Ruby (21 page)
“We won’t worry about size and color,” he said with a chilling smile.
“I don’t under—”
“You just worry about doing what you’re told. Come here.”
Ruby began backing up until she felt the cool wall behind her.
“Damn you! I said come here.”
He was across the room in quick strides. Using the butt of his gun, he hit her so hard she staggered to her knees and fought a wave of pain and nausea.
“Now you’ve learned that I won’t tell you twice,” he shouted as he hauled her to her feet. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do what you’re told the first time.”
“Who—” she felt a trickle of blood along her cheek “—are you?”
He caught sight of himself in the tall looking glasses. The twin images made him laugh. With his face clean shaven and his hair cut short and darkened with boot black, even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.
“An old friend of your lover boy. With an old score to settle.”
Still laughing, he dragged her into the back room.
Spying the rumpled quilt on the chaise, his lips curled in a sneer. “Well, isn’t this cozy? The town marshal thought he’d keep his harlot all to himself.”
He tossed her down onto the lounge, then stood over her, brandishing the gun.
It pleased him to see the fear in her eyes. They were all alike. When they saw that he meant business, they always started crying and wailing and begging for their lives.
It gave him a sense of power. He liked seeing how far he could push them.
And this time it was Marshal Quent Regan who would beg. If not for his own life, then for the life of his woman.
When the outer door was suddenly opened, he spun around, his gun at the ready.
“Miss Ruby. I hope you don’t mind.”
Ruby recognized the voice of Patience. But before she could call out a warning, Boyd dragged her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her throat. His other hand held a gun to her temple.
“We saw the light and—” Catching sight of Ruby in the grasp of the stranger, Patience swallowed back whatever else she was about to say.
Ruby’s eyes were wide with terror when she saw both Patience and Neville Oakley, standing hand in hand, wearing identical looks of astonishment.
“Well, well. Looks like you just changed my plans a little,” Boyd said.
“What...? Who...?” Patience couldn’t find her voice.
Beside her, Neville glanced from Ruby to the man holding her hostage. He seemed taken aback by the badge. “Are you a lawman?”
“A lawman?” Boyd threw back his head and gave a chilling laugh. “I make my own law. At the end of this gun.”
“You let go of Miss Ruby,” Neville said. “She’s too fine a lady for you to hurt her.”
“Would you like to be her hero?” Boyd taunted.
In one quick movement Neville shoved Patience out of the way and lumbered forward, unmindful of the danger to himself.
“Big dumb fool,” Boyd shouted as he fired at point-blank range.
Ruby screamed. Patience let out a piercing cry.
Neville’s face registered shock, then pain. But, though he staggered, he continued forward.
Boyd fired a second shot and Neville stiffened, before crumpling to the floor.
“Oh, dear God,” Patience shouted as she dropped to her knees beside Neville. “You’ve killed him. You monster, you killed him.”
The outlaw grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet.
Tears streamed down her face, and hysteria bubbled dangerously close to the surface.
He slapped her hard, then snapped, “Now, you listen, girl. Listen good, ’cause I’m only going to tell you once. You know where the marshal is?”
In a state of shock, she nodded.
“You find him, you hear? And you tell him Boyd Barlow has his woman. And unless he comes here alone, unarmed, Ruby Jewel won’t live to see the morning. You got all that?”
She sniffled and struggled to pull herself together. But all she could see was Neville’s body, and the ever-widening pool of blood.
“Get going, girl.”
Through the layers of pain and shock, Patience looked up to see Ruby in the clutches of this madman.
The fear was gone from Ruby’s eyes now. In its place was a slow, simmering fury. Her teeth were clenched, her jaw set. And despite the blood that ran from the wound in her temple, she looked every inch a queen. It gave Patience the courage she needed to pull herself together.
Boyd brandished the gun.
With a final glance at Neville’s still form, Patience fled.
Chapter Nineteen
“L
ots of people heard that gunshot, Marshal.” Arlo’s face was flushed as he shuffled into the jail to make his report. “But nobody saw the shooter. Haven’t found anybody hurt, so I have to believe it was just some drunken cowboy shooting at the moon.”
ots of people heard that gunshot, Marshal.” Arlo’s face was flushed as he shuffled into the jail to make his report. “But nobody saw the shooter. Haven’t found anybody hurt, so I have to believe it was just some drunken cowboy shooting at the moon.”
“Maybe.” Quent lowered the unconscious Beau Baskin onto a cot, where he’d sleep off his liquor until morning. “Still, I think we ought to take another turn around the town, just in case.”
“Okay. Where would you like me to start?”
“Why don’t you head on over to the Golden Rule, and work your way back. I’ll take the other end of town and work my way toward you. Between us, we ought to cover everything.”
Arlo nodded and checked his gun before heading out.
Quent did the same. But as he was leaving he nearly collided with Patience Carter.
“Marshal.” Her breath was coming in short gasps. She couldn’t seem to find her voice. And it seemed that at any moment her legs would fail her.
“Take it easy. Are you hurt?”
“No. No.”
Quent caught her in his arms and led her inside the jail. He helped her to the seat behind his desk, then knelt and took her hands in his. He’d had years to hone his skill in offering comfort, security, a sense of calm authority to the citizens of his town, and getting them to move beyond shock to reveal necessary details. “Now, what seems to be the problem, Patience?”
“It’s Ruby.” Her voice trembled, and the tears started again.
“Okay. Easy, Patience. What about Ruby?”
“There’s a gunman in her shop.”
He felt the first quick jolt of fear. The gunshot. A trick? God in heaven, why hadn’t he stayed with her? What if...?
“He said he’ll kill her unless you come to her shop alone and unarmed. Oh, Marshal, he means it. He’s already shot Neville Oakley.”
Another stab of fear, but he pushed it aside. “Is Neville dead?”
“I don’t know. The gunman wouldn’t let me go to him.”
“And Ruby? Has he...” He couldn’t seem to form the words. “Is she all right?”
“There’s blood on her face.”
He thought, for the space of a moment, his heart might stop.
“But it doesn’t look too bad. Just a cut and bruise.”
He clamped down on his feelings.
“All right now, Patience. You’re going to have to hold yourself together. You’ve got to be brave. I need you to find my deputy and have him wait, with as many armed men as he can find, near the edge of town. Then you need to fetch Doc Prentice. Tell him to get close to Ruby’s shop, but not to show himself. Think you can do that?”
She swallowed, then nodded.
“Good girl. Now think, Patience. Did this gunman tell you his name?”
She nodded again. “Boyd Barlow.”
She saw the instant change in Quent’s face. Shock. Anger. And then something so dark, so frightening, she shrank from him.
He stood and began unbuckling his gun belt. Alone and unarmed. That’s how Barlow wanted it played out.
There was no room for fear now. Or for what-ifs. The only thing that mattered now was Ruby. He would do whatever he had to. And if it meant his life for hers, he’d give it gladly. His life wasn’t worth a damn without her.
Ruby knelt beside the still form of Neville Oakley. There was a pulse. Feeble, thready, but a faint heartbeat. Enough to assure her that for the moment the gentle giant was still alive. She wrapped the quilt around him, then shot a hateful glance at the gunman who stood at the window, watching the street.
“Your lover boy will be here soon,” he said with a shrill laugh.
Quent would come, she knew. And because of his feelings for her, he would do as this monster ordered. He would come alone. Unarmed. And risk his life for hers.
She blinked away the tears that threatened and touched a hand to the rope of gold at her throat. “Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “What shall I do? Please help me. I can’t bear the thought of Quent sacrificing his life for mine. What shall I do?”
Almost at once she remembered something her father had told her when she was young.
It was on one of his infrequent visits. She had confided, tearfully, about the cruel taunts of classmates and teachers.
“Then it’s time I shared this secret with you, Ruby,” her father had said. “In my dealings with ordinary people I try to be a gentleman. In my business dealings I try to be an honorable man. But in my dealings with bullies I have a secret weapon.”
“What is it, Papa?” she’d asked, eager to hear the secret that would end these acts of cruelty.
Onyx Jewel had smiled. “I never let them see my fear. Because bullies are cowards who hide behind cruel words, or behind a stick, or a rock, or a gun. They prey on those who can be hurt by their words, or their weapons.”
“But I am afraid, Papa. I don’t know how not to be.”
Seeing that she still didn’t understand, he’d said gently, “It isn’t that I have no fear. Every man is afraid of something. But fear must be put aside for the moment, so that energy can be put to better use. In your battle with a bully, you have to fight like the bully does. Whether with words or guns or even tricks. Never let him see your fear. That way, he’ll never get the best of you, Ruby. That way, the bully can never win.”
Those words had kept her sane when Sister Clothilde had locked her in the box for over an hour. And through the years those words had kept her going, despite the cruel taunts of others. She’d learned that there would always be another bully. But she would never let him get the best of her.
And now, remembering her father’s words, she experienced a strange sense of calm.
Thank you
,
Papa. I remember. I’ll fight like he does. This bully won’t win. I promise.
Thank you
,
Papa. I remember. I’ll fight like he does. This bully won’t win. I promise.
This was not a time for tears or weakness. What was needed now was courage. Fearlessness. Defiance.
She would watch and wait. And if even a single moment’s opportunity presented itself, she would seize it.
The sky was awash with stars. Clouds scudded across a full moon. The main street was deserted, except for a few lovers taking advantage of the night to linger in each other’s arms. Most of the townspeople had made their way back home, or to their wagons. The lights were going off at Millie Potter’s boardinghouse.
Quent walked alone.
He loved this town. He knew every person in it. Knew their history, their secrets, had shared many of their joys and sorrows.
He’d never questioned why he did what he did. Had never given much thought to the fact that he was willing to step forward and fight their fights, risk his life for theirs. Oh, he’d seen the respect in their eyes for his father. But he hadn’t stepped into his father’s role just out of a need for respect. It had gone much deeper. He’d realized, when his father was shot dead by an outlaw, that a shining light had been extinguished.
Tonight, another shining light was threatened. Another outlaw had a need for vengeance.
Not this time, he vowed. Not while he still had a breath left in him.
He strode up to Ruby’s shop.
From inside came Boyd Barlow’s voice. “That’s close enough, lawman. Lift those hands.”
Quent raised his hands, then waited until the door was thrown open. He stepped inside.
The room was in darkness. As he peered around, a match was struck, the flame held to the wick of the lantern. In the blaze of light he saw Boyd Barlow yank Ruby to her feet and wrap an arm around her throat while he pointed a gun at her temple.
Just seeing it, Quent felt something dark and ugly beginning to take life inside him.
“Come on in, Marshal. The fun’s just about to begin.” Boyd cackled.
Quent stepped closer, needing to see for himself that Ruby was unharmed.
There was an ugly swelling at her temple, and blood on the side of her face.
Seeing the fury that leapt to his eyes, Boyd said, “I had to teach your fancy woman here how to take orders. But she learns real good. Don’t you?”
When Ruby didn’t respond, he tightened his grasp on her throat until she nearly gagged. “You hear me, woman? You learn real good, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“That’s better.” He looked over at Quent. “Now, I’m only going to tell you one time, just like I told her. Only, if you don’t do what you’re told, it won’t be you who pays, it’ll be your woman. You understand?”
Quent nodded. “I understand completely, Barlow.”
“You hiding a weapon?” Boyd demanded.
Quent shook his head.
“Good.” Boyd waved the gun. “You stand right there where you can see. And your woman and I are going to lie on this cozy thing here.” He shoved her ahead of him toward the chaise. “I figure, since the two of you had such a good time here, you might enjoy seeing how much fun your woman will have with a real man.”
Out of the corner of his eye Quent caught a glimpse of Neville Oakley’s body, still as death, beneath the quilt. But he kept his gaze on Ruby as she was pushed down onto the chaise.
Boyd Barlow was enjoying himself. Revenge was sweet, indeed. He could see the hatred, the fury, etched on the marshal’s face. To add to his enemy’s misery, Boyd sat on the chaise and tugged at the hem of Ruby’s gown, pulling it up so high it revealed a length of shapely thigh.
He chuckled at the strangled oath that escaped the marshal’s lips. “Maybe by the time I’m done with your woman, she’ll be good enough to get a job over at Buck’s saloon.”
He ran his hand along her leg and felt himself harden. This was going to be fun. And there wasn’t a damned thing the lawman could do about it. Except get himself killed.
“All right, woman. I’d like to see more.” He didn’t bother looking at Ruby. He was having too much fun watching the marshal squirm. “Take off that dress and show me what you showed your lover boy.”
He gave a smug grin when he felt Ruby shift, saw her hand lift to the buttons of her gown.
Oh, the look in Quent Regan’s eyes was worth all these weeks of waiting and planning and scheming.
“I’m going to make you so sorry for killing Ward,” he said.
“It might have been my bullet that killed him.” Quent’s tone was chillingly soft and deadly. “But his death is on your hands.”
“What?” Boyd started to rise. His gun hand was actually shaking with anger.
“You heard me,” Quent said between clenched teeth. “Your brother was just a wild kid. But he was no killer. He just wanted to be like you. You’re the reason he died, Boyd. You and your big plan to make a name for yourself by killing a marshal. If you hadn’t planned that ambush, your brother would still be alive. Drinking in some saloon. And maybe getting a chance to grow up, and love a woman, and make a life for himself.”
“Liar! You’re a damned liar.” Ruby was forgotten now. Tormented by guilt at Quent’s words, Boyd felt his vision cloud with an uncontrollable fury. “You take that back. You hear me? I said you take that back. I didn’t kill my own brother. You did, you...”
Ruby had waited. Now; calculating that he’d completely forgotten about her, she brought her arm up with all the force she could manage, sending Boyd’s gun flying out of his hand and across the room.
There was no time to waste. Quent leapt the distance separating him from the outlaw. The impact sent both men sprawling.
Quent’s hands were at Boyd’s throat, pressing hard on his windpipe. But before he could succeed in choking the life out of him, the outlaw brought his knee up, shoving Quent backward.
As Quent shook his head to clear his vision, Boyd gave a vicious kick to his jaw. For the space of several seconds Quent was blinded by pain. Stars swam in front of his eyes.
Despite his pain he scrambled to his feet before Boyd could land a second blow, and caught the outlaw squarely on the nose with a punch that had blood streaming down his face.
In retaliation Boyd brought a knee to Quent’s groin that had him nearly doubled over in pain. Before he could straighten, the outlaw picked up a bowl filled with potpourri and broke it over the marshal’s head. Quent staggered, straightened, then began pummeling Boyd’s face and head with blows that sent him reeling into a table, knocking it over and sending the lantern, books, knickknacks flying in all directions, until at last, bruised and bloodied, Boyd dropped to his knees.
Across the room Ruby snatched up the gun and moved in close to point it at the outlaw. “I’m not as good a shot as the marshal,” she warned. “But at this distance, I can’t possibly miss.”
Boyd lifted his hands in surrender.
With a satisfied smile, Ruby handed the gun to Quent. But her smile faded when the marshal removed his badge and tossed it aside, before pointing the gun at Boyd’s temple.
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