Daisies In The Wind (39 page)

“I started it small,” Chance explained
smugly. “But we don’t have too much time.” He lowered his voice so
that it would not carry. “We’ll finish with them and leave the
boy’s body in here. The fire’ll spread soon enough. But I say we
take the girl along for fun. That way we’ll both have plenty of
time to enjoy her.”

Straining to hear the soft, muffled words,
Rebeccah’s blood curdled. Her cabin was on fire! She knew then
without a doubt that neither of these men intended for her or Billy
to survive. Before they’d lowered their voices, she’d recognized
the man who’d entered the barn, the one helping Neely Stoner.
Chance Navarro! Her breath hissed out of her as he approached the
entrance to the stall.

“I should have known,” she cried
contemptuously, her hands clenched so tightly, her nails dug into
her palms. “You’re about as low as a
worm
, aren’t you,
Navarro? But then, you told me, that’s not your real name, is it?
Nothing about you is real. Not your name, not your fine words or
pretty manners. You’re just a cheap fake.”

“Careful, Rebeccah.” Chance regarded her
soberly. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

No, she didn’t. Furious as she was, Rebeccah
decided that she’d best hold her tongue. She had Billy to protect
somehow, though how she was going to keep these two animals from
hurting him was a mystery to her at the moment. And how they were
going to escape these men before the fire spread to the barn, she
couldn’t imagine. She must manage it somehow.

Why hadn’t she seen through Chance Navarro
sooner? That day, when he’d begun asking her all those questions,
she’d had a feeling about him—but nothing more than that. She
hadn’t even really had time to ponder it and see where that feeling
led, whether or not it formed an actual suspicion, because Russ and
Homer had grabbed her before she’d had the opportunity to reflect.
But now, seeing him here with Neely Stoner, everything fell into
place. Chance, the happy-go-lucky, charming gambler who’d tried so
hard to win her friendship and her trust, was in cahoots with Neely
Stoner—he was part of this evil plan that put Billy’s life and her
own in danger. He was no friend to anyone, only a low-down snake
obsessed with his own greed.

“Don’t worry, Billy, everything will be all
right,” she whispered to the boy huddled beside her, and put an arm
across his thin shoulders.

She had convinced Neely to remove the gag at
least, but the monster had not allowed her to untie the ropes
binding Billy’s wrists and ankles. The boy moistened his lips and
whispered back, “I know.”

But he sounded scared—as scared as Rebeccah
felt.

Rebeccah’s eyes narrowed as Chance,
overhearing the boy’s brave words, laughed out loud.

“Did you hear that, Stoner? These two think
everything’s going to be all right.”

Neely, coming up behind him, gave an
answering grin. “Sure it will—if Reb here decides to talk.”

“You’d better speak up real soon, too,
Rebeccah, because we don’t have any more time,” Chance said.
Suddenly he reached down and yanked her to her feet. “If you think
that small-time sheriff is going to rescue you, you can just put
that thought right out of your mind. He’s got other things to think
about right now. Like his boy having disappeared—and his ranch
burning down.”

Chance’s green eyes shone with pleasure as he
saw the horror transfix her face and heard Billy’s cry of
despair.

“Want to know my real name, boy?” he asked
suddenly, keeping his glance pinned to Rebeccah’s paper-white
countenance. “It’s Larson. Earl Larson. Maybe your pa mentioned it
to you sometime.”

Larson. Even as the first whiff of smoke
reached her nostrils, a memory stirred inside Rebeccah—Earl Larson
was the name of the gambler Clarissa had been with when she’d been
killed, caught in cross fire.

“There was this woman, you see, kid, and she
left her weak, sniveling husband and squalling bambino and went
traveling—she met up with me and brought me luck—for a while. And
then one night I had an ace up my sleeve and got caught—and this
hombre wanted to kill me, so I pulled this woman in front of me and
used her as a shield while I drew my gun—”

“Oh, no,” Rebeccah breathed.

“—and she got the bullet that was meant for
me, and saved my life, and I managed to shoot that dirty hombre
before he could get off a second shot. Pretty clever, eh, kid? You
want to know that woman’s name? It was a real pretty name. ...”

“No!” Rebeccah cried, and struck him across
the face with all her strength. “Shut up!” she shrieked.

Chance grabbed her, his fingers digging into
the flesh of her arms with brutal force.

“You’re not in charge here, Reb,” Neely
Stoner shouted, leering at her, his rancid breath hot in her face.
“And there’s no Bear Rawlings to save you now. It’s just you, the
kid, and us. So tell us what we want to know, because we’re running
out of time.”

“Let Billy go and I’ll tell you! I swear I
will. But not until he’s safely away from here.”

“I told you, girl, you’re not in charge!”

As Chance spun her around so that she faced
the other man while he still held her helpless, Stoner raised his
arm, swung it back, and smacked her across the jaw. Reeling pain
tugged her into blackness for a second, then the world returned,
blurred, edged with agony, making her knees buckle and her eyes
smart.

The smell of smoke seemed stronger, seemed to
infuse her lungs.

“Hit her again,” Chance ordered. “That should
knock some quick answers out of her.”

“No! Let her go!” Billy shouted, twisting
frantically against his ropes.

Stoner threw him a contemptuous glance.
“Who’s going to make us, kid? You?” he jeered, and lifted his
booted foot to kick the boy.

“No. I am,” Wolf snarled behind him, and with
furious strength slammed the butt of his gun against the back of
Neely Stoner’s head. Stoner pitched to the ground like a load of
pine logs rolled down a hill.

Chance Navarro yanked Rebeccah across him as
a shield and went for his gun. But Wolf was faster, already lunging
for Chance’s gun hand. As they struggled over the weapon, grunting
and twisting in a deadly contest, Rebeccah wrenched free and fell
to her knees beside Billy.

“Pa!” Billy yelled, biting back tears as for
a moment the gun veered toward Wolf’s face.

Then, with a satisfied grunt, Wolf wrested
the revolver away. And in the next instant he landed a staggering
right hook to Navarro’s jaw.

Chance staggered back, shook the dizziness
away, and flashed his hand down for his second revolver. But a shot
rang out before he or Wolf could draw.

For a moment Navarro stood, his face blank
with surprise. Then the bright stain bloomed across his chest, and
he went down with a grisly thud.

Wolf met Rebeccah’s gaze across the barn. A
tiny curl of smoke rose from her derringer.

“Nice shot.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” she
whispered.

She wanted to rush to him, to hold him close
and thank God that he was safe. But there was no time for
celebrating yet—the smell of smoke now pervaded the barn, and they
heard the crackling hiss of the fire. And there was Billy.

His freckles stood out against his ashen
skin, and the taut fear still stamped his face as Wolf cut the
ropes with his knife.

“It’s all right,” Rebeccah soothed him in a
steady tone. “Everything is going to be all right.”

“Listen to the woman,” Wolf added as he
lifted the boy in his arms. “She’s a force to be reckoned
with.”

Then he and Rebeccah, side by side, with
Billy in his arms, ran from the barn.

The fire was rapidly engulfing the little
cabin. Flames shot out the windows and the chimney, and even as
they watched, chunks of the roof collapsed with a muffled roar.

The three of them held each other.

“It’s all over now,” Wolf said soothingly, as
Billy, despite all his efforts, started to cry.

“Yes, you’re safe now,” Rebeccah told him,
stroking his hair, watching with anxious eyes as Billy fought the
tide of his emotions.

“They shot Sam,” he gasped.

“Sam is fine.” Wolf found it was a relief to
smile again in the midst of this devastation. “Toby Pritchard
patched him up good as new.”

Billy’s face lit with sudden joy, cleanly
wiping away all traces of the ordeal he’d been through. He smeared
a hand across his teary eyes. “Sam! Really? That’s great ... Pa, is
the Double B on fire too?” he asked more steadily. “That man said
it was burning down. Is it true?”

“I think so, Billy. But Culley Pritchard and
our neighbors are working to put it out. Just like we’re going to
work to put this fire out.”

Rebeccah turned back to the fiery shambles of
her cabin. With a heavy heart she thought of all her belongings, of
her books, her new lace curtains, the pretty paintings on the
walls.

“It’s all right,” she told herself and Wolf,
as he set Billy down and swung a bracing arm around her. And she
meant each word as she spoke them. “They’re only possessions. We’re
all safe. That’s all that matters.”

“This woman here is wise beyond her years,”
Wolf told Billy. “Pay attention to her.” But his eyes lingered
intently on Rebeccah’s drawn face. “I love you,” he told her
roughly as he watched the various emotions flit across her vividly
expressive countenance and saw her come to grips with each of them.
His arm tightened, solid and strong, around her. “Damn it,
Rebeccah, I love you. And I want to stand here and take you in my
arms and make you feel better somehow, but there’s no time. I’ve
got to get the horses and that varmint Stoner out of there before
the barn catches fire.”

“Stoner!” Billy’s eyes shone wildly. “No!
Leave him! Can’t you just let him die, Pa? No one would care! He
doesn’t deserve to live.”

“I can’t do that, Billy.” Wolf threw a
measuring look at his son. “That would be murder, not justice.” He
dropped a firm hand to his son’s shoulder and went on quickly.
“That man in there is as bad and vicious as they come, but the law
will deal with him. He’ll get his comeuppance, but it’ll be through
the courts and the hangman’s noose, just like those men who killed
Uncle Jimmy. Stoner’s punishment is not for you or me to say. All
we can do is uphold the law. But the law will get him, son. I’ll
see to that.”

“Your father is right, Billy,” Rebeccah added
softly, giving the boy an encouraging smile. Hard as it was to
accept, she knew that Wolf was right. There had been enough
violence, enough hatred and death. Survival was one thing, revenge
quite another. Wolf’s beliefs, his integrity, his respect for the
law, were what set him apart from violent and unscrupulous men like
Navarro and Stoner and, yes, even from Bear. She would always love
her father, but she knew that Wolf Bodine was a fairer, wiser,
stronger man than Bear Rawlings had ever been. At that moment she
loved him more than ever.

“It takes a strong man to do what is right,”
she told the boy, and saw him slowly nod.

The next few moments passed in a blur of
frantic activity as Rebeccah and Wolf and Billy hurriedly led the
horses from the barn and Wolf dragged Stoner’s and Navarro’s bodies
away from the wooden structure. He tied up Stoner with what was
left of the rope, in case the outlaw came to, though there was no
sign of that happening.

Wolf sent Billy to ride for help. But the
cabin was lost, Rebeccah knew, as she and Wolf futilely tossed
countless bucketfuls of stream water on the snapping, hissing
flames.

“I’m sorry,” Wolf shouted as the roof caved
in. He put his bucket down to come to her and waved an arm toward
the crumbling cabin. “Too little, too late.”

“It doesn’t matter.” A tremulous smile curved
her lips. She gazed into his weary, beloved face and touched the
black streaks of soot filming his bronzed skin, tracing her finger
lightly along his cheek. “We’ll start over, Wolf. You, me, and
Billy, we’ll start over—together.”

The past was dead—for both of them. They
could leave the nightmares and the pain of past hurts behind and
look ahead to the future. Buildings didn’t matter. Curtains and
sofas and rugs didn’t matter. The trust and the love and the
passionate, unbreakably tender bond between them did.

What was more important than that?

Pulling her firmly into his arms, Wolf
pressed a fervent kiss against her hair. He’d never thought he’d
feel this way about any woman, or expected that he’d have a chance
again at this kind of happiness. Rebeccah had healed his emptiness,
brought him life, love, hope. Who would have ever thought that
Rebeccah Rawlings, the filthy, scrawny kid he dug out from beneath
a grimy bed, would turn out to be his own personal miracle?

Rebeccah nestled against him. A blissful
contentment stole over her, despite the roar of the fire filling
the night.

“You’re right,” Wolf agreed, tilting her chin
up so that she looked directly into his steady, loving eyes. “We
will start over. We’ll build ourselves a wonderful life, Rebeccah.
The three of us. Maybe even more.” His eyes gleamed suggestively
down into hers. “By the time we’re finished, we could be a family
of four, maybe five. If you want. ...”

“Yes! I do want. I want six of us. You,
me—and two boys, two girls. Oh, yes!”

A hungry, happy kiss sealed the bargain. As
fire claimed the cabin, they started building new
dreams—indestructible dreams that they would pursue and
fulfill—together.

One week after the fires destroyed most of
Wolf’s and Rebeccah’s homes, the citizens of Powder Creek voted
unanimously at a town meeting to build a brand-new house for the
soon-to-be-wed sheriff and schoolteacher of their town. Mayor Duke
entered the motion into the record, suggesting that the town
undertake the community effort as a show of appreciation for the
outstanding service of these two fine citizens. Myrtle Lee Anderson
seconded. She touted the excellent work of both the sheriff, in
keeping the community safe, and the new schoolteacher, in inspiring
the youngsters of the community and sharing with them her excellent
Boston education.