Liberty Belle (32 page)

A rider galloped in on a gray horse and rode behind the barn. She wished she’d gotten a better look at him so she could describe him to Mr. Rowen.

Cookie snapped the whip and drove toward town. She must remember to ask her employer about the strangers who frequented the outbuildings but never the house. By their rugged appearance and harsh language, Rowen’s employees were not a good influence for the children.

Cookie growled at the horses.

After a few more curses from the driver, Libby cleared her throat loudly and speared him with her stare. “Please watch your language.”

He glared at her. “Wasn’t talkin’ to you. Words was aimed at the nags.”

She returned his glare. “Coarse words are the sign of a feeble mind.”

The man scrunched his lips as if thinking what to say, but instead grunted and turned his attention back to the horses.

Mercifully, they continued into town in silence. Unfortunately, she probably wouldn’t be able to count on any more cooking lessons from the crusty cook. At least she could make biscuits. Her heart lifted when she saw Mr. Myers outside the newspaper office.

Cookie stopped the horses but didn’t budge from the driver’s seat. He merely pointed at the building. “There it is.”

Rude man
. She gathered her skirt and rose to climb down.

“Miss Libby, let me help.” Jonas Myers glared at Cookie as he ran to her side. He took her hand and steadied her.

“Thank you, Mr. Myers.”

“Now, now. None of that. Call me, Jonas. A letter arrived for you yesterday.”

Without acknowledging her, Cookie slapped the reins and drove away.

Libby didn’t care. She missed her parents, conniving mother and all. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“Jonas, would you send word to Mr. Sweeny that if possible, I need Tobias to drive me around?”

“You are an independent lady. I’ll send a boy with the message but first come inside and read your letter.”

Her breathing rushed as she followed the man into the office.

The newspaper man fished through the papers on his desk and came up with an envelope. “Hope it’s good news. I’m sure you must miss your family.”

She grasped the letter. “Yes, I hadn’t realized just how much until now.”

He pulled a chair out for her. “You sit, and I’ll see about your buggy.”

As if already transported to Missouri, she sat and traced a finger over her name written in her mother’s writing. Vaguely, she heard Mr. Myers footsteps as he walked away. Anxiously, she slit open the envelope.

Dearest Libby,

Your father and I were frantic to find you had left us. But with great joy we received your letter along with Flora’s. I want so to scold you for scaring us, but am relieved to hear you are well.

Thomas asked about you. He loves you dearly and will marry you if only you say yes. He can take care of you in the manner you are accustomed. Please consider the marriage.

…We are coming ...

Love you, my darling daughter,

Mother.

Coming to Denver? She searched for the date of the letter. Two weeks ago. Her parents could be here any day. Joy mingled with dread. She missed them, but would they drag her back to Missouri? Force her to marry Thomas?

“Where are you, Wade?”

Chapter 32

Wade kept to the woods along the creek. He held Fuego to a slow walk and watched the man on the gray disappear behind Rowen’s barn. Cold sweat dampened his back. Was Libby in danger? A sudden movement south caught his eye. The other three riders loped out of the trees and rode toward town. His
law sense
set him on their trail. He’d heard nothing but good about Rowen. Surely the man would protect her.

Wade urged Fuego into a lope and headed to the nearest row of tents. Well away from the riders, he dodged around the canvas huts and reined his horse onto the road behind a wagon. The man on the bay looked back once but didn’t make eye contact.

Halfway down the street, the three of them fanned out.

Wade slid his fingers to the cold metal of his gun and made sure the leather loop was off the hammer. He’d checked before but experience had him prove he was ready.

The riders turned on the road to Harley’s saloon. Either the men were thirsty, or their mouths were dry before the action. Licking his lips, Wade wondered who’d stuffed the cotton in his own mouth.

He dismounted in front of a row of tent businesses and lifted Fuego’s right foreleg while keeping watch. Two of the riders entered The Yellow Slipper. None of them acknowledged one another. The last one leaned beside the open door, tipped his hat low, and slumped onto the bench.

Harley took in enough money to warrant a robbery, but it didn’t feel right. The saloon wasn’t the target. Staying afoot, Wade led the horse across the crowded street from the saloon to Mae’s Eatery. He stood on the side of Fuego away from the lookout at Harley’s. The wagons and riders on the busy street provided good cover.

A long-bearded old-timer tugged a burro to the railing next to him. “Ye goin’ in or not? I don’t know if’n I trust ye to stand here next to my Floppy.” He rubbed the animal’s long gray ears.

Wade grinned. “Your beast and gear are safe.”

The man grunted. Rubbing his belly, he walked into the tented diner.

Tired of suffering nips from Floppy and smelling fried bacon, Wade was about to surrender to his stomach and go into Mae’s when the man riding the gray entered the street. He gave a slight nod to the one outside the saloon and continued past. The lookout retreated inside and in minutes came out followed by the other two. They mounted their horses and continued down the street.

Wade slipped under Fuego’s neck away from their sight. After they passed the next cross street, he climbed atop the stallion and walked into the horse into the crowded road.

His heart jolted.

Libby was coming toward him and just passing the rider on the gray.

“Not, now.” He whispered under his breath. His tense muscles transmitted worry to Fuego, and the animal sidestepped, chomping the bit.

Wade couldn’t breathe.

Libby’s buggy passed the last of the men. The rider turned from her, dug his spurs in the horse’s sides, and trotted past. She didn’t seem to notice. In fact, her gaze focused on him. She smiled, showing off her dimples, and then fiddled with her bag.

Wade reined Fuego to the side of a freight wagon, hoping to slip past without her calling out. He wouldn’t endanger her with whatever trouble was brewing.

In minutes, he passed her buggy. He wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t give her the opportunity to stop him, and wouldn’t give himself the temptation to be distracted.

###

Like in a dream, Wade rode into view. Libby remembered her plan and refused to call out. The man sat so proudly on his horse. Recalling their kiss, she sighed at the sight of him. She could barely restrain herself, but she must stick to her plan to ignore him. Hopefully, he’d come around before her parents arrived.

Libby fingered the envelope in her lap. Her mother still intended to marry her off to Thomas. Worry crashed over her. She needed Wade to become interested in her, now. Minutes passed. She frowned. He’d seen her. She knew it. But he rode past her on the other side of that big old wagon without even a nod. Her palms grew moist, but she refrained from looking back. According to plan, she was ignoring
him
.

Her heart crashed into the knot in her stomach.
He’d completely ignored her.
She barely noticed Tobias had stopped the team and stood at her side.

“Miss Libby, we’re here.” Tobias helped her out of the buggy. Scratching his whickers, he gazed down the street. “Wasn’t that Wade?”

She waved her hanky, hoping Tobias wouldn’t notice the blush that rejection had surely left on her. Why did Wade continue to ignore her? Struggling for composure, she took the older man’s hand.

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.” She gave a quick glance and tried to stop the sigh when she saw Wade’s broad shoulders, and realized he was still riding away from her. “I better hurry and ask if Flora would like to go shopping with me. Do you mind waiting?”

Tobias turned to her. “Yep, that was Wade. Guess he didn’t see us. No, I don’t mind waitin’.” He patted his belly. “I’m a little thirsty. I’ll be in the saloon.”

She nodded and trudged up the stairs to Flora’s room. How could Wade just pass by and purposefully ignore her?

###

Wade kept alongside the freight wagon until it turned off the main road. He pulled Fuego to a stop and checked his rifle. He’d just shoved it in the scabbard when he noticed the man on the bay stopped and looked his way.

Wade dismounted and led the stallion to the hitching post outside the dim interior of Poker Annie’s. Inside, men slouched over a table while a soiled dove filled their glasses. The card shark sat cat-like, ready to pounce on their money. Wade grimaced at the plight of so many souls, desperate to strike it rich and yet, drunk enough to lose everything on one crooked game.

He adjusted the saddle and watched as the riders kept their leisurely pace. None acted as if they thought they were being followed. Wade mounted and held Fuego to a slow walk. The horse swung his head and sidestepped. “Easy, boy.”  He didn’t need  a skittish horse to draw attention.

Pray
.

The thought flittered through his mind. Wade sent a prayer for help. No thunder clap answered, but he did feel a peace. He wasn’t alone.

The only thing in the direction the riders rode worth robbing was the stage depot. Maybe the Lord told him, but somehow Wade knew that’s where they were going. Harley had mentioned gold shipments and deposits went east on the stage. If Wade hurried, he’d arrive before the gang.

With a slight kick, Wade urged Fuego into a lope and cut between rows of tents. He slid the horse to a stop in front of the Denver Hotel across the street from the stage office. He tied the horse, ran into lobby, and banged on the counter.

A mousy clerk unfolded his glasses, put them on, and jumped from the chair behind the desk. “What’s the hurry?”

“Send for the sheriff. The depot is about to be robbed.”

The man stood, not moving.

Wade glared at him. “Now.”

“Y-yes, sir. Right away.” The clerk stumbled from behind the counter, grabbed a young man, and whispered to him.

The kid scrambled for the entrance.

Wade seized the young man’s shoulder. “Walk until you get around the corner. Tell the sheriff, I’m Wade Calder and on his side. Tell him I’m wearing a red shirt and will be in the stage office.”

The runner swallowed hard, nodded, and walked out the door.

Wade watched him leave and checked for sign of the riders. Not yet. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Still, the uneasy feeling hadn’t left. After another quick look, he ran to the depot.

He charged up the steps, stopped, and held onto one of the posts and looked down the street. The leader rounded the corner, sitting tall and riding in no hurry. The other three rode into view, but unlike their boss, the one on the black repeatedly tapped his gun. Another one looked behind, then to the right and left.

Wade backed inside the building and pointed at the attendant. “There’s trouble coming. You got any weapons?”

The stage agent slowly looked up. His worn face didn’t give a hint of worry as he squinted and raised a gun from under the table. “Yep. You the one thinking about causing this trouble?”

“No, came to help. There’s four of ’em.” Wade pointed to the entrance in time to see the leader walk up the steps. “Here they come.”

Wade drew his pistol and eased into the shadows behind a pile of crates.

Heavy footsteps clomped up the stairs.

From a crack between the boxes, he saw the boss enter followed by Big Joe Wallace who came in and kicked the door shut.

Not giving the agent time to move, the leader aimed his gun at the man’s chest. “I’m here to relieve you of the deposits you got ready to go east.”

The clerk shrugged but raised his arms. “That a fact. Just what makes you think I got any?”

Big Joe left his post to stand to the side of the desk and in front of Wade. “We know ya got it.”

Hoping the sheriff was close by, Wade bolted from behind the boxes, grabbed Joe around the neck, and jabbed his pistol against the man’s back. “Move and I shoot. Drop your gun.”

The leader turned to him. “There’s plenty of gold to cut another man in.”

The agent rose.

A gun roared from outside the building, and the clerk stumbled against the wall. Another shot roared from the open window, plunking into the crate behind Wade. He turned to return fire. Big Joe whirled, sent an elbow into Wade’s middle, and leaped to the other side of the counter.

Wade shot and dived behind the boxes.

Another man flew through the door, pistol drawn. “Zeb?”

“I’m all right.” The leader raised his head. “Wallace, throw the gold out the window. I got you covered.”

The agent groaned.

Wade shoved the crates and lunged. Hot lead bit into his side. Crawling, Wade moved to the wounded man.

The agent lay still and pale, blood covering one arm. Putting a finger to the clerk’s neck, Wade felt a faint pulse. He reloaded, eased to the side of the desk, and shot at the one near the window.

Bullets plunked into the wall behind him.

Curses and more gunshots erupted outside while a hail of bullets kept Wade pinned behind the counter.

Clutching his bleeding side, Wade stood ready to shoot, but the outlaws had slipped out the window. Wallace lay crumpled on the floor. With the toe of his boot, Wade shoved the gun away from him, but on closer look, he’d wasted the effort. The man was dead.

The sulfur smell of gunfire dirtied the air while hazy smoke dimmed the shafts of light from the window. Wade started to go after them, but a groan from the wounded man pulled him to a halt.

The agent struggled to sit, then passed out. The man was losing too much blood. With his knife, Wade sliced the binding on one of the boxes, grasped the wounded arm, and tightly wrapped the cord.