brother demanded.

“Where’s Ratlin?” Clint was asking and as her dazed gaze flew back to him, she saw the steely coldness return to his eyes.

There was no time to answer, no time to absorb the shock of seeing Clint and Pete and Uncle Jake together, riding hellbent up the trail—because at that moment shots rang out from behind and Clint charged forward toward Ratlin and the campfire, blocking her from the gunfire as he aimed and fired. Pete and Jake did the same, their mounts leaping forward, guns blazing, and she heard only the thunder of shots, one after another, echoing in deafening succession through the mountain. Gun-smoke filled her nostrils, she heard an agonized shout, and then silence.

From the brush came the chatter of a squirrel. Her horse pranced nervously, and Emily turned him in time to see both Clint and Pete dismount and stalk toward Ratlin, who lay fallen near the campfire. He’d managed to put out the flames and draw his gun … but he was the one who’d been shot.

He wasn’t moving. His mouth was open, slack. Blood soaked the grass, not far from where Emily had been sitting only moments before.

Emily clung to Ratlin’s horse, shaking, her gaze fixed on the bearlike man lying in his own blood. She watched Clint kneel beside him, heard him say something to Pete, who threw a satisfied glance at Uncle Jake, then holstered
his gun. Then they both wheeled away from the dead man and walked toward her, and she couldn’t do anything more than clutch the reins of Ratlin’s horse in hands that felt numb.

“Emily. Are you all right?”

Clint’s voice. Gentle. Quiet. Laced with something. Was it fear?

Pete was staring up at her. “Sis. It’s over…”

“Jenks” was all she could mumble, thinking blindly that she had to warn them. Jenks was coming back …

“He’s in custody,” Clint said. He reached up for her, grasped her gently, slid her down from the horse. “It’s over, Emily. It’s all over.”

She sagged against him, her knees buckling, as weakness and shock took their toll. She felt too dazed to understand what had happened; she only knew that his arms felt safe and strong, so strong as they closed around her.

“The stagecoach,” she whispered. “The passengers… you don’t know …”

“I know. I know all of it. Everyone’s safe. Thanks to your brother and your uncle here, and to Lester.”

At his words, another shock jolted through her. Uncomprehending, she gazed from him to Pete to Uncle Jake, still seated on his horse, his face as gray as his hair.

“But… how? I… I don’t…”

Clint’s arms tightened around her as he pulled her close and brushed a gentle kiss across the top of her head. “We’ve been working together to stop the holdup and to catch Ratlin and Jenks in the act. Your uncle has been cooperating with Hoot McClain, the federal marshal from Denver, but he filled me in on the day of the box lunch social—after you left with Joey. We set up Ratlin and Jenks, and now all we have to do is pick up Sleech and
Mangley back in Denver. But all that can wait, Emily …”

“You’ve been working
together?”

Jake cleared his throat. “We had to play along with Ratlin, sign on for the job. So’s we could find out the whole plan and who was behind it,” he said gruffly.

“You don’t think we’d go along with murder, do you, Em?” Pete shook his head. “We couldn’t tell you because we didn’t want you involved—”

“Involved?”
She couldn’t be certain she was hearing right. Caught between the urge to weep and the desire to burst into crazed, hysterical laughter, she could only shake her head slowly, as her chest knotted with a new unfamiliar pain.

“We wanted to protect you,” Clint said, cupping her chin, tilting it up so that she could see his eyes. They were filled with concern, worry, and tenderness. “We thought the less you knew till it was safely over, the better—”

“Oh, you did, did you?” Emily whispered, a catch in her throat. A dangerous sparkle burned in her eyes. “How
could
you!”

Emily wrenched out of his embrace and stared at him, then at her brother, then at her uncle who looked as frozen as a statue. Her knees were trembling so badly she thought she’d collapse, but sheer will and a sweeping fury kept her on her feet. “I knew something was going on, but I thought… I thought you were going back to your old ways,” she told Pete and Jake. She rounded on Clint. “And I thought you wanted to arrest them.”