Over the Barrel (32 page)

"Do you
remember how you got the attention of the kidnappers?"

"Yes,
but Old Joe isn't going to fall for that again.
 
Besides, I don't see any hornets'
nests."

"Worse.
 
You got a pissed-off horse that has
caught your scent.
 
I swear that
animal is part bloodhound.
 
I need
you to go back inside and get Malcolm's glasses."

"So
what is your plan?"

"It's a
long shot, but …"

Blair
followed Sloan's directions and placed several bullets at the far end of the
house, and covered them with hay.
 
Using a lens from her Grandfather's glasses, she focused the harsh sun
to produce a tiny beam of light upon the mound of brittle tinder.
 
She and Sloan hid behind the stable and
waited.

Blair dug
her nails into Sloan's arm as the tiny sliver of smoke to turn to fire.
 
She held her breath anxiously and
praying diligently for the plan to work.
 
Sloan pulled her behind him as the bullets began to explode and send
blistering popping sounds to echo against the structures.
 
The sheriff was the first to appear to
investigate.
 
Sloan snuck behind the
ex-bounty hunter and clipped him on the back of the head with the butt of his
gun.
 
Blair quickly tied and gagged
the man before Sloan dragged him to the back of the stalls and locked him
inside the tack room.

"One
down, love.
 
Duck!" Sloan
shouted, as a bullet whirred past his head.
 
He rolled to his side and let loose
three rounds, watching the former kidnapper collapse to the ground.
 
Blair grabbed a horse and began to lead
it around to the side of the stable when Clay confronted her with the barrel of
his gun raised to her head.

"It's
the end of the line for you, little lady."

Blair had no
time to utter a sound before a pair of iron hooves clouted the man and sent him
face first to the hard ground.
 
He
quickly turned to his back, his gun aimed for the horse's chest as Skinwalker
reared before him.
 
Blair kicked the
gun from his hand and threw herself out of the way as the animal heaved his
massive weight upon the stunned man's chest.
 
The sound of bones crunching under the
sharp hooves turned Blair's stomach and she watched breathlessly as Skinwalker
continued to crush the body as though he were attacking a rattlesnake.
 
Blair pressed her body against the side
of the stable and trembled as she wiped blood from her face, unable to break
her stare from what remained of Clay.

 
"Blair!
 
What the …" Sloan stopped to look
at the carnage.
 
"We have to
get out of here before anyone else shows up.
 
We don't know how many these men had in
their gang.
 
I just shot two more,
and the sheriff is locked in the tack room."

"Clay
was the one who killed your wife, Sloan." Blair said numbly as she stared
at the broken body.
 
"Grandfather was allowing them to hide out here while he and Deuce
murdered all those poor women and children."

"I
know.
 
Malcolm was in on a real
estate swindle.
 
He had Clay clean
out the areas where the real estate market would be the highest and then buy it
off the banks dirt cheap.
 
The men
he hired just happened to have some personal vendettas with the ladies in
question."

"Why
kill all these people?
 
How much
money does someone need to be happy?" Blair asked, numbly.
 
As she spoke, her eyes remained glued to
the bloody remains of the foreman.

"Greedy
people are never satisfied, Blair.
 
They always want more.
 
Sweetheart, I need you to snap out of it.
 
We don't have time to waste, and Deuce
is still on the loose.
 
Let's go get
Madeline." He grabbed her right hand and pulled her towards the corral.

"Sloan!"
Blair screamed as the man spun to the left before he crumbled to the
ground.
 
A large red stain began to
spread over his left shoulder.
 
"Sloan!"

"Too
late for him, little girl.
 
Don't
worry," Deuce said, twirling his gun.
 
"He ain't dead yet.
 
Wound like that usually festers and then takes its victim nice and
slow-like."

"You
lost, Deuce.
 
All your men are dead,
including Malcolm," Blair hissed, slowly reaching behind her back to
retrieve her gun.

"Don't
need any of them.
 
I know the
combinations of the safe, and its easy 'nuff to forge old Malcolm's signature
and get rights to it all.
 
So he's
dead, huh?
 
How did ya do it?"

"Madeline
cracked his head open with a frying pan.
 
If it were me," she said, producing her gun, "I would have
shot him between the eyes."

"With
that toy?
 
Honey, you can barely
lift it," he laughed.

Blair cocked
the hammer.
 
"Put that gun down
and give yourself up, Deuce.
 
It's
over."

"Now,
is that how you talk to your dear, old Grandpa, girl?
 
Enough playing cowboy.
 
It's time to put on a dress and find
your dollies."

"You
don't have my signature anywhere," Blair said, slowly standing and moving
away from Sloan.
 
"You can't
have Imelda's estate or the bank account without me."

"Then I
guess you need to be reasonable, right?
 
The papers or," he turned the barrel of the gun to Sloan's head,
"his life."

Blair
inhaled.
 
Deuce clearly did not
believe her capable of hitting a target, let alone killing him.
 
Was she capable?
 
Doubts started to plague her mind.
 
"The papers, then."

"Drop
the gun."

"How
about if," she pulled the trigger, "I drop you instead?"

Deuce's eyes
widened as he stared down at the hole in his chest.
 
He fell to the ground without so much as
a final breath.
 
Blair stood frozen
for a moment, jarred from her numbness by Skinwalker pushing against her back
and snorting loudly.
 
Sloan!

Blair
trembled as she dropped to the ground and rested Sloan's head in her lap.
 
"Sloan?
 
Please, don't die on me.
 
Don't leave me!
 
Dear Lord, I am begging you.
 
I love you," she wept, cradling his
head in her arms.

"Shhh,
I'm not planning on going anywhere, darling.
 
What's the damage?" he whispered
hoarsely.

"It went
clean through.
 
There is so much
blood, though.
 
I've never seen so
much blood," Blair sobbed.

 
"I know you're in shock, baby, but I
need you to pull yourself together for a while longer.
 
There's an Indian camp down the river.
 
Take me there," he growled
painfully.
 
"Quickly."

Blair nodded
and slowly stood, looking around fearfully for any other outlaws.
 
She left Skinwalker nuzzling Sloan as
she ran to retrieve Madeline from the root cellar.
 
She rapidly explained the situation, and
together they dragged Sloan's large body into the back of a flatbed wagon and
hitched up a horse.
 
Madeline stayed
with Sloan to steady him while Blair jumped onto the bench, grabbed the reins,
and slapped them against the animal's flanks with a yell.
 
The powerful animal shot into a straight
run, neck to neck with Skinwalker in the direction of the river and towards the
group of bark-covered wickiups.

 
"Hello!
 
We need help!!" Blair called out,
pulling back on the reins to stop the wagon.
 
"Please!
 
Help us!"

"They
are going to kill us and take our scalps," Madeline cried fearfully.

"These
are Ute's.
 
They don't take
scalps," Blair said.
 
"At
least, not as far as I know."

A call came
out from overhead and Blair gripped the reins tightly as the wagon was suddenly
surrounded by tribal members dressed in deer, mink, and rabbit hides.
 
Several men blocked her path, ignoring
her questions as others carefully removed Sloan's body from the wagon and
carried him into a small structure located in the shaded cliff area.

"Where
are you taking him?
 
Sloan!"
Blair panicked, trying desperately to bypass the stocky man who had placed his
hand on her shoulder.

"You
are Nocona's mate?" the older man asked.

 
"Sloan?
 
I am his fiancée.
 
Do you speak English?"

"I went
to the white man's school for many years.
 
I am Quan, son of Shaman."

"Will
Sloan be all right?
 
Please allow me
to see him."

"He is
with the spirits for healing.
 
Come."

Madeline
gripped Blair's wrist as they followed Quan through the camp and into a large
community shelter.
 
He said
something to the women, all who darted to follow his orders.

"My
wives, mother, sisters and daughter," he explained.
 
"Our families live together with
Magic Dogs.
 
Your Dog.
 
It does not allow riders?"

"Dogs?
 
I don't have a dog."

"One on
wagon, other in field.
 
White like
cloud."

"The
horses?
 
Are you talking about
Skinwalker?" Blair asked cautiously.

The man
looked excited as he shared her words.
 
"Spirit animals are sacred.
 
The Old People will want to touch his spirit before you leave us."
 
Quan lifted his head to the sound of
distant thunder.
 
"Your visit
brings us rain!
 
It is a sign.
 
A good sign."

"Please
explain this to me.
 
I am not
familiar with your ways.
 
Why do you
call Sloan 'Nocona'?"

"It
means 'one who wanders'.
 
Sit,"
Quan ordered, pointing to a log.
 
"Bears are most sacred to us.
 
Many years ago, Nocona brought to us a cub whose mother had been
slaughtered.
 
He could have killed
it as well, but chose to bring it to our people to nourish and help grow
strong.
 
In this, he performed an act
of honor to the Ute.
 
He was a man
lost in the wilderness and seeking a home.
 
We give him that name so he might always have a home with us.
 
You follow my wife.
 
She show you place to sleep while Nocona
is healed."

"It's
early yet.
 
Too early for bed,"
Blair said, with a frown.

"Food
will be brought to you.
 
Go now and
sleep."
 
Quan said something to
the twittering women and left the shelter.

"Miss?
 
What is happening?" Madeline asked
nervously as a severe old woman led them to a small, empty dwelling.
 
Several hides were tossed to the ground
and straightened out, and a wooden bowl of roasted meat and bread was brought
to them.

"I
think we were just sent to our room for the night," Blair said,
dumbfounded as she was handed a mug of tea and pointed in the direction of the
furs.
 
"Unbelievable."