Page 33

T resia entered the marshal’s house from the kitchen door, as was her habit, and stopped short, surprised and a little unsure.

Devlin wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table like she expected.

Rather, she found Corianna March, one of Josie DuBois’ ‘girls,’ her blonde ringlets a mess.

Lucy sat beside her, rubbing her back in a consoling way.

The coffeepot was on a trivet on the table, cups in front of them.

Something had happened. Something bad. Something involving Corianna or Josie or one of the other ladies.

Immediately alert, she came into the room, and looked at both women. “What happened?”

“Oh, Tresia, it was awful,” the young woman wailed before Lucy could speak. She used the napkin balled in her hand to swipe at her eyes. It wasn’t the first time, considering how damp the cloth appeared.

“What was?” She glanced at Lucy then sat across from Corianna and took the woman’s hand, hoping to offer comfort.

“Some man hurt Josie.” Corianna hiccupped. “Bad.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She liked Josie. Despite what she did for a living, she was kind-hearted and intelligent. “Tell me.”

Corianna related the events as best she could despite the flow of tears. “Lily sent me to get Doc Hart and Nate and then Nate sent me to get the marshal.”

“I came over to stay with Corianna and Avery.” Lucy still rubbed Corianna’s back in a soothing way. “Devlin and his deputies went after the man.”

Tresia acknowledged the statement with a slight nod, though her stomach tightened. She forced her anxiety away and looked at Lucy, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re exhausted.”

“I am. We both are.” She stood and moved closer then lowered her voice. “It took me a while to calm her down. She’s doing much better now. Ben stopped by earlier.” She shook her head, letting her know, without words, that Josie had died, then returned to her normal voice. “I think I’ll go home.”

Tresia grasped her hand and squeezed. “Thank you for staying.”

“Of course.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am.”

Tresia looked at Corianna after Lucy left the house, fighting to keep her emotions under control. “Devlin will find whoever did this. You can trust me on that. Have you slept?”

The woman shook her head.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No.”

“Let’s get you taken care of, then. You need something in your belly.”

Quickly, to keep herself busy more than anything else, Tresia rose from her seat and started making oatmeal. She couldn’t think of anything else that would stick to the ribs and hopefully help Corianna sleep. She tried to keep up a steady stream of chatter to put the woman at ease.

A short time later, she set the bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon and cream in front of Corianna. “Here. Eat this.”

Corianna dipped her spoon into the bowl and took a bite, then another and another. “It’s good.”

“That’s the way my mother always made it. It’s Avery’s favorite.”

Corianna seemed a little better after she finished the oatmeal but she looked exhausted, just as Lucy had. After her emotional night, the best thing for her would be to sleep.

“Let’s get you into bed.”

She took Corianna’s hand and pulled her out of the chair then walked her into the guest room downstairs.

She pulled down the covers then helped her undress down to her shift and settled her into bed.

Noticing some blood stains on her dress, she said, “I’ll wash your dress.

” She pulled the blankets over her. “You rest now.”

“Thank you, Tresia.” Corianna smiled at her, despite everything. “You never looked down on me because of what I do.”

Like almost everyone else in town, she’d known Corianna for a very long time, but she also knew her circumstances and why she’d chosen to become a soiled dove.

There weren’t many jobs for women to support themselves and after her father disowned her and threw her out of his house, she had to do something.

She’d tried to find decent jobs, but she was too young, or too inexperienced.

In desperation, she turned to the only job she could get.

“You’ve always been kind to me.”

Tresia patted her hand. “Call me if you need me.”

She gathered Corianna’s soiled clothes and closed the door.

She stopped short in the parlor. Devlin was in danger, out to get a killer.

If something happened to him…she didn’t finish the thought.

Instead, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other.

She had these stained clothes to wash. Avery would be awake shortly.

It wouldn’t do for her to see them. She headed into the kitchen to heat some wash water.

“Thanks for doing this.” Devlin shook hands with Wyatt MacLean.

“Sure thing. I didn’t know Josie but that doesn’t matter. I don’t like the idea of some madman running loose around here.”

“That goes for us, too,” he gestured toward Merrill as he mounted up. “We’ll meet you over at Montana del Trueno.”

Devlin spurred Challenger and rode down the long drive, Merrill right beside him, and headed over to Crooked River, eventually coming to the gate that separated the farm from the main road. Merrill rode up to it and unhooked the rope that held it closed then opened the gate.

The fine hair on the back of Devlin’s neck stood up as he passed through the gate. “Something’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet.”

Merrill paused and looked around.

Devlin pulled the brim of his hat lower to block the sun and scanned the wide-open space. From here, he couldn’t see the house or the barn, but he should have been able to hear something. Instead, he heard nothing—not even birds. “Be careful. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

As he and Merrill rode up the meandering dirt drive, he kept looking around, his ears attuned to the absence of sound.

As they drew closer to the small structure, his gaze swept over everything in the barnyard.

There were horses in the paddock. They seemed skittish, as if they felt his unease.

A sense of foreboding settled in his gut.

He always trusted his gut. Call it intuition.

Call it self-preservation. Call it whatever, but that feeling—and listening to his gut—had saved his life more than once.

Devlin slowly rested his hand on the handle of his pistol. “We’re being watched.”

“I feel it, too. Like eyes are boring into me.” Merrill swept his gaze over the house.

Before he could say anything else, a muffled scream followed by a loud thump startled them both. The front door of Alfonso’s home flew open amid a hail of bullets.

They both jumped from their horses and crouched down behind the water trough. Their horses took off.

Devlin crept around to the side of the horse trough, where he could get a better look. Ned Delany was standing in the doorway.

“It’s Delany,” he said after he crawled back and hunched next to Merrill. Bullets continued to hit the side of the trough, splashing water up. He kept his head low.

It surprised him that the outlaw was such a bad shot, seeming to just continue firing without taking aim, without careful consideration, wasting his ammunition, although if the goal was to keep them pinned down behind the water trough, he was doing a good job.

He glanced at his deputy. “He’ll need to reload at some point. It’ll be our best chance. Be ready.”

Merrill gave a quick nod and pulled back the hammer of his pistol. “Ready as I’ll every be.”

Devlin removed his hat and moved it above the trough. More bullets slammed into the wood just above his head. There was a click of an empty chamber, once…twice…

“Now!” Devlin stood at the same instant as Merrill, all four pistols trained on the man in the doorway, who was trying desperately to reload his own guns. Several bullets dropped to the ground in his haste.

“Drop the guns, Delany.”

The man had the audacity to laugh, but did as he was told, dropping his pistols to the floor to join the bullets there. “Well, if it ain’t Marshal Goodrich.” His black eyes darted from him to Merrill, then back. “Heard you brought in old Smiley Burdette.”

“I did. Big Bill Cassidy, too.” Devlin didn’t move. The outlaw was up to something. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Well, they was stupid. Lettin’ themselves be taken in by the likes of you.” He shook his head. “I ain’t that stupid. You ain’t gonna take me in.” He quickly reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol.

Devlin pulled the trigger on both his guns. Merrill’s went off as well.

The outlaw dropped where he stood, blood blossoming from the fatal wounds in his chest. He wore a perplexed expression, as if he couldn’t believe he’d been shot as his eyes clouded over. He took his last breath and crumpled to the floor.

Devlin turned toward his deputy. “You all right?”

“Son of a bitch hit me.” He held up his arm. Blood stained the sleeve.

“Let me see.” He ripped the shirt sleeve away and inspected the wound. The bullet had only grazed Merrill’s upper arm.

“See? It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.” Merrill chuckled though the situation didn’t warrant it. “Was it me or was he a bad shot?”

“He was a bad shot. Can’t believe out of all the bullets he fired, he only hit you once. Must have gone to the school of more is better for all the good it did him.”

“He missed you completely,” Merrill said with a laugh.

“Check and see if there is anyone in the barn. It looked to me like he was waiting for someone.” He let out a sharp, shrill whistle.

In moments, Challenger, along with Merrill’s horse, galloped toward him from around the side of the house.

Merrill quickly caught their reins and tied them to the porch railing before heading toward the barn, gun drawn.

Devlin jumped up to the porch, stepped over the dead man, and went into the house.

What met his eyes made his blood boil. Both Alfonso and Damita were gagged and tied together on the floor.

Bruises marred their faces and from what he could see, Damita’s arms. Her eye was swollen shut and nearly purple.

Her nightgown was torn, revealing her skin… and more bruises. But they were alive.

They stared up at him in relief.

Quickly, he set about removing the gags.

Alfonso let loose with a string of angry cuss words in Spanish, most of which Devlin had heard before but a few he hadn’t. He worked to untie them.

“That demonio broke into the house this morning before dawn, guns drawn, threatening to kill us.” When he was free, Alfonso gathered his wife close and kissed her on the forehead.

Tears made his dark eyes shine and his split lip was swollen.

“We were caught unaware. Hell, we were sleeping. He dragged us from bed and tied us up, though we both fought him until he hit me in the head with the butt of his pistol. I went down like a sack of old potatoes.” He touched the spot on his head gingerly, winced, then tightened his arms around Damita, his anger palpable. “I hope you killed him.”

“Yes, he’s dead.”

“Who the hell is he?”

“Ned Delany. He killed Josie earlier this morning. He was looking for a place to hide, probably knowing a posse would be coming after him. Your place seemed as likely as any.” He didn’t say they were lucky to be alive.

By the expression on Alfonso’s face as he rocked his wife in his arms, he already knew.

It might take a bit of time before that reality sunk in.

He’d be there when it did. “Can you stand?”

Alfonso nodded and tried but failed. He’d been sitting too long with his hands and legs bound.

He patted Alfonso’s shoulder. “Just sit here for a minute.”

Devlin looked down at Damita. She’d yet to say anything, but there was a look in her eye he’d seen before when one suffered trauma. “He’s dead now, Damita. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

Her gaze rose to his face as if she’d finally heard his words before every muscle in her body lost their strength.

He grabbed her before she fell forward, lifting her effortlessly in his arms, quickly bringing her to the small sofa in front of the fireplace.

Alfonso followed, crawling to the couch, softly whispering to her as he gently caressed her face.

“Dear God!” Merrill exclaimed as he entered the house and saw the condition of his friends, people he’d probably known all his life.

Devlin warned him with a quick shake of his head. The deputy closed his mouth but the expression on his face clearly said that if Delany wasn’t already dead, he would be. “Did you find anyone else?”

Merrill shook his head, unable, it seemed, to take his gaze from the Serranos. “They need to see Doc Hart.”

“Yes. Hitch up their buckboard and we’ll bring them into town.” He jerked his thumb toward the door and the dead man on the porch. “See if you can find some canvas or burlap to wrap him in.”

Merrill scowled, unusual for him. “Let the wolves have him. It’s more than he deserves.”

“There’s a bounty on him. We can collect the money and give it to Alfonso and Damita.”

After a moment, Merrill inclined his head and left the house.

Devlin gathered blankets and pillows to cushion the back of the buckboard to make the ride a little more comfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the couple even more.

The rumble of wagon wheels over hard packed dirt and the steady clip-clop of horses’ hooves drew his attention. He stepped outside as Merrill brought the buckboard to a halt in front of the porch.

His deputy jumped down and grabbed a piece of canvas from the back of the wagon. He threw it over the dead man then dragged him away from the front door by his feet.

Devlin dumped the pillows and blankets into the back of the wagon then sprang into the bed and fashioned a comfortable cocoon for Alfonso and Damita. He looked up to see Merrill standing beside the wagon.

“I’ll need you to ride over to Montana del Trueno. Let everyone know there’s no longer a need for a posse.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” He looked at the blankets in the back of the buckboard. “I’ll help you with Alfonso and Damita then head on over.” The deputy started toward the porch then stopped and turned toward him. “You gonna be all right?”

Devlin nodded. “Eventually.” He stared at the ground, frustrated. “I hate this.”

“I know. It ain’t easy to kill a man.”

His head shot up. “That’s where you’re wrong, Merrill. Killing him was easy. Much too easy. No, it’s Alfonso and Damita I’m worried about, not to mention Josie’s girls.”

Merrill nodded his understanding then went into the house.

Did his deputy truly understand? He wasn’t so sure.