Marshal of Hel Dorado (29 page)

 
    
And waited.

 
    
“Marshal, you should put that away before
Jimmy takes offense.”

 
    
Sam wasn’t surprised to see the young man
step out into the clearing on the opposite side of the low stream. His skin was
darker, his hair jet-black and his nose a single, aquiline slash.

 
    
Sam noted three things about him. He wasn’t
armed, his hands were in his pockets and he was Indian.

 
    
“I’d listen to Buck, Marshal.” A second
voice joined the first, only it came from directly behind him and included the
hard barrel of a gun poking him once in the ribs. “He doesn’t really want to
shoot you.”

 
    
“But you don’t mind?” Not turning, Sam kept
his gaze on the Indian male. It was too dark to make out finer features. He was
likely Comanche or Apache.

 
    
“Nope. I don’t mind at all.”

 
    
The cold ease present in the statement
eased Sam’s fingers away from the trigger. Micah and Kid would come looking
when he didn’t return, so all he had to do was stall. He slid the gun back into
the holster rather than surrender it.

 
    
“Now what?”

 
    
“Now,” the one called Buck grinned. “We
talk.”

 
    
Gun urging him forward, Sam made his way to
the rocks tripping across the stream. It was too shallow to do more than cover
the tops of his boots as he splashed across. Jimmy herded him along, gun barrel
jabbing him every time he slowed to press his way through the brush.

 
    
Unlike Buck, Sam cracked branches and
stirred leaves with every step.

 
    
Yellow warmth flashed in the dark as they
emptied out into a clearing, a campfire burning merrily. The smell of roasting
rabbits was enough to make his mouth water and his stomach rumble in agreement.
They’d been dining on hard tack and the occasional fish. Three rabbits spitted
out over the fire glowed a merrily, sizzling and popping over the heat.

 
    
And they weren’t alone.

 
    
Three more men were scattered around the
camp, Sam scanned each one, noting the bald black man working a length of rope
around from elbow to hand, a brown haired boy who looked to be just barely
older than Kid, but lacked his strappier build and a third, silent figure who
was at least Sam’s age if not older. The shadows around that one were darker,
more sinister and he stood the furthest away from the fire.

 
    
He was the one to watch.

 
    
“Where are his brothers?”

 
    
“Cody and Ike are getting them.” The black
man called, tying off the newly looped rope and pointing to the opposite side
of the clearing where Micah and Kid entered, both were bound and Micah sported
a fresh mark on his face. His gaze spit fury.

 
    
“I told you not to hurt them.” The quiet
man’s words rippled over Sam’s soul, a freak storm of thunder and ice in the
midst of summer. He suppressed a shiver and only the gun barrel poking his ribs
kept him from backing up.

 
    
“He’ll live.” The blonde shrugged, the skin
around his mouth puckered and angry looking. “And next time I tell him to drop
the gun, maybe he will.”

 
    
Sam glanced at Kid, but his younger brother
was staring at the blonde man, a quizzical look on his face. If he was bothered
by their capture, it didn’t show.

 
    
Their captors herded Kid and Micah over to
Sam.

 
    
“Untie them.” The cold voice instructed.
Sam could wish that one would stop speaking. It made him think of
half-forgotten nightmares. The blonde started forward, but one motion of the
cold one’s hand and he paused. Sam frowned, meeting the yellow eyes in the
dark.

 
    
They weren’t yellow from the fire.

 
    
He’d seen those eyes before.

 
    
Understanding blasted him. Kid recognized
those eyes too.

 
    
The blonde one was the wolf.

 
    
Ignoring the gun, he lunged towards him.
“Where is she?”

 
    
“Oh hell.” Buck let out the oath, but the
blonde was already plowing into Sam. Sam blocked his first blow, the force of
it vibrating the bones in his forearm. He cut his left fist up into an uppercut
that just grazed the blonde’s chin.

 
    
A flurry of fists, blocks and head bashes
left Sam aching even as the rest waded between them. Sam found himself hurtled
backwards, his boot managing to kick the blonde square in the stomach. The man
went down briefly, but lunged back, the fire enhancing the fury in his face as
he launched at Sam. The cold one was suddenly between them. Sam couldn’t see
his face, but whatever the blonde saw dropped him to his knees. Straining
against his captors, Sam twisted to see his frustrated fury mirrored in the
rictus of agony on the blonde’s face. He held up a hand, surrendering and Sam
let the others drag him back to the other side of the fire. He landed next to
Micah in the dust and didn’t argue when his gun was plucked away.

 
    
The one called Jimmy tipped his hat with a
grin. Adding the pilfered pistol to the three he already wore.

 
    
The copper flavor of blood welled inside
his mouth. One of the blows had managed to cut his cheek, inside and out. The
tension abated as the cold one retreated back to the shadows along the edge of
the fire circle. The blonde stayed where he knelt, his hands on his knees,
breathing harsh.

 
    
“You got more balls than brains.” The brown
haired youth enthused, his expression a wild mixture of glee and awe.

 
    
“Shut up, Rudy.” Jimmy took a position up
to Sam’s left while the bald black and Buck circled behind and to the right of
his brothers.

 
    
 
Rudy.
 

 
    
Ignoring him, the younger man motioned to
the fire. “Food will be ready shortly.”

 
    
“You left your sister.” Sam’s words struck
their mark. Rudy’s face mottled with shame and guilt.

 
    
“You trying to get us killed?” Micah swayed
towards him, his words a whispered admonishment.

 
    
“Nope. Just getting the lay of the land for
brothers who take their sister with them to rob banks and then leave her
behind.”

 
    
Rigid silence choked the men around him.

 
    
“Be careful, Marshal Kane.” The cold tones
wrapped like a fist of skeletal fingers around his heart. The bitter sense of
fear edged at his frustration. Kid made a strangled noise, dragging Sam’s
attention from the shadow man. His younger brother’s eyes were the size of
saucers against the pallor of his skin.

 
    
“I said they weren’t supposed to hurt you,
not that they wouldn’t.” The cold man continued.

 
    
“What do you want?” Sam demanded, more
irritated by the cold fear threatening his bowels. “And where is Scarlett?”

 
    
A growl rumbled across the clearing. Sam
spared the blonde a look, but despite the hatred twisting his features, the man
stayed kneeling. Jimmy edged closer and knelt down, his voice low and slow.
“Marshal, stop pissing on Cody before I just shoot you myself.”

 
    
Cody.

 
    
That was four names. He would get the rest.
Sam shot Jimmy a bland look. Cody was the wolf. Rudy the one who could move
through walls. It didn’t make much sense, but he knew both were true. Scarlett
mentioned they were all gifted.

 
    
Gifted or cursed.

 
    
He wasn’t sure about Buck or Jimmy. Seven
brothers. Wolf boy—Cody was the one that took her off the ranch. Only six were
with her. Sam let his gaze return to the cold man keeping his distance. That
one wasn’t with her. Sam was sure of it.

 
    
“Feed them.” The cold one ordered and
motioned to Cody who glared at Sam for a long moment before rising to follow
the dark man out of the clearing. Sam stared after them.

 
    
The rabbits were removed from the spits and
cut, pieces of meat were tossed onto hard metal plates and passed first to Kid,
then Micah and finally Sam. Sam ignored his plate.

 
    
The men milling the clearing were watchful
and aware, but they weren’t a threat. The threat had walked off into the
darkness and Sam waited. Would they bring Scarlett back? Was this her way of
getting even with him?

 
    
Did she even know he was here?

 
    
He didn’t think she would, with the
exception of the log to the side of his head, she’d been nothing but gentle and
kind. Well, that and the kick. Her care with the horse had been sweet and her
air of gentle respect around his father all spoke of a kind spirit, a sweet
one.

 
    
So where the hell was she?

 
    
“You going to eat that?” Micah nudged him
and pointed to Sam’s still full plate.

 
    
“Help yourself.” He wasn’t hungry and Micah
didn’t need to be told twice. He snatched up the plate and added a few pieces
to Kid’s empty plate as well. Sam spared his brothers a dry look.

 
    
“Think they play cards?” Micah asked around
a mouthful.

 
    
Sam sighed.

 
    
Dawn was still a ways off when Jimmy
touched Sam’s shoulder. Sam opened his eyes.

 
    
He sat up and glanced at his brothers, the
pair were snoring away, but Kid’s brows were drawn together in a frown, as if
he’d found trouble even in his dreams.

 
    
“What?” Sleep may have eluded him, but he’d
taken advantage of the rest, watching for a momentary break in the gang’s
vigilance, but none had presented itself.

 
    
“Quanto wants to speak to you.”

 
    
Quanto.

 
    
Scarlett’s father.

 
    
Sam rose, ignoring the aches and complaints
of his body. He glanced around the campsite, the fire was banked, but wood was
set close by, ready to feed it back up as needed.

 
    
Their captors were sitting or leaning at
various points, with Sam and his brothers secured in the center.

 
    
“Come on.” Jimmy jerked his head towards
the path Cody and the cold one had disappeared up. Neither had returned.

 
    
Hesitating, Sam looked at his brothers. He
couldn’t just leave them.

 
    
“They’ll be fine, Marshal. Quanto doesn’t
want anyone hurt. They won’t even know you’re gone.” Jimmy didn’t elaborate,
but he did make an impatient noise when Sam lingered.

 
    
None of the Kanes were heavy sleepers on
the trail, but his brothers didn’t budge.

 
    
It was probably some other damn gift.

 
    
Sam jammed his hat onto his head and
followed Jimmy. Maybe this Quanto would give him some answers.

 
    
Or at least tell him if Scarlett was all
right.

 
    
The others didn’t follow, leaving Sam alone
with Jimmy. The trail was dark, but once they were clear of the brush, he could
make it out clearly. The moon was high, turning the landscape a painted silver.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to where an older man, his hair practically
glowing under the moonlight squatted next to another fire.