Intimate Strangers (Eclipse Heat Book 2) (26 page)

Boulders once attached to the cliff had rolled down and were settled randomly around the stone shell, making it an intimate place for bathing. It also made a perfect place for an ambush. She used a stick to poke her hat up as though she readied to enter the cave and called, “That you, Roberta?”

“Quinceee…” Roberta’s call sent pain slicing across Lucy’s mind, her temple throbbing as a wash of memory cut her.

Two bullets sounded, reclaiming her attention as her hat went spinning. She had hoped she could let the hat fall close enough to the boulder to fool any watchers into believing she was hit. That was no longer an option.

From above, a rifleman targeted the outlaws and one went down with a grunted, “Damn, I’m hit.”

Two shots later, the sound of boots scrambling across stone signaled the second man was on the run. A shot fired and the clatter of boots quit.

Lucy came up from behind her rock, levering bullets into the Winchester’s chamber as she ran to the edge of the bubbling water, surveying the area as she traveled. The sound of crying could be heard coming from the opening crevice in the rock face.

Lucy started to enter and her body froze and cold perspiration dewed her leaden limbs, refusing to follow the dictates of her mind. Ambrose found her, rigid with fear, laboring for breath, her airways constricted by panic.

He pulled Lucy against his chest, soothing her while he motioned two Double-Q riders toward the cave opening. She’d been living a lie, convincing herself she was safe if she could shoot straight, wield a knife with dexterity and watch for the enemy. At the moment even her vocal cords were paralyzed with fear.

At first, just a snippet of memory seeped through the barriers she’d constructed. She pressed her face against Quincy’s chest, trying to block the whisper.
Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, Miz Quince?
And then the walls crumbled entirely and she
knew
.

Her Winchester clattered out of her grip, lying uselessly next to her as she held on to Ambrose, trying to banish the horror in her mind, hiding her face ’til she could send him on his way and deal with her memories alone.

Ambrose pulled Lucy into a sheltered outcropping as he motioned Double-Q hands to stay back from the cavern in the rocks.

“I need to leave you now, Luce. Okay?” He waited for her stiff nod before he ran toward the crevice, looking back at her once more.
God in heaven, do not let me lose her again or anyone else.
He could hear female whimpers of distress coming from inside and flinched. He yelled, “Hamilton, if you’re in there, give a shout.”

Instead of the outlaw bullet he’d feared, Roberta stopped whimpering and screeched, “Ambrose Quince, get in here right now.”

He didn’t hesitate, entering the cave low and in a rush in case Roberta had been prodded to call out. Hamilton was down and barely conscious. It could have been worse.

Roberta sat beside him, facing the door. Seeing Ambrose, she stood, shaking out the folds of her full skirt and said, “Well, it’s about time you got here, Quincy.”

Hamilton groaned, “She saved the day. Kids are behind her.”

Roberta stepped away from the hole in the wall she’d been guarding with Hamilton’s six-shooter in one hand and his rifle in the other. Voice quavering, she stooped, looking into the tunnel and called, “You can come out now, children.”

Alex crawled out first, easing out of their hiding spot with gun in hand. Brody came behind him.

“Pa, I told this dad-blamed woman that I’m not a child and to let me cover Uncle Hamilton, but she carried on until I bellied in behind Brody.” He paused for breath and then asked, “Did you get the shooters?”

”Yep. You did good protecting your sister in that tunnel. You’re a man to ride the trail with, son.”

Alex flushed and looked pleased, forgetting his grievance against Roberta, who, upon rescue had started bawling and didn’t look as though she planned to stop soon.

Lucy was too damned pale for his comfort, but she made it to the cabin on her own before he could go back for her. Once there, she took charge of Hamilton’s injury, cleaning the blood away and applying whiskey where a bullet had scored a line across his scalp.

When the crude antiseptic hit the wound, Hamilton unleashed a string of expletives and then apologized sheepishly to the women. “Sorry, ladies—but dammit, Lucifer, take it easy.”

Lucy continued dabbing at the raw flesh, murmuring, “Good thing they hit something hard enough to ricochet a bullet.”

Ambrose hid his grin. If the two of them were sniping at each other again, things were getting back to normal. He peered over Lucy’s shoulder for a closer look. “Bet that hurts like hell,” he sympathized. “Somebody going to tell me what happened?”

Looking too old for his young years, Alex obliged. “We were on our way here last night when someone took a shot at Uncle Hamilton and creased his skull.”

Brody, quiet ’til then, spoke up. “Alex grabbed Uncle Hamilton and kept him from sliding from his horse. “

Alex grinned. “I swatted Miss Roberta’s mare on the rear and told Brody to haul ass for the cave above the cabin.”

Hamilton smiled at his nephew. “Reckon I’d be dead if it weren’t for your keeping your head, Alex. Thanks.”

Ambrose said, “There was more than one shooter outside the cave. What the hell did they want?”

“Me dead,” Hamilton grunted.

Roberta came up from her hysteria long enough to confirm the target. “One of the men yelled, ‘We’ve been paid to kill you, Quince. There’s no money on the woman and kids so come out and they’re fine. Make us come in, and you’re all dead.’ Hamilton, of course, wasn’t thinking straight, and would have sacrificed himself in vain.” Roberta rolled her eyes and snorted before adding, “I told him, ‘if you believe that, believe I can cook’.”

Ambrose sent one of the crew to fetch the wagon so Hamilton could stretch out on his trip to the ranch. Alex drove, Brody rode beside him and Roberta insisted on being Ham’s pillow, sitting in the back and cushioning his head in her lap. Double-Q riders rode beside, guarding the family on their way home.

Ambrose remained behind, readying to take the three killers to the sheriff.

Lucy came up beside him and pointed at the live outlaw, bleeding from a flesh wound and tied to his saddle. “I know that man. See his ear? He’s my would-be suitor from Buffalo Creek.”

The lop-eared sonovabitch decided to lie. “Hell, I didn’t kill anyone either damned time. Quince is alive and that bitch shot me in Buffalo Creek for no reason. Wilson, Albright and me were out hunting and mistook your brother for a deer. You killed my partners in cold blood. Take me to the sheriff. I’m ready. “

“Now you want to tell me what’s really going on?” Ambrose said. The outlaw laughed. “You’ll be on trial and I’ll be laughing, Quince.”

Shrugging indifferently, Ambrose said, “Suit yourself.” Then he spoke to the nearest Double-Q rider. “Find a tall tree and get a rope.”

The man was strung up and ready to swing when he finally decided Ambrose wasn’t bluffing. “Hamilton was for money. I told the boss I’d do the bitch for free if I got the chance.”

“And your boss is?” Ambrose waited for him to spit the name out then planned to smack the horse on the ass himself.

“Turn me loose and I’ll say who hired me. I’ll leave this area. You won’t have to worry about me coming back. Eclipse is nothing but trouble.”

Lucy had been listening silently to the exchange but interrupted it now, “Ambrose, please send for Hiram and turn the prisoner over to Sheriff Potter when he arrives. I think it would be better to involve a lawman at this point.”

“Eclipse is closer,” he told her.

“No,” she shook her head. “Eclipse is nothing but trouble,” she repeated the outlaw’s words

“And the dead men?” he asked her.

“Take them to the ranch,” she said grimly. “We’ll store them in the icehouse.”

* * * * *

On the way home, Lucy schooled her features to hide the turmoil clawing at her insides. Once they arrived, Ambrose took care of the dead bodies and the live prisoner, giving her reprieve to escape and get her thoughts in order before facing him.

It was already late in the day and nobody had eaten except her and Quincy at breakfast. Lucy went to the chicken yard and caught two plump hens for supper. After she killed, scalded and plucked them, she hauled their naked carcasses into the kitchen for cutting. She was standing at the sink when Ambrose came through and went upstairs to talk to Hamilton.

Lucy wiped tears from her cheeks with her apron, afraid to blink or shut her eyes. She had ridden off that day, so mad at Quincy all she could think was to hurt him somehow, and she surely had succeeded—hurting the whole Quince family and herself most of all.

She didn’t want to remember anymore. She wanted to hide in this house and never come out, pretending that she didn’t remember. Her husband—she didn’t know how she could look at him or her children again. Her flesh crawled as she resisted the urge to immerse herself in scalding water and boil away the dirt.

Her mouth writhed, stifling the screams that came out as grunts of distress and, afraid someone would hear, she stumbled toward the back door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

She made it to the barn, stopping to dry heave twice along the way. Once there, she hid in Sheba’s stall, hunched in the corner, face buried in her hands, her whimpers escaping often enough to cause Sheba’s restless shift to the front of her stall.

No one bothered her and she sat in the corner of the stall pretending that there was no world outside the enclosure.

But she couldn’t shut out her thoughts. On that long ago day when she had so foolishly packed her saddlebags full of money and ridden away from Eclipse, she’d been followed on her way back to the ranch.

After her first burst of rage, she could see the foolishness of her plan to ride into Wichita with a sack of money. The five Morgan mares might already have been sold to someone else.

When she’d become aware of riders behind her, she’d cut across Double-Q land, heading for Hamilton’s cabin. Even then, she’d been so sure she could handle it on her own.

She’d led her mare past Hamilton’s shed and climbed to the hot springs above to the cave hidden in the rock front. They’d often dressed in the cavern after playing in the hot mineral water.

Leading Starlight into the dark interior, she’d tied her mount and climbed up the natural flue, slinging her saddlebags onto a ledge. Then Lucy had returned to the mare and waited for sounds of her pursuers. When she’d thought it safe, she’d crept out of the cave, frightened and ready to go home. She’d planned to come back later with Ambrose to retrieve the saddlebags.

She’d led Starlight past the shed and been hit over the head, the blow knocking her out. When she’d regained her senses, she was tied, gagged and her head was covered with a hood so she couldn’t see her attackers. She’d thought them thieves and that they would leave her alone once their search for the bank withdrawal was unsuccessful.

There had been two men at first—one trying to control the other. “We need to get out of here. Dammit, have some sense. We’re on Quince property.”

“Hamilton’s gone and won’t be back for a week. Nobody’s gonna look in here. Bring the horses inside like she did if you’re that scared. Me, I’m going to fuck me some Quince quim.”

The other man had sounded afraid when he’d said, “You need to leave her alone. There will be hell to pay for this.”

Her rapist had laughed. “Better get it now. When the boss gets here, there’ll be no more fun. You ever seen a woman when he gets done with ’em?” Then he’d blanketed her with his weight and begun. “Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, Miz Quince?”

Sheba moved restlessly and pawed the straw next to where Lucy sat fingering the jagged line that ran down her neck, slithering like a snake across her front and ending with Roberta’s tiny stitches zipping a path across her body. The third man—memories flickered at the edge of her mind and Lucy moaned. She’d thought he’d come to rescue her.

“Christ, what did you animals do to her?”

Again the first man, almost whining. “I didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t listen. I tried…”

“Get me some water to clean her up.”

Lucy shuddered, remembering. She’d thought she’d been saved.

“Oh, you sweet thing.” He’d murmured the words lovingly. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. Let me help you, honey.”

She’d gasped and nodded inside the bag. “Take the sack off of me. Take it off.” But her head remained covered, her mouth gagged.

All the while crooning tender words as though he found her precious, he’d begun cutting her body and she’d almost strangled on the pain. She’d sent silent screams for mercy, begging Quincy to find her. Finally Lucy had stopped hoping to be saved and prayed to die.

“Mama, you in there?” Alex’s call brought her back to her senses and she gathered herself enough to come out of the stall and face her son. He was looking anxious and she felt bad for adding yet another scare to his day. “Pa’s still upstairs with Uncle Hamilton talking but he sent me to check on you.”