Ballad Beauty (8 page)

He had conflicting feelings, too, about Jenny. He pitied her. He hated how Sam promised to send for her all these years and never did. He knew how bad Sam could be. He wondered how Jenny would take it when he arrested the old man. Then she would learn who Noah really was and why he’d been willing to escort her so far.

He didn’t want to kill Sam. He was determined to take him in alive so he could stand trial and be punished for his many crimes. But what if Sam didn’t give him a choice? He wondered if he should use Jenny as bait somehow to flush Sam out.

That thought made him feel lower than pond scum. No, he would try to keep her out of it as much as he could. He sure didn’t want to be around when she realized her daddy was a famous criminal, but Noah couldn’t see any way around it. Maybe he would figure something out on the way to Nevada.

“Noah, have you ever met any outlaws?”

CHAPTER 10

Riley hustled through the depot, his rucksack tossed casually over one shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this train. He gave a quick glance at a pretty girl and regretted he couldn’t stop to make her acquaintance.

“All aboard!”

The conductor’s cry sounded through the small station. Riley stepped onto the platform just as the train was ready to pull away. A billowing black cloud of smoke erupted from its smokestack, scattering ash and soot through the crisp morning air.

He took the last few yards quickly and bounded up the steps as the train departed. He walked through a couple of cars before he found a seat to his liking. He plopped down and tossed his bag next to him.

He should have figured Sam would head up to Prairie Dell, though why he wanted to take the haul to such a dump baffled Riley. There was nothing to spend the money on and nowhere to go for fun. Maybe that’s exactly why Sam decided to go to such a godforsaken piece of dirt. It would be the perfect place to lie low and let the excitement of the robbery die down. He also had a built-in safety net. Moira McShanahan would protect Sam from the fires of Hell itself, so fierce was her love for her only brother.

Riley shivered involuntarily. The thought of Moira and her eye patch gave him the creeps. Of course, better that than seeing the hole in her socket. No, he didn’t like Moira at all—and the feeling was mutual. He’d caught her staring at him several times when Sam took the gang to Prairie Dell once, years ago. He didn’t trust her, and he could tell she sure didn’t trust him. He was glad Sam never used the place again while he was a part of his crew.

Riley stared out the window as the train began to pick up speed. He thought about how he would spend all that money. Having it would make the difference. He could retire from being on the run. Gamble and whore all he wanted. Never have to lift a finger again.

All his life he’d been on the outside, looking in, even in the McShan/Webber partnership. The two outlaws called on him on occasion throughout the years when they needed an extra hand. He’d grown weary being on the fringe of things. He thought it through carefully—and knew this was his one shot at the big time.

It helped that the bank had been unusually crowded. Confusion rang supreme as they attempted to escape. Nothing went as planned. He would have liked to shoot that woman with the piercing shriek, but she added to the chaos. He’d thrown a quick upper-cut to Bill, their lookout, and knocked him from his horse as he’d mounted. Frank had to swerve to avoid trampling his brother, Bill. Riley shot the horse from under Frank to make certain neither man followed. He figured with fewer men, he’d get a bigger cut, which he richly deserved.

He hadn’t counted on Pete seeing what happened, though. He thought him too far ahead, but the son-of-a-gun must have had hawk’s eyes in him that day. They’d ridden hard for almost ten miles before Pete pulled up short and blocked his way. The posse wasn’t that far behind, but Pete decided then and there to confront him all the same.

Nobody yelled at Riley Withers.

Pete got shot just south of his heart for his efforts. He was dead before he hit the ground. Sam had circled back and saw the confrontation. He shot Riley—and his horse—in the process. Of course, Sam had never been a great shot. He’d killed in his time, but Riley suspected half of those dead were due to Lady Luck, while the other half Sam hadn’t meant to kill at all.

Famous Sam grabbed the reins of Pete’s horse, which held part of the plunder, and took off like a lightning bug being chased by a kid with a jar. Riley, sporting a bullet in his shoulder, fell back on foot and missed being found by the skin of his teeth.

Now he was out for the money. All the money.
And revenge.

He shifted in his seat and cracked his knuckles slowly as he thought of what he wanted to do to Sam McShan. And his daughter. That gal was a mighty sweet morsel. Maybe he’d have his way with her and make Sam watch.

He chuckled to himself. The man across the aisle looked at him questioningly. “What the blazes you looking at?”

The stranger hastily returned to his newspaper. The young man’s hands trembled. Riley smiled at that, pleased at the ability to frighten a stranger. He liked people a little bit afraid of him.

He stretched his arm and grimaced at the tightness still in his shoulder. Luckily, Sam’s bullet hadn’t done much damage.

Riley was able to get fixed up and head out in record time. He racked his brain as to where Sam might go. He wished he’d thought of Prairie Dell, but it had been years since he’d been there that one time. Sam had been pretty attached the last few years to hiding out in Texas and Arizona Territory till the heat wore off. That was why Riley hadn’t imagined him anywhere else.

This was Sam’s last haul, though. Riley made it his business to listen when people thought he wasn’t around. He learned plenty that way. He’d perfected eavesdropping to a fine art and was proud of his hidden talent. He’d overheard a conversation between Sam and Pete two days before they pulled the job. Sam said he would call it a career after this and send for Jenny—if she still wanted to see him.

Riley slipped into Sam’s saddlebags late that same night and found a few letters from the girl. It was obvious his precious Jenny had no idea what her daddy did for a living. She did long to see him, though. That rang loud and clear. So when he didn’t know where to look for Sam, he decided to look for Jenny instead. He took a train to Boston and waited her out. He knew Sam would send for her, especially since he had all that loot and no one to share it with.

She’d been too skittish on the way out. He tried to behave as a perfect gentleman and make her acquaintance, but she was wary of him from the start. He’d aimed to throw her off by slipping off the stagecoach right after it left Apple Blossom. He’d learned all about her attempts to hire a guide to Nevada when hers turned up dead from a knife fight just before she’d arrived. He knew she’d have nothing to do with him in that role, so he didn’t bother to volunteer. Once she headed for Nevada, he figured Sam had to be in Prairie Dell, so he didn’t need her anymore.

Let her and that cowboy go the overland route. Riley would admit he was lazy. He hated traveling across the empty prairie. Instead, he’d take the Southern Pacific to Yuma and head north by horseback from there. It would probably take about the same length of time, and he’d be a whole lot more comfortable.

He settled back and began to daydream of the ways to spend his fortune.

“We’ll stop at Fort Griffin. There’s not much after that, least till we reach New Mexico Territory.”

“Do you think I can cable Dr. Randolph from there?”

Noah hooted. “You want to send a cable to that quack guidebook writer, Jenny?”

“No,” she said primly. “I’m not personally acquainted with Mr. Mulholland. I am referring to Dr. Randolph. He is from The Thompson School. We are special friends.”

He got a funny look on his face. “Just how friendly are you?”

“Dr. Randolph has been like a second father to me. I look upon his family as my own.”

Noah adjusted his hat. “You’ll be able to get word to him from the fort, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be sending him a letter.”

They rode in silence for an hour until Fort Griffin came into sight on the horizon.

“It’ll certainly be nice to see other—”

“Don’t say that,” he told her.

She was puzzled. “Say what?”

“That you’re already bored with the pleasure of my company.”

She sensed her cheeks turning red. In just a couple of days, she’d grown to enjoy Noah Webster’s company immensely. He was knowledgeable about the area they traveled and pointed out all sorts of interesting things along the way. He knew so many stories, too, probably from his days on the cattle trails. Surprisingly, he’d been considerate, as well. She couldn’t have asked for a more congenial traveling companion.

And the man was definitely easy on the eye. Her stomach gave another of those flutters as she looked into his clear blue eyes. She saw they held a teasing light in them.
Oh, Lord, guard my heart from this man with the princely looks.

He smiled that lazy smile of his, the one that made the butterflies do a double-time march in her stomach.

“Bother,” she said under her breath.

“Beg pardon?”

She looked at him in exasperation. “Never mind.”

He laughed and spurred Star. They picked up their pace and soon reached the fort.

The military post bustled with activity from all directions. Noah called a greeting as he led them to a hitching post. He swung his leg over his horse and came to assist her. His hands went firmly about her waist as he lifted her off Sassy. She thought he hesitated a bit too long before he released her. No, she refused to let her imagination run wild.

“I’ll take care of the horses and pick up a few supplies we might need along the way. Check over there.” He pointed to a clump of wooden buildings. “You’ll find the post office. They might have a telegraph there. If not, it’ll be where you can post a letter to your Dr. Randolph.”

“Thank you.”

Jenny took her reticule and slipped it from her saddle horn to her wrist. She gave Sassy a love pat and headed in the direction Noah indicated. She was glad to be off her horse for the short time they would be at the fort. Her bottom remained sore, but she knew she’d begun to get a feel for how to ride. Noah even complimented her on how she handled her horse. Sassy was a sweetheart and would have been a dream for any inexperienced rider, but Jenny cherished his comment all the same. She was eager to fit into this new land. She hoped her father would be proud of her new riding skills.

As she made her way across the open area, Noah’s words echoed in her mind. He’d tried to prepare her for what Fort Griffin was like.

“The worst of the worst,” he’d said. “It’s the last outpost of civilization before you hit nothing but desert.”

He had been more than correct. She passed buffalo hunters, their skins to be traded slung over donkeys that looked too thin to make it a step further. She couldn’t decide which smelled worse—the donkeys or the hunters themselves. She skirted as far away from them as possible, only to run straight into a painted lady.

Jenny recognized her not by her paint, for this woman had none on her face, but by the hard look in her eye. A few of these women had come into Dr. Randolph’s clinic, and her heart went out to them each time. The fact they had to sell a piece of themselves to put bread into their mouths was too horrible to dwell upon.

“Watch where yer goin’!”

“I’m terribly sorry, ma’am,” she apologized and hurried away.

She spotted the post office and entered quickly, glad to be out of the afternoon glare. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, the postmaster stepped from a back room and greeted her.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. What brings you through Fort Griffin? You need some writing paper or stamps? Have you stopped for supplies?”

She focused on the jovial character before her. He was the very image of Saint Nicholas, minus the red suit. His cheeks shined as polished apples, and his eyes disappeared into slits as he smiled at her.

“Good afternoon, sir. I am looking to send a telegram to Boston.”

“‘Fraid a letter will have to suffice, ma’am. Fort Griffin is the end of the world, so to speak. The fact we get mail delivery at all is a minor miracle and not to be taken for granted.”

“I see,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “I suppose I will jot a brief note then.” She glanced around and spied the high counter designed for that purpose.

“Let me get paper and pen for you. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

She leaned against the counter, which was pushed against a wall. She glanced up at the notices that filled every inch of wall space. Her eyes traveled quickly over the many announcements and handbills. Then she spotted the poster.

Her father’s face stared back at her.

She gripped the counter for support. Surely she was mistaken. It was a wanted poster for an outlaw. The list of crimes proved too numerous to read, but she got the gist of it as her eyes skimmed its contents.

She looked back up at the face that stared out at her. He had aged since she’d last seen him, but he was still a handsome man. The Irish mischief she remembered so plainly had been captured by the artist’s sketch.

Her eyes went to the bold letters above the picture.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: FAMOUS SAM MCSHAN, THE ROBIN HOOD OF THE WEST.

She grew lightheaded as the room swirled violently. Darkness rushed up and enveloped her.