Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (45 page)

* * *

Due to a light snowfall that threatened to get worse, Rand and his brothers spent most of Monday making sure the cattle had enough shelter and hay, especially the expectant cows who would deliver their calves come January. By midafternoon, Rand was as restless as a cat at milking time. Finally he and Tolley were able to saddle up and head to town. He could postpone signing the papers to pay off Mrs. Foster's house loan, yet for some reason he felt the need to show Nolan his word was good.

“I don't want to forget the peppercorns Rita asked us to get.” Tolley nodded toward the general store. “Can't have her fixin' steak without fresh ground pepper. Can we do that first?”

“Fine with me.” Now that they were in town, Rand relaxed a little. The bank wouldn't close for another hour.

They found Grace and Beryl Eberly inside the store doing a bit of shopping, too. They traded the usual information about their cattle and their families and the threatening snows, even though they'd chatted about the same things yesterday before church. Once Tolley had the peppercorns tucked in his pocket, Rand stepped toward the door.

As he reached for the glass doorknob, Laurie burst in, bringing with her a hail of powdery snow. “Grace, Beryl, come quick. The bank door's locked and something's going on in there.”

Rand's heart seemed to stop. “Marybeth.”

Tolley and the girls gave him a brief look before they drew out their guns and headed for the door.

“Hold on.” Rand's heart now hammered in fear, just as it had three years ago when he knew Cole Lyndon had meant to kill him. “You can't just go over there waving your guns. If the bank's being robbed, we have to be careful or somebody's going to get shot.”

“Come on, Rand.” Tolley shoved his gun back in his holster. “You know who it is. Tell 'em.” He jerked his head toward the girls and Mrs. Winsted, who'd grabbed her own rifle from behind the counter. The clerk, Homer Bean, watched the proceedings wide-eyed.

In that moment Rand could see how foolish it had been to keep this a secret from the townsfolk. How could he have made the mistake of thinking Hardison was only after him? The man was a criminal, just like his cousin. A killer and a thief. He'd aim to hurt as many people as possible.

“Dathan Hardison's been threatening me since he arrived in town. His cousin Cole Lyndon is the man I killed...” After all this time, he still nearly choked as he said it. “He wants revenge.”

Grace Eberly snorted. “I had a feeling he was no good.”

“Too much of a charmer.” Mrs. Winsted checked her Winchester to be sure it was fully loaded. “Always trying to sweet talk me like I was some green girl.”

“All this yammering doesn't solve the problem.” Tolley headed for the door again.

“Hey.” Grace caught his arm. “I've got a plan.”

Rand's own mind was spinning with wild imaginings about what the gunslinger would do to Marybeth, and it would be his fault. At twenty years old, Grace had a good head on her shoulders, so he gave her a curt nod. “Let's hear it.”

* * *

Marybeth watched the light snowfall through the bank window. In another hour she could go home and prepare supper for Mrs. Foster. This had been a quiet day of work. Other than typewriting the contract for the Northams, she'd had little to do. Perhaps the weather was keeping people at home.

Mrs. Foster would be so pleased to know she now officially owned her house as of today. That was, if Rand and one of his brothers arrived before closing time. She had to admit to herself that her heart had skipped a beat each time the door opened, only to dip with disappointment as the person entering wasn't Rand.

In spite of all that, she had another delightful bit of news to give her landlady. This morning Doc had sent a boy to fetch Mr. Brandt because Mrs. Brandt had safely delivered a baby girl. Nolan had generously given the new father the rest of the day off, so Marybeth had taken his place behind the bars of the teller's cage.

“I wonder where those Northam boys are.” Nolan emerged from his office reading the time on his pocket watch. “They must be held up by the weather.”

Bristling at his reference to the Northam men as “boys,” she inwardly scoffed at the idea that a little snow would prevent Rand from keeping his word. Well, at least for Mrs. Foster. If he wasn't even speaking to Marybeth, she doubted he would still want to search for Jimmy, snow or no snow.

The door opened with a jangle of the bells above it, and her foolish heart once again suffered disappointment. Instead of Rand, Mr. Hardison and another man entered, and she didn't like the look in either man's eyes. When the newcomer locked the door and pulled a gun from his holster, a wave of dizziness swept over her. They'd come to rob the bank.

Just outside her cage, Nolan stiffened. “Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” His voice was tight, but she sensed no fear in him.

Mr. Hardison had the nerve to laugh in a malicious way. “Did you hear that, Deke? Mr. Means wants to know what he can do for us.”

The other man, dressed in shabbier clothes and sporting a ragged beard and long, greasy hair, laughed in a coarse way that sent a sick feeling through Marybeth's stomach. “Jest tell 'em we came to make a withdrawal.”

Mr. Hardison snickered. “That's right. Now, Mr. Means, if you'll just unlock the door to the money room, we'll get along just fine.”

“As you wish.” Nolan took the duplicate key from his pocket. Instead of unlocking the cage door, he tossed it through the bars to Marybeth. “No matter what happens, do not let them in there. Remember your training.”

“Yes, sir.”

If he could be brave, so could she. As he'd taught her, she scooped up the cash in the drawer and hurried over to the safe. Before she could close and lock it, or even put the money inside, a shot rang out, startling her so badly, she tossed the cash into the air. The flutter of bills and the sound of coins clinking on the marble floor would have been comical in any other circumstance. As it was, all she could do was stare at the open safe, frozen in fear.

With the sound of the gunshot still reverberating throughout the lobby, she slowly turned, terrified at what she would see. She choked out a breath of relief that Nolan had not been shot. Instead Mr. Hardison held him around the neck and pressed his gun against the captive's temple. A red welt caused by the just-fired weapon's barrel had already spread around the point of contact. Even so, Nolan simply stared at her, his eyes soft with care, his jaw clenched.

“Now, missy, you just open that door before anybody gets hurt.”

“No,” Nolan choked out, only to receive a tighter tug on his throat.

Trembling as she never had in anticipation of Da's worst beatings, she gazed sadly at her brave employer. “I can't let him murder you.”

Nolan's eyes reddened, and he gave her as much of a nod as he could.

Her hands shook so badly she could barely get the key into the lock. Once she turned it, the man named Deke shoved the door open and thrust her out. She spun around to catch her balance on something, anything, but failed and crashed to the floor, her head striking a hard object as she went down. Pain roared through her and spots swam before her eyes. For a moment her world went black. She'd been in this position before, and as before, a primal craving for survival gripped her.

She forced herself into awareness.
Lie still. Force yourself to relax. Pretend to be unconscious. If he thinks you're dead, he'll leave you alone.
Mam had taught her this lesson well. Now her mind reached for something more.

Her face was turned away from the shuffle of feet and grunts of a struggle. Was Nolan trying to fight off the robbers? She prayed he would simply let them take the money. She slowly opened her eyes just a slit and saw the coatrack had been overturned. Her reticule and the loaded Derringer within it lay too far away, but her hat, along with its long, sharp hatpin, was inches from her right hand.

“Get the money bag.” Mr. Hardison's voice. “Fill it.” He must be talking to Nolan.

More scuffles. More grunts. She moved her hand a half inch. When no one stopped her, she reached for the pin, wrapped her fingers around it and drew it into concealment against her wrist. Now there was nothing left to do but lie here and pray for an opportunity to thwart the robbers. For all the lessons Mam had taught her, fighting back was one she'd failed to impart.

* * *

Rand knew he should just go to the bank, break down the door and have it out with Hardison. But that would double the risk to Marybeth. If she died because of him, he would never forgive himself. Against his better judgment, he must participate in Grace's crazy scheme.

Being the second oldest after Maisie, Grace had outgrown her whole family, even George. At maybe five feet, ten inches tall, taller in her high-heeled riding boots, she often walked with stooped shoulders as though she was trying to hide from the world. Today, however, she threw those shoulders back, held her head high and marched across the street to the bank, while Beryl and Laurie trailed behind through the deepening snow, talking and laughing as if they were out for a summer stroll.

More guilt plagued Rand over letting these girls lead this rescue, for he had no doubt both Nolan and Marybeth needed to be rescued. But the Eberly girls had been raised to face anything the Wild West threw at them. They'd been deeply offended when Rand had tried to talk them out of helping and argued that their family's money was in that bank, too.

In case Hardison was watching, Rand and Tolley walked in opposite directions and then each circled back to creep close to either side of the bank's double front doors. With Mrs. Winsted and Homer Bean sounding the alert to other townsfolk, he could count on more help coming soon. Rand prayed as he never had before that no one would be killed today. And if someone had to be, he asked the Lord to let him be the one.

Once he and Tolley were in place, Grace banged on the door. “Hey, Nolan, open up. We need to make a deposit.”

Beside her, Laurie and Beryl continued to chatter and giggle, something as far from their natural behavior as a cow jumping over the moon. So far, the act was going just as planned.

* * *

Through the fog in her mind, Marybeth heard someone banging on the bank's front door. “Hey, Nolan, open up. We need to make a deposit.”

Grace Eberly's voice!
Lord, no. Please don't let anyone else get involved.

“Let her in.” Mr. Hardison spoke, probably to that horrid Deke person.

“No.” Nolan's voice sounded hoarse. Did Mr. Hardison still have an arm around his neck?

“Shut up.” Mr. Hardison added a curse Marybeth hadn't heard since her father died.

Slowly she turned her head just in time to see Mr. Hardison approach to yank her to her feet. “Now you listen and listen good, missy. If you don't want your friends shot dead, you act like there's nothing wrong.” He turned to Nolan. “You got that?”

Nolan nodded and Marybeth did the same.

A loud click indicated the lock had been turned. “Come on in, ladies.”

Deke's weasel-like invitation sickened Marybeth, but the odd way the sisters were acting sent a strange little thread of hope through her. None of them ever giggled or minced around like silly girls trying to catch a man's attention. Why were they doing it now?

“Gracious me,” Grace said. “Who's this?” She gave Deke a wide grin and gave Mr. Hardison an expectant look. “You gonna introduce us?”

Marybeth could hardly hold back a laugh at the harried expression on the man's face. “Uh, sure. Deke, the Misses Eberly. Ladies, Deke.” His expression grew grim. “Now, about that deposit. Deke, hold out the bag.”

“What!” Grace glanced at her sisters and spoke with exaggerated horror. “Why, they're robbing the bank. Who'd have ever guessed that such a nice gentleman as Dathan Hardison would rob a bank?”

“And with such a greasy, slimy partner,” Laurie quipped.

“Now, see here, you little brat, I'll—” Deke stepped toward Laurie with one hand raised, but before he reached her, she ducked away.

In that moment Rand and Tolley burst through the front door, guns drawn. At the same time the Eberly girls drew theirs.

“Watch out!” Nolan cried.

Already holding his gun, Mr. Hardison fired at the girls. Someone screamed in pain. The gunman aimed at Rand. Without a thought, with all her might, Marybeth swung her right hand back and stabbed the hatpin into the gunman's upper arm, which was all she could reach. With a howl of pain worthy of a banshee, he dropped the gun and flung her down on the floor. Another gunshot. More screams. Then utter chaos as the bank filled with townspeople, all armed and ready to put an end to the robbery.

Within seconds Mr. Hardison and his cohort were tied up with rope provided by Mrs. Winsted. Deke howled in pain over a gunshot wound to his leg. Mr. Hardison held his injured arm and glared at Marybeth with murder in his eyes.

Nolan gently helped her to her feet. “Are you all right?” He brushed a hand over her temple and showed her the blood on his fingers. “You're hurt.”

“I can't even feel it.” She let him pull her into a comforting embrace, though his arms were not the ones she longed for. Not ten feet away, Rand gazed at her, frowning. He turned away, clearly with no mind to do that comforting himself. “Oh, Nolan, it was so horrible. Thank the Lord you're all right.” Thank the Lord that Rand and Tolley and the Eberly sisters were all right, too.

“You were very brave. I am very proud of you.” He breathed out a laugh of relief. “Everything is all right now. Everyone is all right.”

All right. All right.
She heard the phrase echo throughout the room as everyone confirmed their friends' well-being. Yet sobs from the other side of the lobby proved them all wrong. Marybeth and Nolan made their way through the cluster of people to where Grace and Laurie knelt on the marble floor weeping. Across Grace's lap lay Beryl, her eyes closed, her face white as a sheet and a dark red stream of blood staining the front of her blue plaid shirt.