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Authors: Stone Wallace

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BOOK: Black Ransom
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He made himself stand firm. His expression betrayed nothing of what he was feeling. The look on his face was inscrutable—a look he managed to maintain only through years of conditioning at Rockmound, where no matter what punishment was being meted out, one could not react to it. Cora moved away from him, taking a seat at the table, where Jess now sat, his posture stiff. Although Cora had her own thoughts, and admittedly still held feelings for Ehron Lee, she knew she could not involve herself in this “reunion” in any way.

George Watson was the first to enter. His face was stern; he presented the picture of a man not about to allow himself to be intimidated by a pack of outlaws. Ehron Lee noticed how his eyes shifted about the cabin, evidently searching for his wife, before his gaze fell upon Ehron Lee and held a brief look of vulnerability. Watson recognized his former prisoner, though the acknowledgment sparked only for a moment before it faded from Watson's features and his strict, reserved demeanor returned.

Melinda and Buck Leighton came in next. Buck had his arm protectively around the girl, but she still looked frightened and uncertain. Yet that was ignored by Ehron Lee, because she was in every way as beautiful as he remembered her. His lips moved involuntarily but no words came out. Only Cora noticed the pained look on his face.

Melinda turned her head and she saw him. In an instant her fearful expression gave way to a strange look combining hope, sympathy . . . and sorrow.

Neither spoke. Neither knew what to say. For Ehron Lee, it was the shock and surprise of standing just feet from the girl he had once loved with such passion and desire, the wife whom he had been led to believe was dead—yet was very much alive. Melinda hesitated because she now could see the truth of what her husband had become. A gentle man turned vengeful criminal, and even with Buck's earlier assurances that she was not to blame, Melinda could not altogether be eased of the guilt she felt, the part
she
had played in his terrible transformation.

The uncertainty both felt at being in each other's presence after so long and under such circumstances was palpable.

Finally Ward entered, both guns still drawn. After he was inside, he kicked the door shut behind him. He ordered Watson, Buck, and Melinda over against the far wall of the kitchen, next to the table where Cora and Jess were seated. Then Ward turned to Ehron Lee.

“Reckon you wasn't expectin' this,” he said with a mischievous wink.

Ehron Lee found his voice, though his words were troubled.

“Why is
she
here?” he asked, addressing no one in particular.

“Ask the marshal,” Ward replied with a nudge of his head toward Buck.

“Was my idea, Burrows,” Buck stated solidly. “Wasn't her decision.”

Almost with reluctance Ehron Lee brought himself to turn his eyes fully on Melinda. She met his gaze but didn't confirm or deny what Buck had said. She couldn't—or perhaps wouldn't.

Buck explained, “You had to know the truth, Burrows. Your wife never abandoned you. Just as with you believin' she was dead. All that was a lie. A lie concocted by your sister-in-law.”

Ehron Lee's expression became strained.

“Abigail?” he said mutedly, still looking at Melinda.

Melinda responded as if she herself were responsible for her sister's actions. She lowered her eyes and gave a quivering nod.

“I never knew,” she finally said. “She never sent the letters I wrote. If you wrote to me, I never got those letters.”

George Watson spoke up. “Not a single letter from your wife ever came across my desk, Burrows. That's a fact.”

“I wrote to you as often as I could, Ehron Lee,” Melinda said, her eyes softening and becoming moist. “And when you didn't answer, I thought that maybe . . . maybe that was the way you wanted it.”

Ehron Lee's face registered a quick look of astonishment. For seconds he remained silent.

“How—how could you ever have thought that?” he then said in a distant voice.

Ward was impatient. Plans had been made and he didn't want anything to interfere with Ehron Lee's participation, especially not sentiment. Ward had hoped that seeing his missus in the company of the marshal might heighten his partner's intent. Now with all that was being said between them, he determined her presence could pose a definite problem.

“All mighty purty,” he growled. “But Burrows, we got us some business to attend to.”

While Ehron Lee and his wife were exchanging their words, Buck allowed himself his first good look at their surroundings. That was when he caught sight of a man bound to a chair in the shadowy corner of the front room. It was dark where the man was sitting and a gag looked to be covering his mouth. Buck didn't immediately recognize the other “captive” as Judge Harrison.

Meanwhile, Jess Colfax seemed fidgety. Finally he stood up from the table and sidled over to Ward. Ward gave him an irritated look.

“I'm ridin' out, Ward,” Jess muttered out the side of his mouth.

“Ain't gonna stay for the party?” Ward said, deadpan.

Jess wagged his head from side to side. He frowned in thought and debated telling Ward about his encounter with the Chiricahua and what, inevitably, they could expect. But again he decided against it. Whatever happened to any of these people was not his worry. Jess's concern was only for his own safety.

Ward cocked an eye suspiciously. Jess was awkward in his manner and Ward's keen observation detected it immediately.

“Somethin' you ain't tellin' us, Jess,” he said, phrasing his words as a comment rather than a question.

Jess tried to keep his voice steady. “No. I just gotta be movin' on.”

Ward's dark eyes pierced into him and he hesitated a moment before he relaxed his stare. Then he nodded and shrugged.

“Well, your choice, amigo,” he said, sounding casually indifferent. “No one's keepin yuh here.”

Jess couldn't hide the relief that washed over him.

“Thanks, Ward,” he said appreciatively.

He started to walk toward the door. His steps were swift. Rather too hurried. He spoke over his shoulder, “You don't gotta worry 'bout me sayin' nothin'. I—”

Ward fired a single shot just as Jess was opening the door, the bullet hitting the outlaw square in the back and propelling him forward with enough impact to slam the door shut with his jutting jaw. His hands scratched feebly at the wood as his body slowly slid to the floor.

“I know I don't, Jess,” Ward muttered dully to the dead man.

At the gunshot Melinda screamed, twisting and burying her head in Buck's chest. Buck started to make a reflexive move toward Ward, but a grim-faced Ehron Lee leveled his own gun at the lawman and cocked the hammer.

Evaline Harrison began shouting from the bedroom, calling desperately for her father, whom she feared might have been the recipient of the bullet just fired.

Cora called back to her. “Your pa's all right. Be quiet in there.”

Ward viewed each of his hostages with an expression of pure menace.

“Reckon yuh got the message,” he sneered. “If I'm willin' to kill an old pal, there ain't nothin' stoppin' me from pluggin' any of you.”

“And that's what you intend to do?” Buck asked boldly.

Ward grinned. “Ain't decided yet . . . 'bout some of you.” He then looked directly at George Watson before he shifted his cold, cruel eyes toward Judge Harrison.

TWENTY-FIVE

BUCK AND MELINDA
were prodded forward at gunpoint by Ward into the unoccupied bedroom, across from the room that held Janette Watson and Evaline Harrison. The outlaw then had Melinda manacle the marshal's wrist to the hardwood bedpost, using as a restraint Buck's own handcuffs. As with the other bedroom, the room was virtually bare, offering just a bed with blankets and a chair. No window. Just the one door, watched and guarded from the front room, ensuring that there was little chance of escape.

After Ward left the room, the two remained quiet, until Buck felt sure the outlaw was out of earshot. Still, he was cautious and kept his voice low.

“You gotta tell Ehron Lee 'bout the boy,” he said to Melinda, who was seated next to him on the bed.

Melinda surprised Buck with her answer.

“Seein' the way he is, I—I don't know if I can,” she replied pensively.

Buck waited for her to elaborate, though he already understood her reasoning.

Melinda noticed the way Buck was looking at her, and her voice took on a defensive edge.

“Don't you think that's what I was hoping to do?” she said. “I wanted to tell him 'bout Charlie the minute I saw him. But he's a different man now. And knowin' that he has a son . . . a boy he likely won't ever see . . . I can't see no good comin' from that.”

“Or it could save the lives of these people,” Buck presented solemnly.

Melinda considered his words. She comprehended what Buck was saying, but she wasn't entirely convinced. She knew better than anyone the type of man Ehron Lee was before suffering the misfortune that had befallen him: a man who had experienced violence yet was not a man
of
violence. But he had proven he was no longer of that character when he'd aimed his gun at Buck, prepared to kill him, and possibly even her, when the marshal had attempted to react to that man being shot. She feared that if she told him about their son, Ehron Lee might grow so resentful of his circumstances he might decide he had nothing to lose and become even more dangerous than his partner.

What did puzzle Melinda, though, and what she avoided mentioning to Buck, was why Ehron Lee had not asked
her
about the child. Had his brain become so twisted by hate that he no longer remembered that she had been carrying their baby—or did he simply not care?

All of these thoughts that spun around in her brain placed her in a dilemma. Would she be wise to offer him the truth that he was a father? Could she take that chance and possibly risk putting everyone in greater danger?

Buck noticed her struggle with indecision, reflected by the troubled and shifting look on her face. He finally decided to present the reality of their situation bluntly.

“Melinda, the way things look, none of us are gonna get outta this alive. The only chance we got, as I see it, is if you talk to Ehron Lee.”

“Maybe . . . maybe I could,” she said, biting her lower lip and speaking her words haltingly. “But Ehron Lee ain't alone in this. That other one . . . that Ward Crawford, you seen what he done. He's vicious. You heard what he said. You think he'd give me the chance to talk to Ehron Lee?”

Buck fell into a frustrated silence. He acknowledged the truth in what she said. Ward Crawford was a mean hombre and surely would do whatever was necessary to prevent Melinda and Ehron Lee from speaking together.

At the same time, Buck found himself surrendering to a moment of weakness, becoming angry with himself. He had brought Melinda into this, planning for a different outcome. But his plan had backfired because of the clever maneuvering of Ward Crawford. He felt he had failed at his job, and because of that, they all were at the outlaw's mercy.

And mercy was not something any of them could expect from a vindictive, cold-blooded killer.

* * *

Ward Crawford stood in the front room, arms akimbo, observing his two rawhide-bound captors with a hostile expression meant to threaten and intimidate. This moment had been a long time coming, and Ward relished every second. George Watson had been bound to a chair next to Judge Harrison. Harrison responded to Ward's glare with a look of trepidation. Despite his own helplessness and uncertainty of what was to come, Watson maintained a steely stare of defiance.

“Be easier to shoot you coyotes now,” Ward said, speaking through clenched teeth. “But that don't hardly make up for what you're owed. No, don't hardly at all.”

While Harrison was still gagged and unable to utter more than muffled sounds, Watson was permitted to speak.

“I don't make any apologies,” he said grimly.

“Don't expect none,” Ward acknowledged with a thin smile. “What you gotta make is a choice.”

Watson gave him a determined look. “You might as well kill me now. 'Cause that's my decision.”

“Mighty admirable,
Superintendent
Watson,” Ward said tauntingly. “Only ain't gonna be that simple.”

Watson's face did not change expression. “I figgered as much. You want to milk this dry, don't yuh? Keep this goin' for as long as you can.”

Ward shrugged. “Might be the idea. Seems only fair, don't it?”

“Your own sense of justice.”

“Had a taste of yours,” Ward replied abruptly. “From here on in, the only justice I'll be recognizin' is my own.”

“'Til the law catches up to you and you're dangling from a rope,” Watson returned.

“Could be. Never really doubted that outcome,” Ward admitted. “'Course ain't likely you'll be 'round to see it.”

Watson's next words came impatiently, with emphasis. “You say my wife is in the next room. I want to see her.”

Ward nodded, pleased to finally see some emotion rise from the superintendent; equally pleased that it was he, Ward Crawford, who now made the decisions.

“Ain't ready for that yet,” he said dryly.

Ehron Lee sat at the kitchen table, his own gaze fixed on the two restrained men, though occasionally his eyes would veer toward the closed door of the bedroom where his wife was held. Cora sat across from him and noticed how his eyes wavered. She was still desperate to do something to prevent any killing. She knew she had no hope of reasoning with Ward. She could almost smell the bloodlust coming off him. The man she had once known was no more. Whatever had happened to him in prison, whatever cruelty he had suffered, had completely destroyed any of the decency that at one time existed within Ward Crawford.

But there had to be a chance, even a slim one, with Ehron Lee. Yet if he possessed any doubt over what was to come, if there was any moral struggle, he wasn't displaying it other than by the shifting of his eyes toward the bedroom. But that could be enough. It was a long shot, Cora didn't know how she could manage it, but Melinda Burrows seemed the only one who could possibly bring an end to this—and Cora also knew that could only happen if Melinda somehow convinced her husband to turn against Ward.

The problem was that every second counted. Cora had no way of knowing how long it would be until Ward tired of his cruel game and began making good on his threat.

* * *

Dusk came and the clouds drifting westward took on a purple hue as they darkened against the deepening blue of the southern skies. The autumn air grew cool as night approached. Ward felt a gnawing of restlessness and decided to step outdoors and have a cigarette. He wasn't comfortable leaving Cora alone with Ehron Lee and asked her in a casual way to come outside with him. At the same time, he didn't know if he could trust Ehron Lee not to take advantage of that opportunity to go speak with his wife. He had no doubt that if they spent even moments together, she would try to influence him—especially with that lawman in the room.

He took Ehron Lee aside to a corner.

“Burrows,” he said, amiably yet sternly, “think it best if you let things be. With your missus, that is. Reckon you know why.”

“I—don't want to talk to her,” Ehron Lee assured him, though the strained look on his face seemed to suggest otherwise.

“We go on like we planned, like she was never here,” Ward told him. “Understand? Otherwise none of what we done is worth snake spit.”

Ehron Lee nodded, though he said, “You shouldn't have brought her back here.”

Ward smiled crookedly. “What choice did I have?”

Ehron Lee couldn't argue. Ward was right, of course. If anyone was to blame, it was the marshal. And Ehron Lee's brain began to decipher why the marshal had made that decision. The more he thought about it, the more it angered him.

Ward saw the creeping tension overtake Ehron Lee's mood. He still held on to a little doubt about his loyalty, but he also didn't think his partner would be fool enough to risk all that they had accomplished—and jeopardize the plan—so close to reaching the climax both had long envisioned, that Ehron Lee himself had initiated.

“Okay, amigo,” Ward said.

Then, with a swift jerk of his head, Ward gestured for Cora to follow him outside.

When they were out by the corral, absorbing the refreshing cool of the slight evening breeze while Ward indulged in a cigarette, Cora decided she could no longer keep her troubling feelings to herself and confronted Ward outright.

“I know you got reasons, Ward, but it ain't right what you're puttin' them people through.”

Ward dragged deeply on his cigarette, tilted his head upward, and blew out a gray cloud of smoke.

“What d'yuh think me and Burrows was put through all them years?” he retorted.

“But . . . that woman, that girl, they ain't done nothin' to yuh,” Cora said.

Ward looked at Cora, twisted his lips into a half smile, and shook his head. “No, but none of this coulda been done without bringin' 'em into it. You know that.”

“Then get it done,” Cora said forcefully. “Get done with what you gotta do and let 'em go free.”

Ward regarded the orange glow on the tip of his cigarette before flicking it off to the side.

“Do that and I'll have the law chasin' me for the rest of my days.” He turned his body fully toward Cora, gently lifted her chin with his fingertips, and gazed into her eyes. He added, “For the rest of
our
days.”

Cora started to soften—but only for a moment. Then she averted her eyes from him. She could no longer be fooled by Ward and his attempts at charming her. His false sincerity. At one time his smooth words would have worked on her, as caressing as silk against skin. But she'd become wise to his ways and knew better now. His techniques had become obvious. Ward had revealed his true colors, and he was no more interested in sharing his life with her than he was in sparing his hostages. All he was trying to do was justify what he'd intended from the beginning. Get her to understand his reasoning and make her believe that unless he followed through completely with his plan, the two of them could never have a future. But Cora knew that future didn't include her.

She attempted to reach Ward through a different approach.

“Ehron Lee ain't gonna stand by and let you kill his wife,” she said adamantly.

Ward became quiet as he pulled out his pouch of tobacco and started to build a fresh cigarette.

Cora responded harshly to his silence. “How d'yuh plan to handle that?” she demanded. “Shoot your partner, as well?”

“Don't be cornerin' me, Cora,” Ward said.

Tension grew apparent by the sudden tautness shadowing Ward's features. Cora noticed the unsettling change in his expression and felt apprehensive. She was familiar with the violence in the man and knew that Ward could be pushed only so far. Still, in her desperation, she couldn't allow herself to back down completely.

Cora drew a breath and her tone softened. “I just gotta know what you're aimin' to do.”

“For what matter?” he snapped.

“I seen how there ain't no trust 'mongst any of you. Ehron Lee and you'll come to odds 'fore long, and sooner than that if'n you go through with what you're plannin'.”

“Burrows has got but one choice,” Ward said hotly. “He either rides along with me or he's on his own.”

Cora stood looking at Ward for several seconds, until she found she could no longer meet the coldness in his eyes. She understood that nothing she could say would change his mind. She had just the one option, and it was a long shot. It was also a dangerous gambit. With there being little chance of Melinda Burrows persuading Ehron Lee to stop his course of revenge while Ward was intent on keeping the two of them apart, Cora's only recourse if she was going to save the lives of these people was for her,
herself
, to try to reason with Ehron Lee.

“Always knew you had gumption, Cora,” Ward said, regarding her a little more tenderly. “Always kinda admired that quality in yuh. Like a woman with some grit. But now ain't the time for any of that to be given rein. All right, let's get ourselves back indoors.”

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