Black Ransom (29 page)

“Crawford's a mad dog, Burrows,” Watson said. “He won't be taken in alive, will fight you every step of the way, and there's no point in you lettin' him do so.”

“Talkin' your law ag'in, Watson?” Ehron Lee said acidly. “Y'still ain't got much to back it up with.”

Watson regarded the bindings that kept him helpless.

“I have no call to make decisions for you,” he conceded with a sigh.

Ehron Lee glared at him. “That's right. You don't.”

Still, Watson responded to the moment and drew in a hopeful breath.

He said, “All I can say is this, if you're willin' to listen. I saw what went on here. I know you didn't kill anyone.” He turned his head toward the stricken Evaline. “Know as well as this girl that you turned ag'in Crawford to help us. Make the right choice now and I'm willin' to stand by my word.”

Ehron Lee discharged an ironic laugh. “That kinda guarantee means nothin' to me. 'Cause the way I see it, I got either prison or the hangman in my future.”

“I'll back up his word, Burrows,” Buck Leighton said. He was standing in the hallway, massaging his hurt and bloodied wrist. Gradually a tentative Melinda followed him out of the room.

Ehron Lee shook his head. “People are dead 'cause of me. I ain't gonna just walk away.”

Melinda broke in sharply. “Then ride outta here, Ehron Lee.”

His attention resting on his wife with eyes that were cold yet sad, Ehron Lee did not see the subtle maneuver of Ward, who, though feigning his posture, had regained his senses and whose hand was sliding toward his boot . . . withdrawing a small, sharp-edged knife, which, at the precise moment, he thrust into the back of Ehron Lee's leg, slicing into an artery and drawing downward.

Ehron Lee barely suppressed a cry of anguish, but he grimaced and blanched and his body jerked reflexively as the blade continued to dig deeper into his flesh and now twisted against bone.

A grinning, yellow-toothed Ward started to his feet. He moved with as much agility as he was able, but Ehron Lee, despite the searing pain and his starting to lose his balance, managed to twist his body around, gun still lifted, the barrel of which came within nearly an inch of Ward's head.

Their eyes locked and each displayed a different emotion: Ward's coal black eyes were wide and apprehensive, yet expressing a subtle doubt that his partner would actually carry through with his action; Ehron Lee's blue eyes were narrowed and, at that moment, confident . . . and it was Ehron Lee who made the only decision still left open to him.

He pulled the trigger.

Ward Crawford's skull exploded as the bullet penetrated at close range. The outlaw toppled backward, stone dead. His expression registered the same look of shock and disbelief that had appeared on the faces of many of the people he had killed.

Another killing. Evaline Watson screamed—before her expression seemed to grow dull.

After seconds had passed, Ehron Lee let the gun drop numbly to his side. Only then did he raise his eyes back to Melinda. At the same time Cora started to stir from her unconsciousness. Her eyelids fluttered, opened blearily, but she didn't immediately move from her supine position on the floor. Her tongue traced along her mouth and she instantly tasted blood. She raised an outstretched arm and wiped the back of her hand along the corner of her lips where the blood had started to congeal. When she recovered sufficiently, she half rose on an elbow, glanced over at Ehron Lee, who was down on one knee, and slid herself over toward him. Cora noticed the gaping wound at the back of his leg, which was spreading a pool of blood down from inside his trousers onto the floor.

She hastened to help, briefly halting when she caught sight of Ward's lifeless body lying not far from her. Her mouth moved without any words coming out. Ward was beyond help, and she pulled herself together and once more displayed an obvious and troubled concern for Ehron Lee's injury, which was immediately noticed by Melinda, who responded by unconsciously tightening her grip on Buck's forearm.

Ehron Lee tried to discourage Cora's attention by getting himself onto his feet.

“Don't worry none 'bout me,” he said sternly. “Get some sheets from the bedroom and cover up them bodies.”

Cora gazed numbly at the corpses of Janette Watson and Judge Harrison.

“Ward killed 'em,” Ehron Lee told her. “Weren't nothin' I could do.”

Cora felt sick to her stomach as her eyes shifted from the two bodies to a traumatized Evaline and a distressed-looking George Watson. Realizing that it was cruel to leave the bodies of their loved ones exposed as they were, she hastened to do as Ehron Lee instructed.

In the meantime Ehron Lee kept his gun leveled on Buck.

“Your call now, Burrows,” Buck said, calm and unthreatened.

With a painful effort Ehron Lee took a few steps back, maintaining his advantage, before he focused on George Watson. His expression was intense and hinted gravely at what his next move might be. It was understood by all that Ehron Lee might want to close accounts and pay off the obligation he felt he still owed himself. Judge Harrison was dead. Watson was the last one left. What difference would it make to the situation if Ehron Lee wiped the slate clean? Debt paid in full. Nothing worse could happen to him.

Melinda stared at her husband with an expression of dread. She knew precisely what was going through his mind.

Ehron Lee's eyes slowly veered back and forth between Melinda and Watson. The ensuing seconds were tense and uncertain.

Finally, the severity stamped upon Ehron Lee's features dissolved into a look that suggested defeat. Although he still gripped the revolver aggressively, he popped a breath as he dropped himself onto a kitchen chair.

“What's the point,” he muttered, punctuating his comment with another heavy exhale. With a jerk of his head, he gestured for either Buck or Melinda to release Superintendent Watson. It was Buck who complied.

Cora came back into the front room with coverings pulled from the beds. She had heard Ehron Lee's words, saw his expression, and her face flushed with relief. After she gingerly laid sheets over the bodies of the dead woman and the judge, she hastened to fetch some cloth with which to fashion a bandage for Ehron Lee's leg.

As Buck struggled with untying the rawhide ropes that bound Watson, he spoke to Ehron Lee.

“It ain't too late, Burrows,” he said.

Ehron Lee focused on Melinda, a faint smile creeping over his lips. Melinda's own smile twisted into a look of concern as she noticed the amount of blood draining from his wound. She started to step forward to assist Cora.

“No, you keep back,” Ehron Lee said quietly to her. Then he spoke to Cora. “It—it's better to leave it this way.”

Cora responded abruptly and incredulously.

“You can't wanta die,” she said as she knelt beside Ehron Lee and carefully prepared to bandage his leg. She grimaced as she examined the extent of his injury. The knife wound was long and deep and bleeding profusely; she didn't know how much she could do.

Ehron Lee smiled weakly. “Ain't my dyin' so much. Just don't wanta see Melinda dirtyin' her hands on my blood.”

Melinda looked hurt and offended by Ehron Lee's remark. Yet in a strange way she understood—understood why she was held back while this girl Cora was allowed to do whatever she could to tend to Ehron Lee's wound.

Ehron Lee looked down at Cora while she worked on attempting to stanch the bleeding and said nothing.

It was then that Melinda finally spoke what she had avoided saying—words that, whatever their significance now, she could no longer withhold from him.

“You have a son, Ehron Lee.
We
have a son. A fine boy.” Her voice became apologetic. “I—should have told you sooner.”

Surprisingly, Ehron Lee didn't much react beyond a slight lowering of his head. And then, for just a moment, he weakened.

“A son,” he murmured . . . before his hardness returned. “He never knew me. Better now if he doesn't.”

Melinda looked pained, confused, at what she perceived as Ehron Lee's harsh attitude.

She quickly offered, “I named him Charlie. The name we planned if'n it was a boy.”

“He's got a right to know his father, Burrows,” Buck put in. “To know that whatever else went wrong, that you, his pa, risked your life to save ours.”

“Damn heroics,” Ehron Lee scoffed.

“You can't ignore what yuh done,” Buck countered.

Ehron Lee didn't want to hear any sanctified justification for what he'd felt he had to do. The way he saw it, there was no bravery involved; he was as much concerned with saving his own skin.

Once he saw that George Watson was untied, he said hastily, “Go on. All of yuh, just git.” Then he looked with compassion at Cora. “You, too, Cora. You was never really involved in this.” Finally, he regarded Buck with a determined expression. “You hear me, Marshal? If you owe me anything, you promise me that Cora here won't be punished.”

Buck hesitated and he responded with a frown. He was a lawman, took his job seriously, and had a duty to perform.

Ehron Lee noticed his reticence.

“I want your word,” Ehron Lee demanded, once again raising his gun to amplify his point.

Buck ignored the threat; it was a hollow gesture and Ehron Lee knew it. Instead he briefly glanced at the girl and finally nodded. “You have my word.”

Cora grabbed on to Ehron Lee's uninjured leg. “I ain't leavin' you.”

Ehron Lee looked ready to scold her before he responded with a benign smile. “There ain't no sense in that,” he said.

She shook her head determinedly. “I'm stayin'. If you're stayin' behind, so am I.”

Ehron Lee hadn't the strength to argue. He felt himself growing weak, becoming light-headed and steadily losing his focus. But he did look across at Melinda, then struggled to release his eyes from her before he nodded in halfhearted acknowledgment of Cora's stubbornness.

“I told yuh all to get outta here!” he repeated emphatically to the others.

Watson rose stiffly from the chair, keeping a cautious eye on Ehron Lee. He helped escort Evaline to the door before he halted. Evaline could no longer respond to all that had happened; the shock of what she'd experienced had thrust her beyond all comprehension. She had gone into a stupor where she no longer could rationalize or place significance on her situation or surroundings, including the body of her father. Watson, however, had shed all remnants of his professional demeanor as he looked with grief upon the sheet covering the lifeless form of his wife.

“She was a fine woman,” he muttered. “She . . . never . . . deserved this.”

There was nothing Ehron Lee could say, other than, “There's horses out in the corral.”

Melinda held herself back. And then she stepped directly over to her husband and, gently cupping her hand over his, gazed tenderly at him, perhaps remembering. Cora had turned her head aside at Melinda's approach but didn't interfere with what she understood had to be shared between them.

“Come with us,” Melinda softly urged Ehron Lee.

Ehron Lee reluctantly met her gaze and, once he did, offered a small, sad smile.

“Melinda,” he said, carefully measuring his words. “We both know things can't ever be as they was before. At the very least I'd be goin' back to prison and I couldn't go through that hell ag'in. Reckon if they hanged me, it would be for the best. But maybe . . . maybe if'n you'd like, just hold on to some of those better memories we once had.”

He gave a wink, and as his eyelid dropped, a single tear was released.

“I always have,” Melinda assured him, speaking over a lump in her throat and squeezing his hand as her own eyes glistened.

Ehron Lee sighed as he tried to regain his composure. “Reckon if anythin', I'm glad we had this chance to . . . well, for me to know the truth. Can't make up for what went on here, but least makes it easier for me. But you gotta go on makin' that life for you and . . . and for young Charlie that you been buildin' for yourselves.” He turned to Buck with a strained look. “And that's one more favor you can do me, Marshal.”

Upon hearing those words, Melinda pressed herself close to Ehron Lee and wrapped her arms around him. As their bodies connected, it generated shared warmth. At once a dozen memories were evoked, each of which Melinda absorbed: the feel of his muscles next to her, his smell, the sound of his breathing. She didn't want to let go.

Ehron Lee wanted to reciprocate but he resisted. Not to take her into his arms for one last embrace was almost too much for him to bear. But he also knew that if he gave in to that urge, he could never let her go.

Buck understood Ehron Lee's request as he did Melinda's need to spend those moments with her husband, and he nodded and spoke his promise. “I'll make sure they're looked after.”

Ehron Lee glanced over Melinda's shoulder and gave an appreciative nod in return.

Melinda kept herself nestled beside Ehron Lee until she realized that he would not budge from his decision. He would stay behind. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she finally ended the embrace and gave his hand a final squeeze before lifting her small, slight body to kiss him. Ehron Lee rocked his head in acknowledgment. He tightened his grip on her delicate fingers, maintained it . . . and then he released her.

“Go on,” he said wearily.

It was clear to all of them that Ehron Lee knew he was dying, and that he'd chosen to accept his fate in his own way. No one could truly dispute his decision.

The small group stepped outside into the bright morning daylight and halted abruptly—startled by what they had never expected to encounter.

Like shadows maneuvering in a practiced silence, the Chiricahua had surrounded the frontage of the cabin. The way they were positioned on their horses left no doubt that they were prepared for aggressive action. They sat not upon saddles but on blankets of varying color and design. All were bare-chested, and around their necks they wore primitive string collars decorated with what appeared to be beads and small fragments of bone. The younger men among them had their faces etched with war paint and bore spears, which were held upright.