Comanche Cowboy (The Durango Family) (40 page)

Was it a sign? He tried to think of an appropriate verse that had to do with eagles. Well, maybe just this once it might be a coincidence. . . .

Tomorrow at sundown
, he thought.
Tomorrow night
is the climax
. If the Rangers just get here in time. He thought suddenly about Maverick Durango. Was he coming for him? Was Annie’s vengeful son even now on his way to kill Joe?

All he could do was wait and pray. Somehow, he knew that for good or evil, it would all come to a finish in the dusty little town of McBride, Texas tomorrow night!

Cayenne studied Maverick as they reined up on the little bluff. In the distance to the south, she could barely make out the outline of the tiny hamlet of McBride. Should she finally confess? What would she do if he turned around, rode off, and left her without a word? But was it fair not to tell him until minutes before he ran smack-dab into the gunfighters?

“What day is it?” Maverick asked. “I’ve lost track.”

Cayenne shrugged. “Must be Monday. I think I see wash hanging on lines like big white sails.”

Maverick looked off toward the west. “The sun will be going down in another couple of hours. Is that McBride ahead of us?”

Cayenne nodded, her soul full of turmoil.
What was
she going to do
? “We’ll hit town just about dusk. Our ranch is on the far side of McBride. Maverick . . . ”

“Yes?” His own face bore an expression of inner turmoil.

“I—let’s sit down here a moment in the shade of this tree, rest the horses.”

His brow wrinkled. “This close to home? Looks like you’d be in a big hurry if someone’s sick after all you’ve gone through to get here.”

“We’ve got to talk.” She dismounted, tied Strawberry so she could munch grass, and went over to sit in the shade of a big mesquite. She’d made her decision. Her heart was at peace now.

“About what?” He didn’t meet her eyes and his finger went up to stroke the scar on his face over and over. Almost reluctantly, it seemed, he swung down, came over, and sat on the grass next to her.

How could she put it so he wouldn’t hate her? Wouldn’t be angry with her? She was going to tell him the truth even if he mounted up and rode off, leaving her on her own. Then she wasn’t sure what she would do.

“Maverick”—she picked up a blade of grass, sticking it nervously in her mouth—“—I’ve lied to you from the front end.”

He looked at her sharply, then stared off in the distance as he rolled a cigarette. “Sometimes people have to lie.”

“You’re saying that the end justifies the means? That goes against everything I’ve been taught.”

He didn’t answer as he fumbled through his pockets before seeming to remember he’d used his last match to start the canyon fire. “People do what they must, I reckon.”

She had expected curiosity, maybe anger, certainly not this evasive barricade of words he seemed to be throwing up between them.

“Aren’t you curious about what I lied about?”

He looked at her, the unlit cigarillo in his mouth. “I take people as I find them, baby, at face value. Do you want to tell me?”

She stared at his remote, silent profile as he turned to stare off at the distant town. “I—I’ve got to tell you or my conscience would never let me rest. Maverick, there’s nobody sick at my house.”

“Then why the big rush to get home?”

She reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I—I needed a gunfighter, and you proved in that saloon you could really handle yourself. . . .”

“I’m not a hired gun,” he said coldly, not looking at her. “Why would you need one?”

“I got a letter in Wichita. Three men have come to my father’s ranch and might be on the run—you know, outlaws.”

Maverick looked at her. “So? Why doesn’t your old man do something about it? Isn’t he supposed to be such a good shot?”

“Against three men?” she asked. “My stars! Even if he weren’t disabled because of the Indian torture, he wouldn’t have a chance against three top guns. Besides, there’s the children’s safety and—”

“And?” He stared at her, his gray eyes as cold and remote as stone.

She looked away, not wanting to voice her suspicions but she must. “I don’t know why Papa hasn’t called in the Rangers. Maybe—maybe he’s hiding something. Maybe a long time ago, he knew Bill Slade and the outlaws have something on him.”

“Bill Slade?” He looked at her keenly. “Someone else mentioned him to me once; said he was mean as hell and a top gun.”

Her face colored with shame. “So you see what I’ve lured you into,” she said. “Without warning you, I’ve lured you into coming back with me to face him and his partners down.”

She waited a long moment but he only stared at the town in the distance, chewing the end of the unlit cigarette. Whatever she had expected—anger, indignation—she had not expected him to simply stare into the late afternoon horizon. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

He tossed away the cigarette. “I heard. You didn’t have to tell me, knowing I’d probably get on my horse and ride away. You could have let me ride into a showdown I’d have to fight my way out of. Why did you bother?”

He turned and looked at her, and she shook her head helplessly. “Because I love you, Maverick, you surely must know that by now.”

His hands came up, clasped her shoulders, and pulled her to him. “How much?” he whispered. “How much? Would you be willing to go off with me, be my woman, leave here without a backward glance?” His face was contorted with emotion and his hands trembled on her shoulders.

She slid her arms around his neck. “I—I can’t imagine living anywhere but the Lazy M, leaving my family. But for you, Maverick Durango, I’d turn my back on it all, go anywhere with you, be your woman.”

“Oh, Cayenne!” He pulled her to him, kissing her feverishly. “I’ll ride out to your ranch, deal with your damned outlaws, and then I’m gonna take you away with me forever!”

She clung to him, loving him so deeply she would have sacrificed anything to stay by his side forever. “I love you, dearest; whatever you want I’ll do even if it means living on the trail, maybe a shack somewhere.”

He kissed her again and pulled her to her feet. For a long moment he stared down at her. She almost thought he would make a confession, too. He seemed to be caught in a turmoil of emotion. Finally, he said, “I’ve got something to do, but after that’s over, we’ll have each other and never look back! Now let’s go to town!”

Out at the Lazy M, Joe heaved a sigh of relief as the little girls and old Rosita loaded into the buggy with much giggling and rustling petticoats. He leaned on the porch rail and admonished them. “Now, you enjoy your supper and prayer session at the Harrison’s ranch, you hear? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lynnie said, “Why don’t you go with us, Papa?”

“I got prayin’ of my own to do right here.”
Tonight
, he thought,
Monday evening
. In another hour, Slade’s gang would try to move on that payroll coming in on the stage from Austin. He not only wanted the citizens safely in their homes, Joe wanted his beloved little girls safely away from this ranch. “I’m gonna do some praying all by myself,” he said again. And to himself, he thought,
I got to pray that the Rangers get here in time
.

The buggy creaked as the lop-eared old mule pulled away with the children, Juan, and fat Rosita. Joe waved automatically as the little girls set up a shrill chorus of good-byes.

“And Angel,” he said automatically, “please remember to keep your thumb out of your mouth.”

He stood there a long moment, thinking as the noise of the creaking buggy moved farther and farther away.
What to do now
? Maybe he should do nothing at all. Let the Rangers deal with it. After all, he was in no danger if he kept quiet and let Slade’s boys ride into town in a few minutes. If they did rob the stage without being stopped, they’d head up to the old hideout and he could tell the law where to find them later. At least, with the children gone and the townspeople all having the evening prayer session he’d requested, nobody would get hurt.

Could he possibly do anything to stop that trio all by himself? He limped inside, went into the parlor, and stood before the stone fireplace, thinking about the guns hanging there. Common sense told him to do nothing at all since, besides his physical problems, he was so outnumbered. Did he hear a horse leaving the barn at a gallop? No, maybe he was mistaken. When they got ready to go for the holdup, there’d be three horse leaving.

Bill Slade stood staring after Trask as he galloped out on his dun horse. He turned to the Mexican standing beside him in the barn door. “I told him to circle around, intercept that buggy, take it on to town.”

The Mexican tipped his sombrero back and laughed. “
Si
, good thinking! That way, we’ll have those little McBride girls and the servants to use as hostages or shields if anything goes wrong when we hold up the stage!”

Bill chewed his lip and looked across the landscape toward the rambling ranch house. “It’ll be dark in about thirty minutes. You got our horses saddled so we can meet Trask in town when the stage rolls in?”

“
Si
, boss,” he nodded over his shoulder. “Right here. What you gonna do about McBride?”

Slade snickered. “What you think I’m gonna do about him? You think I’d plan to ride out and leave him alive to tell where our old hideout is so we can be found later?”

“You got no qualms about shootin’ a man in his shape?”

Slade spat on the ground and lit a cigar. “You know me better than that, Mex. Follow me on up to the house with the horses. After I kill him, I intend to take that fancy rifle hanging over the fireplace.”

“
Si
, boss, I’ll be right behind you.” He scratched his swarthy face. “What do you intend to do about Wilbur?”

“I took care of that stupid little hick.” Slade checked his pistol. “Now that we know the details of the gold shipment, we don’t need him no more and one less means more for us to split.”

The Mexican’s white teeth gleamed. “What’d you do?”

“I sent him a secret coded message tellin’ him to meet us to get his share.” He named the place he had indicated.

Mex snorted with laughter. “That place is a gathering spot for Indians!”

Slade shrugged. “Stupid little Wilbur doesn’t know that. If the Injuns get him, not only do we not have to share with him, we don’t have to worry about that stupid little hick in his green eyeshade leadin’ the law to us. Which reminds me, I’d better go finish off McBride.”

Slade strode on across the barnyard to the silent house, his big spurs jangling.
It wasn’t too long ’til dark,
he thought as he blew smoke. He and Mex would finish up here and meet Trask in town just at the moment the stage pulled in. All he had to do now was walk in and shoot his unsuspecting old partner down.

Cayenne and Maverick reined in at the end of Main Street. “That’s strange,” she said, standing up in her stirrups, looking around. “Where is everybody?”

Maverick muttered. “This town always so deserted?”

Cayenne shrugged. “Not usually.”

Loud music and laughter drifted to her. “Of course banker Ogle’s saloon never closes.” She frowned, staring. “I’d swear that’s the Lazy M buggy tied up in front of the general store.”

Maverick hesitated. “Comanches are like wolves sometime; we can almost smell a trap.” He looked at her.

Her mouth fell open. “You don’t think I’d set up an ambush for you? What reason could I possibly have? I love you, Maverick!”

He didn’t answer, looking away as if he knew something he didn’t want to share with her. “Well, if there’s no problem, I see redheaded kids in that buggy, maybe you better go see about them.”

She nodded, dug her heels into Strawberry’s sides, and started through the pale dusk of evening down Main Street. When she turned in her saddle and looked back at Maverick sitting like a dark, forbidding spectre on his ghost-gray horse, the scripture came to her again. . . .
and hell followed with him
.

The thought disturbed her and she waved at her little sisters, yelling as she approached them. When she glanced back, Maverick was gone.

What was he up to
? Had he decided he wanted no part of facing those three gunfighters at her papa’s ranch? Or had he already headed out there to deal with them? No, the Lazy M lay to the south of town. He’d have to ride past her to get there.

“Sis! Sis!” The little girls waved and she rode up, dismounting.

Only then did she notice the Mexican servants in the buggy. “Juan! Rosita!” She hugged them and reached to kiss all her little sisters. Automatically she straightened Stevie’s pigtails, tied Gracie’s sash, and pulled Angel’s thumb from her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

Serious little Lynnie pushed her glasses back up on her freckled nose. “We were going to the Harrison’s ranch for dinner, but Trask came riding after us, said there’d been a change in plans.”

Old Rosita nodded, “That’s right, Senorita. Trask say there is to be a surprise party here in town for your papa. We’re to sit quietly until they bring him in, too. Then everyone who’s in hiding in the stores and houses will jump out and yell, ’Surprise!’ ’Surprise!’ ”

Cayenne looked around. The town looked pretty deserted to her. “So what happened to Mr. Trask?”

Rosita shrugged. “He went into the saloon, said he needed to get wine for the celebration.”

Cayenne’s face furrowed. “Someone should tell him Papa doesn’t drink.”

Lynnie cocked her head seriously. “I think the idea of a surprise party is stupid! Doesn’t this all sound strange to you, Cayenne?”

Cayenne had a sudden, strange intuition that Papa was in danger. Suppose this Trask had slipped out the back way and was on his way back to the ranch? The only way to find out was to see if his horse was tied around behind banker Ogle’s saloon. She slipped quietly along the edge of the building into the alley.
Where was Maverick now that she needed him
?
He’d promised to help her; he’d promised
.

She rounded the corner, sighing with relief to see a dun horse tied there. She heard a slight sound like a man dragging a lame foot. But before she could turn around, a man stepped out of the dusk and stuck a gun in her back. “Evenin’, miss. Just what are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she blurted, feeling the barrel digging into her back. Whoever this man was, perhaps he thought she was looking at the horse to steal it. “You misunderstand,” she stammered. “I’m Cayenne McBride and—”

“Old Joe’s girl?”

She could only nod, suddenly frightened at the menace in his tone, the way he slipped his arm around her neck from behind as if to throttle her should she scream.