Fate's Intervention (59 page)

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Authors: Barbara Woster

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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CHAPTER
FORTY

The shooting was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Matthew raised his head shortly after the noise died down. His ears were ringing, but to him that was a good sign

it meant that he was alive. He peered through the smoke as he shoved himself to his knees.


Marcelle? Peter?

He whispered loudly.


Over here, Matthew,

a voice said.

Matthew stood and studied the scene around him. There was a hole in the center of Brixton

s chest, and Matthew could tell from the sightless eyes staring at the ceiling that he

d met his demise.
From the position in which the body fell, it was evident that the shot had come from Mark, but
Matthew was confused as to
where he got the gun
, a
nd
when he learned to shoot
.
Sure Brixton was close enough to hit without too much difficulty, but the bullet had gone directly though the heart. That was a difficult shot to make drawing from the hip, even for a marksman

close range or not

and
his brother had been a terrible shot, at best, so how had he managed? Lucky shot? He

d also managed to take out one of Brixton

s Indian friends as well. Strange,
indeed.

He peered over the desk at his brother

s body
– c
lothes and skin shredded by shotgun holes. Well, expert shot or not, it hadn

t prevented his own death. His last ditch effort to regain control of a bad situation turned worse, had been the end of him. He wanted to feel pity for his brother, but he couldn

t summon up any grief. The only grief he felt was for his mother

s sadness when he told her that her youngest son had died a violent death brought about by his own machinations.

He looked over to where Marcelle and Peter sat huddled against the wall, apparently waiting for him to give them the all clear, when it dawned on him that he didn

t see the third Indian

s body. He pulled his Colt and immediately bent into a crouching position.


He ran off,

Peter whispered, and Matthew relaxed his stance. Matthew stood and re-holstered his weapon. In two long strides, he reached Marcelle

s side, pulled her to her feet and straight into his embrace.


Pardon my behavior, sir,

he said to Peter as way of apology, and then planted a kiss firmly on Marcelle

s lips. Peter stood off to one side and smiled for the first time since
Mark had abducted them.


I don

t think I

ve ever been so scared in all my life,

Marcelle whispered, when Matthew finally allowed her to come up for air.


Me either, darling. Me either,

Matthew whispered, holding her tight.

A
re
you okay, Peter?

Matthew asked, looking at
Weatherman

s pale visage from above Marcelle

s head.


I was doing
rather
poorly, but now that I know we

re going to survive this awful ordeal, I
think I

ll make a full recovery,

Weatherman
replied.

Can I ask how in heaven

s name you knew about all this?


You can thank Nancy for that, God bless her,

Matthew said.

S
he saw what happened and spent every penny she had sending out telegrams to locate me.
As
soon as I got word, I rented a horse
to come
straight home,

Matthew answered, leading them outside into the fresh morning air.

A
s soon as I arrived at the house, Brixton was waiting with instructions from Mark.


No offense, Matthew,

Peter muttered,

but your brother deserves to rot in hell for the danger he put my baby girl in. If not for your timely intervention . . . ,


I didn

t really
do
anything, Peter,

Matthew interrupted, leading them down the street toward the gates.

If you recall, I had a gun to my
head, which
kept me pretty much incapacitated. If they hadn

t decided to do away with each other . . . well, let

s just be thankful we don

t have to know what would have happened had things played out differently.

The sound of
horses

hooves
ended the conversation
. Matthew grabbed hold of Marcelle

s arm and pulled her into the shadow of a nearby building, his Colt drawn and ready. He looked over his shoulder to make certain that Peter was following, then positioned himself with his gun trained on the open gate.

Whomever
it was charging in their direction, he wasn

t about to let them get their hands on Marcelle.
As
long as he lived, no one would ever cause her harm again.

CHAPTER
FORTY
-ONE

The tension mounted among the wary as they watched six riders gallop at full speed over the distant rise and head straight toward them down the main street of the abandoned fort.


It

s the
s
heriff!

Marcelle said and sidled past Matthew, running into the street to flag down the riders. The Sheriff pulled his mount to a skidded halt and dismounted, followed by five of the local townsmen.


You folks okay?

The
s
heriff asked, approaching swiftly.


Everything would have been a sight bit better, had you listened to
Nancy
in the first place and taken care of this ordeal immediately,

Matthew snapped, moving to stand beside Marcelle.

Instead, you wrote off her account as the ravings of a hysterical female.


Now, calm down, son,

the
s
heriff soothed.

We came right away when Miss Nancy ran into the office with your note telling us where you

d gone.


Yeah, well, this is a classic case of offering too little help, too late. The bodies are down the road
apiece
,

Matthew said, nodding his head toward the building at the end of the road.


You kill

em?

The
s
heriff asked, placing his hand on his handcuffs in preparation of taking Matthew into custody.


The
y shot each other, Sheriff. Not that I wouldn

t have, given the opportunity,

Matthew glared at the
s
heriff and then placed his arm around Marcelle

s shoulders.

You
don

t happen to have an
extra mount so that we can get home, d
o
you?

He asked, and could tell by the color that seeped into the
s
heriff

s cheeks that he hadn

t thought about that.

Didn

t think so.


You can double up with us,

the
s
heriff offered, but Matthew didn

t like the idea of Marcelle riding behind anyone.


Your horses are tired, Sheriff. They

ve had a long, hard ride and it wouldn

t be right to subject them to another long hard ride with twice the weight on their back. Peter,

Matthew said, turning to face the old man,

we

ll take a look
around,
and see if we can locate Mark

s horse or maybe Brixton

s. They rode in here, and since they won

t be riding out, I don

t think they

ll mind if we borrow their steeds.


Ed Brixton?

The
s
heriff said, his eyes widening in surprise.


That

s
right, Sheriff. I hired him to help me in case things got out of hand, but what I didn

t count on was that my brother had paid him more, so the little weasel double-crossed me.
I
n the end, he attempted to double-cross us both so my brother shot him.


Sure
it weren

t you that killed him?


My Colt 45 would have put a heck
of
a bigger hole in his chest than the one that

s there, Sheriff, but
as
I said, the thought of shooting him and my brother did cross my mind. Seeing as how a man can

t be arrested for thinking about killing, we

ll just try
to
locate some horses and be
on our way.


The
reward is yours, if you want it,

the
s
heriff said suddenly, bringing Matthew to a standstill.

Not that I reckon you need it, but I pe
a
ked your curiosity, didn

t I?


I take it Brixton was a wanted man,

Matthew stated matter-of-factly.


In nearly every county in Wisconsin
.
That
was one dangerous critter you and your brother attached yourselves to.


What was he wanted for?


Murder,

the
s
heriff said
.

A
bout a hundred times over. Seems he doesn

t take kindly to losing at cards, so he kills those that beat him.
W
asn

t able to kill all of

em, so there were quite a few men, other than the law, that was after his no good hide
.
Jesse James for one was heard sniffing after him not too long ago.
Maybe would have gotten him, if he hadn

t dies his self a few months past.


The
Jesse James?

Marcelle asked.


Yes, Ma

am,

the
s
heriff laughed.

I reckon now that
Brixton

s
dead, though, the reward

s got to go to somebody, and since you happen to be kin to the man who shot him,

he continued, addressing Matthew again,

t
he
n you

re welcome to it.

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