Debra Holland (31 page)

“I don’t want to leave Miss Stanton and David alone tomorrow while I’m hunting for March.”

“How ’bout I send Pepe after you tonight? Armed.”

“You don’t need him here to keep watch?”

Mack whistled. The sharp sound pierced the silence of the night.

“Ant?” Harriet sounded sleepy and unafraid.

“Be right there, Harriet.” He raised his voice so she’d hear him. “I’m talking to Mack.”

“Alright.” She didn’t say anything more.

A large hound stalked toward them.

Mack placed a hand on the creature’s head. “I’ll sleep in a stall. Rex, here, will stand guard. I can spare Pepe.”

 
“You know my place—the Maguire place?”

“I know where ya are.” Mack said in an irritated tone.

And if you do, so does Lewis.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ant ran up to Isabella’s house, tearing open the door and bursting into the parlor. He threaded his way through the furniture. Opening the dining room door, he saw the shambles an artillery shell had made of the room. “Isabella!”

Dropping to his knees, he crawled under the table to the far door, ignoring the dust catching in his throat and the pinch of pain as a glass shard sliced his palm.

The kitchen door was blocked. Ant jammed his shoulder against the door and squeezed inside.
 

Isabella lay trapped beneath a large beam. Dust covered her body and powdered her dark curls to gray.

Ant scrambled over debris to get to her, but the more he tried to reach her, the farther away she seemed. He reached out a hand to grab the hem of her skirt. The cloth anchored him, and he was able to pull himself to her. Yet when he finally knelt by her side, he saw the schoolteacher pinned under the heavy wood. Fear stabbed him.

“Harriet!” He knelt by her side.
 

Her eyes were glazed in pain, and she mouthed his name.
 

“Kitten, I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on.”

He struggled to move the beam, but the more he tried, the heavier it became.

Harriet whimpered.

The tiny sound pierced his heart.
 

Don’t die, Kitten
.
“Stay with me, Harriet.”
 

A trickle of blood ran from her mouth.
 

No! Despair and rage gathered within him. With superhuman strength, he raised the beam. It became as light as dandelion fluff, drifting in the breeze. The beam floated across the room until it landed on a pile of rubble.

Ant knew he was too late; the life light faded from Harriet’s eyes. He gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest, rocking her back and forth.
 

Ant knew the minute Harriet’s soul left her body. Something snapped inside him. He clutched her tighter to him. A howl of anguish tore up from his gut and out of his throat.

The sound woke him. Ant lay still for a few minutes, staring at the darkness and willing the tension to leave his body. He tried to slow his heartbeat from a gallop to a trot, then to a steady walk. The nightmare had felt so real. As real as the ones he’d had of Isabella’s death. As much as he hated them, he knew those past nightmares were based on what had really happened.
But not this one.
He breathed an unformed prayer of thankfulness that Harriet was alive and well, sleeping in the next room.

He kicked off the covers and stood up, padding on bare feet to Harriet’s bedroom, where he silently opened the door. Harriet had left the curtains open, and a pale shaft of moonlight played over her. She slept curled on her side like the kitten he called her, one long braid draped over the cover.

At the sight of her sleeping safely, something tight in his chest eased. He wanted to look some more, breathe in her presence, but he didn’t want her to wake and see him looming in her doorway. He’d probably frighten her straight back to the Cobbs. He needed her here where he could protect her.

Experiencing Harriet’s death in the dream had ripped the heart out of him. Odd, considering how since Isabella and Emily’s deaths, Ant hadn’t thought he had a heart—except for David.

He shut the door and went to the next room to check on his nephew, who slept with his back against the wall. Still not that little boy sprawl he used to have.
Will he ever feel safe while he sleeps?

I’m going to keep him safe.

He shut David’s door.

You can’t be with him every minute,
a voice in his head chided.

Ant walked across the front room to check that the door was barred and the latchstring pulled inside. He flopped into his chair, sliding down until his head rested on the back. His eyes burned from tiredness, and his whole body ached. But he doubted he’d be able to get back to sleep. He’d tossed and turned most of the night before dropping into sleep and the nightmare had seized him. He had no desire to go back to bed and give it another chance at him.

He’d stay put and think through what he needed to do.

At first light, I’ll track down Lewis and kill him.

Then he would figure out what to do about the petite schoolmarm who’d mystically woven herself into his dreams.

* * *

Extra ammunition in a saddlebag, Colt at his hip, rifle in its scabbard, Ant rode Shadow over the hill to the Sanders ranch. This time he didn’t pause to admire the early morning beauty. In spite of the lack of sleep and an on-the-edge feeling that had propelled him out the door before Harriet and David had woken up, he had a sense of calmness.

He’d left two letters for Harriet. One, telling her he’d gone to town early, which he’d left on the kitchen table. The other he’d placed on his bed, leaving the door to his room closed. She wouldn’t see it until there was need. In it, he’d made out a will, asking her to bring up David if anything happened to him.

Nick Sanders stood at the corral, engrossed in a conversation with John Carter. John wore a gun belt with a Colt at each hip and carried a rifle.

Good. I can talk to both of them at once.

The men turned toward him showing serious faces. Ant had an idea he knew the subject of their conversation.

He rode up to them and dismounted, tossing Shadow’s reins around the middle rung of the corral.

Nick nodded at him. “Glad you’re here, Ant. John was just telling me about the theft of the mule, and that you think it could be the boy’s father?”

John took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Could be a regular horse thief.”

The two men exchanged glances. “Either way,” Nick said. “It’s not good for the town.”

John put his hat back on his head. “Left two of my hands guarding my family. Sent the rest out searching the property.

Nick jerked his head toward the house. “Let me warn Elizabeth. Get my guns. Set someone to guard the house, then we can head over to the workers’ camp. I’ll have someone see to your horse.” He headed toward the house at a trot.

John reached up to stroke Shadow’s nose. “Times like this make me wish I’d put more effort into a search for a new sheriff. But we’re generally a peaceable place, and, after Rand left, there wasn’t a sense of urgency. Had other things on my mind.” His thin face looked drawn.

Ant gave him a curious look.

“Lizzy’s illness took all the starch out of me for a while. When you almost lose a child, it’s hard to think of anything else. Then the focus was on helping Nick build his house and marry Elizabeth. Wasn’t until winter slipped by and we had the trouble with the boys setting fires that I realized this town needed a sheriff. But I don’t want just anybody. Some lawmen are as bad as the lawbreakers.”

Ant had to agree with him. “A corrupt sheriff could control the town. You’d want a man of character to wear the badge.”

“That’s essential! Sent some letters out to folks in other towns seeing if they could recommend any candidates. So did Reverend Norton and Banker Livingston. Should hear back soon.”

“But not soon enough.”

“No.”

Nick hurried over to them, a revolver in a holster at each hip, a rifle in his hands. “Elizabeth has her revolver. Left Jed in the kitchen for extra protection.” He set his free hand on the handle of his Colt. “Let’s go check out the camp.”

Ant fell into step on one side of him, John Carter on the other. The camp sat level with the house, although about a hundred yards away. Higher ground than them. If Lewis was on the lookout, he’d clearly be able to see trouble coming his way. Ant’s skin itched, and he wanted to stride forward with his gun in his hand. But he knew most, if not all of the men were honest laborers. Didn’t need to scare them out of their boots.

But Lewis could pick us off easily.
Ant quickened his step, wanting to put himself ahead of the men. He figured Lewis would aim for him first, anyway. Not that he’d draw on the three of them with a camp full of men around him. But he could see them coming and slink off by himself to do the dirty deed.

Ant halted. “If anything happens to me, I’ve left a will for Harriet, asking her to bring David up. Will either of you help her?”

Nick looked as if he was about to deny the possibility of Ant’s death, then changed his mind. “They could live with us. We’ve got the room, and I guess my baby would like an older brother.”

“Or with us,” John said, his tone serious. “Mark would like a brother, too.”
 

“That’s settled, then.” To avoid twisting himself in knots with his imaginings, Ant strode around the tents.
 

The tent town straggled in an uneven circle around a campfire. The smell of coffee and frying salt pork drifted over to him. About fifteen bearded men sat on the ground or stood with tin plates in hand shoveling food into their mouths. They wore shirts in varying states of cleanliness, tucked into their pants, with suspenders to hold them up. Others moved slowly and avoided food, obviously having indulged too much at the saloon last night.

Before Ant moved into their line of vision, he took a quick glance around.
No Lewis
. But he could be in a tent or around somewhere. Ant didn’t relax his watchfulness.

John and Nick caught up with him.
 

One man, more clean than the others, with neat side whiskers and no beard, detached himself from the group and came to meet them. He shot a nervous glance at their guns and rubbed his hands together. “Is there a problem, Mr. Sanders?”

Nick glance at Ant. “Harrison, here, is the foreman of the crew.”

“We’re looking for a man named Lewis March.”

The foreman shook his head. “No man of that name’s on my crew.”

“You take on any new men in the last two weeks?” Ant asked.

“No, sir. My men have been with me for a long time. Hard workers. Know their jobs.” He waved toward the house. “As you can see.”

Ant nodded in acknowledgment. “Could someone be hiding out here without you knowing?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “Don’t think so. But come over to the fire and I’ll ask.”

They moved closer to the men, who stopped eating.

“Do we have a new man hanging around here?” Harrison asked.

Ant gave them a quick description.

A slight wiry man with big hands stood up and gave a couple of slaps to his legs to dust off his pants. “Ya, boss. Sounds like Fred Smith. A group of us found him down-river a few weeks ago. Battered and bruised with a broken leg. Sid...” he pointed to a stoop-shouldered man, “set the leg with some splints and leather strips, and we brought him back here. He’s been in Sid’s tent ever since.”

Ant wanted to grab the man and shake him until his head fell off. They’d saved the murderer instead of letting him perish.

The boss turned red. “You didn’t think to tell me, Groening?”

Groening looked down. “He promised us money for keeping quiet. Said he’d be coming into some soon. Didn’t say how, though. Said while he waited, he just wanted some peace and quiet to heal. Nothing wrong with that.”

The boss shook a finger at him. “It is if you’re feeding him our grub. You’re as good as stealing from Mr. Sanders.”

Groening gave a quick shake of his head. “No, sir. About ten of us gave him a little of our portion. Made enough for a grown man.”

“Ten of you knew and didn’t tell me?” Harrison gave the men a long, hard look. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Where is he?” Ant growled, deliberately taking advantage of the fearful effect he had on people who didn’t know him.

Groening shifted away. A nervous expression crossed his face. “Smith was feeling well enough, Boss. Could walk with a stick. We took him with us to town. Had us a rip-roaring time at one of the saloons. Said he was going to the other saloon. Never saw him again. Didn’t remember much ’til now, either. Too damn drunk, the lot of us.”

Ant stepped closer to the man. “He’s a dangerous murderer.”

“Who’d he murder?” Sid said in a disbelieving tone.