My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) (30 page)

High Bluff citizens awoke the next morning to tragic news. Overnight, four killings had taken place. Four. That was unheard of in High Bluff, a town whose folks prided themselves on law and order. Three were in the saloon. Nothing but broken glasses and occasional fistfights happened there. The night of March 18 would go down in the history books as one of the bloodiest the town had ever sustained. Three men were shot to death in a ruckus over a card game. Cortes and his two cousins, Rodrigo Moreze and Oliver—known as Ollie—Dunby. Eyewitnesses swore the bar fight broke out so fast no one was able to tell who shot whom. By the time the smoke cleared, a gunman had run out of the bar and disappeared.

To top it off, Ferris Goodman, the town sheriff of over fifteen years, was gunned down by a lone assailant who broke into the jail and shot him in cold blood. Ferris was respected by almost everyone—a close friend of Loyal Streeter, the town’s honorable councilman. Not a single person could think of anyone who would want to harm a hair on Ferris’s head.

Streeter, the town’s honorable councilman, was so outraged by the violence that he ordered the town to shut down for a full day out of respect to the deceased.

Like Loyal said, the citizens were shocked by such brutality and they weren’t going to put up with it.

Nineteen

A
nne-Marie stored the last of the supplies in the buckboard with a heavy heart. She had urged Creed to go to Berry Woman, and early this morning he had announced his departure.

“You and Quince load up.” The three had gone over the new plan during breakfast. The outlaws would still be in the area and couldn’t be hard to track. Quincy and Anne-Marie would locate the tracks and trace them to Cortes’s location.

Anne-Marie had tossed and turned last night, alternate plans skipping through her head. They could go after the outlaws and regain the gold. They could trick them, telling them they would pay double for the shipment, and when it was loaded Quincy could cause a distraction and she could ride off with the gold… but Cortes wouldn’t fall for anything that apparent. Yet with a little tweaking she could pull the wool over that sneaky little outlaw’s eyes. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep up with Quincy on yet another wild goose chase, but she wouldn’t be left behind and they would not give Cortes the satisfaction of victory.

She noted approaching footsteps, and her pulse quickened when she saw Creed walking toward her.

Smiling, he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her to him. “Take care of yourself.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go—but you must. Berry Woman needs you.” The words stung but they were heartfelt. If the situation were reversed and she lay near death, she would want this man’s comfort.

Delicious warmth spread through her when he held her tightly for a moment. “I hate to leave this place,” she admitted. Here with him she had found a sense of completeness, and she didn’t want to abandon the emotion.

Turning her around, he drew her closer to his chest. The scent of his warm skin set up an even deeper longing. Quincy came out of the mission whistling and they stepped apart. Creed strode to the front of the buckboard to check the rigging and Quincy stored his gear in the wagon.

“Why the grim look?” Quincy teased.

Sighing, Anne-Marie started to help. “I don’t know. I guess I should be happy that all this gold misery is finally about to end.”

“Yes ma’am. You’ll be back with your sisters in no time at all.”

The happiness she felt at the thought of being reunited with her sisters dimmed when she considered that Creed was about to be taken away from her.

In such a short time he had become a necessary ingredient in her life, an ingredient that she would dearly hunger for.

Sneaking a longing glance at the one she loved, she was reminded that leaving, no matter how painful, was the right choice. She had become far too dependent on a man she could never have. The journey had been long and arduous but she had discovered the power of love and how one man could stir feelings that she never dreamed existed.

After adjusting the bit in the horse’s mouth, Creed returned. “Well, that about does it.”

His eyes searched hers. “My visit will be brief. Quincy knows where to meet up. Your job is to find Cortes and the gold.”

Quincy shook his head. “Personally, I am getting a little weary of that squirt.”

Creed and Anne-Marie had not privately spoken of the time when they would part, but the unsettling thought hung over Anne-Marie like the pox.

Casting a fond glance at the mission, she lifted her hem and climbed into the wagon. Adjusting her skirt primly around her knees, she kept her eyes trained straight ahead, fearing Creed would see the tears that threatened to give way. She had a hunch this was one man who didn’t like women who cried in the face of adversity.

Quincy climbed aboard and settled himself on the narrow seat. Scooting across the bench, Anne-Marie made room for the lunch basket she had earlier prepared. Creed mounted up. Moments passed as the three sat watching the wind gently swaying the limbs of the old trees.

“It’s been real peaceful here,” Quincy admitted. Was that a touch of regret she heard in his voice?

Creed and Anne-Marie focused on each other, emotion raw in their eyes.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered, flinching when she saw Creed’s jaw clench.

“I will make my journey brief.”

“Well.” She sat up straighter, her spunk returning. “Quincy and I have work to do.” Pausing, she ventured, “Locating Cortes isn’t going to be easy. By now he’s long gone—or I would be. Can I suggest an alternate plan?”

Creed shifted. “Anne-Marie, we have a plan.”

“You don’t have this one. I’ve come up with something I think might work better. Let’s forget Cortes for the time being. He’s undoubtedly delivered that gold to Streeter. Why not go after the councilman?”

Quincy groaned aloud. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“No, listen,” Anne-Marie faced both men who plainly were going to be mule-headed about this. “It’s a solid plan, really.”

“I’m sure it is, ma’am. I recall all too well your last brilliant plan. I still have nightmares about being bound up on those platforms.”

She scooted forward on the wagon bench. “Wouldn’t you rather return to your commander bearing the gold instead of bad news?”

Creed and Quincy shared a glance, mutual acknowledgment of the truth of her words creeping into their eyes.

“See! You know you would.”

“All right,” Creed said. “What is this new plan?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Creed!” Quincy objected. “We are
this
close to getting out of this mess by the skin of our teeth.”

“We owe her the courtesy of listening.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s part of this, like it or not.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Then don’t listen.”

Groaning, Quincy wrapped the reins around the brake handle. “I have a hunch the worst is coming in on a fast freight train.”

“Here’s the plan.” Anne-Marie outlined her ideas and Quincy shifted on the seat, muttering under his breath. Rolling his eyes, he groaned and moaned when the new strategy unfolded. Sweat rolled down his face when she told them her scheme. By the time she was finished even Creed was skeptical.

“That would never work.”

“Why not?” She gazed back at him. “I’ve hatched up plots that were crazier than this one and they’ve worked.”

“It won’t work,” Creed reiterated.

“It will!”

“Where do we get the clothing? The gold is gone. We don’t have a coin between us. We’re destitute.”

She sobered. “I have some money left from the coin I took. I got a lot of change,” she admitted. “A whole lot.”

Creed rolled his eyes.

She supposed she had that coming. “Well, where would we be if I hadn’t taken that one precious coin that will never be missed anyway?” she accused.

Creed and Quincy answered in unison. “We’d still have the gold.”

“Oh, you two. I knew you’d throw that up at me.”

They sat for a moment discussing the pros and cons of the new plan. To be sure it was unorthodox, but then so was Anne-Marie. Quincy was firmly against it, but after a while Creed was won over.

“Well, it might work,” he reluctantly admitted. “The North desperately needs that money. Lives will be saved. Shoes, uniforms, warm coats—the men need everything they can get their hands on.”

“No!” Quincy protested.

Creed and Anne-Marie faced him and said in unison, “Yes!”

“If this plan backfires, we’re all goners.”

“We know,” Anne-Marie said, brushing off the possibility. She didn’t have time for negativity; her plan was better than theirs. “Okay, here’s what we do. Quincy, there’s a casket in the cellar. Get it and make sure the following items are in place.” She rattled off a list.

“Lord, can’t You please have mercy on this poor soul?” Quincy grumbled when he climbed back out of the wagon. “This female’s gone clean out of her mind.”

“High Bluff is a small town. It shouldn’t take us long to discover where they’ve stashed the gold if Cortes has brought it to Streeter already,” Creed said.

“Quince and I can do this. You go and be with Berry Woman.”

“I’ll delay my journey long enough to help with the plan. I should be with Berry Woman by tomorrow afternoon.”

“All right.” Anne-Marie took a deep breath, smiling. She wasn’t in any hurry for him to leave.

“We make one brief stop in Brittlebranch to purchase appropriate
clothing, and then we proceed to High Bluff.” Scrambling out of the buckboard, she marched back to the mission, fire in her step now. “Then, Mr. Loyal Streeter, we’ll just see who gets that gold.”

Loyal Streeter glanced up to see a young woman standing in the doorway. Though she was dressed in black mourning attire, she was still a stunning sight to behold.

Getting slowly to his feet, his gaze locked on the vision of loveliness. “Yes, ma’am? Something I can do for you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m looking for a Mr. Loyal Streeter,” the young woman replied in a thick Georgia accent. Her voice was as sweet and melodious as a nightingale’s.

Bowing from the waist, Loyal smiled. “Loyal Streeter at your service, ma’am.”

Taffeta rustled as the woman entered the office. The severe cut of the black gown couldn’t begin to hide her delectable curves. Loyal fixed on the full, ruby-red lips. He quickly offered her a chair.

Thanking him, she seated herself and continued, “I’m here to ask a great favor of you, Mr. Streeter.”

Loyal smiled. “Ma’am, I am most eager to do anything possible to assist you. Anything, Miss…?” He searched for a name.

“Willingham. Lillie Belle Willingham.”

Lifting a gloved hand, Loyal placed a kiss on the back of it. “And what might I do for you, Miss Willingham?”

“I would like permission to make use of your icehouse,” she replied.

For the briefest of moments Anne-Marie thought she sensed him tense, but he quickly regained his composure.

His smile faded. “The icehouse?”

“Yes,” Anne-Marie said demurely. “I know it seems a most inappropriate request, but I’m afraid I’m just in an awful ol’ predicament.”

His smile quickly returned. “And what quandary is that, Miss Willingham?”

“My sweet, dear ol’ daddy passed on yesterday, Mr. Streeter. He had been in ill health for some time, and I’m afraid—” She paused, lifting the hem of her veil to dab the corners of her eyes.

“Permit me to offer you a cool drink of water,” Loyal insisted. “Spring has arrived in full force; it’s dreadfully warm in here.”

“Why, that would be most gracious of you, Mr. Streeter.” She batted her long eyelashes up at him.

“Jake!” Loyal barked.

The clerk’s head appeared in the doorway. “You called me, boss?”

“Bring Miss Willingham a dipper of cool water.”

Jake was back almost immediately with the requested item.

“Thank you ever so kindly.” Anne-Marie drank daintily from the dipper before handing it back to Jake with a grateful smile. “I was shocked to hear of the terrible hostilities that took place in your small town last night. I overheard someone say that many men were killed—even your sheriff.”