Intimate Strangers (Eclipse Heat Book 2) (29 page)

She edged her horse closer to Ambrose and said, “Quincy, we need to make a detour. I want Hiram Potter to come back with us to the cave before we go to town. There’s evidence there I’ve remembered.” With Stephen Pauley adamantly challenging her identity, Lucy wanted witnesses when she retrieved her lost money.

Her expression must have been bleak because he didn’t argue, just said to the waiting riders, “We’ve got another stop first, boys. Lucy says she left something at Hamilton’s place.”

They turned their mounts and headed for the cabin. Once there, Lucy stayed outside the cave with Ambrose while Hamilton and Sheriff Potter retrieved the saddlebag full of cash from the rock shelf inside.

When they brought the oilskin-covered pouch outside, still wrapped in the same cloth provided years before by Steve Pauley, Lucy let out her breath in a sigh. “I was so mad at you all I could think about was showing you that you couldn’t boss me around.”

Lucy felt silly putting it into words, but there it was. Unfortunately, her motives had been those of a spoiled child.

Ambrose grimaced at that. “Luce, from the day I set eyes on you, you have ruled me with an iron will. Any other story you may tell yourself is pure fiction.”

She rolled her eyes at his assertion and continued her account, “I took it all out of the bank. That afternoon after you’d insulted me and then crushed my dream, I rode Starlight into town in time to see Steve Pauley at the bank before it closed. I went around to the back door because I knew I’d be carrying a lot of money when I came out and I didn’t want to be seen.”

“Were you leaving me?” Ambrose waited for her to confirm his worst fears.

“No, I was not leaving you, Quincy. I swear you are the one with a one-track mind. On my way in, I planned how I would ride to Wichita by myself, buy my horses and arrange for delivery, then come home and rub it in your face.”

Her face flushed with shame at the childish actions that had almost gotten both her and Quincy killed. She stared at her mare’s neck rather than look at Ambrose as she admitted the truth. “I told Stephen Pauley I needed money to pay for my horses and when he threatened to ride out to the Double-Q and check with you, I cried.”

Their numbers increased to eighteen strong as they rode to Eclipse, picking up Quince riders on the way. When they advanced down the only street in the town, Logan Doyle, Hiram’s Texas Ranger friend, stepped out on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile and waved them over.

“Just got here myself. Town’s mighty tense right now. Good thing you sent for me.” He nodded at the dead men and the prisoner. “That the evidence?”

Hiram nodded. “Yep.”

A flurry of petticoats sent the horses prancing sideways and Mrs. Carmichael pushed her way to where Lucy sat waiting. “Missy, I’m glad you came too. That lowlife scum’s got her locked up in jail.”

Ignoring the milling horses, Marta Carmichael pulled at Lucy’s leg. “Do something,” she demanded.

Lucy looked down at her former housekeeper. “Marta, what are you talking about?”

“I sent word to the Double-Q for help,” Mrs. Carmichael said. “After the social when Comfort spoke to you that polecat she’s married to beat her within a day of her life. She tried to leave and he dragged her down here. He’s kept her locked up in jail ever since. I don’t know how bad hurt she is, but she didn’t look good when he took her.”

“He must have stopped the messenger because nobody came to the ranch to let us know,” Lucy said.

“I worried that was the case. The no account has everyone in town scared of him. I didn’t know who to ask next for help. Bailey wouldn’t let the doctor in the jail when I sent him to look in on Comfort,” Mrs. Carmichael explained.

”Bring the doctor to her house. I’ll get her out,” Hamilton told her grimly.

Hiram turned to Ambrose and said, “Time to send this hell spawn back to the devil.”

The streets emptied by the time the horses were outside the sheriff’s office but Bailey remained inside, unaware or disinterested in the happenings in Eclipse.

Doyle said, “Hiram, I believe I have jurisdiction here. I’ll go in first with you.”

Hamilton dismounted at the same time Ambrose hit the dirt and caught Lucy when she slid off her horse. “We’re all going in,” Lucy said. “Comfort will need me.”

When they walked into the office, they found Owen Bailey leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk. He sneered at Lucy. “Still playing the part of Miz Quince, I take it.”

Lucy measured the distance to the door leading back to the cells. It stood open behind Bailey. “I’ve come to check on your wife’s condition. My former housekeeper says Comfort is ill.”

As Lucy stepped toward the opening, Bailey’s feet hit the floor and he scooted his chair back, blocking the entrance. His glance flicked toward Hamilton then he sneered, “Nothing wrong with her that a little cooling off time won’t cure.”

“She’s injured and you know it,” Lucy said harshly. Her skin crawled at her proximity to the man.

Bailey eyed her then smirked at Ambrose. “Don’t figure to let my woman run off like some I know.”

Lucy shoved her hand in her pocket and gripped her gun. If she had to shoot the sheriff to get to Comfort she was more than willing to do it.

Bailey looked at Hiram and said, “You’re not in Buffalo Creek now, Potter. You have no jurisdiction here. Clear out of the jail or
you’ll
be warming a cot tonight.” His arrogance was astonishing.

Hiram took off his hat and scratched his head before drawling, “Well, Owen, I thought you might say that, so I brought someone along who does have jurisdiction.” He nodded at Doyle, who silently threw his Texas Ranger badge on the desk.

“After you get out of the way so Mrs. Quince can check on your wife, we’ve got some questions for you.” Hiram stepped closer, looming over Bailey. Before the other man knew what to expect, he grabbed hold of the chair and gave it a mighty shove, sending Bailey flying toward his desk and out of Lucy’s way.

Hamilton got through the door first. Comfort lay on a cot behind locked bars—alive but bruised, haggard and unlike the picture of elegance she’d been before. They found the keys to open the door and Comfort reached toward Hamilton when he finally stood over her. “It’s about time you got here, darlin’,” she whispered as he gathered her in his arms.

Hamilton carried Comfort out of the cell and through the office with Bailey shouting foul names at her all the way. Ham paused long enough at the exit to tell the Eclipse sheriff, “If you’re still alive when I get back, you’ll be dead before I leave again.” Holding Comfort close in his arms, he carried her down the street to the Bailey house.

Bailey picked up the Ranger’s badge and looked at it then at Logan Doyle. “Whaddya want?”

Doyle stood relaxed, his hand resting on his gun. “I’m following a gang of rustlers and the trail seems to lead to you.”

Hiram said, “And I’ve got a prisoner who says you hired him to kill Hamilton Quince.”

Bailey stood and reached for a rifle from the wall bracket. “I’ll kill that bastard myself. I don’t need to hire a flunky to do it.”

Hiram stopped him. “You touch that rifle and you’re dead. And that would be a shame because we’ve got some more talking to do before that happens.”

Bailey’s face turned purple with rage but he dropped his hand, snarling threats instead. “We’ll talk when I get back from blasting a hole in the sonovabitch. You all heard him threaten me. I figure right about now he’s trespassing in my house and there’s not a court in Texas that will fault me for killing Quince.”

“Unbuckle your gunbelt and lay it and your weapon on the desk and then sit down before I shoot you,” Doyle directed him. It would have seemed like a pretty thin warning except for the way the Ranger’s hand hovered above his gun.

Lucy waited until Bailey complied before she began her own questioning. “I understand you found my father after he was killed. Where was his body? I’ve never understood.”

Bailey’s face paled and he shifted uncomfortably. “Too long ago to remember,” he muttered.

“Was he inspecting a vacant ranch for sale?” she asked. “My father said he was going to look at property that day.”

Ambrose said, “You were punchin’ cows for Pete Slocum back then. How did Alexander McKenna wander on Slocum’s land and get snakebit?”

“We were runnin’ down strays that day. But it ain’t me under suspicion of murder, Quince. You think because you dragged a woman back here to play your dead wife’s part we don’t all know she’s a fake. I’m the law and the law don’t answer to the likes of you. You’ll be swingin’ on a rope before it’s over with,” Bailey sneered.

“Don’t think so, Bailey. You missed your chance and now it’s all unraveling. The Rangers are after a passel of rustlers and I’m thinkin’ you know a lot about them—maybe even changed a brand or two yourself. Is that what happened to Lucy’s pa? Did he stumble on to you and your brethren switching brands?” Ambrose drawled his question.

Although Bailey held no gun and was ringed by a Texas Ranger, another sheriff, and two people who would gladly send him to hell, he stared defiantly at them and laughed. “The Quince brothers are done in Texas. You just don’t know it yet.”

He shrugged, looking at Lucy. “You think you can save his ass? The bank’s gonna squeeze him ’til his balls shrink. Lucy McKenna’s money is froze and it’s gonna stay froze ’til I prove you’re a fraud. Then Quince’s still gonna hang. So whoever you are, bitch, you’ll get nothin’ but trouble if you hang around here.”

Lucy met his self-satisfied gaze. “I remembered,” she said calmly.

His expression changed from smug to belligerent and he backed toward the rear exit.

“We’ve got a man at the back door so you won’t get free, Bailey,” Hiram informed him.

Bailey continued to claim his innocence. “You’ve got nothin’ but the say-so of an accomplice to murder. She’s a lyin’ whore whatever she says.”

Lucy pulled her gun from her pocket and pointed it at him. “Call me another foul name and you’re a dead man. Do you understand me, Mr. Bailey, or are you stupid enough to test my desire to kill you right now?”

Doyle picked his star up off the sheriff’s desk and pinned it on before saying, “Owen Bailey, you’re under arrest for the torture and attempted murder of—”

Bailey stuttered, “You ain’t gonna pin that shit on me. I fucked her but I didn’t cut her.”

Lucy wanted to pull the trigger right then. But she knew he wasn’t the one who’d tortured her and if she shot him, she might never find out the name of the other man. She gripped her gun and waited.

Hiram Potter pulled out his handcuffs and said, “I’ve got a prisoner who named you his boss in two attempted murders, linked you to the rustling too, and Mrs. Quince is ready to testify against you for her attack. That’s good enough for me.”

When he stepped toward the Eclipse sheriff, Bailey said, “Nope. I know the law and you’ve got nothing on me but the say-so of a criminal with a grudge against me and…” He stopped whatever insult he’d started to hurl at Lucy when he glanced at her holding her gun. “That’s not even the real Quince woman so you’ve got nothin’.”

Quincy’s control broke and he pushed Lucy toward the front door, growling, “Leave now, Luce.”

She didn’t. Instead, she watched Quincy cross the space separating him from Bailey and grab the man by his shirt. “She identified you, you sick sonovabitch. I’m going to beat you to death with my bare hands if you don’t start telling the truth.”

Bailey cringed back in denial. “She had a hood over her head. She don’t know shit.”

Doyle snorted. “Hell, you’ve already admitted enough to string you up.”

Bailey whined, “A lot of information comes into a sheriff’s office. Guess I heard she was found that way.”

Hiram drawled, “Nope. I found Mrs. Quince. She wasn’t wearing a hood then, nor did I ever say she was. Try again.”

Ambrose shoved Bailey against the wall, backhanding him as he demanded answers. “Who cut her? Tell me and I might let you live.” He used his fists, delivering blows ’til Bailey doubled over retching.

Bailey panted, “Enough. I’ll talk.”

When Ambrose stepped back, Bailey came up fast pointing a derringer he’d tucked in his boot. With his other hand, he grabbed the rifle from the wall and chambered a round. “I’ll shoot every goddamned one of you and walk out the front door.”

He tossed the derringer on the desk and swiped at the blood dripping from his mouth before he sneered, “You Quince men can’t protect your own women, let alone ten thousand acres of prime land. Fucked your wife, stole your cattle and killed your kin.”

His eyes gleamed when he looked at Lucy. “Drop your weapon and come here. I’ll take you with me for safe passage. Maybe we’ll get reacquainted.” He aimed the gun at Ambrose and ordered her, “Now—or I shoot him through the heart.”

Lucy carefully laid her gun on a chair and moved to stand in front of Bailey. He kept his rifle trained on Ambrose and grabbed her hair, forcing her head back as he admired the scar. “Cut you up real good, didn’t he? If Clayton had finished you off before he dumped you like he was told…”

“Clayton did this to me?” Lucy stared up in disbelief.

“Hell, no. If that yellow-belly had killed you like he was supposed to, we wouldn’t be in this mess. We told him to leave you dead and turn your horse loose for someone to find in case yer bones was picked clean by the coyotes by the time you was found. He didn’t have the stomach for it and dumped you alive before he took off.”

“Who cut me?” she asked.

Bailey laughed and locked his fingers in her hair, using her as a shield and shoving her toward the door. His knuckles brushed the scar marring her scalp and her flinch made him snicker. “You oughtta thank me. You were out cold when he was all set to do his artwork on your face. I stopped him. We needed enough of you left to identify.”

Belatedly, Lucy showed her gratitude. Twisting around in his grip, she used the second gun she’d carried in her other pocket and fired a bullet through his heart. Bailey shuddered as a spray of crimson drops exploded from his chest. Still clutching her hair, he looked surprised and said, “What the hell?”

Doyle added to the carnage when he shot Bailey between the eyes. As a hole blossomed in his forehead, Bailey went slack, releasing her before he collapsed.

“Resisting arrest,” Doyle said, calmly holstering his gun before the body had even hit the floor.

Hiram drawled, “Yep.”

Quincy handed her a handkerchief. “You’re wearing his blood,” he said gruffly.

Breathing hard and trembling on the outside as well as within, Lucy held his gaze and accepted the cloth. “I should have waited ’til he named—”

Ambrose pulled her into his arms and scowled down at her. “Goddammit, woman, you could have been killed just then. Don’t talk to me about should’ves.”

Hiram interrupted the fierce embrace when he drawled, “Seems like you two have some banking to do and it sounds like you might need that bank examiner here with you when you do it.”

The two lawmen accompanied Lucy and Ambrose as they walked across the street to the Eclipse Bank.

Ambrose appreciated having a Texas Ranger with them when he stood next to Lucy inside the lobby of the bank.

Logan Doyle took charge immediately, giving orders in a no-nonsense voice. “You’re closed. Finish your transactions and go home.”