Dorothy Garlock (31 page)

His mind suddenly recalled something Boone had said about Spinner coming back to get a few sticks out of the barn. Dynamite sticks? If that were the case and he hadn’t taken all of them, he and Annabel were not as helpless as he had believed.

That was a little something to hope for as the long night slowly passed and the girl he loved, and had promised to keep safe, slept in his arms.

Chapter
22

W
ITH THE EARLY MORNING SUN WARM ON THEIR FACES, Annabel and Corbin approached the farm buildings from the rear. They had circled around through the woods north of the house and now paused amid a clump of tall chokecherry bushes.

From their vantage point, they could see across the barn lot to where Mildred stood patiently chewing her cud and switching her tail to brush away the pesky flies that plagued her.

“Poor Mildred should be milked.”

“Stay here while I check out the barn.”

“I would rather go with you.” Annabel looked at him with eyes ringed with dark circles.

“Honey, I don’t think there is anyone here; but in case there is, I’ll need to concentrate on them. If you’re with me, I’ll be worried about keeping you safe.”

“I understand. I’ll wait here. Just be careful.”

Corbin dropped the blanket and put both arms around her. He cuddled her to him and kissed her forehead.

“You’re worn out. Sit down here on the blanket, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I don’t think you’ve anything to fear from the Carters. Marvin is probably sleeping off his drunk.”

“Be careful,” she cautioned as he dropped his arms and pulled the pistol from his belt.

Corbin ran across the open space, heading for the back of the barn. It felt good to run again. His leg didn’t bother him except for muscles stretching the healing flesh. He reached the back door and, with the pistol at the ready, darted inside. The barn was cool and smelled of animal manure and hay. He listened and, after hearing no sound, searched the building systematically as he had done while looking for the enemy during the war.

While in the hayloft, he peered out the loft door. There was no sign of a car and no activity around the house. He climbed down and went into the tack room, where on his initial search he had seen a heavy wooden box. With a thankful sigh, he discovered four sticks of dynamite with long fuses. He wrapped two sticks in a feed sack and carried them to the loft. He placed the remaining sticks in a bucket and hung it on a nail in one of the stalls.

The rooster and his flock of fluffy hens were scratching in the yard when he crossed it to reach the back door of the house. They scattered with a flutter of wings. Still cautious, he moved silently to the door and peered into the kitchen through the screen.

A plaid, billed cap lay on the table.

Corbin eased open the door and stepped into the kitchen. He waited, listened, then on the balls of his feet moved to look into Annabel’s room. It was small and neat and empty. The floor creaked as he crossed it to the parlor doorway. One glance told him that no one was there. The door to the bedroom off the parlor was open. He flattened himself against the wall, then peered into the room.

A man in black pants and a white shirt lay sprawled on the bed. He was sleeping soundly, with his mouth hanging open. A shoulder holster and gun lay on the bed beside him. His shirt was open to the waist and his tie was looped around a bedpost. He had a swarthy pockmarked complexion, thick black hair and a hairy chest and arms.

Corbin’s eyes scanned the room and listed in his mind what he was going to do before he tiptoed into the room. Holding his gun at the ready, he reached for the weapon on the bed, slipped it from the holster and tucked it into his belt.

The man slept on.

Keeping his eyes on the intruder, Corbin took the tie hanging on the bedpost. In one end he tied a slip knot and looped it around the man’s foot. He knotted the other end of the tie to the bedpost.

Corbin moved around to the side of the bed and shook his head in wonder that the man was still sound asleep. He slept as if he hadn’t closed an eye in forty-eight hours. Figuring that he hadn’t much time left before the others returned, Corbin stuck the barrel of his gun beneath the man’s chin with such force the man’s eyes popped open.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. The big bad wolf is here.”

“Huh! What!” The man tried to rear up, but the barrel beneath his chin held him down.

“Are you going to behave, or do I blow a hole through the roof of your head?”

“Whatta ya want me to do?” The man spoke with difficulty because of the pressure of the gun barrel.

“I want you to sit up and put your hands behind your back.” Corbin moved the gun barrel to beneath his ear. He grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and lifted him. “I’d like nothing better than to blow a hole through your rotten head. So watch yourself.”

Using one of Murphy Donovan’s ties, he tied the man’s hands securely behind his back, then went to the end of the bed and pulled on the end of the tie holding his foot.

“Get up. Keep in mind that you’d be less trouble to me dead. Move.” Prodding him with the gun, Corbin followed him into the kitchen, snatched the cap from the table and slammed it down on the man’s head. “Out. I don’t want to kill you in here. It would make too much of a mess.”

“Who’re you?”

“I’m the man who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here. Meanwhile, get out the door.”

In the barn, Corbin prodded him to the last stall, one that hadn’t been mucked out for so long that manure was a half foot thick on the floor.

“Phew! Nasty, isn’t it? You can lie down in it or you can tell me where the hell you’re from and who the hell you’re after.”

“I’m visitin’ these folks.”

“Yeah? Where are you from?”

“Across the river.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. Whose bully boy are you?”

“You’ll find out.”

“Are you the one who burned my car last night?”

“I ain’t tellin’ no hick nothin’.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll not waste any more time on you. Open your mouth or I’ll bust your eardrum.” Corbin emphasized his words by tapping the man behind the ear with the barrel of his gun. He took the handkerchief from the man’s hip pocket and stuffed it in his mouth. When the man was securely gagged, Corbin knelt down, took the end of the tie hanging from one foot and wrapped it around the other and tied it. Then he gave him a shove. Unable to catch himself, the swarthy man fell heavily in the muck.

He struggled and managed to turn on his side and lift his head. Corbin had moved into the other stall and made a loop from a rope he took from a nail on the wall and dropped it over his prisoner’s head. He pulled it through the rails that separated the stalls and tied it.

“Now listen to me, you sleazy son-of-a-bitch. If I hear one small sound out of you, I’ll pin your belly to the wall with that pitchfork. If you understand that, nod your head. All right. Now, I’m afraid you might get cold lying in that shit, so I’ll cover you with some nice fresh hay.”

Five minutes later, his prisoner covered with a bale of mildewed hay, Corbin was back in the house removing every trace that the man had been there. When he was satisfied, he went back through the barn and out the back to wave for Annabel to come to him.

With his finger against his lips, he signaled for her to be quiet as she followed him through the barn and to the house.

“Do you have anything in here ready to eat?” He took the pillowcase from her bed. “Put it in here. I’ll watch out the front. If I yell, drop everything, run for the barn and climb up into the loft.”

“Oh, shoot!” Annabel exclaimed when she saw the puddle of water on the floor. “The ice pan has run over.”

“We don’t have time to empty it, honey. Hurry and find us something to eat.”

Ten minutes later they were at the barn door. Corbin carried the pillowcase, a fruit jar filled with water he had drawn from the well as they passed, a blanket and the two guns.

“Don’t say anything until we get up in the loft. I’ve got a man tied up in that last stall.” He grinned. “The one that’s so full of manure even the chickens avoid it.”

“Ah … phew …” A teasing glint came into her eyes and her lips tilted. He couldn’t resist bending and placing a kiss there.

“Come on. I’ve a lot to tell you and we’ve got to make plans.”

While they sat on the blanket beside the loft door and ate bread spread with butter and jam, Corbin told her about finding the man asleep in her father’s bed and about tying him up and leaving him in the stall.

“He was dead to the world. Probably hadn’t slept for a couple days. He’s a hard case. Wouldn’t tell me a thing, and I didn’t have the time to try and persuade him. He should have taken his chances with me. If the gang gets to him and finds out that I took him while he was asleep on the job, his life won’t be worth a plugged nickel.”

“You were right about them coming back.”

“If I’d known there was only one man in the house, we could have hidden out here in the barn. I thought it more likely they’d all come back, stay until morning and then fire the house. I never saw a car approach the house last night. He may have come through the woods, thinking to surprise us.”

“You don’t think they are local, do you?”

“No, honey. They are not local, but they have a contact here. I’m sure of that.”

“The others will come back for the man they left here,” she said with a worried glance out the loft door.

“Yeah, but we’re ahead of the game now. We know that they’re coming, and we’ve got the means to protect ourselves.”

“I’m still afraid that Papa will come or Boone with Tess and Jack.”

“I was hoping Boone would be back by now or that he would have sent Jack. We’d head for town in the truck.”

“We could walk through the woods.”

“Honey, the woods are alive with Carters. Marvin hates my guts. He or one of his kin might shoot me on sight. I can’t take the chance of leaving you to them. Besides, my life is suddenly more precious to me now that I have you. I want to live and be with you until we’re old and gray.”

Annabel hugged his arm. “I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt again. So much has happened to you because of me.”

“But look what I’ve gained, sweetheart. I’ve found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He put his arms around her, held her close and kissed her, trying not to scratch her face with his whiskers. “We’ll get out of this and someday we’ll tell our grandchildren about it.”

“Oh, I hope so. I’m worried about Papa. He’s got such a temper and … bulldozes his way through things.”

“Maybe the thugs will give up and leave before he gets back,” he said, but he didn’t really believe it.

Corbin checked the pistols for the third time that morning and placed them on the blanket near at hand. He considered his options before he mentioned them to Annabel.

“Promise me”—he took her hand and laced her fingers with his—“if there’s any shooting, I want you to get over behind that pile of junk; and if I tell you to get down that ladder and out the back door and run for the woods, promise that you’ll do it without argument.”

“Why … in the world would you want me to do … that?”

“Because the walls of this barn will not stop the kind of bullets they’ll be using. Now promise that if I get shot or pinned down, you’ll go. Marvin Carter is in love with you. If he finds you, he wouldn’t kill you, but the men who were here last night would.”

“I’d not leave you. Don’t ask me to.” She slid her arms around his chest and clung to him.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I wanted to prepare you just in case.” Corbin’s ears picked up a sound. He moved quickly to peer out the hayloft door. “A car is coming.”

“Is it … them?”

“I can see only one man in it.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The man went up the steps to the front porch and was out of Corbin’s sight. A few minutes later he came out the back door and stood looking around.

“Dammit to hell,” Corbin muttered as a thought penetrated his mind.
A friendly visitor who had not been to the house before would not have gone inside if there was no one at home.
“Annabel, ease over here and take a look, but don’t make a sound.”

Annabel peeked out through the crack, then drew back with a big smile.

“It’s Mr. Potter from the drugstore,” she whispered.

“I thought that was who it was.”

“He’ll take us to town.”

“I … don’t think so. …” Corbin was frowning.

“Why not? He’s come to ask me to play in his band … but it’s a marching band and I don’t—”

“Shhh—”

“Call to him before he leaves.”

“He isn’t leaving. There’s another car coming up the lane. He’s waving for it to come on, as if he were expecting it.”

“Oh … if it’s them … they might hurt him. You’ve got to warn him.”

“Shhh,” he murmured in her ear.

Corbin’s arm snaked around her waist and drew her back against him. Standing back in the shadows beside the loft window, they had a good view of the area between the barn and the house. While the small, plump bandleader waited for the car to stop, he removed his Panama hat and dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. His thick white hair was parted in the middle; his white shirt, tucked smoothly into the waist of his dark trousers, sparkled. He wore a jaunty black bow tie.

“No one is here,” Potter said as soon as the two men got out of the car. “Not even that brainless idiot you left here.”

“Goddamn that son-of-a-bitch!” The driver of the car cursed loud and long, then went into the house. “It doesn’t look like he’s ever been here. If that bastard took off after we let him out … I’ll strip off every inch of his mangy hide,” he said when he came out.

“Morey wouldn’ta run out, Benny.”

“Did you look in the barn?” Benny, the driver, barked at Potter.

Without waiting for Potter to answer, the other man strode toward the barn door, scattering the group of clucking hens searching for tidbits in the house yard.

“Morey,” he shouted after he threw open the door. “Morey, you whopper-jawed piece of shit, are you in there?”