Prairie Song (22 page)

Suddenly, Grayson laughed. “Sounds like just my kind of assignment. If I don’t come back, let my cousin up in Philadelphia know what a fool of a relative he had who went and got himself killed after the war. As far as I know, we’re the only two Kirklands alive and I keep trying to cut the population in half.”

“And Miss Margaret?” the younger man asked.

“I’ll tell her all I can right now. I’m not leaving without having a talk with her.”

Both men moved from the barn without hearing Brant slip away.

Margaret was running down the stairs as Grayson rounded the corner leading from the kitchen. She almost collided with him in the shadows, but his warm, steady hand reached out in the darkness to steady her.

For a moment she didn’t speak, but only stood, so close and yet beyond his reach. Finally, she found her voice. “Cherish is home and she looks wonderful.”

“Is her friend with her?” Grayson fought the urge to pull Maggie into his arms. He could feel her light breath against his shoulder and smell the fresh, starched air that always seemed to surround her. He was surprised his voice could even sound normal when all his thoughts were of her.

“No.” Maggie lowered her head and moved past him. “There was no one with her.”

Grayson wondered if his nearness brought the same sweet agony to her as her closeness did to him. He tried to make his body think of something, anything, besides the way she’d felt when he’d held her all night in his arms. “If you have no objections, I’d like to have a few words with her before I go.”

Maggie nodded without looking up at him, then disappeared into the kitchen.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and knocked at Cherish’s door. The girl was a puzzle to him, but he had to talk with her. Brant had proven a man of his word, both when he’d fought at Grayson’s side and when he’d promised to get Cherish back in a week. Perhaps she was also to be trusted.

When he opened the door, he saw her sitting by the fire watching the flames as though they held some secret she was looking for.

“I hate to disturb you, but I need to ask a few questions.”

Cherish flashed him a kind smile and motioned toward the room’s only other chair.

Grayson stepped over to the fireplace, not wanting to be half the length of the room away from her when he asked his questions. “You look much better than you did a week ago when Brant Coulter carried you out of here.”

She shrugged. “I’m feeling fine, but I’d guess my health is not the reason you came up, Captain.”

Grayson didn’t try to deceive her. “I’ve worried all week about whether I made the right decision to let him take you. I should have arrested him when I had the chance. How could a lady like yourself have even met such a man as Brant Coulter?”

“You did the right thing, Captain. I’ve known Brant since I patched him up once …” She hesitated, not wanting to tell Grayson what a short time ago that had been. “He’s a kind, gentle man. I couldn’t have been safer or in better hands.”

Grayson had to laugh. He doubted anyone else in the state would feel that way about Brant Coulter but her. But if Maggie could turn him into a madman, maybe Cherish could turn an outlaw into a saint.

“Do you think you’re well enough to press charges against Westley?”

“No. I can’t.” He could tell by her voice that her mind was made up. “No matter what else he is, he’s Maggie’s husband and it wouldn’t be right. But if he ever touches me again, I’ll kill him.”

“Someone already tried.”

“So I’ve heard.” Cherish looked into the fire. “Do they have any idea who it was?”

“No, not a clue,” Grayson answered. “The only person in this town we know for sure didn’t knife him was you. You were in no shape to move that night.” He knelt down beside her chair and whispered, “I have to leave and I’m not sure I’ll make it back. I can’t tell you anything about where I’m going, but if you don’t see me in a few months, would you tell Maggie something for me?”

Cherish’s chin rose slightly, reminding him that she was from the same proud bloodline as Maggie. “Tell her yourself, Grayson,” she said in her soft voice, but as an order just the same. “You’ve spent too much time staring at her and not talking to her.”

Grayson rubbed at his chin. “I’ve tried, but she is the hardest woman to talk to when she’s angry.” He unstrapped his Colt and handed it to Cherish. “Keep this handy while I’m gone. Maggie’s not as indestructible as she thinks she is and an extra gun around might help. I can get another one at Camp Wilson.”

Cherish leaned over and kissed Grayson on the cheek. “I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ve been doing it most of my life.” She winked, telling Grayson she wanted to keep her statement just between them. “Don’t worry about us. We were raised in Texas. Those men might have caught us unaware once, but not again. Take care of yourself. She loves you, you know.”

Grayson smiled. “She’s got one hell of a way of showing it. If she loved me any more I’d be staked over a fire out in the front yard.”

They were both laughing when Maggie opened the door. She stepped inside and glared at them both as though they had lost their minds.

Grayson stood and crossed the room. “I have to talk with you, Maggie.”

“We’ve said all that needs to be said.”

He waited for her at the door.

She ignored him for several minutes before letting out a quick irritated sigh and stepping into the hall. “All right, what is it? I can’t have you standing in the door all night even though we have nothing left to say. Tell me and be gone.”

“We still have a great deal to say,” he answered. “I have to leave on an assignment for the army. I don’t know when I’ll be back. But I want you to know that I’m coming back.”

Maggie raised her chin ever so slightly. “I’ll not wait.”

Suddenly, he could stand her coldness no longer. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. When her cheeks were burning with fire and her lips were swollen from his kiss, he raised his head and looked down into her wonderful indigo eyes. “You’ll wait.” He winked. “Because, like it or not, you love me. I plan on making you see it no matter who I have to fight, including you.”

Before she could deny his claim, he was gone, leaving only silence in the hall.

Maggie touched her lips with trembling fingers. She wanted to run to him and tell him that he was right. Nothing else in the world mattered except being in his arms. But years of restraint weren’t broken with a kiss. She wouldn’t allow her life to turn on a heartbeat.

Tears spilled from her dark blue eyes and she whispered, “Fight for me once more, my love. Please, fight for me once more.”

*    *    *

Grayson crisscrossed the country north of Fort Worth for two weeks before he found the rock formation that marked the entrance to a place known as Hollow Horn Canyon. A dark, reddish brown beard covered his face, making him look more like a mountain man than a Union officer. He’d traded his uniform for buckskins and his boots for knee moccasins. One of the reasons Grayson was so good at his job was his ability to change the way he looked. Anyone seeing him now would have sworn he’d never worn a uniform for any army, and that might keep him from getting shot from a distance as he entered the canyon.

Spring had finally settled into the land and everything around him was turning green. Early storms had mellowed into a few soft showers and the sky was an endless blue. Everything was fresh and light except for his mood. He’d worked too long in the field not to know when something wasn’t right, and this job smelled worse than week-old fish heads left in the sun.

It didn’t seem logical that, even if there were a few Knights of the Golden Circle left, they’d meet out in the open country this far into Indian territory. The longer he rode, the more resigned to one fact he became. Someone wanted him out this far for only one purpose and that was to kill him. Somehow, he’d stumbled on some truth about the Knights and they wanted him out of the way.

Grayson kept riding toward what he suspected was a trap. He knew he was teasing a rattlesnake, but he had to play along and see just how fast the snake would strike. They’d find he wasn’t as easy to kill as they thought, and he might just find out who was behind the gang.

Another problem kept nagging at the back of his mind. It could be possible that they wanted him away from Maggie. He swore under his breath that if anyone harmed her while he was gone, he’d kill every man involved. He’d decided at dawn that if he didn’t find some signs of the hideout today he’d turn back toward Fort Worth.

Grayson tried to wipe the worry over Maggie from his mind as he stretched in the saddle and looked toward the late afternoon sun. He could smell trouble the way cattle smell a storm. The canyon walls were high and rocky. Even a half-wit like that deputy, Wart, would have been able to figure out that this was a perfect place for an ambush.

Suddenly, a silver light flashed, dancing off something metal along the canyon’s rim. The sun winked again along the ridge, silently hinting at trouble.

Survival instincts snapped Grayson into action as he jerked his rifle from its sheath and swung from the saddle. As his foot touched the ground, fire exploded in his shoulder and liquid pain flooded his brain. Before the sound of the first shots had died, another round bounced on the canyon walls and pain struck his leg, doubling him over in agony.

The world darkened—first to deep shades, then to evening black. Grayson stumbled forward, dragging his almost useless leg into the cover of rocks. He threw his body over a three-foot wall of granite. More shots followed, but they were only tiny explosions of rock above him. He closed his eyes and forced the pain from his mind.
Think
. He pushed away the blinding heat in his shoulder. He had to be ready to act or he’d be a dead man.

With sweat pouring from his face, Grayson ground his teeth together and pulled the bandanna from his neck. He tied a knot over the leg wound. The blood from his shoulder seemed to be everywhere, dripping hot over his chest like tears.

He heard horses riding toward him. Then gunfire seemed all around him, bouncing like thunder in the hollow canyon. He pulled his rifle up and forced his head to clear enough to look over his rock fortress. Three men were climbing toward him, but someone hidden across the canyon was firing on them each time they advanced.

Grayson leaned back and tried to make sense of the battle. Being shot at didn’t seem so insane, but someone fighting to save him didn’t fit into his logic at all. He always traveled alone. That was part of the job. He’d learned a long time ago never to depend on anyone but himself. But someone was out there, attempting to keep his attackers from reaching him and finishing the job they’d started.

The firing continued until dark; then Grayson heard the sound of horses riding further back into the canyon. He relaxed against the rock, knowing they’d given up until daybreak. A low rumble rattled from his chest as he laughed, finding it somehow funny that he’d cheat them by dying before they could return to kill him.

Suddenly a body swung over the wall of his tiny fortress and slammed into Grayson. Before Grayson could raise his rifle to fire, the weapon was kicked from his grip. He reached for his pistol only to have it follow the path of his rifle.

“Stop trying to shoot me, damn it!” snapped a voice filled with anger. “I didn’t spend all evening keeping the vultures off you to have you shoot me in gratitude, Yank.”

Grayson’s gaze narrowed, barely discerning the face of the thin shadow of a man before him. “Brant?”

The stranger grunted. “I’ve been trailing you for a week. You leave tracks a blind squaw could follow.”

“I hadn’t thought anyone would be looking for me.” Grayson watched the outlaw closely. “So, why were you?”

“I knew you’d get yourself killed if I didn’t.” Brant knelt down beside Grayson and touched the blood covering the huge man’s shoulder. “Damn near succeeded. Don’t get me wrong, Kirkland, I could care less if you live or die, but Cherish thinks a lot of you.”

“You rode all the way out here just because Cherish wanted you to keep an eye on me?”

Brant laughed. “I’m crazy, but not that crazy. Maybe I just don’t happen to like the men who tried to gun you down. Some folks give us outlaws a bad name. I recognized them. The leader, now with a plug of lead in his leg, looked like a weasel of a man who practices law back in Fort Worth. I heard he was real disappointed when Margaret showed up to claim the house. He thought it would be his by spring. The other two were just hired guns, and not very good ones at that.”

The pain in Grayson’s shoulder was clouding his thoughts but he unclenched his teeth long enough to ask why.

Brant leaned against the rock beside the Union officer as if they had nothing better to do but chat in the darkness. “They should have killed you with one shot. That was very sloppy. Then, when I showed up, they ran. But they’ll come crawling back about daybreak. We’ll have to wait until the moon’s high before we move. Fortunately, it’ll be a rustler’s moon tonight so the light won’t be very bright.” Brant moved swiftly in the darkness. “I’ll tie up your wounds as best I can and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

As Brant worked, Grayson questioned him again about his interest in whoever hired these men to kill him.

For the first time in his life, Brant told the true story. “Back before the start of the war, I got involved with a group of men known as the Knights. Most were good, God-fearing men who went a little crazy with panic thinking about how the blacks were going to rise up and kill all the whites. The Knights got some money together and loaded it and all the slaves they could buy or steal into a boat leaving Galveston one night. The plan was to start a slave state in South America.”

His voice lowered as he remembered. “I was only a little older than Barfield. Daniel was two years older than me. We were about three days out when cholera broke out. The slaves went loco, all moaning and crying about dying. There were seven men in charge; Daniel and I were just along for the ride. The men got together and decided what they were going to do. There was only enough room in the one longboat for seven men and the gold. They chained Daniel and me together so we wouldn’t cause any trouble. They said it was part of a code agreed upon by all the men. We thought they were just going to leave us afloat. Then they opened fire on the slaves.”

Brant was silent for so long that Grayson wasn’t sure he would, or could, continue. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I still hear those folks screaming. It was that high, hollow scream that comes when anyone knows he’s going to die. Most of the male slaves were chained and there was nowhere for them to run. One woman, blood covering her face, fell into me and Daniel. I tumbled to the deck, dragging him with me. I guess the men thought they’d shot us. With her blood spilled all over us they didn’t check too closely. They loaded the gold in the longboat, threw a lantern against the galley door, and disappeared over the side.

“I was unconscious, but Daniel pulled me to the edge of the deck. We hit the water about the time the whole ship caught fire. The slaves who hadn’t died during the shooting were screaming as they burned. It was years before I could get that smell out of my lungs; and still I wake myself up sometimes, thinking I’ve heard them scream again.”

Grayson finally saw where the story was leading. “So you decided to hunt down the seven Knights and kill them one by one.”

Brant laughed without humor. “No. Daniel did. While I went off to scout for the Confederacy, he took it as some kind of crusade. Only we looked so much alike, folks guessed it was always me. Before I knew it I had quite a name as a gunman, and every hotheaded kid in the state wanted to call me out. I wasn’t living a saint’s life, so the handle fit. Murder became like a drug to Daniel. He’d wear the robes till he found one of the men, then he’d take great pleasure in killing him. With each murder, his mind slips a little more and I get a grander reputation, which I couldn’t disclaim without endangering him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Grayson’s pain-riddled mind couldn’t make any connection between Brant’s story and his attackers except that both were somehow tied to the Knights.

“I don’t know, Yank. Maybe I figure you’ll be dead by morning so you’re a safe person to tell. Maybe I’ve lived with the secret too long. In my own way, I’m probably as crazy as Daniel. I even tried to stop him on the last murder and Lord knows that bastard deserved to die. But when we both ran from the scene, guess who got the blame? Hell, if they find your body I’ll probably get stuck with your death, too. I’ve killed enough men to hang ten times, so what difference does it make?”

Grayson tried to stand. “I have no intention of dying and causing you more problems, Coulter.”

He would have fallen if Brant hadn’t caught him. With one mighty heave, Brant lifted Kirkland onto his back and started down the rocks. “Well, if you’re not going to die, I might as well get you out of this canyon.”

Grayson was blinded by the pain. He felt like his arm was being ripped from his shoulder and his leg felt deadly cool, but he didn’t cry out. He ground his teeth together and listened to Brant’s cursing.

“Next time I save a damn Yankee’s life, I’ll pick a smaller one.” He let out a string of obscenities as he kept walking toward his horse. “I can’t believe how much you blue-legs bleed from a couple of little holes.” Swinging Grayson none too gently over his saddle, he added, “The guys shooting at you took your horse with them. I’ve got to get you hid out before dawn; then I’ll see if I can’t steal your mount back. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll find the body of that lawyer.”

Brant grabbed the reins of his horse and started walking toward the cliffs. “Yank, it would sure help if you’d stop bleeding. You’re leaving an easy trail. Hell, if you ain’t the easiest man to follow in Texas.”

Grayson’s last thought was that he’d like to kill Brant Coulter. He remembered all the wonderful things Cherish said about the outlaw and decided she must have him mixed up with someone else. Grayson was sure if there was any good in this man it would have to be picked out of him with tweezers.

Brant didn’t slow down until they’d climbed for an hour. He knew Grayson had passed out from loss of blood and only hoped the man would stay that way until he could get them to someplace they could defend. Finally, he spotted a crack in the wall wide enough for a horse to go through. He led his mount through it to the other side of the canyon wall and then backtracked to cover the entrance with brush.

He took the time to wrap Grayson’s wounds in hopes of stopping any more bleeding. He slowly led the horse down the back side of the cliff and into a wooded area thick with hundred-year-old cottonwoods and elms.

Just after dawn, the pain pulled Grayson from his dreams. He opened his eyes to see Brant leaning over him with a knife in his hand. Brant’s face was twisted in concentration as he pointed the knife at Grayson’s shoulder.

“I’m not finished yet,” Brant whispered moments before his fist slammed into Grayson’s jaw, sending the injured man back into unconsciousness.

Grayson didn’t open his eyes again until late afternoon. Now, not only his shoulder and leg were throbbing, but his jaw felt like it had been stung by a hundred bees. He noticed Brant several feet away and wondered if he’d already died and this was his hell. He’d always figured hell would be full of rebs.

Brant frowned at Grayson as he tried to move. “I patched you up best as I could. I sure wish Maggie or Cherish were here.”

Grayson moved his unharmed arm and rubbed his jaw. “So do I. Your bedside manner leaves a little to be desired.”

Brant shrugged. “Sorry, but I couldn’t have you yelling to high heaven while I cut the bullet out.”

“I’m not in the habit of yelling because of a little pain.” Grayson’s blue-gray eyes studied him closely, wondering if this man had come to save him or kill him.

Brant propped one of his long legs up on the rock beside him. “Yeah, I figured that. But by then, you were already out cold.”

Grayson cradled his bandaged arm. “I don’t know whether to thank you or call you out.”