The Maverick of Copper Creek (25 page)

Ash dialed his cell phone to alert his family members at the same time that Brady spoke into the plane's headset, to give the information to Ira and the state police.

After feeding all the information they had, Ash added, “We've found her. She's alive. We're going down.”

B
renna looked around as if in a daze. She'd come here expecting to be reunited with her father. And now Noah was telling her he was dead? How could this be? It was simply too much to take in. And yet hadn't she known that something was very wrong? All those hateful words he'd hurled. He'd been telling her, over and over, how he'd hated her father. Hated her.

Her legs wobbled, and though she knew she shouldn't let this evil man see any weakness in her, it couldn't be helped. She dropped to her knees on the dirt floor of the crumbling shack and felt tears sting her eyes.

He stood over her, his tone pure sarcasm. “Oh. Poor baby. You crying?”

The sound of that nasal whine had her head coming up sharply. Though her wrists were still bound, she lifted them to wipe her eyes with the backs of her hands. There would be no tears. She would not meet the same fate as her father without a fight.

“When did you kill my father?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

Weeks. Her heart plummeted. “Why? You said he was in a nursing home. He was old and sick. Why did you have to kill him?”

“Because he was a necessary part of my plan.”

“Your plan for what?” She stared at the switchblade in his hand, her rifle in the other, and knew what her fate would be. The finality of it made her more determined than ever to let him see no weakness.

“For having my own place. While your dear old daddy was yakking on endlessly about the family ranch he'd left all those years ago, I realized that he was offering me a chance to have what I've always wanted without having to work for it.”

“I don't understan—”

He lifted a hand. “See this dump? This place that you consider unfit for your father? This was home when I was a kid. If that isn't dismal enough, consider this. Like your old man, mine was a drunk. A mean, let's-slap-Junior-around-until-I-break-some-bones drunk. And when he was through having fun with me, he'd turn all that charm on my mother. Only she was big enough to get out, leaving me alone to face my own private hell. I didn't get out until I was twelve, and big enough and smart enough to stash a knife under my pillow.” He caressed the blade of the knife as though it were a lover, sending chills along Brenna's spine. “The next time my old man attacked me, I fought back. And won. I buried him out behind the barn, packed up as much as I could tie behind my saddle, and left. Nobody even knew he was missing. Nobody cared. And that meant I was free.” He gave a chilling laugh. “I've bounced around the country, getting by. And then this old drunk tells me how he wants to make it up to his little girl. How he's got a deed hidden up in the ceiling of his ranch house that dates back to the eighteen hundreds. His family ranch is some kind of historical treasure. He wants the deed framed, so his little girl will have something of his that can make her proud. Once I heard that, I figured if I hold that deed, and I'm the last living heir, it can all be mine, and I'll be more than proud. I'll be a respected land owner.”

“The last living heir?”

He laughed again. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? But if you and your old man are dead, who's to deny my claim?”

“Everyone who knows me in Copper Creek. And there's Vern. He's been with me for years. He'll never believe you're an heir to my family's ranch.”

“They will if you and the old guy go missing. Out here, the only ones who'll ever uncover your grave are the wild things. Meanwhile, back in Copper Creek, I'll see that old Vern gets what he should've got when I drove through that barn door.”

“It was you.”

He frowned. “You and that old geezer have more lives than a cat. I got sick and tired of stealing rancher's trucks trying to run you down. But I knew sooner or later I'd win. I always do. And once the two of you are out of the picture, I'll get all cleaned up and show up at the county with proof of my claim.” He opened his shirt and removed the yellowed document. “This is the deed to your land. All nice and tidy and legal. And it says that all that land belongs to the one who holds it. Did you hear me? It belongs to the one who holds it. And then there's this.” He held up a letter. “This is signed by Raleigh Crane, naming me beneficiary of his estate. Estate.” He cackled. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”

“My father would never sign such a thing.”

“Oh he would if there was a knife to his throat.” He gave her a long, icy look. “Sorry, girly. But if it's any comfort, your old man thought he was arranging your future when he told me about this historic deed. He may have been sober, but by telling me all his secrets, he was nothing but a sober fool. And now he's a dead one.”

He set aside the rifle and advanced toward her with the switchblade glinting in his hand. “A bullet's cleaner. But I've come to enjoy the feel of my knife cutting deep into flesh. And your pretty flesh ought to be as soft as butter.”

His voice was drowned out by the roar of a plane's engines, so loud they sounded near enough to tear off the roof of the shack.

Startled, he raced to the doorway to peer skyward.

The Cessna skimmed low over the ground before touching down a hundred yards distant.

“I can land right there.” Brady pointed to a flat stretch of dry creek bed. “But there's no way to pull a surprise when you're landing a plane practically in his shack.” He turned to Ash. “Got a plan?”

“No time for one. Just land.”

As the plane bumped along the rocky stretch of soil, Ash checked his rifle.

When they came to a halting stop he turned to Mad. “You'll have to stay here.”

The old man snatched up his rifle. “Like hell I will.”

“Listen, Mad.” Ash's eyes blazed. “I don't have time for anything right now except Brenna.”

“You said this nutcase has her rifle. What makes you think he's going to let you get within a foot of her?”

“I don't know.” Ash pulled open the plane's door and stepped down. “But he'll have to kill me to stop me.”

Brady stepped down from the other side of the plane. “I'm going with you.”

“You're staying here. Somebody has to be able to fly our bodies out of this godforsaken wilderness.” Ash didn't give him time to argue. Without a backward glance, he circled the plane and started toward the shack.

Behind him, Mad growled, “Brady, get over here and help me get this damnable wheelchair out of this heap of metal.”

Brady lifted out the chair, and then the old man, who was cradling his rifle to his chest. “What about Ash's orders?”

Mad shot him a sly grin and cupped a hand to his ear. “Huh? Sorry, I'm too old to hear you.”

“I'm going with you,” Brady shouted.

As he lay the rifle across his lap and hit the wheels, propelling himself forward, Mad called, “You heard Ash. Stay here and tend the plane. Somebody has to be sensible.”

As he rolled away Brady muttered under his breath, “Yeah. That's what I'm going to be. Sensible.”

He rummaged around the plane for a weapon and located a flare gun. He figured it was better than nothing as he raced to catch up with crazy old Mad MacKenzie.

When the door to the plane opened, Noah stared openmouthed at the sight of Ash MacKenzie coming boldly toward him with a rifle in his hands.

“Oh, this should be fun.” Noah yanked Brenna to her feet and dragged her outside before wrapping an arm around her neck.

Pressing the switchblade against the tender flesh of her throat, he called out, “Toss aside that rifle, hero, or I slit this pretty little thing from ear to ear.”

Before Ash could comply, Mad rolled into view. “What're you going to do after you kill her?” he shouted. “Think that knife will go up against two guns?”

“Big talk, old man. You can shoot me, but the woman will still be dead.” To prove a point Noah pressed the blade firmly enough against Brenna's throat to draw blood.

Hearing her cry out, and seeing the blood spilling down the front of her shirt, Ash let out a roar before tossing his rifle aside. “Let her go. We'll do what you want.” He turned to his grandfather. “Drop your weapon, Mad.”

The old man swore as he released his hold on his rifle.

”That's more like it.” Throwing Brenna to the ground, Noah shoved the switchblade into his back pocket and took aim with the rifle. “Looks like I'm going to be real busy digging graves.”

He took his first shot, and as the bullet ripped into Ash's shoulder, he had the satisfaction of watching the fountain of blood spurt from the wound before Ash dropped to his knees in the dirt.

Noah swore. “My second shot won't miss your heart, hero.”

“Hold it right there.” Brady stepped out from behind the plane and aimed his weapon at Noah.

The drifter's eyes narrowed on him. “You think I'm stupid enough to believe that useless flare gun can kill me? Drop it.”

When Brady hesitated, Noah took aim. “Another hero.”

Just as his finger touched the trigger, he caught the slight movement behind him and turned. Despite her bound wrists, Brenna managed to ram her body against his, sending him stumbling forward. His rifle shot went wild, the bullet flying harmlessly into the dirt.

Noah regained his footing and spun around, hitting her on the side of her head with the rifle. With a cry she fell to the ground.

By the time he'd turned back, Ash was advancing on him with a snarl of rage.

With no time to aim, Noah fired, and had the satisfaction of watching Ash take a second bullet to the arm.

Instead of falling, or even slowing down, Ash kept coming.

Mad tugged on the wheels of his chair, propelling himself forward.

From behind him, Brady started running toward them.

“You're all fools,” Noah shouted. “Dead fools.”

This time he took careful aim, but before he could fire again, Ash dropped down and the bullet rang over his head. That was all the time Ash needed to reach out and wrench the rifle from Noah's hand.

It fell to the ground between them as Ash's fist met Noah's face, sending blood cascading down his chin and staining his already filthy shirt.

“Now you'll have to fight me like a man, you coward.”

The words were no sooner out of Ash's mouth than Noah reached into his pocket and withdrew the switchblade. With the touch of a button the deadly blade was exposed, and aimed directly at Ash's heart.

“I'd rather fight you the way I fought my miserable excuse of a father,” Noah said with a chilling laugh. “And your pretty girlfriend can tell you how that ended.”

Before he could take a step forward, he was stunned by something hitting the side of his head. Brady's flare gun left a bruise on his temple as it fell to the ground.

Before Noah could react, something else hit him hard enough to have him swearing a blue streak. He turned in time to see Mad taking aim with another rock.

“You just sealed your fate. All of you. But first, I'll take care of this hero.” Noah swung out his hand holding the blade, slicing the front of Ash's shirt. With a savage oath he lifted the knife for a deadly thrust and lunged forward.

Ash gripped Noah's wrist and managed to halt his momentum, but barely. With a grunt of rage Noah slammed Ash to the ground, and the two men fought for control of the knife, rolling around and around in the dirt.

Ash managed to wrench the knife free, and it slipped from Noah's grasp. He slammed a fish into Noah's face, and threw a second punch to his chest, sending Noah into a fit of wheezing.

As the two men rolled around, trading punches, Noah's fingers dug in the dirt, searching for his knife.

Brenna, kneeling in the dirt, closed her bound hands around the open switchblade and used it to slice through her bonds.

The loss of so much blood had Ash staggering to his feet, barely able to stand. Seeing his ashen features, Noah gave a triumphant laugh. Like a fighter in the ring who sensed his opponent's weakness, he raised his fists, ready to end it with a quick knockout punch.

“No!”

Hearing Brenna's cry from behind him, Noah turned to see her holding the knife.

Seeing what she intended, his lips split into a cruel grin. “Nice try, girly. But we both know you haven't got the guts.”

Staggering, Ash fell facedown into the dirt.

As Noah reached down to take the knife from her hands, she brought the blade upward with all her strength, sinking it deeply into his chest.

For several seconds he merely stared at her blankly, as though unable to accept what she'd done. Then he dropped to the ground, his hands clutching at the knife protruding from his chest.

When she realized what she'd done, Brenna burst into tears.

“There now, lass.” Mad leaned down from his wheelchair to touch a hand to her hair.

“I was too late, Mad. Look. He's killed Ash.”

“No, lass. Ash isn't dead. You have to know a MacKenzie's too tough to die from a couple of bullet wounds.”

She crawled closer to roll Ash over and touch a hand to his throat. “I can feel a pulse. It's weak.”
Dear heaven, so weak
, she thought. “But he's still alive.”

“And where there's life, there's hope. You see, lass? You saved his life.”

“And he saved mine.” She was crying now, big, gulping sobs, as she wrapped her arms around the still figure of Ash and rocked him like a baby. “Oh, Ash. Please don't die. You have to live.”

Those were her last words as pandemonium broke loose. State police helicopters, directed to the spot by Brady, landed nearby, sending up little sandstorms that were nearly blinding.

Ranch trucks roared up in a convoy as Willow, Whit, and Griff arrived on the scene. They were out of their vehicles and gathering around both Ash and Mad, asking a million questions and watching helplessly as Brenna continued holding onto Ash.