Chapter Thirty-Two
Josie barely had time to react when the gunshot cracked through the air. She felt the impact. At first, she thought Randall had shot her. Especially when she had felt herself beginning to slip off the saddle. She thought it was over.
She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.
Her body tensed; she had waited for the pain, for pure darkness to claim her. Lord have mercy on my soul...
But darkness didn’t come.
She heard the gunshot, that was certain. Her ears were still ringing from the echo, a sound that drowned everything else out. Time stretched out excruciatingly long, and she felt herself sliding further sideways, the saddle no longer steady beneath her.
It had all happened in slow motion.
One second, Randall was sneering behind her. The next, he was crumpling to the ground. She heard him fall—saw him limp beneath her. Blood bloomed out across his chest, scattering so far it puddled at the ground. His mouth was parted, like he was about to say something else.
Afterward, she couldn’t remember much.
All she could see was the stain on his shirt. It was the only proof she had that she wasn’t the one who had been shot.
She hadn’t been killed.
Randall’s eyes remained open, a look of surprise on his face—for all eternity.
And as Josie’s shaking feet hit the ground, reality set in.
It was over. He was finally gone.
The man who had tormented Amelia, tormented her, beaten her—and beaten Josie within an inch of her life. The man who had threatened everyone she had ever loved was gone.
He was nothing more than a lifeless shell.
In a single moment.
A moment that had changed everything.
The scent of gunpowder and dust hung heavily in her nostrils as strange emotions welled up inside of her. She wasn’t sure what she felt. It wasn’t quite relief. It wasn’t quite fear. But something in between.
This man had deserved to die, hadn’t he? For all he’d done to Amelia, to Samuel. To her. Yet still, watching life drain from a person, even someone like Randall Pierce… it left her empty.
Her ears rang, legs wobbled. Then Cash was there, somehow, holding her. She barely felt him. She fell to her knees, breaths coming out in uneven gasps, and he went right down with her.
The gunshot was still echoing in her head. She had no idea what was happening now… after seeing a man shot and killed right next to her that way.
Her scalp still stung from where he’d dragged her by her hair. Her legs still burned from being dragged and scuffed across the rough ground. Her head pounded. Her breath came fast. Chest heaving. Dizziness was beginning to overcome her.
It wasn’t just physical. It was shock. Disbelief.
Is he… really dead?
How?
“…Remington?” Hank asked, his eyes wide—stunned. Beau was tight-lipped, but looked just as surprised. The two of them came forward slowly, as if they were protecting her.
“No one betrays me and gets to boast about it while he’s still alive.” It was a familiar voice that rang out, pulling her out of her fog. But not a friendly voice.
Grayson Remington.
“I’m the only one who does the betraying,” he finished smugly.
Slowly, Josie turned to look at him, and the rest of the ranch began to come back into focus.
He still had his gun raised, a tendril of smoke curling from the barrel.
He smirked as if he was savoring the moment—the murder he’d just committed.
He didn’t look shocked. Not remorseful. He looked calm. Proud, even.
Nothing like how she felt. He was completely unbothered. Almost… amused.
“Pathetic,” he scowled, shaking his head as he holstered his weapon.
Beau took a few steps back, slowly at first.
Is he afraid?
Remington scoffed. “Couldn’t even finish the job without making a mess of things—even had a gun, and he still couldn’t get what he wanted.” And then his gaze turned to Cash. Josie’s heart slammed against her ribs. She knew it wasn’t over.
Beau came forward until he was close to Josie, standing in front of her. He bent down and yanked the revolver out of Randall’s cold dead hands. Hank moved to stand beside him, right next to her. Pure fury was on their faces; their bodies were coiled tightly, like snakes ready to strike.
And Cash—dear Cash—he was barely holding himself together as he cradled her. Worry flooded her as she looked at him. She could feel his clamminess beneath her touch. He had a fever. And his leg was bleeding again, all his stitches clearly busted open.
“Cash…” she whispered painfully.
“I’m fine…” he whispered back. She knew his wound must have been excruciating, yet his eyes went back to Remington. He was refusing to show weakness, just as she had refused to show Randall hers.
“You look surprised, gents,” Remington mused, taking a step closer. “What? Did you think I was going to let him keep running his mouth? Betrayal’s an ugly thing. Ain’t nobody betrays me and gets to walk away from it. I don’t care if he is the enemy of my enemy. He sure ain’t my friend.”
He wasn’t even talking to Josie, yet her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat so thick that she couldn’t swallow. This man wanted to dictate who lived and who died. Dictate everything. A man with this much need for control was a terror. A thing to be feared.
She forced herself to stand up, leaving Cash to struggle to stand next to her. But he was the one who spoke first, and his voice was far stronger than hers ever would have been. “You got what you wanted, Remington. Pierce is dead. You’ve gotten your revenge. So why are you still here?”
Remington let out a slow, sinister chuckle. “Because I’m not finished.”
A deep unease slithered down Josie’s spine. Of course… of course he isn’t.
Remington lifted his chin and scanned the ranch. Looking out at the land like it already belonged to him. His lips curled into something almost resembling a smile. “Mighty fine ranch,” he said proudly. “And to think it belongs to me now.”
Beau scoffed. “Have you lost your mind?” He lifted Randall’s gun. “You’re outnumbered here!”
“Mind’s crystal clear,” Remington laughed, barely sparing Beau a glance.
“See, I don’t think you understand the position you’re all in.
Your precious Randall Pierce is dead, which means there’s no one left to keep me in check.
And I’m done playing nice. I don’t care if this woman or the kid inside that house dies.
You hand over the ranch, or every last one of you ends up in the ground. ”
Josie clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Her shock had worn off—anger took its place. “You don’t have a claim to this land!”
“Don’t need one!” Remington laughed.
Cash took a step forward, his breath ragged. Then Josie saw Hank step forward, holding out a warning hand. He nodded at Cash, a knowing half-smile tugging at his lips. “I got it, boy,” he whispered, and Cash nodded back, letting him have the shotgun.
Josie felt a rush of gratitude toward Hank. This was about saving them—saving Samuel. Cash wasn’t too proud to realize that. He was far too injured to shoot worth a darn.
“You’ve got a gun. They have guns. You’re outnumbered! It’s over!” Cash yelled out to Remington.
Remington arched a brow, seemingly unbothered. “Is it?” He pointed his gun at Josie. “They’re too slow. Now if they shoot me, I’ll kill her on pure reflex.” He laughed again. “You Montgomerys, always so proud. Always thinkin’ you’re better than the rest of us.”
He tilted his head, revolver still aimed at Josie’s forehead as he studied Cash. “Tell me. You willing to bet your little lady’s life on that pride of yours?”
“How about you and me do a good old-fashioned duel? Fifteen paces out,” Cash said, his breath heavy and shallow.
Josie looked at him, fear turning the blood to ice in her veins. He’ll die! “No!” she began quickly. “You c—can’t—”
But all Cash did was place a calm, firm hand on her arm.
Remington laughed darkly, almost mockingly. “You? You think you can even walk fifteen paces?”
“I can, and I will,” Cash replied, lifting his head and standing nearly straight.
“Fine,” Remington chuckled. “Get a gun from one of the slow-shootin’ men next to you.”
Josie’s breath hitched.
Cash limped over to stand between Beau and Hank. Hank shook his head, refusing to lower the shotgun, but Beau handed his pistol over to Cash.
Then Cash limped forward to stand in front of Remington. “Turn around and we’ll count,” he said weakly, clearly spent.
She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. And in the condition he was in—he’d almost certainly…
Josie shook her head. Don’t. She couldn’t think like that. She wouldn’t.
But she was afraid.
“You first…” Remington gestured at Cash with a cocky smirk.
Cash turned his back, his gun in the air and Hank’s aim still steady on Remington. Clearly in case he tried something. But he didn’t. He turned his back to Cash, too.
Tears burned in Josie’s eyes. Darn you, Cash! You and your fool pride! And Beau’s, too for that matter. They could have easily shot him right then and there, while he was distracted.
But the Montgomerys would have never challenged a man to a duel and then shot him in the back. They had too much integrity for that.
Beau spoke, his voice solid and emotionless, but Josie could tell that he was far from emotionless. “I’ll call the paces.” He knew what she did—that Cash Montgomery was in no shape to do this.
“One.”
Cash limped.
“Two.”
Cash’s back bowed, and he staggered forward a half step, nearly losing his balance.
“Three.”
Cash’s breath grew even more ragged as he struggled to breathe. Blood dripped down to the ground. Josie wanted nothing more than to run to him. Her throat clenched with every step.
“Four.”
Cash staggered again, three steps this time, his back bent, almost collapsing completely.
Then the pound of heavy hooves became audible from the other side of the barn. Someone was riding down the road toward the house. The men halted where they stood. Cash didn’t even turn. It was as though he didn’t have to.
But Josie did. She whirled around toward the growing thunder, watching as a cloud of dust rose along the road that led to the yard. Remington turned, too, taking aim, frozen in place as he waited for the riders to appear.
Within seconds, a rider galloped into view, dust kicking up in thick clouds behind him.
Luke. “Yaw!” he bellowed. “Yaw! Yaw!”
And he wasn’t alone. Sherrif Carter was riding right on his tail. Along with deputies. A whole lot of deputies.
Relief crashed into her like a heavy wave, staggering, cleansing. Everything happened fast. One second, Remington was standing tall, cocky and in control. The next, the sheriff’s men were surrounding him on horseback, guns drawn, barking orders. “Drop your gun!”
Remington looked around, panicked. It was too late. Too late for him to get to his horse and ride off.
Too late to escape.
Josie watched, tears of utter relief stinging her eyes as rough hands seized him, pulling his arms behind his back to bind his wrists.
He struggled and cursed in their grasp, thrashing with fury, but it didn’t matter.
The sheriff’s men were stronger. Within seconds, he was on his knees, spitting venom—but powerless.
“You took your sweet time! I about met my Maker!” Cash barked weakly at Luke, who dismounted between the deputies, before his knees finally gave out. Josie ran to him, relief and worry flooding her.
“You alright?” he asked breathily, his tone urgent. His eyes were wide. He was terrified.
For her.
She exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yes, but what about you? Let’s get you back in bed…”
He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “He ain’t ever gonna hurt you again,” he breathed faintly. “No one is…”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. There was something about his voice that made her want to believe him, more than anything she’d ever believed before.
All of this—finally—was over. Samuel was safe. And so were Cash and his brothers. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder again.
They were home.