Once an Outlaw (23 page)

How can I take that chance?

She knew the answer. She couldn’t.

Clint. I have to get word to Clint
.

Lives were in danger. She had to stop the holdup no matter what.

No matter what…

Emily wanted to weep, but she had to get away first, she had to think how best to stop the horrible plan that was about to be put into motion. Nothing else mattered now, she told herself as she clung to the feeble remnants of her self-control.

She had to get out of there.

But suddenly she heard someone riding behind her, coming from the clearing, and she scrambled around the rocks, trying to squeeze herself between those that flanked the path. There was a thin opening; she pushed herself into the crevice as far as she could, holding her breath as a rider thundered past.

It was Uncle Jake. Alone. He galloped by in a blur, but not before she saw the harsh set of his face and was nearly overcome by the nightmarish sensation that she was looking at a stranger. Gritty dust flew behind his horse’s hooves, and she choked back a cough.

Get out of here
, a voice inside her head ordered.
Now
.

She wriggled free of the crevice, but somehow, in extricating herself, she wedged a stone loose and it rattled onto the path.

The sound seemed to echo through the rock.

“What’s that?” she heard Jenks ask from the clearing.

Ratlin grunted. “Find out.”

For one horrid moment she hesitated, caught between trying to hide and trying to run.

They’d see her on the path if she ran … she’d never make it to her horse.

She squirmed back into the crevice again, wedging herself between the rocks as far as she could. All around her
the granite boulders dug into her flesh and she bit back a whimper of pain. She longed to reach into her pocket for her derringer, but there was no room to maneuver. She ducked her head and held her breath as Slim Jenks appeared, moving cautiously along the trail. He halted less than two feet from her, glancing this way and that.

Emily held her breath.

Jenks walked a few more feet, following the dust Uncle Jake’s gelding had kicked up. For a moment he disappeared along the trail, but she knew he would be back and she forced herself to stay where she was, perfectly still, as if she were one with the very rocks enclosing her.

Her heart was hammering so wildly she was certain he would hear it. Almost it drowned out the sound of his footsteps approaching, his boots scuffling on the rocky trail. “Must’ve just been …”

He broke off, and Emily went cold. She heard him take a step, then another.

“Well, lookee here.”

Suddenly strong hands grabbed her, and she was yanked so roughly from the crevice that the surface of the rocks scraped her shoulders. Jenks pinned her against the boulder, his fingers digging into her arms.

“What the hell you doing here? That uncle of yours send you here to spy?”

“No! Of course not! Take your filthy hands off me!”

Jenks’s face was dark with anger and suspicion.

“You’re lying. You’re either spying for your uncle, or for that damned sheriff. Guess I’m going to have to find out which.”

He struck her across the face and Emily fell back, pain crashing through her jaw.

“We got trouble, Ratlin!” Jenks yelled. “Spoon’s damned niece!”

He seized Emily and began dragging her toward the clearing.

Dazed, Emily could do little to resist, and she found herself suddenly flung before the shaggy-haired giant.

“Hell and damnation.” Ratlin’s eyes held a hard, cold gleam. “How the hell did you get here, girl?”

Red pinpricks of light still danced before her eyes. She still felt dizzy from the blow, but she tried to speak clearly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go.”

“How much did that uncle of yours tell you? I should’ve known that lousy old coot wouldn’t know how to keep his damned trap shut!”

“He didn’t… he doesn’t even know I’m here … I just…”

“Just what?”

“Followed him. I wondered … where he was going … he was supposed to be in town and …”

Ratlin snatched up a handful of her hair. “You’re the one Jenks says is friendly with that sheriff,” he spat out. “Is that right?”

“No, I… I hate Sheriff Barclay. I don’t have any use for lawmen, and … least of all Clint Barclay.”

“He stepped in one day when she and I were getting acquainted,” Jenks sneered. “That was before I knew the Spoons were our pards for this job. And he bought her box lunch at the town social. Paid twenty-five dollars for it.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” Sarcasm dripped from Ratlin’s voice, along with an edge of something sinister that sent a tremor through her.

“How much did you hear?” he demanded.

“N-nothing. I’d just got here and my uncle rode past without seeing me. I thought he’d be angry, so I hid behind the rocks. Why was he meeting you?”

She tried to look guileless and confused, but Ratlin’s hooded eyes stared at her so raptly she felt he could see through to her skull. For one fleeting moment, Emily prayed he would believe her, but all hope was dashed when Jenks exploded beside her.

“The damned bitch is lying, Ratlin. I’ll bet a hundred bucks she heard the whole thing.”

As Ratlin’s eyes remained on her, a flash of calculation entering them, icy fear descended on Emily. “I reckon you’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “Either way, we can’t take any chances.”

Suddenly his thick fingers twisted painfully in her hair, jerking her closer. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you made a big mistake coming here, Miss Spoon. I don’t like mistakes. Almost as much as I don’t like nosy women.”

Emily couldn’t help the cry of pain and terror that sprang from her lips. Desperately she tried to pry herself free of him, but he swiftly released her hair and seized her arms, hauling her up against the stinking filth of his buckskin jacket as he barked out orders to Jenks.

“Get a rope. We’ll tie her up good and tight. I know exactly where to take her until this whole thing is over.”

“No!” Panic-stricken, Emily fought against him. “My uncle and Pete and Lester will kill you if you don’t let me go right now!” She tried to fumble in her pocket for her derringer, but Ratlin wrestled the weapon away from her and easily pinioned both of her wrists in one of his huge hands.

As Emily kicked uselessly at him, he just grinned coldly down at her. “We’ll see about that,” he sneered. He glanced at Jenks and barked, “Hurry up with that rope—we have to hide her someplace where the Spoons won’t find her.”

“She’s right, you know.” Jenks frowned as he dug a rope from his saddlebag. “They won’t like it. Not that I give a damn much what they like or don’t like,” he growled.

“First off, we don’t have to tell them we’ve got her—not unless something comes up and we need to keep them in line. Say they want more money once the job is done, or they try to double-cross you and take all the loot from the stage.” Ratlin suddenly spun Emily around, twisting her arm behind her back. He chuckled as she cried out. “This here gal’s our ace. The Spoons kick up any trouble, or don’t do exactly as they’re told, we just let them know we’ve got their precious little gal.”

Jenks’s eyes shone as he advanced on Emily, swinging the rope in one hand. “But say the Spoons don’t try anything and the job goes off without a hitch—do we just let her go? What’s to keep her from running straight to Barclay?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Ratlin said almost pleasantly as Jenks bound her wrists before her. He studied the knot Jenks had made, then reached down and tightened it with a cruel yank that made Emily gasp in pain.

“I know for a fact, little lady, that you won’t say a word to the sheriff. Because I’m going to see to it—once our little job is done—that you don’t ever get the chance.”

MILY LOST TRACK OF HOW LONG
they rode. Through the pass, up to the rim of the ravine, across a winding trail that dipped and rose precipitously, always in the red rock shadow of the mountains.

Her wrists burned as the rope chafed her skin mercilessly and the sun beat down upon her from a peaceful blue sky as Ratlin led her mare in silence and Jenks followed.

Jenks had searched back along the pass until he’d found her grazing mount. The two men had cleaned up the small camp they’d made in the clearing and headed out quickly, smoothly, so efficiently that Emily had the impression that Ratlin and Jenks had worked together before.

But how Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester had fallen in with them, she had no idea. All she knew was that those dearest to her in the world were planning a crime so hideous she could barely comprehend it.

And there was no way to stop it. Not unless she could escape. Even then, every hour that passed would make it that much more difficult to prevent the holdup. Clint was in Denver somewhere, Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester
were on their way to some rendezvous there, and she had no idea where precisely the holdup and murder were going to take place.

Despair pierced her heart. It was all she could do to choke back tears. Tears wouldn’t help her now.

She needed to stay calm, to stay alert for any mistakes from the men who held her—and to be ready to run if she had the chance.

Thank God Joey was going to the Smiths for supper and wouldn’t be coming home after school to an empty cabin. But what would happen when he did come home? From what she’d heard, it sounded as if Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester were all leaving for the rendezvous—the Smiths would eventually bring Joey home, and he’d find no one there to greet him but a vacant cabin.

Helplessness twisted through her.

If she didn’t get away and get word to Clint or someone in Denver about the holdup, everyone on the stagecoach returning to Lonesome would die.

And so will you
, she thought. She had no illusions about what Ratlin had decided to do. She’d heard the hard truth in his voice. He would kill her the moment he no longer needed her as a possible trump card against the Spoons—the moment the holdup was completed and he knew the job was done exactly as he wanted it done.

No matter what it took, she had to find a way to escape.

Reaching the rim of the mountain, the horses widened their strides, heading across fairly level ground at a good gallop, winding their way through fragrant stands of pine. It was cooler up here and the sun was blocked by the trees. Emily tried to assess her surroundings, but she no longer had any idea where she was.

They halted once to rest and eat jerky and hardtack,
then continued on as the sun slid toward the west and thin low clouds rolled in.

It was hours later when they at last came to a halt and made camp in a shady clearing. Beyond some trees, a clear stream hurtled down the mountainside into a steep canyon full of brush and rock.

“Bet you’re ready for some grub,” Ratlin remarked as he yanked her down from the saddle and pushed her toward a tree.

“I’m not hungry.” Every bone in Emily’s body throbbed, and her throat was so parched it ached. But the thought of food made nausea bubble in her stomach. “Could you please … untie my hands—just for a while? I can barely feel my fingers, and I… I need a few moments of privacy,” she murmured. She hated to beg this man, but she’d try anything that might help her get away.

“Please,” she added softly, trying to sound piteous.

She thought he’d refuse, but after a slight hesitation he made a grunting noise and set to work at the knot. He ordered her to remove her boots, then told her grudgingly she could venture into the woods, but not for long.

“You’d have to be a damned fool to try to run off barefoot in these parts—your feet would be bloody stumps before you’d get twenty yards. And if you don’t come back right quick, I’m coming in to look for you—and I’ll drag you back by the hair,” Ratlin warned.

Emily knew he meant what he said. And she also knew that it would be impossible to escape him and Jenks here in the mountains, without her boots, without a horse. She’d have to wait and watch for another opportunity, a chance to catch them off guard.

When she returned, she asked him to leave her hands free a while longer, claiming her wrists were painfully sore, but Ratlin apparently decided he’d been generous
enough, and promptly tied her wrists again, doubling the knot.

“We don’t have time to keep an eye on you, missy, and we can’t take a chance you’ll find a way to shoot us or take one of the horses. You’ll just have to bear it.”

He pushed her down onto the grass beneath a tree and ordered her to stay put. Then he set about starting a campfire, while Jenks tended to the horses and fetched water from the stream.

Neither men spoke over their supper of jerky and beans. Emily noticed that Jenks drank greedily from his flask. She knew she should try to eat something, to keep her strength up, but she couldn’t. She did drink water when Jenks offered it to her, and after he’d repacked his canteen, she was surprised when he returned to sprawl out on the grass beside her.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to loosen the rope a little.” Much as it galled her, she forced herself to gaze pleadingly into his face. “Please. My hands are almost numb.”

Jenks frowned and took another swallow from the flask he dug out of his pocket. He threw a quick look over his shoulder.

Ratlin had disappeared into the trees that led toward the stream.

“Lemme see,” Jenks grunted.

She flinched as his hands touched her, but he loosened the knot slightly, though it still dug into her flesh. Then his gaze ran over her, lingering on her pale face, dropping down to the outline of her breasts beneath her wrinkled yellow shirtwaist. He took another swig of liquor. “A shame you came up to Cougar Pass the way you did,” he muttered. “A real shame.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” Emily said.
He grinned. “Bet you do. And you know what, it’s an even bigger shame that you took up with that sheriff. This didn’t have to happen, none of it.”

Emily watched him gulp down another swig from the flask. She flexed her wrists—the rope was still tight, but it did give a bit. What she really needed was a sharp rock or a stick.

“I didn’t take up with Barclay. I hate him. He arrested my brother—for fighting with you.”

Jenks gave a snort. “Yeah, he did. But only because my pards backed me up when I said Pete started it.” He stuffed the flask back in his pocket and from his other pocket dug out a misshapen block of wood. Then he pulled his knife from its sheath.

Emily went very still, hardly daring to breathe as he began whittling at the wood, pursing his lips as he worked.

“That’s something I don’t understand,” she told Jenks, trying to appear casual as she watched the glittering blade of the knife. “Pete told me he got arrested after you picked a fight with him.”

“So?”

“Why did you fight with him—I mean, if you knew each other and were working together…”

“So you did hear us back there in the pass,” Jenks said sharply. His eyes glittered as brightly as the blade of the knife.

Emily moistened her lips and nodded. “I heard enough to know that you’re all planning a holdup,” she acknowledged.

“Yep, I knew it.” His lips twisted into a triumphant smile. “Well, the fact is, little Miz Emily, neither of us had any notion we’d be working together back then. I sure as hell didn’t. All I knew was that Ratlin was on his way
to town—that we were going to pull a big job …” He broke off suddenly and scowled. “But I didn’t have any notion the Spoons were going to be in on it. Ratlin was the one who brought them in, seeing as he met your uncle when they were both in prison.”

Pain squeezed around her heart.

“So,” she continued doggedly, keeping her voice even, “you just happened to have a fight with Pete that night?”

“Damn straight. He stuck his nose in between me and Florry.” Anger mottled Jenks’s face. He suddenly stuck the knife into the grass beside him and tugged out the flask again. “He didn’t have no call to do that. I had to keep her quiet, keep her in line, because she found out a few things.” He took a quick gulp from the flask. “Things she shouldn’t have—about this job. So I pushed her around a little, to make sure she knew what would happen if she blabbed. It wasn’t nobody’s business. But your brother didn’t see it that way.”

Once again Jenks raised the flask to his lips, this time draining every last drop of it. “So I had to pay him back—and that’s where you came in.” He studied her appraisingly, insolently, with a drunken gleam in his eyes that made Emily’s stomach lurch. “That day I took you into the alley. And when I saw you at the dance. Remember? And then I bid on your box lunch at the social.”

As if she could forget. Emily nodded, saying nothing.

She forced herself to sit perfectly still, as Jenks licked his lips. “I just wanted to get back at ol’ Pete. Make him mad. You sure were pretty. And,” he added, his eyes skimming over her again, “I had a hankering for a taste of you. So I figured, why not? Figured you’d go running and crying to your brother, and he’d learn what happens when someone gets on my bad side. I always pay back my debts.”

“Then you must’ve been disappointed.” The words spilled out more sharply than she’d intended and she quickly softened her tone. “I mean—I never told him.”

“Then I reckon you weren’t as against the idea as you acted. Maybe you really wanted it all along,” Jenks said slyly.

“No!” The word flew from her mouth before she could stop it, and she cursed silently. She took a breath as Jenks’s eyes narrowed on her. The knife was still stuck in the grass, only a foot or two away. “I mean … I didn’t want him to end up in another fight with you. That’s all. I didn’t want there to be any more trouble.”

He laughed then, an ugly sound, at odds with the beauty of the sky as the sun sank in a sea of rose and lavender and gold.

“Oh, there’s going to be trouble, all right, Miz Spoon. When all those nice folks on the stage from Denver get held up. That Sheriff Barclay, he’s a dangerous man. And he’s going to come after your kin. Course, Ratlin cooked up a story—some men in a Denver saloon are going to swear your uncle and the Spoon boys were there the whole time when the stage was being held up. But with Barclay, you never know. Now me—he doesn’t know me as anyone other than Slim Jenks, hired hand on the WW Ranch. He’ll never even look my way. But the Spoons—they’re going to have to be real careful.”

Her throat tight, Emily spoke in a low tone, but she couldn’t keep a throb out of her voice. “Why does everyone on that stagecoach have to die? Robbery is one thing, but killing—”

“So you did hear all of it, not just about the holdup.” Jenks inched closer to her and clamped a hand on her knee. “I knew you were lying,” he said triumphantly.

It didn’t matter anymore. They were going to kill her
anyway. But Emily suddenly had to know. “You’re planning to kill Carla and Agnes Mangley—and all the others on the stage. Yes, I heard. But I don’t know why.”

“No reason you need to.”

His hand slid up her knee, moving along her thigh. Emily tried to flinch away, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him. “What’s the matter, Miz Emily? We’ve been having us a nice little chat. Now you’re turning shy and innocent on me, all of a sudden?”

“No … I’m … I’m thirsty …” She tried not to let her gaze slide to the knife. If she could only get him to walk away, to get his canteen, giving her a chance to get hold of that knife …

“Could I have some more water… please?” she asked in a rush.

“Please
. I like that.” Jenks beamed. “Maybe,” he added, with a slow nod. “Maybe I’ll get you some … after a while, when we’ve finished … chattin’ …”

He suddenly yanked her closer and with a chuckle deep in his throat he squashed his lips to hers. Emily lifted her bound hands and tried to push him away, but he only gripped her tighter, his fingers pressing painfully into her shoulders and his mouth sucking at hers. Desperately she bit him, and he swore, but as he drew back he only laughed at her.