The Outlaw Takes a Bride (39 page)

The man holding Sally pushed her toward the door. Her shoulder slammed against the jamb, and she gasped. She hurried down the steps as fast as she could without stumbling, clutching her bruised shoulder. Her mother staggered down the steps and lurched against her. Their captors brought them up short, and they watched as Cam marched Pa a few steps away while another man stood watching the road.

“Torch the house,” Cam called to the man in the blue shirt.

Ma caught her breath, but Sally only pressed her lips together. If they would only spare her parents, she wouldn’t care about the cabin.

The man holstered his pistol and went into the barn, reappearing a moment later with an armful of straw. Meanwhile, Cam prodded her father toward the well.

“Your Sally is a good girl,” he said in Pa’s face.

Pa said nothing but stared at Ma and Sally, his eyes full of remorse.

“Say good-bye,” Cam told him, holding his gun to the back of Pa’s head.

Still Pa kept silent.

Cam glared at him. “For her sake, I won’t blow your head off. Over you go, Pops.”

Cam shoved Pa against the berm of the well and overbalanced him without difficulty. Sally’s heart clenched as her father disappeared over the edge. She heard the water splash, and knew the ringing in her ears had receded. She pulled against the man who held her, but his grip around her waist tightened.

“Hold still, missy.” The barrel of his pistol pushed against her temple. “You want your ma down there, too?”

Her mother sobbed, but Sally steeled herself. This was her fault, for refusing Cam. She wouldn’t make him angrier unless she had a weapon in her hand.

“Someone’s coming,” the lookout called.

Cam whirled toward him. “Get the horses.”

The man in the blue shirt lit a twist of straw and threw it on the pile banked against the house. Sally’s captor released her, giving her a shove. She landed in the dirt, and when she pushed herself up onto her knees, Ma lay beside her and the five outlaws were scrambling to mount their horses. She noticed as they galloped down the road toward town that one of them had earlier put his saddle on Lady, and one of their spent horses stood listlessly in the corral, its head hanging low.

“Jeremiah!” Ma leaped to her feet and ran toward the well.

The dust from the departing outlaws hung thick in the air as another bunch of horses tore into the yard. Johnny was in the vanguard, and he stopped Reckless so hard the chestnut almost sat on his tail.

“Sally!”

“It was Cam, with the outlaw gang.” She stood and pointed toward where the fleeing horses had gone as Sheriff Jackson and a dozen other men galloped their horses into the barnyard.

“Can you get the fire?” Johnny asked.

Sally turned toward the cabin. The flames crackled as they devoured the straw, but they hadn’t taken hold on the siding yet.

“Yes, but—”

As she turned back to Johnny, he waved and spurred Reckless off after the outlaws. He apparently had not noticed her mother, or assumed she was a neighbor woman. Ma was leaning over the berm, calling, “Jeremiah!”

“Is he drowned?” Sally ran to her mother’s side. Why hadn’t she run to Johnny and told him Pa was in the well? It had all happened so fast, and now the entire posse was gone, leaving a drifting dust cloud behind.

A splash came from below.

“Pa?” She squinted against the glare of sun on the surface of the water far below.

“I’m not drowned. Quite. I’m up to my neck, but I can hold my head up for a while. Get a ladder.”

Her mother clutched her arm. “Have you got a ladder?”

“No. Maybe.” What had Johnny and Cam used when they had built the new room? She turned toward the house, and the burning straw caught her eye. The flames had died down a little, but a small blaze was running along the edge of one of the lower boards. “We’ve got to douse the fire, then we’ll get him out.”

Her mother lingered to yell something down to Pa, but her words were lost to Sally. She and Johnny were going to need this cabin, and she wasn’t ready to let it burn after all.

Without stopping to worry who would see her, Sally unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the ground. She grabbed it, using it to slap at the flames as she kicked the smoldering straw away from the wall.

Her mother ran to her side. “We need water.”

Sally wasn’t sure what the outlaws had done with the bucket she’d had her milk and butter hanging in. They must have taken it with them.

“There was a pail in the kitchen. I’ll get it.” Sally thrust her smoking skirt into Ma’s hands and dashed for the steps. Inside, she staggered to a stop. To reach the bucket of water in the kitchen, she would have to climb over the outlaw leader’s body. She walked over to it and nudged him gingerly with her foot. He didn’t move.

She stepped over him and picked up the bucket of water. She ran outside, careful not to slosh too much, and threw the water against the wall. Her mother stepped in with the skirt and beat at the few remaining flames.

“I’ll get more.” Sally ran to the well and hooked the bucket onto the end of the rope. “Pa, you all right?”

“I’m still here.” His face was a gray blob floating on the well water, but he sounded weaker.

“We’ve nearly got the fire out. Hang on, and we’ll have you out of there soon.” Quickly, she turned the handle on the windlass to run the bucket down. Pa grabbed it and dunked it full for her. Sally cranked it up as fast as she could and carried it over to where her mother had the fire all but extinguished.

“Drown that patch, where it’s started to catch the grass,” Ma said.

Sally succeeded, and Ma wiped her brow with her sleeve.

“That’s done. Now, how are we going to get your father out of the well?”

“There may be something in the barn. Let’s look.”

Together they went into the barn, where Sally noted several cartridge casings on the floor. Her mother let out a little scream. She had found another fallen outlaw sprawled on the floor in the loose hay.

“Has he got a gun?” Sally asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ma said. “He looks dead.”

“Then he won’t hurt us.”

Sally looked all around and up at the underside of the loft, hoping to find a ladder the men had used on their building project, but she didn’t see anything that would help her. The ladder to the loft consisted of short planks nailed to the wall between the studs, so that wouldn’t help.

“I’ll have to go down the well rope.”

“You can’t,” her mother said. “I’m not strong enough to haul you up alone.”

The well rope would be too hard for her father to climb with his wound, and even if Sally and her mother could haul that much weight up with the windlass, she doubted he could hold on securely to the rope that long.

“Maybe I can make some loops from the clothesline.”

“The clothesline?” Her mother frowned at her, but Sally turned and ran for the house. She hopped over the dead outlaw and seized a kitchen knife then ran out the back door. When she returned to the well, her mother was bending over the berm.

“Jeremiah! You stay awake, now.” She turned to Sally. “He’s weak. We’ve got to get him out of there.”

Quickly, Sally knotted a length of clothesline around the well rope, the way Johnny had shown her. Not sure if it would skim the surface of the water or not, she made another loop above it and threw the rope down.

“Pa, can you reach that? Hold on to one of the loops.”

“What?”

Sally made herself slow down and explain carefully what she wanted him to do. If only Pa were healthy, he could climb up out of the water using rope loops for steps, but his slowness in even grasping the rope told her he couldn’t contribute much to the rescue effort.

He reached for the rope and sank below the surface then bobbed up again, coughing. With one hand he found and held on to the bottom loop she had provided, but he sagged low in the water, and his head, tilted back, barely broke the surface.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” her mother said.

Sally looked down at him, knowing even with the loop to clutch, he wouldn’t be able to stay above the water for long. “I’ll have to go down.”

“No!” Ma seized her arm. “Don’t you dare! I could never get the both of you out.”

Sally slumped against the edge of the well. “Then what’ll we do? If we don’t get him out soon, he’ll drown.”

O
nly two miles up the trail, the outlaws veered off the road and stormed into the Caxtons’ barnyard with the posse singeing their heels. The ranch had a large pole barn where Eph stored hay and feed. The outlaws ran their mounts inside and took cover behind the barn walls, a wagon, and a smokehouse.

Fred Jackson signaled the posse to hold up as soon as he saw where the gang was headed, and the men gathered around him.

“Eph, who’s at your place?”

“Rilla, the kids, and two hands. The hands might be out away from the house, though.”

“All right. Let’s be cautious. We don’t want them to get into the house and use your family as hostages.” Fred directed his men on how to surround the gang.

Johnny listened closely. He fidgeted to get into place, but it would be best if they had a plan.

“Most of all,” Fred told them, “make sure of your target. Don’t just let off a round because you saw movement. It could be one of us, or those two ranch hands, trying to help us.”

Johnny joined Eph to ride stealthily down a path to the spring that supplied the ranch’s freshwater. Eph said they would be able to circle around the smokehouse from there without being seen. Meanwhile, others positioned themselves closer to the house or beneath the windmill where they would have a clear line of fire at the barn.

Johnny and Eph left their horses near the spring. Gunfire opened near the barn. They sneaked closer, coming up behind the smokehouse. Johnny spotted one man at the side of the little building, leaning out to shoot around the corner. From the nearness of the reports, another must be close by, though Johnny couldn’t see him.

“Wish I’d gone into the house to be with Rilla and the kids,” Eph said.

“Well, watch yourself. We want to get you back to her in one piece.” Johnny patted his shoulder.

Eph nodded. “You want to get the drop on this feller? I’ll come in from behind that juniper.” He pointed toward a bush.

Johnny nodded, and they separated. He tried to keep behind cover, but the closer he got, the fewer hiding places were available. Soon he was in a good position to shoot the outlaw, but it didn’t seem fair. You didn’t just come up behind someone and shoot him in the back.

A lull came in the shooting, and from the meager protection of a low boulder, he called, “Drop your gun, mister.”

The outlaw jerked around to face him and let off a round. Johnny ducked as soon as he saw him move, and the bullet pinged against the rock, inches from his head. He stayed down, trying to absorb what he had just seen. The outlaw he had challenged was Cam.

Johnny hauled in a deep breath, trying to prepare himself. Cam would kill him if he had the chance.

He made sure the rifle was ready and prepared to spring up and shoot.

Another bullet ricocheted off the rock close to his head, throwing shards. One of them stung his cheek, and when he touched the spot, his hand came away bloody. Cam couldn’t have made that shot, Johnny reasoned, crouching lower. The other outlaw he’d heard shooting must have targeted him now. He searched for the shooter and saw movement in the junipers a few yards away.

Still he hesitated. That could be Eph. And what was Cam doing now?

The low evergreen branches parted, and a man raised a pistol, pointing at him. Johnny let off two shots and hit the dirt. He heard more shooting close by but didn’t dare raise his head at first. Finally, he lifted his chin. The man in the juniper appeared to be lying still. He pushed to his knees.

“Mark! Behind you!”

Eph’s cry sent Johnny diving behind his boulder once more. Several gunshots roared, too close. He held his pistol ready, his heart thumping.

“Johnny! You all right?”

He looked up. Eph held out a hand to help him rise. “I got him. It’s your old ranch hand.”

Johnny stood cautiously. From out front, a couple more shots sounded, and then he heard Fred Jackson call, “Give it up. We have you surrounded.”

“Sorry I called you Mark,” Eph said. “But I’m glad you listened.”

“It’s all right. Better check that fellow in the bushes.”

The outlaw he had exchanged gunfire with lay dead, and Johnny followed Eph over to where Cam lay, bleeding from a wound to the chest.

“Hey there, Johnny.” Cam smiled with gritted teeth. “I guess it was bound to come to this.”

Eph stooped and picked up Cam’s pistol. Johnny knelt beside him. He pulled off his bandanna and pressed it to Cam’s wound, but he knew it was too late.

“Cam, what are you doing with this bunch?”

“Didn’t have nowhere else to go. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You know Fred Jackson was set on getting this gang.”

Cam let out a bark of a laugh. “Didn’t think he was smart enough.”

“Sounds like it’s all over out there,” Eph said, looking toward the corner of the smokehouse.