Whirlwind Cowboy Page 22

  Mrs. Blue lowered the end gate of the wagon and Bram returned to Duffy. It took some effort, but he managed to get the wounded man into the buckboard.

  Marah climbed into the back of the wagon and carefully moved the ranch hand so that his head lay in her lap. “Cosgrove had Deborah in front of him on his horse and they were racing away.”

  Jordan closed the end gate and walked up the opposite side of the wagon.

  Michal brought out her pistol. “I fired t-two shots.”

  “So did I,” Jordan said fiercely.

  Bram gave Mrs. Blue a hand up into the buckboard. “I don’t know if any of us hit him, but we tried.”

  “Then we found Duffy here in this spot,” Marah said. “He really needs a doctor.”

  Bram helped Jordan and Michal into the wagon.

  Jordan looked at him. “Cosgrove wants that money, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Which meant Bram didn’t have much time to get to Deborah before the outlaw realized the stolen bills weren’t in her possession.

  He scanned the prairie from west to north then back to the south. Where would she take the bastard? Someplace close. A place she thought would be easily found.

  “Which way did they go?”

  “That way.” Marah pointed west.

  Bram’s head jerked toward her. “Back toward the Circle R?”

  “On a red roan gelding.”

  He almost smiled. Trust Marah to give him an accurate, detailed description.

  Bram strode to his horse and swung into the saddle. Deborah was taking Cosgrove to the cabin. She had to be.

  It was close. Somewhere Bram would think to look. He turned to her mother. “When you reach Whirlwind, tell Davis Lee and Jericho what’s happened. Send them to the cabin on the other side of the Circle R.”

  Mrs. Blue nodded, appearing calm despite the distress he saw in her eyes.

  “Can you ladies get Duffy to town all right?”

  “Yes.” Jordan took the reins from her mother.

  “Just find my daughter, Bram.”

  “I will, ma’am.” Urging Scout into motion, he rode past the barn and across the prairie. With the drought, the earth was too hard to show tracks, but he could still follow broken twigs or branches.

  He saw nothing until he came to a gully. The sun glinted off something that lay in a spidery patch of grass. Bram guided his horse closer, realizing it was a gun. He slid to the ground and scooped it up. Deborah’s pistol. The one she’d taken to Monaco. She’d been here recently.

  He slipped her weapon into his saddlebag, then remounted and urged the horse on, taking note of trampled grass in a narrow grove of trees. Making sure to keep an eye out for anyone who might be hiding in the sparse cover of the brush that dotted the landscape, Bram galloped through knee-high brittle grass.

  He came up on the back side of the cabin. Soon the side of the barn and the rear of the house became visible.

  In case someone was there, Bram halted his mount a good distance away and hobbled him to a stunted mesquite tree. He crept closer to the cabin, sliding his gun out of the holster and thumbing down the hammer.

  His heart beat hard and fast. If Deborah wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure where else to look.

  He topped a rise and saw an unfamiliar horse outside the barn. A red roan, its sides heaving, its coat dark with sweat. That had to be Cosgrove’s animal.

  Careful to move quietly through the dry crackling grass, Bram eased up to the window. He could hear the rise and fall of voices, both male and female.

  Pulling off his hat, he peered around the window frame and through the glass. There they were.

  When he saw Deborah, Bram’s heart stopped for a full two beats. She stood in the center of the room, her wrists bound together in front of her. Blood speckled the white collar of her gray dress, and a raw jagged fury slashed through him.

  From here, he couldn’t tell if she was physically injured. The thought that she might be had him fighting to marshal his rage, to focus. He needed to be calm, think. He had to get to her before Cosgrove figured out there was no money here.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Deborah wondered how long it would take Cosgrove to realize the money wasn’t here.

  Ever since directing him to the cabin, she’d had a sick knot in her stomach. Was this the best place to have brought him? It had made sense back at the house. In fact, it had been the only idea she thought would work, but she’d been operating on fear and desperation. She probably still was.

  “Check that cabinet,” Cosgrove ordered.

  Hands still tied in front of her, jaw throbbing where he’d hit her, she moved to the short work cupboard that sat near the dry sink. A Franklin stove squatted in the adjacent corner, covered with a thin layer of dirt just like the rest of the cabinet. She opened the cabinet, her nose twitching at the dust she stirred up. Empty.

  The cabin had been built by Bram’s uncle Ike when he and his late wife, Rose, first settled there. Though it sat unused for years, Jake had fixed it up last October for his and Emma’s honeymoon, installing indoor plumbing.

  Neck stinging from the cut Cosgrove had given her, Deborah ventured, “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Waiting for a chance to get you alone,” Cosgrove snapped. “Do you and your sisters ever do anything by yourselves?”

  “Not often.” When she had wanted to be close to Bram, she had found their constant presence sometimes annoying, but now she was thankful for it.

  “Ross has had someone guarding your house twenty-four hours a day since I arrived.” The outlaw’s voice took on even more of an edge. “Now look in the stove behind you.”

  Hands and clothes grimy, Deborah managed to open the cook door with her bound hands, then looked inside. Also empty.

  Cosgrove cursed, gesturing with his knife toward the bedroom. She skirted the small dining table Bram and Jake had made when they were boys and walked straight ahead. A blue-and-white quilt lay at the foot of the mattress; light blue curtains hung at the window, all still coated with dust from the storm.

  On the opposite wall sat a small heat stove. A bathtub with porcelain knobs was angled into the right corner.

  Cosgrove limped in behind her. She had noticed his uneven gait just after they had entered the cabin.

  “What happened to your leg?” she asked tentatively.

  “Got shot by someone in Monaco when I was chasing after you.” He tapped the knife against the door frame. “Back here. The wardrobe.”

  Deborah turned, walked to the tall narrow cabinet and opened it. Empty.

  His face darkened, his cold flat gaze drilling into her. He locked a hand around her upper arm and yanked her to him, pressing the knife under her chin. “Where is it? If you’re playing games with me—”

  “I’m not. I wasn’t here when Bram brought the money, so I don’t know where he hid it. It must be in the barn.”

  How much time would that buy her? Not enough. Would Bram think to look here? Would Jericho?

  She closed the wardrobe doors. “Have you been watching my house this whole time?”

  “I almost caught you the day you ran off, but I lost you in the dust storm. It allowed me to escape the authorities, too. I hid out in a lean-to until the wind quit.” He glanced down at his leg. “The gunshot became infected, so I healed up at the Eight of Hearts. Had a bed there and plenty to eat.”

  Deborah’s gaze sliced to him. Two months ago Bram, the Baldwins and the Holts had been involved in a tense stand-off with a band of rustlers that included Cosgrove. The owner of the Eight of Hearts, Theo Julius, and every member of the murdering Landis gang, save Cosgrove, had died in a shoot-out there. He had gone back to the very place he’d escaped.

  She didn’t need to wonder why he was being so free wi
th information. She knew he intended to kill her.

  “Look under the bed.”

  She knelt, keeping him in her line of sight as she bent to check beneath the mattress. The film of dirt hadn’t been disturbed. “It’s not here either.”

  He snatched her up by one arm, hauling her into the front room and toward the back door. “We’re going to the barn. You better hope the money is there.”

  “It has to be.” When Cosgrove discovered there was nothing in the barn except dirt and hay, he would be livid.

  Once they got outside, she had to make a run for it. She was afraid to wait any longer.

  He shoved her toward the rear of the cabin. Suddenly a knock sounded on the front door.

  Startled, both Deborah and Cosgrove jumped. He gripped her upper arm with bruising pressure. “What the hell—”

  Without warning, the door splintered off its hinges and fell into the room.

  Bram stood in the doorway, gun leveled at Cosgrove. “Let her go!”

  The outlaw dragged Deborah in front of him, one arm banded around her middle. He pressed the knife to her throat, the blade biting into her skin.

  “Ross, you better lay down your weapon or Deborah dies. All it takes is one slice right across her pretty throat.”

  Bram’s eyes darkened. Deborah could see he didn’t have a clear shot at Cosgrove. And wouldn’t have one unless she helped him.

  Everything happened in an instant.

  She went limp, causing Cosgrove to stumble. He quickly caught himself and shoved her at Bram.

  With her hands still tied, her balance was off and she couldn’t steady herself. Momentum had her careening right into him and he caught her, losing his grip on his gun when he did. It skittered a few feet away.

  Cosgrove dived for Bram. He shoved Deborah behind him and clamped both hands on the outlaw’s wrist, trying to keep the blade from slicing his face.

  He punched the other man in the stomach, then hit his jaw. Cosgrove stumbled back, taking Bram with him. The men crashed to the floor.

  Deborah searched frantically for the gun. There it was, under the dining table. Too near where the men grappled, grunting and landing blows.

  Cosgrove pinned Bram and raised the knife. Bram threw him off. Deborah raced for the gun, sliding to her knees and grabbing the weapon. Her hands were slick with sweat, making it difficult to hold on.

  She thumbed down the hammer and took aim, waiting for one clear shot. The two men rolled across the floor, hitting the wall. Cosgrove recovered first, raising his knife and plunging it straight toward Bram’s eye.

  Deborah fired, hitting him dead center. Cosgrove froze. He looked down at his chest, then at her. His eyes went flat. The knife clattered to the floor.

  She shot again. And again until the chamber was empty of bullets. The outlaw fell half on top of Bram.

  Shaking, tears blurring her vision, she cried out, “Bram!”

  “I’m here.” He shoved Cosgrove off him and slid across the floor to her. “I’m okay. Are you?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed. She held the gun leveled at the outlaw, her finger still on the trigger.

  Bram curled an arm around her waist and covered her hands with his big one. “He’s dead, sweetheart. Give me the gun.”

  “He’s really dead?”

  “Yes. All the way. You did it with your first shot.”

  “Good.”

  Dazed, she realized Bram was trying to ease the weapon from her grasp.

  “It’s okay. Give me the gun.”

  She released it and he laid it on the floor, catching her when she fell into him, crying.

  “Let me look at you. Are you sure you’re all right?” Bram drew back enough to run his worried gaze the length of her body. When he saw her face and neck, rage flushed his features.

  “Untie me, please,” she said raggedly.

  With shaking hands he loosened the ropes binding her wrists.

  She pushed them off and locked her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “You came. I thought it might be Jericho.”

  “I imagine he’s on his way. Davis Lee, too.”

  Sobs quieting, she drew in the reassuring scent of man and soap. Tears dampened his shirt and she held on for long moments until she stopped shaking. He stroked her hair, holding her tight. Just holding her.

  When she lifted her head, he tilted her chin to the side, staring at her jaw then the cut on her neck. “Cutting you wasn’t enough? He hit you, too.”

  “It could’ve been worse. For both of us.” She shuddered as she again saw Cosgrove bearing down on Bram with that blade aimed straight for his eye.

  Dragging in her first full breath, she ran her hands over his shoulders and arms. “Did he get you anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  Bram stroked her cheek. “Deborah, I—”

  “Ross!” a masculine voice boomed. “Deborah!”

  Surprised, she felt her pulse skip then level as she turned and saw the big man standing in the doorway. “It’s Jericho.”

  Bram helped her to her feet. Though she didn’t know where things stood between them, she was glad he was here.

  Her brother stepped inside and she went to him. He gathered her close and hugged her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. We both are.”

  Davis Lee followed, his gaze going over Bram, then Cosgrove. “Good. He’s dead.”

  “Thanks to Deborah,” Bram said.

  Jericho studied her soberly. “Did you empty your gun?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a shaky smile.

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Guess we’d better get Cosgrove to town and send a wire to the sheriff in Monaco,” Davis Lee said.

  Bram agreed, moving with the other man to the outlaw’s body. He grabbed Cosgrove under the arms and Davis Lee took the man’s feet. Together they carried him outside.

  Shaken, Deborah stared at the pool of blood on the pine floor.

  Jericho cupped her shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded. What she cared about right now was finding out if she and Bram were. She needed to talk to him. She needed him.

  Davis Lee and Bram returned. She couldn’t stop looking at Bram, scrutinizing every inch from his wide shoulders and big arms to his powerful thighs. He looked all right. Earlier, he had felt all right, but she wanted to hold him again and make sure.

  His gaze locked on her, too.

  Davis Lee scanned the cabin. “Cosgrove is loaded on his horse. We can take him back to town.”

  “I’ll get Deborah home,” Jericho said.

  Bram kept his eyes on hers. “Would you mind if I took her?”

  Her brother glanced down and she nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “All right, then,” Jericho said.

  After another hug and a quick shake of Bram’s hand, the two lawmen left.

  She wanted to apologize. It was a good sign that he wanted to see her home.

  He took a step and put his arms around her, pulling her into him. “Just let me hold you for a minute. I need to feel for myself that you’re really okay.”

  She laughed shakily, resting her head on his chest. “I need to feel you, too.”

  Dragging in his first full breath, he buried his face in her hair and ran his hands lightly over her. “I was on my way to speak with you when I ran into Jordan, riding hell-for-leather to tell me Cosgrove had you.”

  She lifted her head, her lashes still spiky from tears. “You were coming to find me?”

  Seeing the raw cut on her neck and the bruise forming on her jaw, he felt fury lash at him. He managed to keep his touch easy as he brushed his thumb along the uninjured side of her jaw. “To
apologize.”

  “Really?” she asked tremulously. “I should apologize, as well.”

  “You don’t need to.” Her gray cotton dress was dirty, speckled with blood, her face smudged. His heart turned over. “If you don’t let me get this out, I don’t know that I’ll be able to.”

  Her gaze searched his. “Okay.”

  “You were right.” He took in her delicate features. She was so beautiful. “I didn’t know you’d be offered the job again, but I knew it was a possibility when I went to Reverend Scoggins.”

  He paused, his chest tightening. Though he dreaded what he would see in her eyes, he had to confess. “I did ask him to write that letter and if you’d chosen to leave, I would’ve let you go. I was trying to protect myself, although I wasn’t really aware of it until you said it.”

  “Until I accused you.”

  “You had cause. I hurt you. It took Jake to make me see how much.” Curling one hand gently around her nape, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, honey. I’d like another chance, if you’re willing. I really want to try again, whether you take the job or not.”

  She raised a hand to his face and caressed his jaw, joy bubbling up inside her. “Really?”

  “Really.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. “I love you. Here, there or anywhere.”

  Her breath caught. “I love you, too.”

  His gesture gave her the confidence to say, “We need to talk about the teaching job.”

  He nodded, his gaze never wavering.

  “If I accept the position, we’ll probably have to still pretend to be engaged. Until my contract is finished.”

  “Well, that’s going to be a problem,” he rumbled.

  Her heart sank. She had hoped this wasn’t the end.

  He lifted her chin. “Because I want us to be engaged for real.”

  “What?” Her eyes searched his, her vision blurring slightly from sudden tears. “You trust me to come back?”

  “Yes.” He framed her face carefully in his hands. “And when your contract is up and you’re back here, I want you to marry me. If you want to think about it—”

  “I don’t need to think about it!” She threw her arms around him. “My answer is yes.”