Happily Ever After in the West Page 16

  Over Teddy’s head, Ellie and Matt exchanged a long glance. “Guess it’s time,” Matt said quietly. He reached out and drew Ellie behind a storage bin.

  “Now remember, Ellie, walk slow and steady, like a man does. Keep your head down so the hat covers your face. You’ll have to back the mare up a few feet to turn the wagon—can you manage that?”

  “Yes,” Ellie said with a quaver in her voice. “I remember how you showed me. I can do it.” Yes, she could! Mama would never believe it, but…Mama would be wrong.

  “Give me five minutes to get situated so I can cover you. When you hear a shot, start moving.”

  “Yes, all right.” Her heart was starting to slam against her ribs so hard she knew he could hear it.

  “Are you scared?” he murmured.

  “N-no. I am terrified.”

  He chuckled, then reached under the hem of her overlong man’s shirt and slipped a revolver into her waistband. “Got six cartridges loaded. If you need to shoot, don’t stop, just keep firing.”

  “Just keep firing,” she breathed. “I’ll remember.”

  He turned his back to the wagon and the children lined up behind Teddy, making sure Ellie was screened from view. Then he moved in close, tipped his head down and brushed his mouth over hers. He kissed her again and she wound her arms about his neck.

  “Never kissed anyone that looked like a man before,” he said with a soft laugh. “Kinda liked it.” He wrapped her dress and shoes around the loaf of bread and hunk of cheese he’d lifted from the restaurant kitchen and stuffed the bundle into her arms.

  Tears burned into her eyes. He touched her arm. “Count seconds with me, Ellie, so we’ll come out together in about five minutes. Start now. One tomato, two tomatoes, three…”

  He glided out the door into the alleyway and disappeared. Ellie kept counting. “…four tomatoes, five tomatoes…” When she reached 297, she heard a shot. The signal! She squeezed Teddy’s shoulder and edged out the doorway.

  It hurt her squeezed-up toes to walk in Teddy’s boots, but she did her best, taking slow steps the way Matt did and keeping her head down. When she turned the corner of the building and surveyed the hotel front, her breath choked up inside her throat. Just keep walking. Breathe in and step forward. Breathe out and step again.

  She focused on the still-harnessed mare and began to move toward it. More gunshots and the tinkle of glass breaking. She felt naked and alone, even with the cold steel gun pressing into her belly. Pulling the hat brim lower, she forced her trembling fingers to untie the reins from the hitching rail. She kept her spine ramrod-straight; otherwise she would fold up like a rag doll.

  The mare tossed her head and glared at her with one huge black eye. Ellie tugged the harness backward. “Back up, girl.” She pitched her voice low but it shook audibly.

  The mare tossed her head again but stepped backward one step, then two. A window across the street shattered and Ellie chose that instant to climb up onto the wagon bench. Her knees shook, and her too-tight boots made her stumble, but she made it.

  She lifted the reins. When she felt the wagon move forward she thought she would weep with relief. Thank you, Matt, for showing me how to drive this thing!

  The moment she reined to a stop at the back kitchen door where the children waited, a white pinafore streaked forward and clambered into the wagon. On her heels dashed another child, and another, until all four girls were hunkered down on the wooden bottom. Teddy brought up the rear. He unfolded a quilt, pushed the girls underneath and crouched down under it himself.

  “Go,” he whispered.

  Ellie flapped the reins, turned the wagon in a circle so they were heading south and walked the horse away from town as casually as she could. Not one word was uttered for a good half hour, and by then they were on the road, heading for the river camp.

  They were safe, thanks to Matt. And thanks to her, she acknowledged with pride. In two days she had accomplished things she’d never dreamed possible—and that included kissing Matt Johnson. She let her head droop so the tears washing down her cheeks would not upset her students.

  That man. That brave, courageous man had saved all their lives. For as long as she lived, she would never forget him.

  Chapter Nine

  Between spurts of gunfire, Matt listened for the sound of a horse and wagon on the road out of town.

  He could keep Royce pinned down for only so long; each time he stopped to reload his revolver, gunshots nicked the wooden wall behind him.

  Matt held his fire, listening hard for the clop-clop of a single horse’s hooves telling him Ellie and the children were on their way. And, there it was! He put three quick shots through the dressmaker’s front window to cover the sound of the rumbling wagon, then listened until he could no longer hear it.

  Matt squeezed off another round, hoping for some return fire so he could keep track of his quarry’s location. Royce did not return fire.

  The silence stretched too long. Had Royce caught a bullet?

  Matt crouched, waiting in the narrow alley between the feed store and the mercantile. The sun rose like a big yellow ball behind the hotel, flooding his once-dim hiding place with light. He’d have to take better cover.

  Cautiously he backed down the alley and circled around behind the newspaper office. Still no movement from across the street. Not more than ten yards separated the two men.

  Matt crept cautiously over to the dressmaker’s back entrance. Still no sound from Royce. Could he have taken a bullet?

  Very slowly Matt stood up. Still nothing. Dammit, he had to know, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to cross the street to find out.

  “Royce?”

  No answer.

  “You in there?” Matt cracked the door open.

  A lean black cat arched its back and glared up at him with indignant yellow eyes.

  “Royce?”

  The shop was deserted. Shards of window glass peppered the pine floorboards, but there was no sign of Royce. Somehow the man had again slipped through Matt’s fingers. He swore under his breath. The man was slippery as a—

  He stopped short, staring down at the floor. Glistening spots of dark blood dotted a path that led out the front door.

  Matt bolted through the entrance onto the boardwalk, revolver cocked and ready.

  The street was empty. Royce was wounded, but he’d gotten away. Then he heard the fading clatter of a galloping horse.

  Matt swore aloud. He’d have to track the man all over again, but it should be easy this time, since Royce was bleeding. He strode down to the livery stable for his horse, mounted and began to pick up signs of Royce’s trail. Fresh horse tracks. And blood.

  All at once he went cold all over. Royce’s trail led straight south, toward the river camp where Ellie and the children would be.

  He kicked the gelding hard and began to pray.

  The wagon rattled off the road and into the stand of cottonwood trees bordering the river. Ellie reined the dappled gray to a stop and sat motionless, her head bowed. She’d done what she thought she could never manage: she had climbed up onto the driver’s bench under the nose of a murderer and driven the children out of town to safety.

  Now she found she could not stop shaking.

  Teddy crawled out from under the quilt and sucked in a lungful of air. “It’s hot under there,” he complained. “And it smells like girls.”

  Ellie choked back a laugh. “Tell me, Teddy,” she asked, trying to keep her face straight, “what do girls smell like?”

  “Soap ’n’ stuff,” he grumbled. “It’s hard to get the smell outta my nose.”

  “You don’t have a sister, do you, Teddy?”

  The boy’s forehead wrinkled. “Not me. Don’t want one, neither.”

  “Either,” she corrected automatically.

  “Well, I sure don’t.”

  The girls began to emerge from their hiding places under the quilt, Sarah first, then the Ness twins, holding each other’s hands. Last cam
e Manette, gripping the loaf of bread under her arm. She presented the block of cheese, still wrapped in a dish towel, to Ellie and slapped the bread onto the bench beside her.

  Ellie had never been so grateful for a simple loaf of bread. “Let’s eat something, shall we? How about sandwiches?”

  She dug Matt’s pocketknife out of her trouser pocket and set about cutting thick rounds of bread and folding them over slices of cheese. Manette wolfed hers down and reached out her hand for another. The twins and Sarah nibbled daintily at their food while Teddy waited patiently at the end of the line.

  She had just started to slice the cheese for herself when she heard a rough male voice from across the river.

  “Might make one o’ those for me, too, kid.”

  Ellie went numb with terror.

  A stocky red-bearded man splashed across the river on a scruffy-looking white horse with a black star on its forehead. He rode up to within a few yards of the wagon and drew rein.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said in her iciest tone.

  “A polite one, are ya? I said make one of them sandwiches for me.”

  Ellie stared at him. “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Royce. Randall Royce. Now, kid, where’s my sandwich?”

  Royce! Ellie flinched. The man Matt was chasing? It couldn’t be…unless Matt was— She clamped her lips together, unable to finish the thought.

  “J-just a moment,” she said as calmly as she could. “I’ll s-slice off some more bread.”

  “Ain’t goin’ no place, boy. I’ll wait.”

  Ellie’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “Teddy,” she said under her breath. She motioned the children back under the quilt. When they were all hidden, Ellie turned her attention to the bread beside her on the wagon bench.

  Royce stepped his horse closer. “Hurry it up. I’m ’bout starved.”

  She jammed the pocketknife into the loaf and began sawing off a ragged chunk, then another. She laid them side by side and slapped a slice of cheese down. When she was about to clap the second slice on top, Teddy’s grubby fist poked out of the quilt and opened to reveal a palmful of sand and sawdusty-looking grit. From the bottom of his pants pocket, she guessed.

  She almost crowed aloud with delight at the boy’s ingenuity. Quickly she glanced at Royce, now busy with his horse trappings, and swept the stuff out of Teddy’s hand and into her own. She dumped it over the cheese and folded up the sandwich.

  “Here you are, Mr. Royce.” She held out her concoction. He snatched it out of her hand and stuffed a corner into his mouth. Trembling, Ellie busied herself making a sandwich for herself. She deliberately kept her motions slow to take as much time as possible.

  Royce gobbled down half his sandwich and abruptly spat it out. “What the—?”

  “It’s the cheese,” Ellie said quickly. “I buy it special at the mercantile. It’s rolled in…” She racked her brain. “…cracker crumbs. Makes it taste—”

  “Tastes like hell,” Royce bit out.

  At least, Ellie thought with relief, he didn’t say it tasted like sand. She bit into her own sandwich, smiled and purposely spoke with her mouth full. “Crunchy.”

  Royce sent her a black look, then led his horse behind the wagon and tied it to a drooping pine branch. Her throat tight, she chewed slowly and watched every move the man made, screening her face behind her half-eaten sandwich.

  What should she do? Act as if everything were normal? Try to escape?

  But where should she go? She had no way of knowing if it was safe to return to Smoke River. Back to Gillette Springs, then? No, she couldn’t risk it. Royce might follow her. Besides, Matt was there.

  For the moment the man was sitting on the riverbank, cleaning a… Oh, good heavens! He was cleaning a revolver. Then he toed off his boots and stuck his huge bare feet into the cold water.

  She gulped. She had Matt’s gun in her pocket. Could she sneak up on Royce and—? And what? Hold him at gunpoint? For how long, an hour? All day?

  All night? She edged her fingers toward her weapon.

  Too late. Royce reloaded the revolver and laid it within his reach. Ellie’s hand froze. For a split second she wished she was underneath the quilt with the children.

  Afraid to move, she sat on the wagon bench and tried to think. She was still there a half hour later when the faint sound of hoofbeats reached her ears. Matt. It had to be Matt.

  She concentrated on remaining motionless, and when the hoofbeats grew louder, she began kicking her boot heels against the side of the wagon to cover the noise.

  Royce heaved his bulky frame to a standing position and stuffed his dripping feet into his boots. Picking up the revolver, he stomped toward the wagon, idly sliding the weapon into the holster buckled around his girth.

  Ellie kept kicking her heels against the wagon. The more noise she could make, the less chance Royce would hear the approaching horse. And maybe her loud thumping would warn Matt.

  “Got anythin’ else to eat?”

  She shook her head and kept up the drumming.

  “Got any— Hey, kid, stop that noise!”

  Ellie stilled her feet and waited. Now there was no sound of a horse, just the moan of the wind through the treetops. Where was the rider she’d heard?

  Royce strode closer. “Got any whiskey?”

  “Nope,” she said, keeping her voice as low as she could. “How come?”

  “Don’t take spirits.” Ellie prayed he would not notice the lumpy quilt in the wagon bed.

  “Oughtta try it sometime, kid. Grows a boy into a man damn fast.”

  Ellie nodded but said nothing.

  “I saw you leave town a while back. Where’re you headin’?”

  She dropped her chin to her chest and pretended she hadn’t heard the question.

  Royce bellied up to the wagon bench. “Don’t talk much, do ya?”

  She had to get him away from the wagon and the children hidden in the back. She climbed down from the bench, pushed past the big man’s shoulder and muttered a single word. “Thirsty.”

  She headed toward the river.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Royce dogged her steps to a flat rock where she perched on her knees and leaned down to scoop up a palmful of water. Her fingers had just broken the surface of the river when she heard the click of a revolver safety and Matt’s voice.

  “Don’t move, Royce.”

  Something swished in the trees across the river, and then Matt appeared, his gun barrel leveled on Royce.

  “Gawdalmighty,” the man behind her muttered.

  Matt waded into the river. “Drop your gunbelt and put your hands in the air.”

  Before she could draw breath, a meaty arm snaked around her shoulders and dragged her upright to shield Royce’s body. He shoved the cold muzzle of his revolver under her jaw, forcing her head back. Her hat flew off and her unbound hair tumbled down.

  She felt Royce jerk in surprise. “Well, I’ll be—”

  He repositioned his arm across her waist, pulling her back against his chest so tight she couldn’t breathe. Something wet and sticky was seeping into the back of her shirt. Blood! He was wounded!

  “I’ve got me a hostage!” he shouted.

  Matt kept coming. “Won’t work, Royce.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “Because,” Matt said, his voice flat and hard. “I’m going to kill you no matter what.”

  “You come one step closer and I’ll shoot her,” Royce yelled.

  Matt’s eyes met hers for an instant, and that was all it took. She knew without a doubt that he’d come for her, not for Royce. Now she had to gather her courage and grasp at the life she wanted.

  “You hurt her and I’ll shoot you anyway. Right through the heart.”

  Her life hung by a thread. She had to do something. It took her three full breaths to work up enough courage to speak.

  “I…I have something to say.”

  “Yeah?” Matt said.

  “If I were standing in
your shoes, I would let this man go.”

  His jaw sagged open, then snapped shut. “Are you crazy? I’ve been tracking this killer for four years. Why should I give up now that I’ve got him right where I want him?”

  Ellie looked straight into the gray-green eyes of the man she had come to care about. “Because,” she said slowly and quietly, “because living is better than dying. Because nothing comes for free. And…” she balled her hands into fist. “…because maybe you have found something more important than killing this man.”

  “Hell!” Royce burst out. “Women are sure crazy.”

  For an endless minute Matt stared at the man he’d sworn to kill. “Not this woman,” he said quietly. “Not crazy at all.”

  “Huh?” Royce’s arm about her waist went slack.

  Matt sent Ellie a long, long look, and when he spoke to Royce it was her he fastened his gaze on. “I’ll make a deal with you, Royce. I know you’ve taken a bullet. You ride with me to the doctor in town and then to the nearest Federal Marshal’s office and I won’t put another shot into your gut. A trial should have you hanging at the end of a rope.”

  “Now, why would I want to do that?” Royce grumbled.

  Ellie saw in an instant what she needed to do. She ducked her head, twisted away from Royce’s grip and dived for the river.

  Royce fired at her, but the bullet ricocheted off a flat rock and lodged in a tree trunk. He then swung his revolver toward Matt, but another shot ploughed into the fleshy part of Royce’s upper arm. His gun hand went slack.

  Matt charged him, knocked his weapon away and wrestled him to the ground. Royce groaned like a branded steer.

  “Get up,” Matt ordered. “There’s a doctor in Gillette Springs and a U.S. Marshal’s office in Dakin. That’s sixty miles east, so get moving.”

  He splashed back into the river and hauled Ellie up into his arms. “I’ll find you,” he breathed into her ear. “Wait for me.”

  Chapter Ten

  The warm June afternoon brought the lazy drone of honeybees and the scent of damask roses through the open window in Ellie’s small cabin. She drew in a deep breath, savoring the spicy-sweet scent, and pondered her friend Lucy’s question.