Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(62)

Twenty-Six




Abullet crashed through the window of the jailhouse. Sheriff Gatlin flew backward, slammed into the wall, and sank to the floor, a bright patch of crimson blood blooming on his chest.

Kevin grabbed Win as another bullet exploded. Spinning to protect her, he felt the bullet hit. Thinking only of her, he dragged her to the floor as Rachel dove behind the sheriff’s desk.

Falling, he covered Win to protect her, but his weight was out of his control, everything was. Then blood trickled past his face as it dripped from somewhere. He was foggy. He clawed at his pistol, dragged it out of the holster, and fumbled so it slid under the sheriff’s desk.

His eyes dropped shut. He sagged on top of Win.

The jailhouse door crashed open and thudding footsteps rushed in. Echoing as if from a long distance.

Kevin heard Win scream. He fought the odd weakness, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Then Win was gone, jerked out from under him. He heard the prisoner holler, a happy sound for someone locked up.

“You got ’em both.”

“Move fast.” Kevin recognized Oliver Hawkins’s voice. “Folks in town heard the shots. Bring the women. No one’ll shoot through them.”

Kevin faded away to the sound of his wife screaming his name. Darkness pulled him under.



“Pure rock.” Falcon scowled at the ground.

“We’ve got a direction,” Wyatt said, “and it figures there’s a trail up.”

They’d been pushing hard all morning. Molly had watched a mountain loom closer with every mile. Her stomach twisting with dread that they’d have to somehow climb the monster. But if Hawkins rode through here, then it stood to reason there must be a way. But it was all sheer rock, steep and treacherous.

“If we release a pigeon, it’s just gonna fly straight over the mountain. It won’t help us at all.” The sheriff tore his hat off his head and whacked his leg.

“It’ll tell us if we’ve got mountain climbing to do.” John dismounted and came for the crate.

“Whatever else is ahead, there’s no trail a buckboard can handle.” Wyatt climbed down off the seat.

John opened the crate lid just a crack, reached in, and gently eased out one of the homing pigeons, then closed the lid quickly. He looked around. “Falcon, start up the mountain as far as a horse will take you before I release the bird.”

“I think I’m about as far as my horse will take me now.”

“Let’s give them their heads and see if they can pick out a trail,” Cheyenne said. “This horse I’m riding is a mountain-bred mustang, and he can climb almost like a mountain goat.”

She loosened her reins and kicked the horse, and it surprised her by turning to its left. Not down like a horse might go when it could no longer climb.

Cheyenne looked behind her at Wyatt. Molly saw him nod. He said, “Give the critter its head for a while.”

The horse wandered along, so surefooted Molly marveled at it.

Then it chose a spot Molly certainly couldn’t see as a trail and headed up.

“I’m following her.” Falcon rode after his wife. Sheriff Corly went next.

“Wyatt, go tuck that buckboard off the trail somewhere, unhitch it, and bring the crate.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes at John’s bossy ways, but John didn’t notice. Instead, bird in hand, he swung up onto his horse and followed Falcon.

Wyatt was a while getting going, so Molly waited, thinking it only polite. She also didn’t think they should leave him behind.

They’d known they might end up leaving the wagon, so Wyatt came back into sight on his saddled and bridled stallion, the crate awkwardly balancing on his lap.

He smiled at her. A warm kind of smile that she was learning was just for her.

Wyatt drew up beside her. “We still need to have a talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

With a little shake of his head, he said, “Now’s not the time. You go ahead. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Molly turned to follow John. To her surprise all three lead riders had vanished from sight.

Her horse went along as if he could see them. He picked steps out of rough spots on a trail that looked sheer. The horse was calm and didn’t hesitate at all, as if the trail were wide and smooth. Molly did her best not to distract the horse by doing anything with the reins. The horse was definitely better left in charge.

From behind her, Wyatt said, “You knew where to find that safe, Molly. We really needed you, but I wish we’d left you back in Bear Claw Pass where it was safer.”

Molly smiled. “I always feel safe with you, Wyatt.”



Kevin came awake on a shout. He lurched to his feet. His head spun until he grabbed at the desk in the jailhouse to keep from falling back to the floor.

A man charged into the jail holding a rifle. The rifle made Kevin think of his gun. Hanging on to the desk, he bent low and fetched it from under the desk, then turned, ready to fight Hawkins and Kingston for his wife.

The man who came in was neither. The newcomer said, “I’ll send for a doctor. We’re gathering a posse to go after them.” The man wheeled around and was gone before Kevin got his gun leveled.

Then he saw the empty jail cell, door swung wide. He heard a moan behind him and looked around, still clinging to the desk, to see Sheriff Gatlin unconscious on the floor but alive. No sign of Win or Rachel anywhere.