Bushedwhacked Groom (31 page)

Chapter Thirty-three

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Holding a pair of binoculars, Cory Reklaw stood on a
high abutment overlooking the road to
Old
Colorado
City
. For over an hour he’d been hovering here, intently
watching the pass below, waiting for the regular stage line to pass through.

Cory was aware that Elk Ravine was a favorite spot
for outlaws to ambush both public and private con
veyances. And he had a very bad feeling that he might
well spot his three older brothers attempting to hijack
the Colorado City Line.

Things had not gone well for the family ever since
the scene at church two weeks earlier. Cory’s brothers
had been off hell-raising much of the time, and two more robberies had been reported in the vicinity, one of a train and another of the payroll shack of a local
lumber company. Then, when the outlaws had attempted to break into the Mariposa Bank the other
night, Sheriff Hackett had been waiting inside with a
shotgun and had chased off several shadowy figures.
After the attempt on the bank, there was talk in town
of a posse being raised to track the offenders, even Pinkerton agents being hired.

No, things weren’t going well at all.

Although the prospect was daunting, Cory had de
cided he must find out once and for all whether his
brothers were the culprits. His opportunity had arrived
this morning when he’d awakened at dawn to the sound of hoofbeats and had looked out the bunk
house window to spy his brothers off in the distance,
riding hell-bent for leather toward the east. He’d
quickly saddled up and followed their trail. Though he’d lost their tracks at a creek crossing, he’d realized
by then that they were heading in the general direc
tion of the Colorado City road—and since he’d also remembered the stage’s regular route, he’d ridden for the canyon overlook.

He’d been riddled with anxiety ever since arriving
here. What would he do if his brothers were indeed the
criminals? It would kill his folks to find out. Could he convince the men to stop on their own? Fat chance, he
thought glumly. He would have to pray the culprits
were the Hicks boys or someone else entirely.

Cory tensed as the stagecoach, pulled by a team of
six, with a driver and a guard on top, plowed into view.
He drew a relieved breath as the conveyance made it
two-thirds of the way through the canyon, stirring up clouds of dust. Then, just when he thought the danger
was over, he winced at the sounds of gunfire coming
from a distant stand of aspen. Cursing under his
breath, he watched three riders in black gallop out
from the woods and converge on the stage. When the
guard returned fire, one of the riders shot the rifle right
out of his hands.

Cory grimaced and lifted his binoculars to have a
better look. All three riders were masked, with black
Stetsons pulled low, and he couldn’t make out their
features. Nonetheless, there was something too familiar about these figures. He lowered the binoculars and observed the riders closing in on the stage and forcing
it to a halt. He heard muffled shouting as the guard
threw down the strongbox. Then, while one of the rob
bers shot the lock off the box, another retrieved the
money bags and tied them to his horse, while the third
forced the passengers—three women and a man—outside and demanded their valuables.

Cory felt miserably torn. Should he ride down and try to help the victims? He’d be scant help if the out
laws shot him, which was likely—he might even spook
them into harming an innocent party. No, better to
pray no one got harmed and track the culprits after
they left the scene of the crime.

Within moments the bushwhackers rode off with
their prizes, whooping and hollering, firing pistols into
the air. After a glimpse through his binoculars revealed
that the occupants of the stagecoach were all safe,
Cory sprinted back to his horse, intent on tracking the
desperadoes.

***

Later that morning Cory sat perched on his horse on
another ridge, gazing in horror at a familiar farmstead
in the valley below. He watched three lawbreakers
emerge from the barn, now minus their hats and
masks. Any doubts he might have had about the out
laws’ identities were at once dismissed.

Damnation! His worse fears were now confirmed. What a terrible pass things had come to.

Worse yet, Cory very much feared there wasn’t a
damn thing he could do about it.

***

That night at the supper table, everyone was buzzing with talk of the latest robbery. Grandma had actually witnessed the bullet-riddled stagecoach pulling into
Mariposa. “I heard the driver telling Sheriff Hackett he’s
bringing out another payroll shipment in a fortnight,
and he ain’t doin’ it till they triple the guard.”

“Why do you suppose they let you hear that,
Grandma?” Cory asked. He glanced meaningfully at his
brothers and was rewarded with surly looks. “Sounds
almost as if they’re laying a trap for the outlaws.”

Grandma waved him off. “Old Hackett ain’t got the
brains for that kind of trickery.”

Shooting Cory a hostile look, Zach asked Grandma,
“So, is everyone in town still blaming us?”

Even as Grandma had her mouth fixed to reply, Cole asked sharply, “Should they be, son?”

With a look of angry disgust, Zach threw down his
napkin and stood. “Come on, fellas, let’s get out of
here. Maybe see if we can find some folks that trust us.”
He stormed out of the room with his two brothers fol
lowing him.

The remaining diners regarded one another anx
iously. Jessica waved a hand at her husband. “Cole, did
you have to get the boys all stirred up that way?”

“I just asked Zach a simple question, Jessica,” he
replied grimly. “Was it too much for me to expect him
to answer it like a man? Well, I’ll tell you, the way my
sons hightailed it out of here makes me suspicious.”

Jessica started to reply, then bit her lip. Grandma
looked sober, too. Cory knew he had to do something.
He stood and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, folks.
Think I’ll go check on my brothers.”

Cory dashed out of the kitchen. He caught up with
his brothers outside near the barn, where the three
stood huddled together, talking tensely, while Zach
smoked a cheroot.

Matt, spotting his approach, sneered, “Well, what do
we have here? Mama’s little pantywaist. Did Ma and Pa
send you out here to set us straight, baby brother, or to
spy on us so’s you can tattletale? Are you gonna accuse
us of outlawin’, too?”

Joining them, Cory said soberly, “Boys, I think it’s
about time we had a long, serious talk.”

“0h, yeah?” scoffed Zach, blowing smoke in his little
brother’s face.

“Yeah.” Cory stood his ground.

“And why is that?”

“Why?” Cory asked ironically. “Because I know the truth now. Let’s say I’ve seen it with my own two eyes—and
it’s about time we discuss it.”

“You’ve seen what, you little pissant?” scoffed Vance.

With the other three men staring daggers at him,
Cory bravely began to speak . . .

Chapter Thirty-four

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The following morning, Lucky was pleasantly sur
prised when Cole made an announcement at the
breakfast table. “Well, children, your ma and I have
been talking, and we’ve decided we’ll take the whole
crew in to
Colorado
City
today, so we can all see Buf
falo Bill Cody and Pawnee Bill at the Wild West show
tomorrow.”

As excited murmurs broke out at the table, Lucky
said, “Wow, Buffalo Bill Cody. You know, Molly and I
were discussing him recently, and I said it’s so
strange to think of him as still . . .” He paused at the ex
pectant glances of the others, then quickly amended
his statement. “Well, I guess it’s pretty amazing that he’s
still riding the circuit, eh?”

Grandma chuckled. “Mind you, there’s been rumors of
him buying the ranch or retiring for ages now, and I al
low he’s old as the hills. Heard tell he’s made half a
dozen ‘farewell’ speeches already. But I reckon the
codger is still out there kickin’ up dust with his cow
boys and Indians.”

Cole grinned at her. “You want to come along, Ma?”

“
No thanks, son. I seen plenty of Wild West shows in
my time. You young folks go on ahead and I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

“Are you sure, Ma?” asked Jessica. “The poster I saw
in town indicated there will be an Indian market, and
I’d love to get some pretty blankets and baskets for the
house.”

Ma brightened. “Well, there’s a thought. I reckon I
could use a new broom, after I’ve plumb wore mine
out on the hides of these hellions.” She glanced mean
ingfully at her grandchildren, then turned back to
Cole. “What about Dumpling and Billy, and their young
‘uns?”

“I spoke with Billy yesterday, and the twins are still recovering from the colic. But maybe they’ll join us in
Colorado
City
tomorrow.” Cole turned to the others.
“How about you youngsters?”

“We’re in, Pa!” Zach answered.

“Yeah!” seconded Vance.

Lucky glanced at Molly, who tentatively smiled
back. “Molly and I will be delighted to attend.”

“Good,” said Cole. “I reckon we’ll need the buck-
board and the buggy to carry everyone—”

“Ah, just take the buggy for you, Ma and Grandma,”
put in Vance. “Us boys can ride.”

“So can Lucky and me,” added Molly.

“Very well, then,” said Cole. “You youngsters go pack
up. We’ll be leaving within the hour. We’ll want to get to
Colorado
City
before all the hotel rooms are let out.”

At the mention of hotel rooms, Lucky grinned at
Molly and noted her answering blush.

***

The group made good time riding to
Colorado
City
,
Cole and Jessica and Grandma in a light buggy pulled
by two swift horses, the four boys, Molly and Lucky on
horseback. The late spring morning was crisp and
bright, with no signs of rain on the horizon.

Lucky had to admit his bride looked sexier than hell
riding beside him in her jeans and checked shirt, her
ponytail bobbing in the wind, her bottom nestled in the saddle, her shapely thighs gripping the horse’s
flanks. He hadn’t seen her much the past few days, as
the Reklaw men had camped out to finish roundup on
the farthermost ranges—and he was definitely in a
mood to devour her now.

She glanced up, and her face went hot as she evi
dently guessed his thoughts. “So, what’s on your schem
ing mind?” she asked.

“Well, I’m excited about seeing Buffalo Bill, of
course.”

“Right. Sure you are.”

“And I was just thinking this is gonna be our first
night together in a hotel room.” He wiggled his eye
brows suggestively.

“Oh.” Her color heightened.

“But not our first night in a bed together, eh, sugar?”

Glancing about them, she lowered her voice. “Lucky
Lamont, you rascal. I thought such things didn’t matter
to you, now that you took me to the home place and
had your wicked way with me.”

“Yeah, it was plenty wicked, all right.”

“0h, hush.”

“But we’ll want to keep on trying just to be sure,
won’t we?”

She glanced away, but Lucky could have sworn he spotted a guilty grin on her face.

***

“I’m so glad you suggested this outing, Cole,” Jessica
said. She was happily ensconced beside her husband
on the driver’s seat of the buggy, while Ma occupied
the large seat behind them.

“Yeah, I figured the kids could use some fresh air,” he
replied, working the reins. “The boys especially need
to blow off some steam, with the sheriff constantly
hounding them about being outlaws. It’ll be a relief
just to have them out of temptation’s grasp for a day.”

“Let’s hope so. And I must agree with you that it was
worrisome, the way they all stormed out of the kitchen
last night. I’ve asked Cory about whether his brothers might be involved, and he’s concerned, too.”

Cole sighed. “Well, I’ve questioned the others several
times now, and they always deny any responsibility. But they always get riled, too. Hard to tell if they’re
guilty or just insulted.”

“If only Mr. Trumble would allow them to court his
daughters. I think that’s what’s really eating at all of
them.”

He nodded. “I know, honey. But Ez always has been
ornery as a badger. Maybe I should have a word with
him. Who knows—he might even bring the girls to the
show tomorrow.”

Jessica harrumphed. “Well, I’m not sure you should
even approach that old tyrant. Ma tried—and look
where it led her.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Let’s hope not,” Jessica teased back.

Laughing, Cole nodded toward Lucky and Molly.
“The newlyweds seem to be getting along better—
and Lucky seems to be accepting that he belongs
here.”

“I agree. But there’s still some lingering tension be
tween them, I can tell.”

He winked. “Another reason I suggested this trip.
Maybe some time alone in a hotel room will do them
good.”

“Why, Cole, you schemer!”

His voice dipped intimately. “It sure helped us back when we were newlyweds. Remember when we stayed at the
old Antlers in
Colorado Springs
, back before it burned
down?”

She blushed. “How can I forget? I’ll bet polite society
in
Colorado Springs
is still buzzing with gossip over
that lurid incident.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but that bath we took together
was sure worth it.”

“Yes, with our shocked audience waiting and listen
ing outside in the corridor,” she added drolly.

He playfully pinched her cheek. “You know, Mrs. Reklaw, I hear the Longhorn Inn in
Colorado
City
has
bathing rooms on each floor, too.”

Her eyes went wide. “Why, Cole, you bad boy! You’d
think we hadn’t been married for twenty-three years
now.”

He feigned amazement. “Jessica,
I’m
shocked at
you. I was referring to the newlyweds, of course.”

“Sure you were.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “On second thought, maybe we’ll just beat them to the punch, sugar.”

***

Before long Lucky spotted the familiar, spectacular
outline of Pike’s Peak, which sheltered the towns of
Old Colorado City and Colorado Springs ahead of
them. As the first signs of civilization materialized on
the dirt road ahead of him, he was thoroughly in
trigued. In marked contrast to the popular tourist at
traction and antiquing center he remembered from
the present,
Colorado
City
was a typical frontier town,
with its long central street lined with storefronts, its gaslights and buggies and the occasional Model T
rumbling past. A block south, he spotted a magnificent
black locomotive of the
Denver
and
Rio Grande
parked at the station house, its smokestack billowing
steam. Even more amazing, when Lucky gazed beyond the small burg toward the adjacent Springs, he
spied only a few multistoried, early 1900s-style buildings, none of the soaring skyscrapers and modern free
ways he remembered from the present. There were no
jets circling the airport—indeed, there was no airport
at all—nor were there any modern automobiles or traffic lights. Now as never before it hit home that he was definitely living in the year 1911. Perhaps some of his
prior experiences could have been faked, but no one
could have re-created a nineteenth-century version of
both towns, then tacked on a replica of
Pike’s Peak
for authenticity!
He did note that the folks strolling the boardwalks of
Colorado City appeared a bit more fashionably
dressed than those in Mariposa—he spotted ladies
wearing form-fitting jackets, long tailored skirts and wide-brimmed hats adorned with silk flowers, gentle
men in much more modern-looking suits with bro
caded vests, little girls in straight, long-waisted dresses,
stockings and Mary Janes, little boys in sailor or
knicker suits.

Cole halted the group before a three-story stone ho
tel with an arched doorway and a large plate-glass win
dow. “We’ll try for rooms here,” he announced, hopping
down to assist the ladies.

Lucky turned to wink at Molly. “The Longhorn Inn, eh, honey?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t worry, there
aren’t any cows inside.”

“I’m considerably relieved.” He hopped off his horse
and helped her down.

Inside, while Cole spoke with the desk clerk and the
others milled about, Lucky strolled around the large
lobby with Molly, passing a quartet of gentlemen hud
dled over a card game and a trio of ladies knitting and
sipping tea in a corner. He was quite amused by the cowhide rugs and settees he saw everywhere, along with steer-horn chairs, tables and hat stands, even a
huge horned chandelier hanging overhead. “Well,
there may not be cows in here,” he murmured to Molly,
“but this is one horny place.”

Though she might not have recognized the word,
she definitely caught his meaning. “You in a rutting
mood, cowboy?”

“Always.”

She grinned.

He glanced at a footstool composed of two sets of
horns nailed to more horns and added wryly, “Though
a fella wouldn’t want to land wrong on one of those.”

“Don’t give me a reason to push you, then.”

He chuckled.

Cole left the front desk and gestured for everyone to
gather round. As the group assembled near the stair
way, he began handing out keys. “Boys, you’re up on
the third floor where the bunking rooms are. The rest
of us have rooms on the second.”

“So, you all get the feather beds while us boys get
the bunks?” groused Matt.

Grandma swatted his arm. “So you’d have me sleep
on some flimsy cot, me with my lumbago?”

“No—sorry, ma’am,” Matt muttered.

“Grandma’s right,” added Cole. “Of course the ladies
get the rooms with the best beds”—he winked at
Lucky—”which means Lucky and me get some con
sideration, too. If you boys aren’t happy with the
arrangements, pay for your own rooms, or better yet,
bring your own brides next time. Now go unload the
ladies’ things from the buggy and get cleaned up. We’ll
be eating supper early.”