Chapter 25 #3
With the exception of the gun belt he wore, he might have been a banker or a lawyer, out for a lunchtime ride along the cobbled streets surrounding Washington Square. When he turned his face slightly to look at the dog, however, the fearsome scarring on the side of his face startled her.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
“For one thing, ma’am,” Eye-patch said, “you might lower your weapon.”
“I will when I have reason to.” All of the riders were wearing pistols, and their saddle holsters held rifles.
He thought about that a moment and then nodded. “Very sensible.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Does this ranch belong to Caleb Marlowe?”
“Who is asking?”
“My name is Elijah Starr. These fellows work for me.”
However nervous she’d been before, she felt a thousand times worse now. This man sent the assassins to shoot the judge. He also sent the killer who cut the throat of an injured prisoner in their house, the same one who attacked Caleb with his knife.
Caleb had gone to Bonedale to bring Elijah Starr back to face justice.
“I must assume you are his wife. Is this his son?”
“We’re not.” She gestured to the wagon. “We only stopped to make a delivery from the hardware store. So if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”
Starr was the first one to dismount. The rest of them followed suit, and they spread out, blocking the way to the wagon. The dog barked and pulled at his rope.
“Quiet, Bear!” Paddy cried out, running and putting an arm around him.
Starr gazed at the boy and the dog for a moment, and then looked back at Sheila. “Lying doesn’t become you, Mrs. Marlowe.”
“Think what you will, Mr. Starr. But you’re wrong.”
“Dogs are loyal creatures. And unlike people, they don’t know how to lie.”
“Then perhaps you should ask the dog your questions.”
“Perhaps I should.”
“You’ll get about as much cooperation from him as you’re getting from me.”
Sheila hoped Gabriel was already running for Elkhorn.
“Step aside, sir. People are waiting for us elsewhere.”
“You’re going nowhere.”
She felt the blood catch fire in her veins. “We’re leaving.”
Sheila edged over toward Paddy, and the eight men spread out a little more. There was no way they could make a run of it. They were trapped.
“That doesn’t suit me,” Starr said. He ran a gloved finger under the edge of his eye patch and started toward her. “So you might as well put that cannon down and—”
The shotgun blast dug a circle of dirt four inches wide on the ground between Sheila and the intruder, freezing them all for an instant.
The muzzle of the Greener was pointing at Starr again before any of the men could react, but it didn’t stop them all from drawing their irons a moment later. All except Starr, who raised a hand.
“Pouch those weapons, men,” he ordered without taking his eye off of her. They followed directions. “You and I have a few things to discuss, ma’am.”
“We have nothing to discuss. Stand aside.” She kept her gun pointed directly at Starr’s chest.
“You have one more shot in that gun. You can’t kill us all.”
“I only have to kill you. And don’t think I won’t.”
“Then what?”
Sheila felt her heart pounding in her temples. Her mouth was dry and her throat was threatening to close.
“Boys, if she kills me, you know what to do.”
She ignored the threat. “Paddy, get yourself into the wagon.” She should have sent him off with Gabriel.
The boy didn’t move. The men had cut off his path.
“Get out of the way.”
“We have a few things to clarify before you leave us, ma’am,” Starr said coolly.
“What is it? Speak you piece.”
“How can I when you have that thing pointed at my chest? You’re being awfully inhospitable, Mrs. Marlowe.”
What if she played their game? Stayed and let them believe she was who they thought her to be. She could even make up answers to whatever questions they asked. She just had to buy enough time until Gabe got help.
Paddy had a mind of his own, however. He started to run. Sheila lifted the gun, pointing it at the leader’s face.
“Let him go. I’ll stay.”
As Paddy passed between the men, one of them reached out and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him against his body as he pressed his six-gun to the boy’s temple.
Sheila's heart lurched. For one terrible instant she considered firing anyway. She could kill the man holding Paddy. She could also kill Paddy. The realization froze her finger on the trigger.
She swung the muzzle of the Greener toward them, realizing her mistake too late.
“No woman tells me what to do.”
“That's a pity,” Sheila replied. “You'd likely make fewer mistakes.”
To her surprise, a smile tugged briefly at the corner of Starr's mouth, but the expression vanished so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it.
Starr closed the distance in an instant, grabbing the gun barrel. In a single motion, he jerked it upward and struck her hard across the face with a gloved hand. Sheila staggered to the side as sharp pains lit up her brain.
By the time her vision cleared, Starr had tossed the shotgun to one of his men.
“No one holds a gun on me. Least of all, a woman.”
Sheila felt her stomach drop as two men strode toward her.
“Tie them up,” Starr barked. “We’ve got company coming, and she will prove very useful.”