Page 30 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

M oments after the kiss, Isaac had gone down to the river to fetch the reed whistle he and Ben had made together. Passing through the propped-open cabin door, folded quilt on her arm, Clare played his words in her head.

I meant those vows I said.

Isaac’s words, his kiss, had bolstered her hope for the future.

Eli wasn’t waiting in the wagon like she’d asked.

“Eli?” she called out. A sudden rush of wings startled her.

Three doves scattered from somewhere near the back of the cabin, and the sound made her skin prickle with an uneasy chill.

Disoriented, she registered someone stepping out from behind the corner of the house.

A blow to her shoulder sent her crashing to the ground.

Victor loomed over her, and Clare was paralyzed with terror.

From nearby, a footfall sounded. Eli stood frozen, his gaze ricocheting between his pa and Clare.

Recognition and hope flashed across his young face, quickly replaced by horror as Clare tried to scramble to her feet and Victor’s boot drove into her stomach.

The vicious kick had Clare doubling over, one shoulder pressed to the ground

“Run, Eli,” she cried. But her nephew stood frozen with shock and fear.

“He ain’t gonna run.” Victor stepped close enough to land his meaty hand on Eli’s shoulder. Eli quivered, his eyes darting once again from Clare back to his pa.

When Eli didn’t move, she pushed to her hands and knees. An ache pulled beneath her ribs.

Run! She willed him. Race to the woods. Get Isaac!

Victor’s right hand hovered over his holstered gun. “Be still.” His threat was obvious, and she had no choice but to obey.

“Where’s that man you’ve been living with?”

Clare tried to hide her surprise. Victor’s lips curled into a malicious smirk.

“Been here a few days. I seen him scoutin’ from across the river.”

Across the river. It was true. Victor was working with Quade. She didn’t dare close her eyes, but she carefully drew in a breath through the pain in her ribs and tried to still her spinning thoughts. It was just like Victor to bide his time and strike when she and Eli were isolated from the others.

She needed to distract Victor. Isaac would come. He was wearing his guns. He would do something.

“Where is he?” Victor demanded.

“How did you find us?” she choked out.

Victor spat on the ground, uncaring when his spittle landed on her.

“Lyle wasn’t the only guy in town. Tom Crow saw you and ducked behind the depot.

” His tobacco-stained teeth flashed under a thick mustache.

“You thought you could outsmart me?” He kicked her booted foot, and pain radiated through her ankle.

“Crow tracked you from town all the way to the big house.”

Her heart shrank in fear. Victor had already scouted the McGraws’ homestead.

She saw Eli register his father’s words. David was down at the big house. Tillie and the others. Shadows chased through her nephew’s expression. He loved David. Loved the McGraws. Knew what his father was capable of.

Run. She mouthed the word to Eli.

But he remained frozen.

Victor’s eyes darted from her to Eli. “Your brother in there?” He jutted his chin in the direction of the cabin.

Eli shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Victor frowned. “What, boy?”

“N-no, sir,” Eli stammered.

“Down at the main house, then?”

Clare saw fear and panic cross Eli’s features. They both knew that if Victor descended upon the main house, he might shoot the whole family without a second thought.

“Answer me!” Victor demanded.

Eli jumped. “I’ve been staying in the bunkhouse. Helpin’ with the chores, the cattle and such. Been learnin’ to rope, Pa.” The words rushed out of Eli, each one filled with a hopeful pride.

Victor slapped Eli across the face. “You think you’re a rancher, boy? Barlows ain’t ranchers.” He gave Eli a hard shove toward the cabin. “Git your brother.”

Eli stumbled. “Ben’s not here.”

While Victor was distracted by Eli, Clare saw her chance. She hesitated, guilt twisting in her gut.

I will come for you, Eli.

She forced herself to her feet and ran for the woods.

One heartbeat passed. Two.

She heard Victor’s grunt of surprise, the sound of a metal barrel clearing leather.

Clare braced for a bullet to rip into her back. A shot rang out as she sprinted around the trunk of an old elm tree. She pressed herself against the trunk, her fingers clutching at the smooth bark. Breathless and dizzy, she squeezed her eyes shut, wheezing as she sucked in air.

She needed Isaac. Where was he?

Victor fired another shot, this one causing the dirt to fly up only inches from her feet.

“That tree ain’t gonna save you, Clare. I want my boys.”

“I’m right here, Pa. We can go,” Eli cried.

“We ain’t goin nowhere without Ben.”

Clare panted for breath, trying to calm her whirling thoughts. Could she run to the main house? Through the woods?

Victor had a horse. He’d catch up to her.

She heard his steps coming closer. Clare sprinted to another tree a few yards closer to the wagon. A third shot split the air. Branches snapped in the distance. Victor had missed. She leaned with her hand against the tree for support, her ribs aching with every breath, her ankle throbbing.

Bang!

A shot sounded from only a few feet away, rattling Clare’s chest and leaving her ears ringing.

Isaac.

His powerful fingers encircled Clare’s upper arm, pulling her farther into the woods.

“Eli’s back there!” she cried.

She saw the grim set of his lips as he hauled her down to put their backs to a giant fallen tree.

“I know.”

She pressed one hand to her middle to staunch the pain. It was only then she got a good look at his face. Isaac was shaking, and his complexion had leeched to the same shade of gray she’d seen when he’d faced the bear. The blood that had raced through her veins moments ago froze.

He was not going to be able to save them.

* * *

Isaac’s whirling thoughts were a blend of the past and the present as he huddled behind a log next to Clare.

He’d had a split-second sighting—the fury-inducing moment when Barlow had viciously kicked Clare before Isaac had faded back into the woods, rounding the cabin.

The violence of it had thrown him back in time.

Fingers of hot sunlight licked the exposed back of Isaac’s neck where his hat didn’t fully shield his skin.

But if he moved at all from where he crouched, half hidden behind an unhitched wagon and a couple of barrels out in front of the grocer’s, it might signal to Pickins that he was watching the bank.

Isaac figured Pickins would be striding down the street at any moment. He’d given a warning to the bank owner and manager, and they’d cleared everyone out from inside the bank, just in case.

Isaac was going to follow Pickins into the empty bank and arrest him. There’d be no casualties. It’d be cut and dry. Another win, though this one had been hard fought as he’d tracked Pickins across three states.

Isaac was poised on the balls of his feet when movement from behind him caught his attention.

A startled cry rang out. He knew that voice.

It had taken Isaac far too long to draw his weapon after seeing Victor towering over Clare. Far too long to pick his way silently through the woods. The gun trembled in his hand now as the memories surged.

Isaac twisted, still crouching in his hiding place, only to see Pickins drag Cody out from behind a jumbled stack of crates in the alleyway beside the saloon.

Pickins held Cody in front of him, one meaty arm around Cody’s shoulders and across his neck.

Isaac only had a glimpse of Cody’s terror-stricken face before Pickins passed out of sight. Isaac eased farther behind the wagon, mind whirling.

What was Cody doing out here?

It hit him like an unexpected punch. Cody had been sneaking around, following Isaac while he’d patrolled the streets and watched and waited for Pickins to arrive in town.

Somehow, Cody had figured that Isaac was aiming to take down the bank robber today. He must’ve followed Isaac from the hotel and been hiding behind those crates.

As the realization dawned on him, Isaac edged back from the wagon and crept quickly around the corner of the grocer’s, out of sight behind the building.

A shot fired and Isaac jumped. There was a muffled scream from nearby and sounds of other feet abandoning the boardwalk nearby.

“That you, McGraw?” Victor called from somewhere distant.

The past echoed in Isaac’s ears.

“That you, McGraw?” Pickins shouted.

Isaac’s breath was locked in his chest as he leaned his back against the wall, trying to figure out what to do next.

Isaac had been careful to disguise his movements all morning—but he hadn’t counted on Cody. If Cody had been following him up and down the streets, Pickins could’ve seen the boy. And then all of Isaac’s careful planning and the strategic hiding place outside the bank didn’t matter.

Pickins hadn’t needed to know where Isaac was.

He’d grabbed Cody.

Isaac peered around the corner to see Pickins in the center of the street, approaching the bank slowly.

Cody was pale, struggling to dislodge Pickins’s hold, toes barely dragging the ground. Pickins put the gun to the boy’s head.

And Isaac holstered his gun and stepped out onto the boardwalk in plain sight. “Let the boy go,” he called out.

Pickins turned so he was facing Isaac, but with Cody between them, only Pickins’s head and feet were in view, the only clear targets.

Too small to risk a shot, even if Isaac had his gun drawn.

Cody caught sight of Isaac, and his wide, terrified eyes locked onto his hero.

Isaac tried to silently convey that he would get the boy out of this mess. Somehow.

“Let the boy go, and I’ll walk inside the bank with you and get your money.” Isaac made his voice as reasonable as he could.

“Why should I believe you ? —”

It happened before Isaac could blink.

The town marshal ran out from his office a block down the street, revolver drawn.

Pickins turned, taking Cody with him. And Isaac had a perfect shot. Back or shoulder. Isaac drew and fired, but in that split second, Pickins whirled—and brought Cody right with him.

Isaac shouted something incomprehensible even as he saw Cody’s body jerk with the bullet’s impact. The bullet Isaac had fired.

He was running into the street as Pickins fell from two shots the marshal had taken.

By the time Isaac reached Cody’s side, it was too late.

Cody was gone.

There was blood everywhere. But it was Cody’s sightless eyes that knocked Isaac onto his knees as despair rushed over him like a wave.

“Isaac!” Clare’s frantic hiss drove the memories away for the moment.

Victor fired off another round, this one rattling the branches of an elm a few feet to Isaac’s left. The outlaw was getting closer.

Isaac shifted around so he could peer over the log. His movements jostled Clare. She inhaled sharply, and he remembered that her ribs were likely bruised. He tried to send an unspoken apology with his eyes, not wanting to alert Victor to their location.

Victor was a dozen yards away to the west, half hidden behind a sturdy oak. He had one hand clamped around Eli’s neck in a punishing grip. Eli was out in the open, exposed.

“Barlow,” Isaac shouted. “Let the boy go.”

“Eli’s my boy. He’s stayin’ with me,” Victor barked. “Ranch foreman told me there was a U.S. marshal livin’ up here. But you ain’t shootin’ like a marshal. You turn yeller?”

“He’s using Eli for cover,” Isaac whispered.

Clare, already pale, went white, the fear in her eyes raw. “Eli, run! Get away!” she shouted.

“Shut your mouth, Clare!” Victor bellowed and fired another shot, hitting their fallen log with a heavy thump.

“Did she charm you, McGraw? She’s got a way with men. Can weave a tale better than a snake-oil salesman. Ain’t that a hoot? My best inside man…is a woman.”

Isaac’s eyes tracked to Clare’s face. His thoughts went back to the times she’d lied. Victor was lying. Isaac knew it. But part of him—just for the briefest second—wondered if Victor was telling the truth. He swallowed back the bile that burned in the back of his throat.

Clare tensed.

She read it on his face, that moment of doubt. He saw the hurt etched across her face and the moisture in her eyes before she blinked and looked away.

“We have to get Eli away from Victor,” she whispered urgently.

“How?” he ground out. “We can’t risk hitting Eli.”

She stared at him, both hands fisted in her lap. His mind raced through several options, but he couldn’t figure a way out of this without bloodshed.

“We have to do something,” she said.

He didn’t like the stubborn jut of her chin. “Clare?—”

Before he could react, she’d slipped the second revolver from its holster and leaped over the log.

“Don’t!”

But it was too late. Clare fired a shot that went a few inches above Victor’s head. Isaac watched in horror as Victor aimed his gun at her. She rushed toward him and Eli.

Isaac crawled over the log after her, feeling as if he was moving through molasses.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Before Victor could fire, a wail erupted from Eli, and he knocked his father’s gun hand so that the shot went wild. Victor swatted Eli back, but Eli roared and threw himself against Victor’s gun hand. The gun dropped to the ground.

Victor’s face was red with rage.

Isaac scrambled over the log, running several paces behind Clare. Victor backhanded Eli, who nearly fell to the ground before his father grabbed him around the waist and hauled him onto his horse.

“Isaac!” Eli shouted. He struggled against his father’s hold to no avail.

Clare took aim.

“No!” But Isaac’s warning came too late. She fired. Victor jerked but spurred his horse into a gallop. Within seconds, Victor and Eli were gone.