Reckless Territory (17 page)

That message wasn’t one any of them had missed. And he was right, it did help to know she was protected, and especially now, when they were all tired, travel-worn, and knew there was a bloodbath ahead. Of course, Robert could take at least a few of them out before they scattered—
if
he could get a clear shot at a better range while the light still held.

“It’s my guess they won’t move until late, hoping to catch us asleep.” Cole sank down on his haunches and shaded his eyes. “They’re drinking. Passing around a bottle. Playing cards. Lawrence must figure we’ll be on guard after you ran into Frank, but he seems to think that won’t be a problem.”

“He doesn’t even make a good outlaw,” Jace declared in disgust, flipping open his saddlebag. “But I’m going to wager he’ll make a fine dead man.”

The sun was sinking in a blaze over the mountains, and fingers of golden light fed with fire slipped over the far timberline. If Cole was tired, it didn’t show, but he had to be. Between taking Victoria up to Greer’s cabin and then riding to town and now heading back, he hadn’t slept more than a few hours in several days. Instead he looked tightly strung, drawn like a bow, his face taut. “We can’t give them a chance to get there before we do.”

“Got to admit I agree with that.” Robert tossed aside his gloves.

“Wonder how Lawrence is gonna feel when he finds out his brother turned on him.” Jace’s expression was hard-edged.

“If he’s been paying attention his whole life, not surprised. Frank is a snake.” Cole said it matter-of-factly as he rose and glided toward the shadows away from the campfire. “I’m speaking from past experience. During the time I was jailed in Arkansas, he perjured himself every time he opened his mouth. Frank’s a liar, but he told us the truth for once in his miserable life. Nothing like the sight of his own blood to bring a man some religion.”

“Can’t argue that,” Robert agreed dryly. “At least there’s only five of them.”

“Ah, it warms my heart to think Lawrence will soon be singing with the angels,” Jace said. “I shoulda killed Frank, but then he couldn’t have talked. Besides, damn if we aren’t already a little conspicuous, and we are going to need supplies. I don’t want to ride into town and have everyone afraid of me. I’m tryin’ to retire from notoriety, not make it worse. At least a roomful of people heard what he said. Whatever happens next, they’ll know we were just defending ourselves and our property.”

“He deserved killing, but the law frowns on it, even out here.” Cole elevated a brow sardonically and came back into the light of the licking flame. “And as for angels, I don’t think Lawrence is going to be wearing any wings. Here.”

Robert deftly caught the round of ammunition in the gun belt with one hand, his other hand shifting his tin cup of whiskey up against harm’s way. “I have to agree. Lawrence and Frank will both go straight to hell.”

“They will if I have anything to do with it.” Cole sat down again, his hands threaded through a lacing of beads that he moved restlessly through his long fingers. “We could do it in the dark, nice and quiet. I have my knife.”

“But that doesn’t feel right, does it? How do we play it?” Jace hunkered near the small fire, tipping just a dash of whiskey into his cup. “We don’t ambush, they do. It’s the difference, or one of a lot of them, I hope, between us.”

That was true. “Still tempting,” Robert commented, which wasn’t a lie. To play by a set of rules in a place that had only the loosest of strictures was a personal choice. Honor was a matter of opinion out West, and there were a lot of honorable dead men in unmarked graves. It was all a question of what a man could live with.

“Let’s move on and skirt their camp, getting ahead of them. I want them on our land when we take them. That way there isn’t a question.”

Robert lifted a brow. “You think Lawrence is just out for an evening ride, Cole? Like Jace said, enough people heard what Frank said.”

Cole turned his face into the breeze, his black hair lifting slightly. Without a fire the light was filtered by the clouds and the darkness of the trees. “Nope. He’s out to kill me, burn down the ranch, steal the stock and generally get even as he sees it.”

“Then why not fight it out now?”

“Because I want to be able to look anyone in the eye and say that the Saxons started it, and as of yet, they haven’t done anything. I’m already wanted for the murder of two of them, who is going to believe me if we can’t swear they initiated the fight? You have to keep in mind, I’m still a half-breed. Around here, people don’t trust Indians.”

A good point. Cole was a lot of things like every man, some good and some bad, but he was not a liar.

“If he knew Victoria even existed…” Jace started to say.

He stopped, and Robert was just as glad, because that wasn’t a subject he wanted to contemplate either, and there was the matter of the dress they’d bought. Maybe Lawrence did know.

Cole said curtly, “She’s safe, but yes, that would change everything.”

“Greer better—”

“He’ll keep her hidden, don’t worry. He knows what she means to me.”

“Means what?”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “That’s between me and her.”

“Gawd, Cole.” Jace shook his head. “You might tell yourself that, but you know it isn’t so. All four of us have a stake in this.”

Robert intervened, not so much to keep the peace, but because the last thing they needed was to be at odds with one another, and the argument was pointless anyway as they all wanted the same goals: Victoria safe, the ranch secure and to be done with the threat of the Saxons. He said neutrally, “Sorry, pard. Jace has a point.”

“I love her.”

There, he’d said it. Robert was fairly sure Cole had never said out loud he loved anyone in his life. Even now the words were barely audible.

“Huh.” Jace sat back against a fallen log and took a pull from his drink. “You ever think of mentioning that to her? Just wonderin’.”

One of the horses moved in the darkness, the scrape of hoof on a stone drifting to them along with a soft snort before the animal started to crop the grass again. After a moment, Cole said coolly, “I’ll deal with Victoria without your advice. Can we get back to our next move? It goes without saying we want to be in the valley first, waiting for them. I say we saddle back up in about an hour. The sun will be down then.”

That would give the horses at least a chance to rest a bit after being pushed the past few days—even Cole’s rangy bay had been showing signs of fatigue. Robert nodded, and the mournful sound of a wolf howling signaled the dusk. “Then we ride.”

The trouble was, Cole knew, that when dealing with the likes of Lawrence Saxon, thinking like the enemy was everything. As their horses picked down a narrow trail, he contemplated what he would do if he had no intention of facing an opponent on open ground.

“They’ll come down the west ridge,” he murmured, guiding his horse with his heels. “The open approach from the east isn’t what he wants. That way he can start to ignite the fences first, which will stampede the stock, and then, as we rush out to take care of the fires, they can gun us down easy.”

“Not
so
easy.” Jace’s face was hollowed in the starlight. His horse snorted, low and rough, and he held the reins lightly in his gloved hands. “I’d like to think we’re smarter than that.”

“Maybe we’re about to find out.” Cole spotted a dark line of moving shapes, the thin moonlight deceptive, but…yes, there they were there, coming out of the trees, one after another.

A lot smarter
, he thought, bringing his mount to a halt by one of the far fences, the cattle moving a little restlessly, occasionally letting out a low call. There was a fair breeze, bringing with it the scent of grass, dry earth and a hint of sage.

The first flare of a torch didn’t surprise him, but it sent a prickle along his skin, anger and resentment a flush, and Robert muttered something, tightening the grip on his reins enough his horse tossed its head.

“Son of a bitch.” Cole echoed the sentiment through his teeth. He was angry, but he’d expected just this, and acting too soon was just damn stupid, so as he watched, their uninvited guests ignited two more fence posts, sending the already edgy livestock moving toward the end of the pasture.

“That’s evidence enough for me.” As tired as his horse might be, he responded to the blaze by tossing his head, and his whinny would have alerted the visitors in any case. Indian-raised horses, he decided a few minutes later, were stalwart, and whatever his stallion hated about the fire, he made up for in speed as he obeyed the urge of knees and reins.

The wind lashed his hair, and a primal hunger that he understood on more than one level filled Cole’s heart. This was
his
land. He’d bought it, paid for it honestly, and he would keep it. Moreover, Victoria would be safe here. This was the last time he’d have to hide her away.

Ever.

If he couldn’t give her more, he would give her and their child a safe, secure life.

At the blood-curdling war scream all of the horses halted, circling, and three of the riders drew back, barely controlling their mounts. Lawrence was in the lead as he should be if he was in charge, and his face shone like soapstone suddenly in the moonlight as he whirled his horse to face Cole’s approach.

Behind Cole Jace yelled in his rebel voice, and Robert used his rifle with unerring accuracy, shots repeating, loud, sharp…

One of them fell. Cole registered the toppling form, and he thought maybe another pitched into the shadows, his horse bolting, riderless, the stirrups swinging. Bullets whizzed by his head and he hung low, riding like his uncle taught him long ago, half-hanging off his horse, his revolver needing a closer range. There was a blur of scrub trees and sage brush as he galloped up the ridge, the scent of the night sharp and narcotic.

Lawrence turned his horse as if he was going to break for it in the face of such a raging barrage of gunfire, but Cole was coming fast. And then Lawrence cursed and turned back around, dragging out his gun…

The hesitation cost him. One clear shot at this speed wasn’t a sure thing, so Cole took several, and maybe it was even Robert who got the son of a bitch, but he went slack suddenly, swaying in the saddle, and then as if in slow motion listed to one side and fell to the ground even as Cole thundered up, hauling his horse to a stop.

Jace pulled up right behind him, his horse rearing, and said breathlessly, “Looks like Lawrence is a goner. Robert and I are goin’ after them other two. They went back up the ridge.”

Cole nodded and slid off his mount as they spurred their horses into the darkness. His nemesis lay sprawled on the ground, still breathing, but that wasn’t going to last, the telltale gurgle never a good sign. He’d seen a lot of dying men—too many—and Jace was right, Lawrence was as good as dead.

“Frank turned on you,” he said with no inflection. “That seems to run in the family. Samuel shot your youngest brother dead, and now Frank has done for you.”

“Fucking…Injun…” Lawrence’s eyes were already glassy, a froth of red bubbles on his lips as he gasped out the words. He even made an attempt to grope for his gun, his hand moving in a jerky search.

Hate was much too powerful an emotion, Cole decided as he watched his archenemy struggle to breathe with as much detachment as possible. He had a great respect for death. His mother’s people had taught him that, and maybe he even felt a twinge of compassion for the man lying in the dirt in the filtered light of the stars as the sound of labored breathing stopped, but it was more out of a reverence for the miracle of life that Lawrence had squandered. Men usually created their own destinies, and his had been fashioned from prejudice and a vicious nature. Still, Cole took a moment, and in honor of his mother and her beliefs, uttered a prayer of passing.

Much more than the bastard deserved.

The fences were still ablaze Cole registered a moment later, surprised by how easily it was all over, his hand still clenched on his gun.

It was
over
. It was about time, and he was pretty sure no one would mourn the passing of a man who never given anything but destruction to the world.

He had no idea how long it was before Jace and Robert returned. He was covered in soot and a fine layer of ash, and with no tools along, he’d used his hands to dig up soil and dirt to toss on the burning fence posts. In truth, there wasn’t much damage.

To his look of inquiry, Robert shook his head. “They split up, running scared. We decided it was better to turn around than divide forces.”

Jace dismounted and regarded the fallen men with derision, especially Lawrence. “I’d say let the coyotes have ‘em, but why would I want to make innocent coyotes sick? I’ll ride back for a shovel.”

It was impossible to stifle a laugh, the release a short burst of breath.

He glanced over at Robert. “You’ll help Jace? I’m going to go down and get a fresh horse and head for the mountains.”

Robert understood at once. “Can’t wait until morning to go get her?”

“Nope,” Cole said, shaking his head, his voice hoarse. “The wind tells me I can’t waste a precious minute.”

“Then go. I’m starting to agree with your gods, Cole.”

Chapter Fifteen

Victoria rolled over and encountered a solid, unyielding male body. Cole muttered something and hauled her closer, his face pressed to her shoulder, his breathing falling right back into a regular rhythm.

His brawny arm was like an iron band she decided an hour later, but the sun was coming up and he seemed exhausted, so she gently eased free and took care of the necessities. She washed her face in the basin, dressing swiftly with a small smile at the difference in her routine from when she required a maid to do all the tiny buttons and help her with the endless petticoats. She ran a comb quickly through her hair and tied it back with a small piece of pretty pink ribbon—the only real concession to femininity—and then followed the smell of coffee from the kitchen.

Robert was there, in his shirt sleeves, flour on his hands, a smile curving his lips as he glanced up when she entered the room. “He still sleeping?”