Here Comes the Bride (34 page)

“Where are we?” he asked.

“ ’Bout halfway to Butte, I think.”

“How long’ve we been riding?”

“Through the night. Wasn’t sure you’d ever snap out of it.”

Gabe grimaced. He’d never felt so lost before, but then he’d never had so much to lose before either.

“Any sign of them?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Bart said, “but we’ll find them.”

“Damn right we will.” Gabe nodded. “I won’t lose her now.”

Just after midday they rode into Shelton. Bart took the left side of the street and Gabe took the right; someone must have seen them.

“Yeah.” The man in the livery nodded slowly. “I think I seen ’em yesterday. Come in lookin’ for afresh horse. Two men and a scraggly lookin’ woman.”

Gabe’s whole body tensed. If he didn’t need this information so bad, he’d have cracked the guy right up his skull.

“She weren’t lookin’ so good. Thought maybe she was sick ’er somethin’, but the one fella—the one with the cash—tol’ me to mind my own business and they rode out.”

Gabe thanked him shortly and hurried to hunt down Bart. He found his brother in the sheriff’s office where he was relaying the events of the last several days. The sheriff, a youngish, thin man, with long legs and squinty eyes, nodded silently.

“I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for them,” he said. “You find them, you bring them to me, you hear? I don’t want any trouble with you folks now.”

The brothers rode on, running their horses as long as they dared and then slowing them to a walk only long enough to cool them down. Then it was off full tilt again. Neither man spoke as they both worked and reworked plans in their heads. It would be useless to discuss their ideas because they’d just end up arguing at this point. Especially because Gabe’s plan involved a lot more punching and shooting than his brother’s did. When the time came, they would instinctively meld the two unspoken plans together and make it work.

Hours passed without any sign of Tess. There were tracks, of course, but they could have been made by anyone on horseback. Gabe didn’t care how long it took or how far he had to ride; if he had to go clear across to Boston, he’d do that, and God help that son of a bitch Stiles if Tess had suffered so much as a broken fingernail on the trek east.

They stopped briefly to water the horses and it was then Gabe noticed Bart eyeing him.

“You okay with this?” Bart asked. “I mean, you’re not gonna go squirrely on me when we catch up to them, are you?”

“I’m not making any promises,” Gabe answered honestly, using his hands as a cup from which to drink.

“I’m only asking because . . .” He pulled a pistol from his saddlebag. “I brought this in case you needed one, but . . .”

“What about you?”

Bart pushed back his duster to reveal the black Colt slung low on his hip.

“Guess that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” Gabe chuckled dryly.

“I ain’t gonna give you this if you’re gonna go at them with it blazin’.”

Gabe snatched it from his brother’s hand and tucked it inside his waistband. “Thank you.”

“Gabe . . .”

“Come on, Bart, we’re going to lose the light in a while.”

They saddled up and headed out again, ever cognizant of the fact they could trip over Tess at any minute.

 

 

Tess stared into the fire with unseeing eyes. Maybe she’d been wrong, maybe Harm had been bluffing about what he’d do to Gabriel. It wasn’t a gamble Tess was willing to take. Her heart ached to see her husband one more time; her body longed to be tucked up against his, sharing their combined warmth. But the truth was, she would probably never see Gabriel again, and even if she did, it wasn’t likely he would speak to her. Not after the way she’d left him.

The pain in his eyes had etched itself onto her heart. She had hurt him, and worse, she had lied to him—albeit for a good reason, but a lie was a lie nonetheless. And God help her when he discovered she was, in fact, carrying his child.

She could try to escape, go back to El Cielo and tell Gabriel everything, but then she would be risking his life and her own as well. That was the one thing she was absolutely certain of—if she did manage to escape, Harmon Stiles would track her down again, and from what he had already confessed to, she was sure he would stop at nothing to get to her.

“Go to sleep, Tess.” Harm’s harsh voice raked through her. “I won’t have you whining and crying tomorrow because you’re tired.”

Tess lay down in the grass, but she did not go to sleep; she would not go to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, Gabriel’s face loomed in her subconscious, his broken and confused soul pleading with her through his storm-filled eyes. One day, perhaps, he would learn the truth and understand why she needed to do what she did, but that wasn’t the least bit of comfort to her at that moment.

She rolled onto her side and studied the two men on the other side of the fire. Her own father—the man who raised her and claimed to love her—had sold her to the highest bidder, as he had done with his older daughter. How could he do that to her? She couldn’t imagine doing that to her own child—couldn’t imagine not protecting her child from every single thing.

But, as Harm said, you’d be surprised what people’d do for a little bit of money.

Tess’s brain sparked—Harm carried a gun! She’d seen it hidden under his coat. Maybe if she waited until he was asleep—really good and asleep—she could get it away from him somehow. But then what? Shoot him? Shoot her own father?

Her mind toiled over the idea long into the night. Maybe she could tie them up with something and keep them there until somebody passed by. Surely someone would happen by and offer assistance, wouldn’t they?

It was her only hope. If she stayed with Harm, she would no doubt be beaten into submission, or worse, and the life growing inside her would be in terrible jeopardy. She couldn’t let that happen—this child, conceived out of a deep and mutual love, deserved the chance at a decent life.

Her soul cried out to Gabriel for strength. She had to get free of Harm, without letting him go free, so she could make her way back to her husband.

With painstaking caution, she inched her way around the fire, closer and closer to Harm. Certain the pounding of her heart would wake him, she took deep, quiet breaths, trying to calm it. One of the horses, hobbled nearby, nickered softly, but neither Harm nor her father stirred.

Another inch closer to freedom, another inch closer to death. Finally she was beside him, but her hands trembled so hard she had to sit on them for a moment to still them. Ever so slowly, with featherlight fingers, she lifted the side of his coat, revealing the smooth handle of the revolver. Tess’s throat was too dry to swallow. Her tongue flicked out, trying to moisten her lips, but it, too, was dryer than the dirt.

She eased the gun from its holster with a steadiness that came from being deathly afraid. The horse nickered again, louder this time, startling Tess and making her hand jerk.

“What the . . .” Harmon’s hand clamped down over hers. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tess knew what was coming, tried to brace herself for it, but it wasn’t enough. The force of his blow sent her reeling until she was flat on her back, blood oozing from her bottom lip. She tried to sit up but Harm was standing over her, his evil eyes flashing wickedly.

“What were you going to do, shoot me?” His lips pulled back in a threatening sneer. “You don’t have what it takes to shoot a man, Tess.”

She didn’t answer but tried to push herself backward away from him. He grasped her by the upper arm, hauled her to her feet, and backhanded her, sending her staggering back again. Her head throbbed, the world around her spun, and the ground raced up to meet her.

“Get up!” he bellowed. “You want to fight me, Tess? Then let’s fight.”

He hauled her up again only to knock her back down.

Please,
Tess prayed,
please don’t let him hurt my baby.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Stan Kinley finally rousted himself out of sleep.

“F-father,” she gasped. “Help me, please.”

He rose to his feet, his eyes moving slowly over his daughter and then Harm.

“What’s going on?” he repeated. “Stiles?”

Harm didn’t even look at him. “She was trying to steal my gun.”

“Tess?” her father said, looking back at his daughter on the ground. “Is this true?”

“Please, Father,” she begged again. “Help me. . . .”

Stan shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you do as you’re told? Your sister was never any trouble, but you . . . you’d test the patience of the Almighty.”

“Father,” she pleaded. “Please . . .”

“Shut up!” Harm snapped, grasping her by the elbow. He half dragged her back to the fire and threw her down in a heap. From somewhere in his saddlebag, he produced a ball of twine and bound her, hands and feet, and left her to bleed beside the fire.

Tess’s cries fell on deaf ears. Neither her father nor Harm paid her another minute’s notice but returned to their bedrolls and closed their eyes. Blood trickled into her mouth, leaving a dirty metal taste. She tried to spit it out but could not, for the life of her, find the strength.

It sickened her more than anything else to realize both men were again fast asleep as if nothing had happened. The sound of their breathing reverberated inside her already pounding head. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Tess’s heavy lids eventually slid shut, partly from swelling and partly from exhaustion, and as usual, Gabriel’s face loomed before her, taunting her from beyond her reach.

“Gabriel,” she sobbed softly. “Oh, Gabriel.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

She willed her eyes to open, but they wouldn’t budge. Icy fear raced through her veins—never before had Gabriel’s image spoken back to her. She must be dying and her angel had come to take her home; she was going to die right there in the dirt and so was her baby.

“No,” she wailed, her raw throat barely able to whisper.

A hand clamped down over her mouth—a strong, gentle hand. She knew this hand, but still . . . she forced her mouth to open wide enough that she could sink her teeth into the fleshy part between the thumb and forefinger. This was no dream—that hand was real! But still her eyes wouldn’t open.

She heard a muffled yelp and then a voice right in her ear.

“Tess, it’s me,” Gabriel whispered. “You need to keep still, okay?”

Gabriel! Tess’s body convulsed against its binding. With the last of her willpower, she finally forced her lids open a slit and there, heaven help her, was Gabriel, his face mere inches from hers, his breath warm against her face.

“Gabr—” she started, but he clamped his hand down over her mouth.

“Shhh,” he repeated. “You need to stay quiet.”

Pain and exhaustion forgotten, Tess’s eyes flew open wide. He really was there, really speaking to her, really touching her. Tears gushed from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks to the dust below her.

“I’m going to move my hand now,” he whispered. “But don’t move. Do you understand?”

Her head bobbed rapidly.

Gabe’s hand slipped from her mouth, but he stayed where he was, his eyes darting across the fire.

“Stay right here,” he ordered fiercely. “Right here!”

She opened her mouth to protest but slammed it shut. Gabriel was here! Relief flooded through her in one giant wave but was quickly drowned out by the fierce panic that followed. Harm was sure to kill him—she had to get him away from here.

“Gabriel!” she whispered hoarsely.

He put his finger to her lips and scowled, silencing her instantly.

He tiptoed back to Zeus, who’d been standing there the whole time, and silently removed a rope and a small silver flask. The horse tossed his head back and whinnied softly, barely audible over the gentle breeze.

In the next instant, all hell broke loose. Harm’s horses caught Zeus’s scent and kicked up enough ruckus to wake both Harm and Stan, who were on their feet instantly, guns drawn.

Gabe turned slowly, his hands out to his sides, and faced the two of them. Fear gripped Tess’s heart and throat. Why was he acting so calm when she was scared to death.

“Harm,” she cried. “Don’t! Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I beg you, please don’t do it.”

“Shut up,” Harm ordered, sauntering closer. “Well, isn’t this sweet? Come to rescue your little woman, have you?”

Gabe didn’t answer, but his eyes never wavered.

“I thought she made it pretty clear the other day she was through with you.” He took another step, then another. “Why the hell would she want a nowhere farmer when she could live the high life in the big city with money, prestige . . . power.”

Again, no answer. Tess fought against the ropes, trying to get to her feet, but it was useless.

“Gabriel,” she begged. “Please go. He’s going to kill you if you stay here! Please!”

Still Gabe didn’t move. Harm was right in front of him now, his pistol pressed against the underside of Gabe’s jaw.

“Thought you’d be a hero, didn’t you? Well, you heard the lady, Calloway, she asked you to leave. Now I suggest you get back on that animal you rode in on and get the hell on out of here before you make me do something you’re going to regret.”

“Is this where I’m supposed to start shaking?” Gabe asked, his voice steady and even.

“No,” Harm sneered. “Heroes like you don’t get scared, do they? Hell, you probably wouldn’t care if I shot you right between the eyes, would you? No, you wouldn’t, because then you’d be a martyr, too.”

Gabe didn’t even blink. “You’re such a piece of crap, Stiles. I don’t care what you do to me. . . .”

“Well, how about if I put the bullet in her instead?” He whirled the gun away from Gabe and pointed it at Tess, who trembled uncontrollably on the ground.

The next instant, the night sky exploded in gunfire and flashes of light, but Tess witnessed none of it from the safety of her cocoon. Something—no, someone—was on top of her. Gabriel’s huge body sprawled over her, protecting her from flying bullets and debris. Somehow from his twisted position he managed to fire off a couple rounds himself, putting one bullet through Harm’s right arm and another through Stan’s left shin.

Then suddenly there was silence. Dead, eerie silence that frightened Tess more than the bullets.