Little Red: An Everland Ever After Tale (12 page)

The little minx had broken her promise! Hank shouldn’t have been surprised; he knew her rash nature. But
shoot
. His heart had stopped when, from the corner of his eye, he saw her throw herself over Micah, frantically patting him. He wanted the younger man to be okay, but he also wanted Red as far away as possible. This had been
his
stupid plan, and it was all going wrong.

“You are still upset that I shot you, aren’t you?” Lobo sneered, the revolver still pointing at the ground.

“I’m done talking, is what I am.
Drop your gun.
” It took everything in him not to look at her, not to draw the gunslinger’s attention to the vulnerable women behind him.
Dammit
, where the hell was everyone? The townspeople who’d been watching the confrontation had scattered as soon as Lobo had drawn his gun, screaming and scuttling for safety. Why didn’t this town have a sheriff? Hank needed some kind of backup; he couldn’t gun a man down in cold blood, but until Lobo dropped his revolver, he couldn’t do anything either. “
Drop it.”

The two men stared at each other for what felt like several lifetimes. Hank knew better than to watch the man’s hands; the first sign he was planning on shooting would be in the way the muscles of his jaw moved, the look in his eyes. Lobo’s thick mustache twitched, and Hank almost shot him then and there. The only thing that stayed his finger was the knowledge that Red was back there, trying to keep her brother alive.

It was almost torture, to keep his attention on Lobo, when all he wanted was to go to her, to gather her up in his arms, to help her with Micah. But he saw her take off that thick coat that’d hidden her curves from him over the last three days, and was using it to wipe at her brother’s face. That was a good sign, at least; she wouldn’t bother if he was dead already.

Maybe the gunslinger guessed his worry, or maybe he was just good at messing with opponents. Either way,
El Lobo
smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile; it was the sort Hank could imagine on a wild animal right before it struck. He pulled the stock of his Winchester tighter against his shoulder, and gritted his teeth. “Running out of patience, here.”

“Fine, fine.” Lobo’s smile turned placating. “I’ll put away the gun,
Señor
.”

The other man pushed back his coat, but turned and stooped in the same moment. By the time Hank realized Lobo wasn’t just holstering his revolver, the gunslinger had
Abuela
by the arm and was dragging her upright. Hank didn’t have time to curse, didn’t have time to even fire, before Lobo’s gun was pressed firmly under the old woman’s jaw.

A moment of stillness, and Hank met
Abuela
’s eyes. He saw courage, and forgiveness, and a trust so humbling his knees went weak.
I’m sorry
, he wanted to shout. To apologize for suggesting this scheme. For thinking that the cloak she still wore would protect her. For not planning for Lobo’s ruthlessness. Hank had known the gunslinger needed Ernesto’s widow and heir dead, so that Red would inherit everything by the terms of the new will… He’d known, and he’d underestimated the man’s heartlessness.

Abuela
was ready to die; Hank could see it in her face. But he knew that Red was watching, and no matter what danger it put the rest of them in, he just couldn’t condemn her grandmother to death without trying.

“I think now,
Señor
Cutter, you will drop your gun.”
El Lobo
was sneering again, but it wasn’t as bad as that wolfish grin he’d worn earlier. “You and your
puta
have played a big trick on me, yes? So use
this
—“ he jabbed the barrel of his revolver deeper into the flesh at the base of
Abuela
’s jaw, and Hank saw the old woman flinch, “as bait. You fooled me, but I will win. I always do.”

Hank’s arm began to ache from holding the Winchester steady for so long. It must be because of the tension, the anguish he was feeling. He knew that as soon as his arm sagged, as soon as his finger twitched,
Abuela
would be dead. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t feel a thing, and that was crummy, as consolations went.

“Again, bounty hunter.
Drop your gun
, or I will kill the old woman.”

He had no choice. Slowly, Hank lowered the rifle, almost relieved to be rid of the weight, but knowing he could very well be signing his own death sentence.

“Good.” It seemed to Hank that everyone there—maybe even the hidden Everland people watching—was holding their breaths. Lobo looked speculative, his head slowly cocking to one side. “But not good enough, I think. I told you that Rojita would be mine. I will kill the old woman the same as the brother, yes.” Was it Hank’s imagination, or did a muffled sob sound from behind the gunslinger at that announcement?
Please, Red. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t draw his attention
.

Lobo’s wolfish grin was back. “I told you that you would watch as I made her mine, but I think that was a lie.” With one smooth twist,
El Lobo
pulled the gun from
Abuela
’s jaw, keeping her locked by his side with his grip on her arm, and pointed the revolver at Hank.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stared down the barrel of a gun. Not even the first time he’d stared down one this close to him. But it was the first time he’d been so absolutely sure of what would happen. He’d seen how Lobo had shot Micah, without a second’s hesitation, and he knew that the same was about to happen to him. And all he could think about was
her
.

In that moment, absently wondering if he’d be able to
see
the .45 slug as it exited the barrel towards him, Hank knew that he loved her. Knew that he’d been willing—nope,
anxious
, even—to give up whatever vague future he had planned in Arizona, if it meant getting to be with her. Getting to taste her, hold her, save her from danger,
love her
for the rest of her life.

But now he was going to die, and there’d be no one to stand between Lobo and Red.

He had to do
something
. The seconds stretched into hours, as he stared at that barrel, and tried to think of a way out of this. A way to save her. If he could somehow distract Lobo, maybe Hank could go for the Smith and Wesson breaktop tucked into the waistband of his jeans. If he dropped at just the right time, maybe he could get a round off before Lobo was able to adjust his aim. It was a long shot, counting on being able to get the gun out in time, but it was Hank’s only chance. Red’s only chance.

As focused as he was on that revolver, he still saw the shape rising behind
El Lobo
, and he tried not to react.
Get down
, he wanted to shout.
Stay hidden!
Lobo hadn’t seen her yet, had to have assumed she’d hidden with the others. But if she drew his attention, there was nothing keeping the gunslinger from turning and shooting
her
. Hank needed a distraction, but not this one. Here he was, about to die, and his blood was running cold at the thought of Red in danger. Yeah, he loved her alright, and was going to go to his grave without telling her, and that was a dang shame.

“I still do not remember where I shot you,
Señor
Cutter. But obviously, you recovered. This time, you will not.”
El Lobo
took a breath, steadied his hand to fire the revolver, and tightened his finger around the trigger.

There was an explosion, and the world stopped. In the stillness, Hank waited for the bullet to come lazily spiraling out of the barrel of the Colt, to spend the eons between heartbeats saying goodbye to Red and the life they might have made together. But instead, a fountain of red erupted from
El Lobo
’s forehead, and Hank knew with a sudden, intense bolt of clarity that he’d somehow been saved.

Hank had a moment to wonder at how silent it all was, until the sound roared back and Lobo’s body slowly crumbled.
Abuela
jerked herself out of the lifeless grip, but Hank wasn’t watching her. No, he had eyes only for the absolutely stunning, incredibly brave, stupidly reckless little fool standing behind Lobo.

Red was holding his Smith & Wesson in both hands, still pointing at the spot where Lobo’s head had been a moment ago. Only now, with the gunslinger dead between them, the barrel was pointed right at Hank, and he could see the smoke curling from it. But this time, instead of the paralyzing fear that had gripped him a minute ago, he felt…

Relief. Confusion—how’d she gotten that gun? Intense anger that she’d put herself in danger like that, even after he’d gotten her promise to stay on the porch, safe. Cold and hot all at once, now that the danger was past and she was safe.

She’d saved him.
She’d saved him
. He’d been about to die, and she’d stood up and killed
El Lobo
. At that moment, he wanted to shake her, and kiss her, and promise to love her forever, as long as she never did anything so dumb again.

He’d just opened his mouth to tell her that—all of that—when he heard a shout from across the street. He was still on edge, so his rifle was back in his hand and he was aiming at the man running towards them before he had the chance to think.

His brain dredged up a name from that church picnic all those days ago. Doc Carpenter was carrying a black medical bag under his arm, and Hank’s shoulders relaxed when he realized who it was. The doctor joined
Abuela
kneeling beside Micah, who Hank swore he heard groan—a good sign. Hopefully Red’s brother would be alright.

Still gripping the rifle, he stepped over Lobo’s body towards her shaking hands. One twitch now, and he’d be dead. Quick as a snake, he grabbed the break top revolver before she could fire it, wrenching it from her hands. She gasped at the move, but didn’t react otherwise.

Red just watched him, still shaking.
Good
! She
should
be shaking! She’d almost gotten killed. Every time he thought about her breaking her promise, and putting herself in danger, Hank’s stomach clenched. He figured she’d taken ten years off his life when he’d seen her stand up behind Lobo.

It was that anger—anger at how close he’d come to losing her—that drove him now. He shoved the revolver back into his waistband and, still clenching the Winchester, clutched both of her shoulders. She gasped, but he couldn’t make himself loosen his grip.

“Don’t you ever,
ever
—“ He punctuated each word with a little shake, “do something so dadgum
stupid
again, y’hear?” He could tell from the way her eyes rounded that she didn’t understand. “I told you to stay on that porch, and you deliberately ignored your promise.”

“Micah—”

“What were you gonna do for him?” He squeezed her shoulders, not even caring when she winced. How could she do that to him? How could she put herself in danger like that? Didn’t she know…? Something had lodged in his throat, and it was suddenly hard to talk. “Don’t you know what could’ve happened?” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his ears.

“Happen…?“ She had that dang confused look on her face again, like she hadn’t thought things through. Like she’d been bold and daring and completely without common sense, and didn’t understand why he’d been terrified.

Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Dear God, he loved her, and she was safe. She was safe, and he was still alive—thanks to her—and that meant that they had a future. And if he had anything to say about it, that future would be
together
. “Doc’s got your brother now.” His voice was rough, and he didn’t care. “I’ve gotta go…”

He’d already turned away when her pitiful question stopped him. “You’re leaving me?”

They were standing in a puddle of blood—less of it looked like Micah’s than Lobo’s, thank the Lord—and she was shaking, and he was shaking, and all he wanted to do was crush her to him, and she had to go and ask him
that
? Hell no, he wasn’t leaving her. He was staying. He was going to stay and make sure that she had a future, by God. With him.

“Gotta send a telegram. To Sheriff Knighton in Haskell…” He pulled off his hat and swiped his forearm across his brow, almost afraid to look at her. Afraid of what he might see if he looked into those deep blue eyes. Afraid that she wouldn’t accept his protection, his future.

A pause, to see if she’d respond. When she didn’t, he took another step, and another, until he was far enough away from her that he could suck in a breath. Far enough away that he could convince himself that she was safe. Far enough away to close his eyes on the memory of her standing up to a ruthless killer, for him.

Not far enough away, however, that he didn’t hear her when she started to cry.

He’d left her.
Oh God
, he’d left her.

Rojita was shaking so hard that she thought she might collapse. The sobs caught her by surprise, and she couldn’t tell if she was crying because her brother was hurt, or because she’d just killed a man, or because when all she needed—desperately needed—was Hank’s arms around her, he’d gone to collect his
reward
.

She was a fool, just like he’d called her. She was reckless and brash and would do it all over again, if she had to. He might’ve lost all respect for her when she’d broken her promise, but if she hadn’t he’d be dead now. No matter what happened now, at least she knew that he was alive and safe.

That didn’t stop the tears, though, and when she felt the light touch on her shoulder, Rojita threw herself into her grandmother’s arms.
Abuela
held her while she sobbed, lightly patting her back and whispering soft words of comfort. Rojita let herself cry, still not sure why.

After what seemed like ages, she noticed that
Abuela
wasn’t wearing her red cloak anymore. Wiping her eyes and looking around, Rojita spotted it covering Micah. Doc Carpenter was organizing some of the returning townspeople to carry her brother towards his office at the end of the street, and she gasped when she realized what that meant.

“Micah’s
cabeza
is hard, the doctor says. And the bullet, it just grazed him.” Rojita had seen the blood pouring out of her brother’s forehead when she’d gone to him, but had been relieved to see that it was mostly across his brow and temple. He must’ve been turning already when the bullet found him. She groped for her grandmother’s hands, willing her to report good news. “He will have a scar over his eye, maybe more. But he will live,
gracias a Dios
.”

Saying a prayer of thanksgiving herself, Rojita squeezed
Abuela
’s hands, and felt the old woman’s strength when she squeezed back. They watched Micah being carried down Andersen Avenue—where had all of these bystanders been when they needed help, just a few minutes ago?—and Rojita saw the ends of her red cloak flutter in the breeze. “I’m glad you used the cloak. The blood will show less.”

Abuela
clucked her tongue. “Let the cloak be ruined,
mi hija
. It has served its purpose,
no
? To conceal, but also to reveal, I think.”

The events of the last half hour were catching up with her. Rojita turned confused eyes to her grandmother. “I don’t understand.”

“That cloak, it brings you back to me,
no
? Ernesto, he hides his will in it, you come home. But it also brings Hank to you. And Hank, he saves us from
El Lobo
.”

Rojita shuddered, remembering the way her shoulders had slammed back from the recoil when she’d pulled the trigger, and the way the blood had blossomed in front of her. “I—”

“Yes, you kill
El Lobo
. You saved us. But why you did this? Because of Hank. If he no come here, if you no fall in love with him, you…” The old woman trailed off, looking at something she could see in Rojita’s expression. “You love him,
no
?” Rojita looked down at their joined hands; her grandmother’s wrinkled ones still had so much strength left in them, to be able to comfort her like this. She nodded. “Good.” She heard the satisfaction in
Abuela
’s praise. “Have you told him this?”

“No.” Her whisper was so faint that she didn’t know if
Abuela
heard it. She should’ve known better.

“Why not? He is a good man.”

“Because…” She swallowed. “Because he doesn’t like me very much. He thinks I’m… I’m impetuous and foolish.” It hurt to admit, a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. But it had to be said. It was the truth.

Abuela
tsk
ed slightly, and then lifted Rojita’s chin so that they were staring at one another. She’d always been tiny, but her grandmother had shrunk over the years, until they were almost of a size. And now, as she stared into
Abuela
’s dark eyes, all she saw was love.

“This is the truth.” Hearing her own thoughts, repeated aloud, was jarring. But her grandmother continued. “You are bold and reckless and you act before you think.” Rojita wanted to close her ears to
Abuela
’s words, to not hear them. “But…” The old woman lifted her chin higher, stroking a withered hand across her cheek. “But you are also brave and kind and sweet. And you throw all of yourself into your work and your love, just like you throw yourself into danger. You are passionate. You used to give me fits,
mi hija
. But I loved you through it all, and so will your Hank.”

No
. She couldn’t believe her grandmother’s words.
Abuela
loved her because she was the closest person Rojita had to a mother; there was nothing to say that Hank would… Nothing except the look in his eyes when he’d yelled at her for walking barefoot in the house. Nothing except the terror she’d seen when he’d gripped her shoulders just a few moments ago. Was
Abuela
right, after all?

The old woman smiled, her six teeth showing. “Go. I will go with Micah to hold him while Doctor Carpenter stitches him. You will go after Hank, to tell him the truth. To find out the truth.”

Impulsively, she hugged her grandmother. They stood beside a dead man—one that
she’d
killed—and her brother was still bleeding, but at that moment, all that mattered was finding out
why
Hank had been so angry  with her. Was it because she’d been reckless… or because he’d been worried about her? Did he care for her?

Her grandmother whispered a blessing into her hair, and then pushed her towards the telegraph office. Rojita straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and marched down Everland’s main street. Right before she’d have to decide if it was worth going in after him, Hank stepped out of the building. He paused, one hand on the railing and one booted foot in the air, when he saw her coming towards him. Was it her imagination, or did he look nervous at her approach?

“Are you feeling better?” She stopped, crossed her arms, and tried desperately to pretend that she was angry, and not terrified of what his response might be.

Slowly, he stepped down the stairs, until he was standing in front of her. He propped his rifle up on the porch railing, and pulled off his hat, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Am
I
feeling better?”

“Yep. You couldn’t wait to get away from me, to come see about your bounty, so now that it’s done, I’m wondering if you’re feeling better.”

He glanced down at his hat. “Ain’t my bounty. You’re the one who shot ‘im.”

“That’s right.” His sharp gaze met hers again, and she had to swallow and remind herself that
she
was the one who was piqued. “That’s right.
I’m
the one who shot him. I killed a man, Hank.” She hated the way her voice caught. “And just when I could’ve used some loving words, you—” she uncrossed her arms and gestured helplessly to the building behind him, “You run off and collect your reward.”

“First of all, honey…” He slapped his hat against his hip in what seemed like anger, and took a step towards her. Rojita backed up a step. “I telegraphed Haskell about
your
reward and another matter. Second of all, if I’d stuck around at that moment, it wouldn’t be loving words you’d’ve heard from me.”

“Because you think I’m foolish. And brash.” She lifted her chin.

“And you don’t think before you do
any
thing.” His words stung, even if they were only confirming what she’d guessed. “It’s going to be damned difficult to keep you safe, if you keep throwing yourself into stupid situations.”

“I don’t regret it, Hank. I’d do it again.”

“Why
?” He exploded, throwing his hands up. “Why in the hell would you do something so
foolish
, Red?
You promised
! You promised to stay on that porch. You promised to stay out of trouble.”

“If I had kept my promise, you’d be dead.”

He was taking deep, steady breaths, like he was trying to calm himself down. “You’d be safe, though.” Did he know what it did to her, to think of
him
being the one lying in the dirt, bleeding? “You got any idea how terrified I was, seeing you standing behind him?”

She knew that her mouth had made a little “oh” of surprise, to hear him repeat her thoughts aloud, but backed up another step when he reached for her. She had to make sure. “You were scared… for me?”

“Terrified, honey. He could’ve… What if he’d turned around and seen you?”

“What if he’d shot you? He would’ve had me then, too.” From his suddenly sheepish expression, she knew that he’d considered that point too. The realization emboldened her, and she put her hands on her hips and took one step back towards him. “I know I don’t always think things through, Hank.” She shrugged, and noticed the way his eye flicked across her chest at the movement. “It’s just who I am.
Abuela
called me ‘passionate’. I can’t change that about myself.”

She watched him close his eyes on a shudder, and swallowed herself. She had to ask. If she didn’t, she might never know. Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “Do you want me to change?”

“No.” His answer was equally rough, and he cleared his throat. “No.” When he opened his eyes, his fierce stare pinned her in place, even when he took those last two steps towards her. “I don’t want you to change, Red. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

She couldn’t make herself reach out and touch him, like she wanted; what if she still misunderstood? “You…” she swallowed. “You didn’t seem that way over the last three days. You’ve been avoiding me.”

The way his lips turned up this time seemed almost rueful. He ran his free hand through his short hair. “Yeah, well…” He was staring pretty hard into the distance, like he didn’t want to look at her. “I had to, after what you said.”

“What I said, when?” Did he mean when he’d come to the orphanage that morning after their lunch?

“When I realized that you weren’t rich—”

“
Abuelo
’s money—“

“No, I mean…” He swallowed, and looked back at her. “You promised me money to get you home, Red, and I wasn’t gonna take it. I wasn’t even planning on taking you home myself; was just gonna stick you on the train for Everland. But even after I realized I had to get you home safe, I still wasn’t doing it for the money.”

Rojita held her breath, not sure what he was trying to tell her, but sure that it was important. “And then, that day before I met your family, when I saw your home…” He looked away again.

“You knew I’d lied.” The words sat heavy on her tongue, in her throat. “You knew I couldn’t pay you.”

“Didn’t matter.” He ran his hand through his hair again, and sighed in exasperation. “But what you said… about paying your debt…”

She remembered. She remembered what he’d said, too, after that kiss. It’d been just another example of her rushing headlong into something, not stopping to think about the consequences.

He took a deep breath, and she watched his shirt stretch across his chest. “You offered yourself to me, Red. As
payment
. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you—avoiding being alone with you.”

“Why? I meant what I said.”

“Me too. I… I don’t want your obligation, Red. I want
you
.” Her breath caught. “I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you, and then you go and throw out that kinda offer? Hell yes, I wanted to take you up on it, but I didn’t want you to let me because you figured you owed me.” She’d been right; he
did
want her, and the realization made her want to crow with joy. “I wanted… I wanted you to want it too.”

She tilted her head to one side, her hands still on her hips.
She
had the power here, and after all of the teasing she’d endured from him, figured he deserved some in return. “I can pay you the hundred dollars now. I’ll ask
Abuela
if she’d mind.”