First Class Male (12 page)

Mason didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He squeezed, felt the kickback slam into his shoulder and kneed Indigo to move. A moving target was a whole lot harder to hit. As the gelding scrambled backward, Mason saw the outlaw on the trail up ahead tumble from his horse and hit the ground. But Callie? He searched the slope but there was no sign of her.

Worry ate at him. One bullet, then two, whizzed by him, close enough to slice through the side of his shirt, tearing the fabric. He swung his rifle to the left and up, searching for the wide-brimmed hat hunkered down behind a protective shield of big rocks searching for the gunman. There that bastard was. Mason pumped the lever, squeezed the trigger, willed the bullet to hit.

Bingo. The hat went flying, but was it a good hit? Mason didn’t know. He galloped Indigo down the trail, cutting across the slope, driving for cover. The boulders were small, not optimal, but tall and wide enough to protect him and Indigo. Gunfire followed him in. Apparently it hadn’t been a kill shot, the now hatless outlaw was at it again. Judging by the flurry of bullets, he sounded a little pissed.

Well, that made two of them. Mason hunkered down behind the rock, taking a second to look around. There was Callie. His chest punched with relief, although it looked like Lew Folsom had her, dragging her by her braid up the slope. The gang leader stepped over his fallen comrade like he was a rock on the road and tossed Callie onto one of the horses. Mason grimaced, swore, cursed, wanted nothing more than to be able to get to her, but there was no way. No possible way. The outlaws rode out of sight, taking her with them.

Mason hung his head. Fury filled him like a volcano, bubbling hot lava of anger roiling around inside him, ready to blow. He heard the clomp of horses, of bridles jingling—his men had arrived.

“Marshal!” The hatless outlaw shouted from behind his rock. He was outnumbered, and the arriving lawmen were just out of his range, moving off the road, taking cover, moving forward cautiously. “I got a message for you.”

“Then let me hear it.” He eased around the rock, squinting down the rifle barrel gleaming blue in the sun. “Or are you afraid to stick out your neck?”

“We got your girl. You got our men.” The outlaw’s shout sounded a tad farther away. He was on the move.

Not going to work, Mason thought, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, there were Clint and Deeks on foot, on the other side of the road, in better range. Moving in to flank him.

Mason gave them a nod, knowing he could count on his men. He squinted up the slope, guessing where the outlaw would be. “Do you want a trade?”

“Tonight, sundown.” The answer came from above, moving, breathless. Maybe he’d been hit by that bullet after all. “You bring our men to Black Wolf Bluff. We’ll make the trade, then.”

“I want her unharmed.” Mason stepped out into the blazing sun, in full view. He wanted the outlaw to know he meant business. He planted his feet, raised his rifle, aimed where he suspected the outlaw would be. “If she’s hurt in any way, then we mow down your men.”

“Try it, and you’ll be dead, Marshal.” The threat seemed to chill the air, dim the sun.

“I’m not afraid of death.” He’d learned long ago some things were worth dying for. Cassie was one. “But I’ll take as many of you with me as I can.”

“I see your men flanking me.” The voice echoed in the canyon now, moving ever farther away. “If I don’t get back and meet up with Lew, he won’t wait until sunset. He’ll kill her. Don’t doubt it.”

Mason hung his head. He didn’t doubt it, and he couldn’t risk it. Frustration boiled up, anger erupting like a churning volcano. He hung his head, trying to control it, trying to push aside his fear for her.

“We know where they’re going.” Deeks ambled up, rifle in hand. “We know where they’re keeping her. I say we sneak in before sundown and take her.”

“No, that’s a decoy,” Mason ground out between gritted teeth. “Lew would never give away his location like that. He has to know how badly I want to rescue Callie.”

Determined, he caught a brief glimpse of a horse’s rump and tail as it disappeared around the rocks far overhead—it looked like the hatless outlaw wasn’t taking the same trail as his comrades, which Clint and Deeks had been counting on. Mason blew out an angry sigh, red hazing his vision.

“We split up, we track both parties,” he decided, mounting up. “Be aggressive, because Lew won’t let Callie live. He’s just hoping we’ll believe him and free his men, hoping for the trade. Well, we won’t do it. C’mon, Clem, you ride with me.”

Grim, the men returned to their horses, those still mounted wheeled up the hill, breaking into two groups. Mason led the way across the bluff, following Callie’s trail. His stomach clamped sickly, afraid for her, knowing what Lew Folsom was capable of.

Callie’s mouth felt like it was full of sand. She’d never been so thirsty. The blazing sun beat down on her relentlessly and had been for more hours than she could count. Her entire body ached, her hair had tumbled down on the run and was sticking against her forehead and cheeks, her sunbonnet was hanging by its strings down her back but she couldn’t reach it because her wrists were tied to the saddle horn. They’d been riding hard without a break. The sun was much lower in the sky, the shadows long. Maybe it was five o’clock, maybe six. The outlaws, two ahead and one behind her, pushed their horses relentlessly.

“Why are we passin’ by that creek, Lew?” the old man asked, puzzled. “The horses can’t go much farther without water. Neither can we.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lew pulled his horse to a stop, twisted in the saddle. His red bandana covered his face, keeping the dust out during the ride, but he yanked it down now to reveal a whisker-stubbled sneer. “If that worthless marshal was gonna kill one of us, why couldn’t it have been you? I don’t need your constant opinions, old man.”

“I got experience, more’n you.” The outlaw sneered, not bothering to hide his opinion of his gang leader. “You’d be smart to listen to me. I saw how that marshal kissed this girl, same as you did. I saw ‘em in the street together, and there’s some caring there. A man like the marshal, he won’t stop. This is personal to him. He and his men are coming, trust me.”

“Then where are they? I don’t see ‘em. We lost ‘em.” Lew guffawed, but he did dismount, swinging down easily as if the idea to stop had been his all along. “You don’t know everything, old man. Now water the horses, fill the canteens. We take five minutes, then we get back on the trail.”

The old outlaw muttered under his breath but dismounted with a creak of leather. He turned his horse and led him downhill to where cottonwoods shaded a cheerful little creek. Callie leaned forward in her saddle, yearning for that cool, fresh, sparkling water. Boy, it looked good. Her horse obediently plodded along behind Old Sam’s horse, as the outlaw headed toward the bank, gave his animal some rein and let him drink.

“What about me?” she asked, impatient. She watched the gray-haired outlaw cool himself by whipping off his hat and dunking it like a bowl into the creek. He didn’t answer, pouring water over his sweaty, balding head.

“What about you?” Lew spit out sarcastically, kneeling down to fill his canteen. “Oh, you think you deserve water too? That’s not how this works, Missy. You can’t be trusted, so you’ll sit up there tied in place. I don’t care if you’re thirsty. I don’t care if you die of thirst.”

Well, that didn’t come as a big surprise, she guessed. She glanced longingly at the water. At the glistening drops falling from Old Outlaw’s hat, at the ribbony current cutting through the center of the creek, bubbling over rocks. She sighed at the splashing sounds Lew made as he lifted his canteen from the creek and droplets of water dripped off, plunking back into the current, creating little radiating rings.

“But what if I need to use the privy?” She asked, trying to sound completely innocent, like a woman with no other motives than to find a nice private tree, boulder or bush to get behind. But really, once she was free she was going to run like the wind. “Please? I really need to go.”

“Then go.” Lew moseyed over, water dripping off his whiskey stubble. His canteen was clutched in one beefy hand, his rifle in the other. Something ugly shimmered in his black eyes—unveiled, unbridled lust. He looped his canteen over his saddle horn. “I’m not letting you down from that horse.”

“What?”
Well, that wasn’t sanitary nor would it work for her plan to run. She looked away, relieved she didn’t actually have to go very badly.

“I see you judging us.” Lew strolled over, unsheathing his knife. The dappled shade tumbled over him, flashing bits of scattered light and shadow. He jabbed the knife upward like a finger, catching the underside of her chin, tipping her face toward his so she could see the evil in his eyes, devoid of any humanity.

“Sweet, tiny thing like you,” he scoffed, “so uppity with your rules, so clean and tidy. You think you’re better’n us. Well, that virtuous life you live is all a lie, Missy. Might as well face the ugly truth. You live, you die, and in this life you only get what you take from others. Otherwise, you die without it. You’re gonna find that out, and believe me, I’m gonna enjoy showing you.”

She looked into his eyes, dilated to black, and knew he spoke the truth. He was going to take from her, kill her and love every minute of it.

“Horse and rider coming!” Old Outlaw shouted, raising his rifle as he ran, disappearing through the underbrush. “Aw, it’s just Si.”

“They’re following me.” The outlaw on horseback rode up the slope and into sight. “I ran hard to keep ahead of them, but that damn marshal is relentless.”

“Did he send a man back to the jail?” Lew wanted to know. “Are they gonna bring our men to Black Wolf Bluff?”

“I don’t know.” Si drew his horse to a stop, breathless. “Probably.”

“Good. We win.” A dark smile twisted his mouth as he refocused his attention on Callie. “We get our men back
and
we get to play with the little missy. That’s a good day.”

He drew the knife down the length of her throat, the razor-sharp tip gliding lightly along her creamy skin, not deep enough to cut, but the threat of it and what was to come left her numb with terror. The knife’s tip halted at her collar, dug into the hollow there, between her collarbones and hesitated.

Waiting for the cut, Callie squeezed her eyes shut, not able to stomach the mirth in Lew’s eyes. She thought of Mason, the image of him riding on horseback, charging up the slope after her, heedless of any danger to himself. Of how he’d towered over her on the town street, his big hands framing her face, his touch gentle, his blue eyes soft with emotion.

Mason. Affection warmed her, nostalgic and sweet. Her breath caught on a muffled sob, and she wished she wasn’t so afraid. Her heart fluttered wildly, the wind caressed her hair, tossing it over her shoulder and against the left side of her face while she felt the blade’s tip linger, still poised, as if its holder were debating the merits of plunging it deep into her neck.

A tear dripped out of the corner of her eye, sliding silently down her cheek. Was he going to kill her right now?

“Stop toying with the girl, Lew.” Si bellowed with authority. “We don’t have a lot of time if you want this to work. You ride ahead, we’ll erase the tracks and ambush ‘em here. Kill as many of ‘em as we can.”

“The bastards,” Old Outlaw groused, tightening the lid of his newly filled canteen. “They deserve to die. I’ll be glad to wait for ‘em, pick ‘em off on the trail as they come up. Si, you work on erasing our tracks. When this is all done, we’ll head over to Black Wolf Bluff and see if they released our men.”

Callie didn’t like this plan at all. She imagined Mason riding up first, cresting the small rise and getting shot. Again, he wouldn’t see the danger until it was too late. Her chest wrenched, and she could no longer deny the strength of her feelings for him. They were strong, vibrant and powerful, like nothing she’d ever known. He’d stolen her heart.

“Well, it looks like it’ll be just you and me, Missy.” Lew’s face twisted. His blade lifted, bumping over her collar to glide along the material of her dress. Not cutting, but easing down the valley between her breasts. He smirked, as the blade traced lower, between her ribs, over her stomach to halt at her crotch.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have some fun with you.” He sheathed the knife, mounted up. “It’ll be even better knowing that marshal wanted you, but he ain’t ever gonna get you. I will. I’ll be the one. Guess he’ll be watching from heaven, unable to stop what I’m gonna to do you.”

Callie gulped, her flesh breaking out in icy chills. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. Terror rattled through her, charging through her veins, making it impossible to think. As her horse lurched forward, continuing up the trail, she stared at the rope binding her wrists. Maybe if she could wiggle free, she could slide off the horse and maybe Lew wouldn’t notice. He was riding hard and fast, determined to outrun the lawmen after them—

Gunfire shattered the serenity. The faint drone of birds, ceased, the wind stilled, the furious
pop-pop-pop
of gunfire echoed through the canyon and the higher bluffs above. Mason. It had to be him. Lew stopped, swung his horse around and fired his gun. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing Mason to be okay, not to be the one surprised or possibly shot by those outlaws who’d been waiting to ambush him.