Lawless (16 page)

Matthew poured their guest a drink. “We’re all very grateful to Cal. He brought our child back to us. How many children you do have now, John? Four?”

The other man looked bland at the obvious ploy. “Four, yes. Keeps Alice pretty busy.”

“Laurel is our only daughter.”

“I know that, Matthew.”

The sunset really was spectacular, a display of indigo fading into pink, the evening holding not so much as a breeze. Cal gazed out over the pretty view and thought about sitting on that same porch and holding his own child.

That he—Cal Riker—wanted to see more sunsets was not in question. He wanted to hold Laurel close each night, hear her soft breathing, enjoy the stunning beauty of her smile in the morning and months from now cradle his baby in his arms.

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He’d spent the past ten years of his life looking at things with the pragmatic realism of a man who understood danger and risk. Evans had come for a reason and it was best just to know what it might be. “Why are you here?” Cal asked quietly. “Let’s shoot straight with each other.”

“I’d rather you not shoot at me at all, if you’re who I think you are,” Evans said after a flat pause, wry amusement twisting his mouth. “But all right, if you want plain talking, I can do that. A stranger showed up in town today. Older man, at least ten years on you, calls himself Rollins. He’s been asking around about Laurel, and more importantly, about the man who brought her back here. At the saloon he mentioned Cal Riker. That’s a name that’ll make a lawman take notice, so I thought I’d ride out.”

Rollins. Cal wasn’t really surprised if any of the gang had escaped he was one of them, but this wasn’t welcome news. It didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense for the man not to have ridden as far as possible from this corner of Colorado.

Matthew Daniels looked at Cal, his face somber. “You know this Rollins?”

Cal nodded. The cards seemed to be on the table anyway, he’d made sure of that himself. “I know him. Part of River Bend. He’s fast and was always itching to try me but never did. He used to be straight, more like me, someone who got forced into it. It’s a vicious cycle, because once you get a name, there’s no rest from those who want to be better, who want the credit for outdrawing you.”

Evans stared at his glass of whiskey for a minute and then gave a small mirthless laugh. “Never thought I’d be sitting on a porch drinking with Cal Riker. In fact, I’m pretty sure if someone had told me that, I’d say they were a damn fool. Why do you think Rollins has shown up in Tijeras? He’s looking for you, that’s sure, making certain word gets around about it. What’s he want?”

“I’m going to guess he’s gotten over his reservations about meeting me,” Cal said, an icy conviction settling over him. “Somehow he guessed I’d bring Laurel home, maybe he saw right away how I felt about her…can’t be sure. Where is he now?”

“One of the local hotels in town from what I’m told.”

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“Arrest him,” Matthew said forcefully. “If he had part in the robbery and Laurel’s kidnapping—”

“If I do, he’ll talk. He’s going to drag you into it.” John looked at Cal, his gaze unflinching. “In fact, you’d have to be dragged into it as a witness. So would Laurel, most likely. You’d be charged with the same crimes, plus you’re wanted in Texas for the murder of a judge, no less. The court here will crucify you.”

All of that was probably true. Judges didn’t care for vigilante justice, especially when it involved killing one of them. No one realized that better than Cal. For the past decade he’d known if he were ever arrested and brought to trial, he’d hang.

He looked curiously at John Evans. “Can I ask why I’m not in custody right now?”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good reason. It involves a man named Gabe Ranson. Name sound familiar? He told me once I ought to remember something, and you know what, I remembered it. Add that to Laurel’s well-being, and well, I think I owed you. Now, the question is, how’re you going to handle all of this?”

“Meet him.” The decision wasn’t one he even had to ponder. He had no choice, so the sooner the better. The last thing he wanted was for Rollins to spread his name around any more than he had already. “The last time we saw each other I offered him a chance and he turned it down. Looks like he’s thought it over a bit.”

John rubbed his jaw and frowned. “If you think you’re having a showdown in the main street of my town, think again. That I’ll arrest you for, believe me.”

“Rollins isn’t a showman,” Cal said slowly, thinking back, remembering everything he could. “I could meet him anywhere, if I got word to him, I’m going to guess. He just wants to know who’s faster with a gun, me or him. I felt it eat at him every time we were around each other.”

“Who
is
faster?” Matthew Daniels looked at him from under hooded lids, his mouth tight.

Cal shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?”

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It was a bizarre situation for a man who was supposed to uphold the law to be in, but John told himself in a convoluted way, he was doing just that.

He’d talked to Rollins himself, finding the man back at the saloon, playing poker with a group of drunken cowboys. He wasn’t hard to pick out from the rowdy crowd, a hard-faced, hard-eyed man with that ageless look that comes from being out of doors constantly, weathered into leather, too thin, not even giving the badge pinned to John’s chest more than an amused glance when he walked up.

Not afraid of the law apparently. Not afraid of much if he was willing to go up against Cal Riker and his infamous fast draw.

This morning would settle one of two things. Riker would kill Rollins and rid the world of one more lawbreaking ruthless killer, or Rollins would kill Riker and break Laurel Daniels’ heart.

If the latter happened, John should arrest Rollins for charges relating to the train robbery. Laurel could help him make it stick, but then again, to put her through a trial as a witness seemed a bit heartless… Oh hell, he didn’t know what to do. For that matter, he should arrest Riker, but he wasn’t going to. He’d always felt the law was meant to uphold justice, but sometimes justice wasn’t black and white. This was a gray situation in his mind, for Cal was obviously not as black as his name was painted, or he wouldn’t be rescuing a young woman from a gang of outlaws, and he certainly wouldn’t be systematically sending word to the law about the whereabouts of wanted men. It seemed to John he’d gotten the name from that killing—which didn’t really sound unjustified—in Texas, and then used it to help the very people he knew were looking for him in the guise of Gabe Ranson.

“More coffee?”

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He glanced up, realizing the black liquid in his cup was gone but he had no memory of drinking it. “No, thanks.”

Alice sat down on the opposite side of the table, her face anxious. “You look grim this morning, John. Does this have something to do with that man in town?”

Yep, she had good instincts all right. He lifted his brows. “Maybe. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Hmmph. No you won’t.” She took a sip from her cup and set it down deliberately.

“You can be very close-mouthed sometimes.”

“You like my mouth.” He gave her a grin. “Especially when I put it certain places, like—”

“John Evans, stop that.” She blushed, color coming into her smooth cheeks, looking young and pretty in the warm, homey kitchen.

“Well, you do.” He stood and set aside his napkin, going over to kiss her. “I’ll be back later.”

***

It was a fine morning for dying. Beautiful, cool, the air crisp as an autumn leaf, the mountains rising majestically in the background…

Only for the first time in a long time, he consciously didn’t want to die, Cal thought with bittersweet honesty. It wasn’t the best thing under the circumstances, but that very icy cold disdain for his fate had kept him alive during every potentially dangerous encounter he’d ever had, and it was gone.

It always shook his opponents. He could tell they saw it in his eyes, the fact he didn’t fear them or what they could do to him. His hands were always steady, his nerves like iron and his reflexes honed to a fine razor point. That first twitch of the hand, maybe just the slightest flex of a finger, and he didn’t even think, it just happened.

And up until now, this morning, this fateful day, he’d been faster.

Cal strolled out into the small clearing, feeling an unwanted sheen of sweat under his clothes. That had never happened before, damn it. Unfortunately, he could picture in his 116

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mind how Laurel must look, asleep in her bed, golden hair spilled over the pillow, her lashes pillowed against her cheekbones as she breathed gently…his child growing inside her still-slender body.

Fuck. Don’t think about it. Not about her, not now.

The other man stood motionless. Dark clothes, black soulless eyes, gaunt face…

Cal stopped, checked, slightly shocked at Rollins’ appearance. It had been only a month since they’d seen each other and he could tell the other man had lost weight, and his skin had an unusual pasty hue under the leathery skin.

Rollins smiled, a mere baring of his teeth. “Howdy, Riker. Surprised to see me? I’d bet you are since you sold us out.”

Someday someone was going to cotton on to what he was doing and Rollins was a bit smarter than most of the company he’d kept in the past years. Cal said coolly, “I figured it was time the River Bend disbanded. Hauling Miss Daniels off that train sort of stuck in my craw.”

“That was Norton.”

“I know. I was there. But you are only as good as the company you keep.”

“True enough. Kind of risky, going to the law, a man like you.”

“I sent a friend.”

Rollins tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I see. Makes sense, but I always figured you for a smart hombre.”

“Likewise. Makes me wonder why you’d ride all the way to Tijeras and draw attention to yourself.”

Rollins lifted his shoulders in a negligent motion that belied the watchful focus of his eyes. “I got business here with you.”

“All right, well, here I am.”

“I used to be the best. I haven’t killed as many men as you but I could have, easy.”

That declaration made Cal give a humorless smile. “I haven’t killed as many men as me either. Not all of it is true.”

“Some of it is. I know you shot Holbert after his killings at the bank.”

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“He needed off this green earth. The air’s a lot cleaner with him gone.”

“He was quick.”

“Not quick enough, trust me.” Cal still remembered the blank look of surprise on Holbert’s face before he fell. He regretted a lot of things, but that confrontation wasn’t one of them. He wouldn’t shoot a dog, but he’d kill Holbert again.

“Oh, I do.” Rollins said softly. “I trust you’re good, but I wonder which one of us will be standing here in a few minutes?”

“Why wait?” Cal tensed, searching for his usual cold, detached calm and not finding it. Because of Laurel it just wasn’t there. A flutter of nervous panic stirred in his chest and he ignored it. His hand hovered at his hip, the fingers quivering. He was aware only vaguely of Will Daniels holding the horses, of a grim Matthew standing by John Evans, all three men watching the confrontation, their breath making frosty puffs in the cold air.

“If you bore me, kill me.” Rollins looked at him, his voice matter of fact. “I’ve been coughing blood for two months now…tryin’ to not think about what it means, but…I think I know. Saw a doc in a small town in western Kansas. He kinda thought the same thing I did. That’s when I decided maybe I’d find out about us, about who’s better.

Seemed like the right time.”

Cal stared at him, not certain how to react to that request but even as he paused, he saw it. Rollins jerked, going low, reaching…

And it happened. Just like that. The world went away. There was noise—two sharp retorts, a third—and then a flashing pain.

Still standing, was his first coherent thought. It was the only time he’d ever worried about it, ever even doubted. That realization was foremost in his mind as he gazed at the man across the small grove. He walked slowly toward the crumpled form and knelt. He’d gotten Rollins in the chest but he was still alive, though at a guess, just barely.

Rollins’ eyelids flickered. “I winged you.”

Cal glanced down, registering the blood soaking his sleeve. “Yeah, you sure did.”

“Second shot…went…wild. You just…needed one.”

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“You’re damned good.” The glaze of death was familiar and Rollins had it, his respiration choppy.

“Not…as…good as…Cal Riker.”

Cal said quietly, “Cal Riker is dead.”

In the next moment, so was Rollins.

***

Laurel felt cold. Then hot. Then cold again as she shivered. Cal looked stoic, as if he wasn’t shot, all except for the glass of whiskey he took a sip from now and again as her mother hovered over him. Stripped to the waist, he looked impressively male, well-muscled and hard, all except for the sticky, wet red hole that oozed blood from his upper arm.

The room spun a little.

Will urged her to her feet. “Come on, Laurel. We’ll step outside and take a little walk. The day is warming up.”

She didn’t resist, not sure if she could even be civil to her husband-to-be at the moment. Once they were outside, she inhaled deeply and turned furiously on her brother.

“How could you do that and not tell me?”

Will held up his hands, palms forward. “Hey, I didn’t do anything.”

“Like hell you didn’t, Will Daniels. You
let
him face that man.”

“Whoa.” Her brother’s face took on a look of open amusement as they walked along the path toward the barns. “Like I’m going to stop Cal Riker from doing something. Hey, you’re the one who brought him here, you’re the one who knows him best. Is that even possible? I, for one, wasn’t going to try.”