Texas Twilight (34 page)

“I don’t think you want to give your old
mother here a show that will shock the life out of her.” He reached
for his belt buckle. “You better start talking.”

Pop. Pop. Pop
.
The sound didn’t register to Lily until she saw Boone’s eyes go
wide. He tried to turn to see what had happened, but instead
pitched to the right, hitting the wall and sliding down until he
was on the ground, motionless.

Tante sat in her chair, the tiny derringer
still smoking in her outstretched hand. “You won’t hurt my Lily,”
she said calmly as she started to shake uncontrollably. Her eyes,
set deep in her wrinkled face, were riveted on Boone’s body, her
contorted expression one Lily had never seen. “You filthy dog.”

Voices boomed from downstairs, followed by
the sound of someone running up the stairs. Tucker, Theodore and
Emmeline burst into the room before Lily could even move to get
herself together.

“What happ—” Tucker began, gaping first at
Boone’s body, then at Harriett.

“I killed the man in black,” Tante Harriett
whispered. “He was going to hurt my Lily.”

She’d be
ready for that black-hearted bas—. Charity stopped the direction of
her thoughts. Luke always said anger hampered one’s thinking. Be
smart. Think.
She was a McCutcheon.
And McCutcheons
didn’t
die easily. She’d not be distracted when the door finally
opened. She’d be ready for
anything
.

Charity felt around the floor. She almost
smiled when lady luck placed her hand over a rock that fit
perfectly in her palm. Tenaciously, she began scrapping under the
door in the hard-packed earth. Over and over she pummeled with
vengeance, then brushed the dirt away. Shellston’s words rankled.
He wanted her dead. She’d heard too much in the candlelit bank. For
some reason, Shellston had had the stagecoach attacked. Innocent
people had died. John, Lily and Harriett could have been killed,
too. After what seemed like an eternity, she had to stop to catch
her breath. Perhaps they were planning to leave her here forever,
to die of thirst where no one would even know. In the heat of the
day that wouldn’t take long.

Again she attacked the ground. Sweat poured
down her face and stung her eyes. Her arms throbbed. The dull ache
radiated from her wrists up to her shoulders. She pounded and
scraped the earth, but it seemed part rock, too. Frustrated, she
flung the rock to the side and, like an animal, scratched with her
fingernails until the pain was too much. She stopped, then felt the
insignificant dent she’d made under the door.

Charity collapsed against the wall, panting.
She closed her eyes, and fingered her sore jaw, then let her hand
drop down to the dusty earth floor. What she wouldn’t give for a
cup of cool water. She licked her dry lips. Tried to swallow.

For several long minutes she just sat. Her
heart slowed. Time passed. A prayer of deliverance took flight.
With so much going on in her head, she never heard the soft
shifting of pebbles and sand beneath the door beside her.

Dustin
was already back from his search of the west end of the ghost town
when John came running in to their meeting place. They’d left the
horses and had ventured out on foot. “Nothing,” John said, feeling
desperate. He reached for the canteen on his saddle. After a long
drink he swiped his arm over his mouth and stood looking at the
town in the early morning light. “I found nothin’. You?” His
anxiety-turned-fury was getting the better of him. He didn’t know
this area. He felt impotent, useless. Charity had been gone too
long. She could be dead. Or, on the back of some horse headed for
Mexico, never to be seen again. He
wouldn’t
let that come to pass. She was his baby sister. It
was his job to keep her safe.

“I got nothin’ either,” Dustin said crossly.
He paced back and forth like a caged wolf, rings of sweat on his
shirt, anger blazing in his eyes. “I’ve been thinking, though.”

“And?”

“If I were those Comancheros I wouldn’t hang
out here. Too easy for raiders to swoop in and kill everyone. But
living out on the desert all the time would get old. Maybe they’re
close. Somewhere where they could get to the town easily when they
wanted to, but not live in it all the time.”

John gave him a look.

“Up on that hill.” Dustin walked through the
group of horses and pointed up behind the town.

“You may be right. Let’s go check it
out.”

“What about Brandon?”

“It’s been over twenty minutes since we split
up. I don’t feel comfortable waiting any longer. I think he’ll
figure out where we went and follow.”

It took ten minutes for the two cousins to
climb the hillside overlooking the deserted town. With Winchesters
in hand and their guns strapped to their thighs, they crouched
behind some rocks and took in the Comanchero’s camp, just waking
from the night.

“There’s a lot of ‘em,” John whispered,
scrambling up farther onto a big rock, careful to stay hidden. He
removed his hat and wiped the excess moisture from the inside
hatband. “Any sign?” She had to be here. If not, they wouldn’t have
any idea of where to start looking.

“No.” Dustin scanned the camp in the opposite
direction. “That doesn’t mean she isn’t here.”

John slid back down the rock. “I agree. Looks
to me like they’re breaking camp.” He looked over to his cousin.
“Does it to you?”

Dustin nodded. “More women and children than
men.”

“I’ve counted five men, although some are
pretty old. Still, doesn’t mean they can’t shoot.” Or do other
things, John thought. Like cut off the hands of a small child.
“Let’s get closer and see if we can see Charity.”

Charity came awake slowly. She blinked, and
for a moment she didn’t remember where she was. When realization
dawned, she clenched her jaw and pain exploded through her head.
Her fingertips felt bloody. She couldn’t have slept more than a few
minutes. A trickle of sweat eased down her temple and she brushed
it away. She leaned over to the crack between the door and jam,
intent on getting some air, when a rattling sound erupted in the
far corner.

Rattlesnake!

As slowly and as carefully as she could,
Charity turned back around, trying to move as little as possible.
Squinting through the dimness she could make out the outline of the
reptile coiled up in the corner. Above its raised head was a tail
that held a good three inches’ worth of rattles. As the deep timbre
indicated, this snake was a granddaddy, and huge, much like the one
that had been in the outhouse. After a few moments, it stopped
rattling as it stared back at her.

Her pulse quickened until she feared she
would pass out.

Dear Lord in heaven
. What now?

Charity fought to keep a rein on her fear,
which was vivid, rank and rapidly welling up inside her. What would
she do if it started her way? Where could she possibly go? There
wasn’t anywhere to climb to get out of its reach. She dared to take
her gaze away from the hideous reptile for just one moment, long
enough to quickly scan the low hanging ceiling. To her utter
dismay, it was completely smooth.

The door. Her only avenue of escape.

Charity peered again at the door handle she’d
checked countless times since being imprisoned. Was it was
substantial enough for her to get her foot onto? Perhaps she could
scramble up and somehow balance on the handle while garnering some
sort of hold at the top of the doorjamb. Still, if the diamondback
wanted to, she was sure he was large enough to reach up and strike
her.

The creature was still quiet. It lowered its
head and tail. It must have come in looking for a shady spot to
sleep away the day. There was movement outside and a few voices.
The snake raised its head. In a panic, Charity dared a look out the
crack by the door, praying it was her captor finally coming to get
her. At least with him she’d have a fighting chance when he went to
kill her. In here, she was totally defenseless.

Guttural voices wafted in, then somebody
walked by, leading a horse. The snake’s tail started to slowly
move. It wasn’t like the first explosive rattle when she’d
surprised it. This was soft, almost like the dance of raindrops on
a tin roof—but still, a warning no less. It saw her. And, didn’t
like her. In two seconds it could cross the room and sink its long
fangs into any part of her it wished.

Charity swallowed, wondering if anyone would
hear her if she screamed. Maybe they knew the snake was inside with
her. An accidental death would be convenient; the law wouldn’t be
about to pin it on anyone.

A scuffling sound outside made Charity look
against her will. A child. A child stood next to the door. He was
looking in.

“
Please,”
she whispered frantically. She stuck her fingers through the crack
a small way, wiggling them at the child. “Here, honey, open the
door. Open the door.
Please
.”

The little boy, who was no taller than three
feet high, startled when he heard her and saw her fingers. His eyes
went wide and he ran off as fast as he could go.

Tears
sprang to the surface and Charity had no defense against them.
“Come back.
Please
, come
back.” Her throat, tight from trying to hold in her emotions while
still getting her desperate whispers out, felt as if it would
snap.

“
Charity
.” The
voice was low and urgent.

Stifling her gasp, Charity turned so fast the
snake began his low warning once again. “Brandon,” she gasped under
her breath. “You’re here. You’ve found me.” Emotion flooded her as
tears sprang from her eyes and streamed down her face. Fearing to
move any more than necessary, she didn’t try to brush them away.
“There’s a huge rattler in here. Quickly—open the door.”

Charity
could see he held a large, leaf-covered branch over him as a cover.
He was in peril every moment he stayed outside her door. “Shhh,
honey, don’t cry. I can’t open it.
Yet
. It’s bolted and locked. If I shoot it off, it’ll bring
the whole camp down on our heads.”

“What are you going to do?”

He drew his Colt 45 and tried to push it
under the door. The gap was too small. “Not sure yet. John and
Dustin are here, too. Somewhere.” He paused, then looked
around.

“What? What are you thinking?”

“If I can find a large enough rock I may be
able to bust this off.” His face was so close to the crack she
could see the gold-colored flecks in his eyes that she knew so
well. He felt the lock, testing it. “No. It won’t work. Shooting is
the only way.”

“
Then
shoot it off! But get me out quickly. We’ll make a run for it.” She
looked over her shoulder. The snake wasn’t coiled any longer, but
stretched out on the back side of the wall, its head turned in her
direction. “
Brandon. Shoot it off!
”

When he looked at her through the gap she
didn’t like his expression. “What?”

“I’m going to have to leave for a little
while until I find your brother and get some back-up. If I try to
bust you out now we’ll both be killed.” He paused, still looking at
her. “I’ll be back.”

She stuck her fingers out and he caressed
them. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing,” she
murmured. “Please forgive me. I…”

“Shhh, Charity. There’ll be time later.” He
stopped and quickly flattened himself to the ground. Two men
talking loudly passed by and were gone.

“
Brandon,” she whispered as seriously as she could. “No.
Don’t go.
Don’t leave me here.
The snake has moved. It’ll come at me. I just know
it.”

“They sleep in the day, Charity,” he
whispered back. “Stay still. I’ll be back as fast as I can,
darlin’. Trust me.”

“Brandon?”

“
Brandon!
”

It was no use. He was gone.

W
ith John gone
and Dr. Bixby injured, Lily kept a close watch on Chaim as the
morning sun climbed higher in the sky. Mostly he slept, but once
he’d awakened and Emmeline had fussed over him like a mother dog
over her pup. She spoon fed him soup and held his head when he
asked for water. There was a slight sheen to his skin, but, all in
all, seemed to be on the road to recovery.

And, poor Dr. Bixby. Stretched out on a cot
in the doctor’s office, he eyed her each time she walked by. He had
a lump on his head and an awful headache and felt humiliated from
being tricked by the killer.

Winnie, Madeline and Becky all helped, as did
Emmeline. Somehow, Lily found herself in charge, so to speak, and
she attributed it to having been John’s assistant with Chaim.
Winston McCutcheon had rounded up a sizeable posse and had ridden
out over an hour ago, with Deputy Miller and Cradle Hupton.

Tante Harriett, still shaken, sat in silence
by the kitchen stove, sipping a cup of tea. Seeing her aunt made
Lily think of the jewel she had hidden away. As soon as she had one
spare second, she would wrap it up and send it back to Mr. and Mrs.
Lowerby, saying that Harriett had taken it and that she wanted to
give it back. They were good people, and surely after they had it
back they would forgive her. If they had gotten the law involved
she would tell them about the pawnshop owner and what he had tried
to do to her aunt. No need to involve John ever again now that she
had a plan. She’d put his life in danger once; she would not do it
twice.

“We’re taking Harland his lunch,” Tucker
called from the back door. “He must be spitting mad by now since we
forgot about him this morning.”