Head in the Clouds (21 page)

Adelaide stepped out the back door and turned toward the sound. She recognized the horseman. It was Gideon, and he was coming in fast.

Chapter 25

Gideon reined Solomon to a halt and leapt from his back before the dust had a chance to settle.

“Juan!” he called to the man who had just emerged through the bunkhouse doorway. “Grab a fresh mount. I need your help in the upper pasture.”

The shepherd jumped to obey.

“What’s going on?” James moved alongside him as he strode toward the shed.

“Thirty head of sheep were slaughtered—that’s what’s going on.” Gideon threw the door open with enough force to send it crashing into the wall. Fury burned in his belly at the carnage he had stumbled upon. When his boundary fences had been cut last month, he’d assumed the culprit was just a disgruntled cowman letting off steam. But this was different. This attack was without conscience.

Gideon closed his leather-gloved hand around a large tin of ointment. The surviving sheep would require treatment. He barreled back out of the shed and narrowly missed plowing into James, who had to sidestep to get out of his way.

“Hang on, Gid.” James laid a hand on his arm, but Gideon jerked away from him.

“There’s only a few hours before sundown. I have to go.” Anger clipped his words as he tromped over to his horse and flung open the flap of his saddlebag. He stuffed the ointment inside and yanked the leather flap down into place.

“And what if it’s a trap? Have you thought about that?” James shouted at his back. “If this is Petchey’s doing, you’ll be playing right into his hands by going out there. This could be a ploy to lure you away from Isabella so he can make his move.”

Gideon let out a breath and turned to face his friend.

“Yes,” he said. “I considered that possibility, but I don’t believe Petchey’s behind this. We had a similar incident over four weeks ago. Someone cut the fence and harassed the sheep in almost the same location. Most likely the fellow returned, emboldened by his previous success, and things escalated. Last time we lost a dozen ewes when the villain fired several rounds into the air, frightening the flock. This time he perched in the branches of a big oak and shot them for sport. I found spent casings scattered over the ground near the tree trunk closest to the first carcass. He used my stock for target practice.”

Gideon clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to say anything more.

“I agree it’s despicable,” James said, “but what if it’s not the same person? Are you willing to take that chance?”

“No. I’m not. That’s why I came back to get Juan.” As if saying his name had conjured him, the herder exited the stable with a dun mare plodding along behind him. Gideon nodded as Juan gathered the reins and swung awkwardly up into the saddle. Unlike their counterparts who worked the cattle ranches, Juan and the other pastores were more accustomed to being on foot with their flock than on horseback. However, when the situation called for urgency, they could manage with sufficient skill.

Gideon turned back to James. “I already patched up the fence with splices of tie wire, so I’ll just stay out long enough to help Juan dispose of the carcasses. I’ll leave him with the flock tonight to tend injuries and protect them from further threat. In the meantime, I’m trusting you to watch over my girls. I pray to God I’m not making the wrong decision, but if I am, you’ll have to stand between Isabella and her uncle until I return.”

“I’ll stand with him.”

Gideon swiveled at the sound of the feminine voice.

“Adelaide?”

He hadn’t heard her approach and had no idea how much she’d heard.

“He won’t get past us, Gideon.” She stood before him, spine stiff, determination etched into her beautiful face. “Isabella can hide in the schoolroom. She understands some of the danger now, and I’m sure I can convince her to cooperate. I can handle a weapon, too, if need be. My father made sure I could hit what I aimed at.”

The thought of her in a gunfight made his throat constrict. He fisted his hands at his sides to hide their shaking. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t leave her behind to fight his battles. He’d rather lose his entire flock than risk losing her and Isabella.

Then again, James would protect them, and they would be safe inside the house. His sheep would be out in the open and vulnerable to predators attracted to the bloodied remains of the ewes that had been shot. Juan wouldn’t be able to drag off all those dead animals on his own before dark, which would leave him exposed. Juan’s jeopardy was guaranteed. Adelaide’s was only a possibility.

Besides, he’d done a thorough search of the area when he first happened upon the scene. All evidence indicated that whoever had done the shooting had cleared out. Even if Reginald was behind the massacre—and Gideon still wasn’t convinced that he was—the man would need to post a lookout in order to know when Gideon was occupied with cleaning up the mess. Few trees grew large enough in that area to conceal a man, and Gideon had checked each one. He had found no evidence of anyone being there except the shooter who left bullet casings and footprints around the big oak.

“An hour or two is all I need.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Adelaide or himself. “I’ll be back for supper.” It was the only way he could help both her and Juan.

James continued to frown but accepted Gideon’s decision with a sharp nod. He swung his rifle up onto his shoulder and took a step toward the house. “I’ll keep watch from the front porch and ask Chalmers to keep an eye on the rear from the kitchen.”

“The schoolroom windows offer a fine view from the third floor,” Adelaide offered as James walked away. “I’ll watch from there.”

“Adelaide, I …” Gideon didn’t know what to say, so he just stared at her. She should have been depending on him—not the other way around. Helplessness churned in his stomach. He needed to be in two places at once. But he couldn’t. His hands fisted at his sides as he searched for an adequate excuse. Adelaide didn’t seem to require one, though. She looked at him without a hint of censure, as if she understood his predicament and approved his choice. Her trust calmed the storm raging inside him and strengthened his resolve.

Juan’s saddle creaked as he leaned forward, drawing Gideon’s attention.

“I go check on my ladies, patrón. I meet you by the
arroyo pequeño, sí
?

Gideon waved him on. “Sí.” He and Solomon could catch up easily enough, and Gideon knew the herder was anxious to check on the animals. Juan urged his mount into a gentle lope, and Gideon turned back to Adelaide. His chest grew tight.

“I don’t want to leave you, Adelaide. Even for a short time. If something were to happen to you or Bella—”

“Hush.” She stepped close and laid her fingers over his lips. A shiver coursed through him at the delicate touch.

“Nothing happened yesterday or this afternoon when you left us to see to your sheep, and nothing’s going to happen now. You’re doing the right thing.”

Her belief in him vanquished the doubts lingering in his mind. Her words were exactly what he needed.
She
was exactly what he needed.

He gently covered her hand with his, wishing he could feel her soft skin through the rough leather of his work gloves. He dragged her fingers down from his mouth and cradled them against his chest. His gaze never left her face. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t look away. Fingers splayed, her palm pressed against the thin cotton of his shirt, directly over his heart. In that moment, he knew she belonged to him.

Gideon cupped her cheek and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Stay safe, Adelaide,” he murmured against her hair. “No matter what happens, stay safe.” Not waiting for a response, he set her away from him and mounted Solomon. He nudged the horse into motion and headed north without looking back. His mouth tightened into a grim line. An hour. He’d give Juan an hour. Then he was coming home to take care of his family.

One hour, however, blurred into two as the thirty head of slaughtered sheep he’d originally estimated ended up closer to fifty. Gideon worked beside Juan to drag the remains to a mass grave at the base of a shallow arroyo, but when the sun dipped low in the sky, Gideon sent the herder to gather the stragglers and tend to the injured while he finished the unpleasant task of disposing of the lifeless bodies.

Blood and dust clung to his clothes, mixing with the sweat from his labor. The stench of death clung to him and clogged his nostrils. It was such a waste. Such a senseless waste. He pulled off his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve as he peered into a western sky that was reddening with the approach of sundown. He needed to get back.

Gideon’s purposeful stride ate up the distance between him and his horse. The length of rope he’d been using still hung from Solomon’s saddle horn. He picked up the end of rope from the ground and wound it over his hand and elbow to form a loose coil as he walked. When he reached the horse’s side, he unknotted the rope from around the horn and was strapping it in place on the saddle when Solomon’s ears suddenly pricked. His head swung west, the opposite direction of Juan and the flock. Gideon patted Solomon’s neck and slid his rifle out of its sheath. He turned and searched the landscape for danger, but the sun’s glare blinded him. If the shooter had returned, he was clever enough to position himself with the sun at his back.

Tugging his hat brim low over his eyes, Gideon scanned the areas that would provide the greatest cover. Off to the left stood an outcropping of rocks. Gideon tightened his grip on the rifle. A movement caught his eye, and he yanked the weapon to his shoulder. He peered down the barrel. The rear half of a dark horse stuck out from behind the rocks, its tail swishing the air. Juan had said the first fence cutter rode a painted horse with white markings. What he could see of this one was solid black. Cold dread sunk like a stone in Gideon’s gut.

“Adelaide.” The whispered name fell from his lips at the same instant a gunshot echoed off the rocks.

Chapter 26

Searing pain exploded in Gideon’s abdomen. He staggered back and instinctively clutched his midsection. Something thick and warm oozed over his wrist. As if in a dream, he pulled his arm away and looked down. A red stain spread across his blue-checked shirt.

Before he could fully grasp what his eyes were telling him, the crack of a second shot jerked him out of his stupor. He ducked and scrambled for what cover he could find. A scraggly mesquite stood ten feet away, and though its trunk was barely the width of his hips, it was better than nothing. A third bullet ricocheted off the ground in front of him as he dashed behind the tree.

Gideon thrust his left shoulder against the mesquite and turned sideways to give his enemy a smaller target while he fought to catch his breath. He swung his rifle into position, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain that accompanied the movement. Thoughts of Adelaide and Bella drove him as he steadied the barrel on a branch. If he didn’t stop the demon here and now, they would be his next targets.

Sweat trickled down his brow, near his eye. He swiped it away. Gideon blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision as well as the haze in his mind. He felt himself weakening as blood seeped from his body.
God help me. I can’t fail my girls.

The firing ceased, and an unnatural quiet stretched between the combatants. Gideon closed one eye and peered down the barrel of his rifle, praying for the man to step into the open.

“I know my bullet hit your flesh, gringo. Are you dead yet?” Gideon clamped his jaw shut and remained silent, hoping to lure his enemy out from behind the rocks.

“The Englishman, he want you dead. But me? I want you to suffer like you made me suffer.” He accented his words with another shot.

Gideon yanked his head back behind the tree trunk. The bullet struck a branch to his left, snapping the narrow limb. Gideon flinched as bark fragments spattered his face. He steeled himself, then returned to his position, his finger poised upon the rifle’s trigger.

He recognized the shooter’s voice. The shearer who’d attacked Adelaide. But he was supposed to be in jail. Why had no one warned him the man had escaped? Gideon gritted his teeth and forced his anger down. How José escaped didn’t matter. He was here now— and had evidently met up with Petchey. Gideon could think of no other Englishman who wanted him dead. But where was the viscount? Had he gone after Bella, or was he waiting for his lackey to report that Gideon had been dispatched in the same manner as his sheep?

At least Gideon could take some comfort in the fact that Petchey had come after him and not Bella. There was a twisted sort of hope in that. Maybe the man was not so depraved that he would kill his own niece for money. However, with Gideon dead, Petchey could claim both Bella and her inheritance.

Unacceptable. There was no way he’d allow Bella to live with the man who’d killed both of her parents. The money didn’t matter beyond the fact that it was Bella’s inheritance, and he’d vowed to safeguard it for her future. But if it meant keeping his daughter out of Petchey’s hands, he’d sign the funds over in a heartbeat.

Gideon shut his eyes and grimaced, fighting a wave of dizziness and self-recrimination. He’d been so sure that Petchey was not behind the slaughter of his sheep, and now look at him. He glanced down at the mess that was his shirt. Abdominal gunshot wounds were nearly always fatal, and this one throbbed like the very devil. Gideon bit back a moan and jerked his chin up, away from the grisly sight. It might be too late to stop Petchey from successfully completing the first stage of his plan, but Gideon was determined that Bella wouldn’t pay the price for his stupidity.

He turned his eyes to heaven.
God, I won’t argue against your taking me on to glory, but I need you to hold off for a little while. All I ask is for enough time and strength to get home and put things right before you send your angels after me. Please. I need to protect Bella from Petchey. Help me.

Suddenly eager to end the standoff, Gideon called out to his attacker, hoping to goad him into making a mistake.

“I see you’re still a coward, José. Ambushing me just as you ambushed my daughter’s governess in the barn. I should have killed you that day.”

“You think you’re better than me, gringo? Which one of us is bleeding, eh?”

“It’s only a scratch. I could still wipe the floor with you. Just like last time. The only creatures you’re capable of killing are defenseless sheep.”

“Shut your mouth, Englishman,” José barked back. “I will have my venganza.”

Gideon smiled over the tension in the shearer’s voice. He was reaching the edge of his control. All he needed was a final push to topple him over the edge.

“Revenge is big talk for a small man, José,” Gideon yelled through the mesquite branches. “Why didn’t you challenge me when you first escaped if you were so bent on vengeance? You weren’t clever enough to do it on your own, were you? No, you needed an
Englishman
to plan out your attack and line your pockets with enough gold to give you courage. You’re nothing but a worthless, cowardly—”

A roar of outrage drowned out Gideon’s words. José leaned away from the rocks and fired shot after wild shot in rapid succession. Gideon held his position despite the bullets peppering the tree around him and squeezed the trigger. José crumpled to the ground with a howl.

Gideon flicked the Winchester’s finger lever to eject the spent cartridge and cocked the hammer for the next shot as he watched his enemy scramble to his feet. The man’s right arm hung limp at his side. Gideon fired again, but his shot ricocheted off the rocks as José dove behind the cover. A moment later, the black horse surged away from the outcropping, José riding low on his back. The report of Gideon’s rifle echoed three more times before the man was out of range, but no other shot found its mark. Gideon scowled and clamped his teeth in frustration as he dropped the rifle from his shoulder. At least the fellow wouldn’t be able to hold a weapon for a good long while. It wasn’t the outcome he’d wanted, but it would have to be good enough.

With the immediate danger past, the pain in Gideon’s abdomen magnified, demanding his full attention. He groaned and sagged against the tree. The rough bark scraped at his shirt as he slid slowly to the ground. The landscape blurred. He ground his teeth together and fought the lightheadedness that assailed him. He couldn’t pass out. He still had to get back to Adelaide and Bella. His job wasn’t done yet.

Gideon grabbed the top of his shirt with both hands and ripped it open. Buttons popped and fabric tore, but he was finally able to assess the damage. Blood oozed from a dark hole above the waistband of his trousers. He tugged a handkerchief from his pants pocket and shoved it firmly against the wound, hissing at the agony the pressure created.

A sound to the east brought his head up. He held the handkerchief in place with his left hand and snatched up his rifle in his right. He drew his knee up to support the barrel of the gun and waited.

A rider came into view bouncing all over the saddle. Gideon let the rifle fall at his side. Juan must have heard the shots.

When the herder came abreast of him, he tumbled off his mare and rushed unsteadily to Gideon’s side.

“Patrón, you bleed!”

“I know.” Gideon’s dry response was lost on the hired man.

Juan knelt at his boss’s side, his eyes scouring Gideon’s midsection. When their eyes finally met, Gideon found very little hope reflected in the other man’s face.

“It looks bad, señor.”

“It … feels bad, too.”

Juan tried to smile, but the contortion looked more like a wince. He stripped out of his shirt and fashioned a bandage of sorts. Gideon sat forward as Juan wrapped his middle and tied the ends of the sleeves tightly around the handkerchief he had placed over his wound earlier. The binding was so tight he couldn’t take in a full breath, but it hurt too much to breathe deeply anyway, so it was a sacrifice easily made.

Gideon glanced around for Solomon, not surprised to find the beast gone. He undoubtedly took off at the first gunshot. He was a smart horse, after all. Gideon sighed. “Help me to your horse,
amigo
. I need to get home.”

He held out his hand. Juan clasped his forearm and leaned back. Fire shot through his middle. Gideon grunted and tried to curl forward to protect his stomach as Juan hefted him to his feet, but it felt as if the jarring motion were tearing him in two. It took all the self-control Gideon possessed not to scream.

Juan supported his weight and allowed Gideon to gulp several breaths before steering him toward the mare.

Gideon reached Juan’s horse without collapsing and took encouragement from that accomplishment. He gripped the cantle for balance as Juan slipped out from under his arm and moved behind him.

“You ready, patrón?”

Wishing he had a strip of leather or even a stick to bite down on, Gideon set his jaw and nodded. He lifted his left foot into the stirrup, grabbed hold of the saddle horn, and tried to hoist himself up. Juan’s hands pressed into his side and pushed him upward. Weak and exhausted, Gideon’s muscles shook, the tremors making it difficult to keep his balance. With a final shove from Juan, Gideon dragged his free leg over the horse and slumped into the saddle, helpless to stop the tortured moan that rose in his throat.

Thankfully, the dun mare was well trained and held fast throughout the ordeal. Sweat clung to his skin, and he trembled worse than a leaf in a windstorm, but he was on. Gideon prayed for God to keep him conscious as the pain tried to pull him down into oblivion.

Juan pulled the stirrup free and mounted behind him. The herder took the reins and hemmed him in with strong arms. Gideon clasped the pommel and slouched forward as Juan nudged the animal into a brisk walk.

“I get you to the house, then ride for the doctor.”

Trying to keep the saddle horn from digging into his wound, Gideon swallowed a cry as the mare lumbered down a small hill. “Fetch the minister, too,” he gritted out between heavy breaths.

“The minister, patrón?”

“Sí.” Gideon turned his neck just far enough to look Juan in the eye. “Promise me you … you won’t come back without the … minister. It’s essential.”

Juan nodded, his eyes full of pity.

“Sí, señor. I get the minister, too.”

Satisfied, Gideon turned forward again and plotted his strategy. He knew what he had to do; he just prayed God would keep him alive long enough to see it accomplished.