Texas Lonesome (9 page)

T
he hour came and went faster than Sidney thought possible. Jackson slept at her feet, seeming unaware now of the danger. She unscrewed her canteen and wet her parched mouth, watching the men as they sat in silence.

It was time to saddle up and get moving, and she was glad. The waiting was killing her.

She wasn’t embarrassed to admit she was scared as hell. Her father always said a man dumb enough not to recognize danger when it looked him in the face was one stupid enough to get you killed. If a fight broke out, she’d rather it happened on the run, where they had a chance, where they could split up if needed. Here they’d be trapped like rats in this hot box, easy enough to be slaughtered.

Glancing about, she took in the dry land that stretched as far as the eye could see.
If only Jock Jr. were here.

Her oldest brother had stepped into her father’s boots when the patriarch of the Calhoun clan seemed unable to lift the load any longer. Oh, he let Pa think he was making the decisions and such, but her brother was the one orchestrating things to his liking. Jock Jr. was smart and hard, and he could get them out of any situation. She trusted him implicitly.

She glanced at Dustin and then at Chaim, her doubt growing in leaps and bounds. Were they good shots? Expert horsemen? Would they know what to do in a sticky situation where the decision of each moment could mean life or death? In a matter of minutes, she’d find out.

Dustin stood, and Jackson climbed to his feet and wagged his tail.

She was worried about her dog, as well. He’d have a better chance on the ground, and not as a target as each of the riders would be. The forty-pound animal was too bulky to try to hold in front of her saddle at a dead run.

Bad choice of words.

She scratched him under his chin and stroked his head several times, smiling into his face. Jackson was smart and tough. If he couldn’t keep up, he’d find his way by scent.

When Chaim stood and stretched his back, she and Noah followed suit, her brother’s uncertain glance making her stomach sour. Time might have arrived, but she’d not leave her brother defenseless.

“Noah’s good with a six-shooter.” She lifted her gun from its holster and checked the chambers. “At a run, a handgun would be better than the rifle. Do either of you have an extra?”

Dustin strode to the side of the porch and scanned the hill where he’d first seen the Comancheros. His wide shoulders filled his tan shirt. The fabric stretched across his back. She jerked her gaze away to rest on the black hat he held in his hands.

The older McCutcheon nodded. “Yeah. I’d already intended on giving him the one in my saddlebag.” He withdrew the gun and handed it to Noah. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, his steely voice pitched low.

Noah checked the chambers and then stuck the Colt in his waistband. “Thanks.”

His tone could have been nicer, but at least the attitude was a far cry from his petulance before trouble arrived. For that, Sidney was glad. Like it or not, she and Noah needed the McCutcheons now more than ever.

Chaim opened the left side of his saddlebag. “Let’s divvy up this ammunition.”

Sidney hadn’t planned on more than a few days in Santa Fe, just long enough to get Noah out of jail and head back home. She’d brought her gun, as she always did, but only packed a handful of shells. After learning Noah’s fate in San Antonio and that they’d be riding on to Rio Wells, she’d purchased a box at a local gun shop. Still, the amount wasn’t near enough if they got into a shootout. Helping herself to several large handfuls, she dropped them into her bag. Noah did the same.

Dustin screwed his hat down tight. He pointed out across the arid land, filled with brown blowing grass and boulders. A few lone trees dotted the landscape, and a copse here and there broke up the horizon.

“See that slight rise, where the skyline looks like the curve of a hawk’s beak leaning on its side?” he asked, never taking his gaze from the direction he was looking.

Several moments passed as she struggled to find the spot he intended.

“Under the only dark cloud in the sky,” he bit out.

“Yeah,” she replied, ignoring the pinching sensation in her gut.

Her father wouldn’t bear it if his youngest son was killed. Noah was the only Calhoun that resembled their mother, having the same eyes and hair. Him dying now would finish off her pa, especially if his demise happened in the presence of a McCutcheon.

Noah nodded. “Yeah, I see the mark.”

“Good. Beyond that’s Draper Bottom, a small community, and beyond that is Rio Wells. If we get split up, head there and wait. At a gallop, the crossing will take about an hour. Between here and there are a few places to hide out, rocks, a copse or two, but not much more. Ride hard and make for that town.”

He turned and gave them all a hard look. The muscle in his jaw worked several times before he added, “I don’t believe the situation will come to that. If they were planning to make a play, they would’ve by now, or before we had our horses under us.”

He sounded confident, but Sidney wasn’t letting down her guard until they hit that town. She didn’t need or want platitudes to make her feel better.

“Our horses aren’t under us,” Noah said. “They’ll make their move when we’re in the corral.”

A look passed between Dustin and Chaim.

Noah was right. In the enclosure, whoever they were would have a clear shot from up in the rocks. No need to waste a bunch of hard-won bullets. Just wait until they had their quarry in one spot.

Chaim gave a nod. “Could be.”

Dustin looked her up and down and then glanced at Noah.

Maybe he thought they’d slow them down. She and her brother could outride a McCutcheon on any given day, as long as the horseflesh was one they’d bred on their ranch. She had no idea what the horses she’d purchased in San Antonio could do.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep up,” she said, squinting her eyes right back at him.

“Good.” He turned. “We’ll all go at once. Saddle as fast as you can. The horses are rested and have had plenty to drink. They’ll go a long way. Be as quiet as possible. The outlaws may be taking a little siesta themselves, and we can get a head start. We should mount up at the same time and ride out silently, unless, of course, shooting starts.”

“I’m ready, brother,” Chaim said. “Nothing’s gonna happen. I intend to get married on the date that’s planned, so I’m not getting killed now. To disappoint Emmeline like that is not in my makeup.”

Dustin chuckled. “Good to know.”

Sidney didn’t miss how Dustin’s gaze lingered lovingly on his younger brother.

Wedding? She hadn’t heard a thing about Chaim and a fiancée. She hoped he hadn’t gone and jinxed them all by saying that. Everyone was probably thinking the same thing. Why the heck did he have to voice the possibility and give it life?

Dustin hitched his head, and the four stepped out from under the lean-to shed roof and made for the corral in an eerie silence.

A grasshopper clacked from somewhere around Sidney’s boots, but she kept her gaze trained on the hill. It didn’t slip her notice that Dustin walked in her direct line of fire, as if shielding her from harm. The sun was warm in the cloudless sky. A trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades, making her shiver.

“When you shiver,
mi florecilla
, someone is casting a shadow on your grave.”

Startled, Sidney pushed away the memory of Carmen’s superstitious words. Their housekeeper, who had also functioned as a nanny for the early part of Sidney’s life, ran the ranch house with great efficiency, even to this day.

At any other time, Sidney would have smiled, thinking of the sweet nickname Carmen had given her, meaning
my little flower.
The pleasantly plump woman was afraid of her own shadow, and she knew every superstition on the face of the earth. In this case, Sidney prayed the motherly woman was dead wrong.

Another bad choice of words.

With a pounding heart, Sidney plucked her bridle from her saddle horn and strode through the gate Dustin had opened. Without a word or a sound, they went to their horses, slid on the bridles, and hurried back for their rigs.

Noah’s horse flipped his head and shied away every time her brother attempted to slip the leather crown piece over his ears.

I knew that horse would give us a problem!

The McCutcheons were almost finished. She dropped the cinch in her hands and let the equipment swing under her horse’s belly, then ran over to Noah’s horse.

Noah’s face was beet red, and angry lines fanned out from his mouth. If they hadn’t been under a threat, by now he’d be cussing a blue streak. She grabbed the tall bay’s ear and pulled his blazed face down until they were eye to eye.

“Mulish broomtail,” Noah mumbled, slipping on the bridle. “I hope he can run.”

“Hurry up,” she whispered. “The McCutcheons are waiting.”

Dustin had finished the job she’d started with her horse, his hands swiftly pulling her cinch strap and lacing the end onto the front rigging dee. Completed, he secured the back cinch.

Noah went for his saddle and was back in a moment.

Jackson trotted between the horses, his serious gaze following her every move, but thankfully he kept quiet.

Chaim was already mounted. His horse danced with excitement from the strange way he had been hustled out of his rest. The younger McCutcheon watched the hill behind them, his gun drawn and ready to defend them if the need arose.

“Mount up,” Dustin commanded quietly.

“Noah’s not quite ready—”

“I said mount up.”

She did, all the while feeling as if she’d lose the bread and jerky she’d eaten only a little while ago.

Dustin held Noah’s skittish horse until her brother was finished. Just as Dustin’s foot hit his stirrup to mount, a cry sounded from somewhere on the hill, followed by three rapid-fire shots.

Chaim returned several shots of his own.

Her horse reared when a bullet landed between his front hooves, causing her off-side foot to slip from the stirrup. Sidney grasped his thick mane, ready to ride as soon as his feet touched the earth.

D
ustin leaned forward, giving his horse full rein. Chaim and Noah had been first out of the gate and led the way. Sidney was directly in front of him, her left foot still searching for the stirrup as they galloped out into the open land.

He glanced back. A handful of outlaws, no more than five, descended the hill on horseback behind the shack, giving chase. As he’d thought, they must have been resting as well, counting on hearing them saddle up. Out of range for gunplay at this point, the only sounds were his horses’ hooves in the dirt and the air rushing by his ears.

When Sidney reached down to touch her sidearm and then glanced back at him, he hoped she’d concentrate on riding and leave the shooting to the men.

Pushing his horse close to hers, he shouted, “Hold your fire unless they start shooting. I’d rather outrun ’em if we can.”
And I don’t want to get killed by you.

She nodded, lying over her horse’s neck, urging him faster with her arms. He let her pull away, putting himself between her and the outlaw’s bullets.

Chaim and Noah, a good five horse lengths ahead, rode hard. Chaim glanced back at him and caught Dustin’s eye, but he waved Chaim on.

He checked behind to see the outlaws had cut the distance between them. It wouldn’t be long before they started shooting. He’d guess they had about fifty feet before they’d be in range. As much as he didn’t like to think it, they might be in trouble.

Sidney’s golden braid bounced as she rode like she’d been born on a horse’s back. A surge of protectiveness surged through him as he kept his gaze anchored to her back, the whipping of her ponytail, and the dirt flying from her horse’s hooves.

Good girl. You ride like a man. Can’t say I’m surprised.

Pulling his revolver, he was about to yell forward for her to catch the others when her horse stumbled. To his horror, he watched her chestnut crumple to his knees and slide forward, his nose buried in the dirt. Dust billowed everywhere. Chaim and Noah galloped on, unaware that anything had happened.

No!

His heart thwacking painfully in his chest, Dustin instantly pulled up and holstered his gun. Unable to stop in time, he shot past her, but by the time he’d turned back, she’d somehow pulled herself out of the tangle of horseflesh and chased after her gelding. The horse had taken off at a gallop in the opposite direction and was already much too far away.

“Forget him!” Dustin yelled.

“My saddlebag!”

“No time!”

Dustin circled as dirt kicked up at her feet from an outlaw’s badly placed shot. Clasping her forearm, he hefted her up and swung her behind. Good thing she was strong. She teetered precariously to one side for several strides, and he thought he’d lose her. Staying astride by some miracle, she locked her arms around his middle like a wet cinch dried in the sun, and shouted in his ear to get moving faster. They were already at a controlled gallop.

With her settled, he spurred his horse all out. Bullets whizzed past and peppered the ground.

The double weight meant his horse’s strength could be gone in a short time. They’d be caught. The capture wouldn’t be pretty for him, but much worse for her.

Galloping flat out, he drew his Colt and tried to swivel, but with her snug up against him, the action was difficult. He squeezed off two shots.

Sidney nudged his back. “I’ll shoot! You keep riding!”

That was wise because the land they covered was dotted with scrub oaks, bushes, and rocks. Going down now would mean sure death.

He felt his mount dig deep for stamina. He’d lost sight of Chaim, but he was sure his brother would head straight back now that gunshots had been fired. Dustin hoped not. It would be hard enough on the family if he were killed; he didn’t want Chaim to be killed too.

Or Noah and Sidney, he thought, feeling her heat through the back of his shirt.

The problems the families had shared in the past evaporated, and all he could think about was her. How she could make him smile or want to cuss. Her flashing eyes and what they did to his insides.

He remembered his first reaction to her in the mercantile. He was attracted to her, he grudgingly admitted to himself. Fine time to realize that now. He hoped this enlightenment was not just the last wish of a dead man.

She turned and shot a couple of rounds, and her shout of success said she’d hit her target.

Seconds later a bullet ripped by, tearing the sleeve of his shirt. He jerked back at the pain.

“You hit?” she hollered in his ear.

“Just grazed. Keep shooting!”

He hated that she rode behind, in essence acting as his shield.

“I’m out of bullets! I’m exchanging guns.”

A dense stand of manzanita lined the left side of the trail only fifty feet ahead.

“Wait,” he shouted. “Reload yours and take mine. When I say, give ’em both guns. We need to create a diversion so I can pull off the trail without being seen. Rebel’s about spent. Won’t be long before they catch us.”

He felt her fumble around. She leaned over and reached under her leg to the saddlebag that held the ammunition as they galloped. She flinched when several more shots hissed past, making him think none of the outlaws were very good shots. Once she had her gun loaded, she drew his from the holster, gripping a weapon in each hand. They were almost to the spot he planned to turn.

“Ready?” he shouted.

He felt her nod.

“You’re shooting to kill, aren’t you, Calhoun?”

“Whatta ya think, McCutcheon!”

“Okay, we’re almost there,” he hollered over his shoulder. “When I say, open up and give ’em all you’ve got. Shoot fast, so they have to pull up and turn away. Ready. Now!”

Dustin glanced over his shoulder when she twisted. She’d crossed her arms in front of her torso, making turning easier. With a revolver in each hand, she alternated shots from side to side, which were coming fast. The only thing keeping her on the horse were her strong legs and incredible balance.

She whooped once, and he thought that must mean she’d hit her mark again. If that were true, that left three—a much more manageable number. When he started the turn with her guns still blazing, he reached back and grasped her thigh to help her stay seated.

In the cover of the brush, he immediately slowed and picked his way through the tight ironwood bushes, keeping his head down. Sharp barbs cut through the sleeves of his shirt, and he thought he heard her swallow a cry of pain. They reached an outcropping of rocks and he circled behind, giving them partial cover. He prayed the diversion was enough, and the riders would pass them being none the wiser.

Dustin let out a breath as the outlaws galloped by. “We don’t have much time before they discover they’ve been tricked. Hand me your gun and slide off.” He offered his arm, which Sidney grasped, slipping easily to the ground. She must have cut her face when her horse went down, because she had blood everywhere he hadn’t seen before.

He quickly reloaded her gun and handed over the weapon. After doing the same with his own, he slipped the weapon into his holster.

Turning his horse, he headed out the way they came.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded. “Wait up!”

“You hold tight.” Dustin unwound his canteen and tossed it back. The container hit the ground at her feet with a thud. “If I don’t return, stay out of sight overnight, and then before dawn make for the marker I showed you. Draper Bottom’s not so far that you can’t make it on foot.”

“McCutcheon! Stop this instant!”

He made for the trail, wanting to be far from Sidney Calhoun when the outlaws returned.

“Why, you low-down, double-crossing, lily-livered . . .”

As dire as their situation was, Dustin couldn’t help laughing at the fury in her voice. He was glad he was mounted and she couldn’t catch him. He didn’t know what would be worse—facing three bloodthirsty bandits, or a furious Sidney Calhoun after she’d been duped.

At the boundary of the brush line, he pulled up and listened. Hearing only silence, he took off at a gallop toward Chaim and Noah, and the unsuspecting outlaws.