Texas Twilight (35 page)

“Be careful. We don’t want any more patients
to tend to,” Madeline said, her brows arched knowingly.

“I’m going, too,” Theodore announced. “We’ll
be especially careful. No one else will be escaping from the jail
today.” They went out the door with Theodore carrying the tray of
food and Tucker following behind with a Colt 45 in his hand.

It wasn’t but five minutes and the boys were
back. Becky took the now empty tray from Theodore, glancing
adoringly into his face.

Lily looked up, surprised at the perplexed
expression on Tucker’s face. “Is everything all right at the
jail?”

“For one thing, Harland confessed, so to
speak,” he answered as he came into the room and put his gun on the
sideboard. “Mr. Shellston was over there. It was just him and
Harland. He was rooting around in Sheriff Dane’s desk. I think he
was looking for the key to open the cell. He was furious with
Harland and before they knew anyone else had come in, Harland kept
saying he was sorry for shooting Chaim. Soon as they saw us he shut
up.”

“Taking him out would be breaking the law,”
Becky said slowly.

Winnie shook her head in disbelief. “He
wouldn’t do that, would he? The boy’s only been there one day. For
all the trouble he’s caused over the years it’s hardly a punishment
at all. Especially in light he almost killed Chaim.”

Madeline harrumphed. “I’m not surprised. I’ve
never trusted that man.”

Lily waited for the women to finish. “What
happened when you went in and found him?”

Theodore threw a glance at Tucker. “Tuck
asked him what he was doing. Boy, that really got his dander up. I
guess he didn’t like being questioned by a kid. He demanded to know
where the key to Harland’s cell was.”

Lily and the other women had gathered around.
Hearing a noise, Lily turned to see Dr. Bixby standing in the
doorway, interested in what Tucker was about to say. She ran to his
side and helped seat him at the table.

“Go on, Tucker,” the doctor said. “What did
he do then?” He was looking old and feeble.

“After I informed him the sheriff usually
keeps the key on him and I was sure the deputy must have it now, he
went into a hollering fit. Even Harland looked scared. For a minute
I thought he was actually going to come after us. Finally, he
stormed out the door muttering all kinds of crazy things. I think
he’s gone mad.”

Dr. Bixby cleared his throat, still looking
wan. “I’d feel better if everyone stayed close to this here office
until the posse and the rest get back. So many strange things going
on. I don’t like it one bit.”

Emmeline rushed into the kitchen. “Chaim is
awake again. Come see.”

***

“Look,” John said to Dustin and pointed.
“Brandon. Three o’clock.” Both men lay on their bellies under some
thick underbrush at the north edge of the Comanchero’s camp. They
watched Brandon as he came around a deserted tent, staying low and
moving in the direction where they’d first left the horses. John
gave the bird call they’d used for years. Brandon stopped and
lunged behind a large granite boulder. A few moments went by, then
the call was returned. John repeated once. Slowly then, Brandon
came from behind the rock and picked his way toward John and
Dustin, being careful to stay hidden.

“I’m glad you saw me,” Brandon said, rolling
in next to Dustin. He was covered in dirt and sweat. “I found her.
She’s locked up with a rattlesnake.”

“You couldn’t get her out?” Dustin said.

“No. The door is bolted closed and the lock
will need to be shot off. I didn’t want to get her killed in the
process of rescuing her.”

“Where?” John was having a hard time keeping
himself from running straight into camp. He remembered how
frightened Charity had been when the snake was in the outhouse.

“Close. Just past the horses, where the hill
starts.”

“We need a plan,” John interjected. “Dustin,
you go back and get the horses. Bring them straight up from the
town and leave them out of sight on the north edge. Brandon, do you
know where I’m talking about?”

“Pretty much. I’ll find it.”

“Good. Now, Dustin leaves the horses there
and circles back halfway, by the rock where we first came in. I’ll
be there. We’ll create a diversion, draw the men off. Hopefully,
that will leave it clear for Brandon to run in, shoot the lock, and
get Charity before anyone realizes what’s happening. We’ll all meet
back at the horses and make a run for town.”

“Okay,” Dustin said.

John nodded. “When Dustin is back, I’ll give
the call, long and loud. It won’t matter if they hear since we’re
going to make our presence known moments after that. Just be
ready.”

“You know I will be,” Brandon said.

“Yeah, I do. Let’s move.”

The snake had come half way around the wall
since Brandon had left. As it moved, Charity did too, barely
inching along to keep as much distance between them. As it edged
forward, she backed away, and she was now a good three feet from
the door—her only source of fresh air.

It was stinkin’ hot. Dehydrated and dizzy,
Charity tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
Nausea swirled inside. Not daring to keep her eyes off the
slithering devil for more than two heartbeats, she opened them and
glanced across the room.

Where was Brandon?
And John and Dustin? How long had it been since he’d left?
Nothing made sense. She couldn’t quite remember how she’d come to
be in this stifling tomb in the first place. She wiped her hand
across her face, longing for her space by the door. She took a step
in its direction before remembering about the hideous creature
waiting to sink its fangs into her leg. She pulled up clumsily, but
not before the reptile had lifted its tail and rattled.

“
Oh, be quiet
,”
she scolded. “You’re not so damn tough. So what if you’re a snake.”
She began to laugh uncontrollably but stopped abruptly when she
heard a shout from somewhere. Then a shot. “Brandon?” she
whispered, shocked back to her senses.

Several more shots. Women screaming. What was
going on? The same muffled sound she’d been hearing all day
whenever the snake made a move caught her attention. He’d coiled
again and was rattling loudly. Soon the room was filled with the
terrifying sound.

A blast threw her to the ground. The door was
yanked open. Brandon stood in the opening. He lunged in her
direction at the same exact moment the snake lashed out with
lightning speed.

Charity flung herself back. The sight of the
six-foot-long reptile stretched out like a lance was terrifying. It
knocked Brandon down at the same time he swung his arm around. He
pulled the trigger a second time, the report almost breaking her
eardrums. The diamondback’s heavy body was blasted back against the
wall. The next instant Brandon was pulling her into his arms.

She couldn’t stop her sobs as she clung to
him, running her hands over him, wadding his shirt front into her
fists. She needed to make sure he was actually here with her,
holding her, not just a figment of longing she’d dredged up from
her fevered imagination. “The snake bit you,” she gasped.

“No. It hit my spur.”

He silenced her by pulling her scantly
clothed body close. They melded, and heat surged inside her. All
the days of torture of the unknown, when Brandon had angrily left
Rio Wells, bubbled up. She pushed closer, needing the feel of him.
She ached to show him just how much he meant to her, how much she
loved him. His fingers scorched her skin as they traveled down her
arms, around her back, straying lower still. He gazed into her
eyes, reaching into her soul. Then, his lips found hers and he
kissed her hungrily, fervently as if she was his sustenance after a
ten-year fast. She whimpered when he started to pull away, not
wanting to lose this sensation, this yearning burning deep inside.
He buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply.

“We don’t have much time,” he said low.

He turned, and taking Charity by the hand,
approached the door with his gun outstretched. When she wavered, he
scooped her up and dashed outside. She buried her face into his
neck and closed her eyes. If she died now, she didn’t care. At
least it would be in the arms of the man she loved. He ran swiftly,
dodging among horses, rocks and cactus. There was shooting
somewhere else, and shouting. Confusion all around. He stopped and
put her on her feet. Hand in hand, they started down an incline,
her sliding and lurching and trying to keep up. Right before they
hit bottom, she fell onto her buttocks, but kept sliding until they
stopped. A rifle fired close by with a deafening sound. All at once
she found herself enfolded in John’s arms; and she felt as she had
as young girl—love and cherished by her older brother.

Not wasting a second, Brandon mounted up and
John lifted his sister onto the back of Brandon’s horse. Charity
clamped her arms around Brandon’s waist and locked her fingers,
burying her face into the solid presence of his back. Without
another word the three horses turned and bolted off through the
dense West Texas brush, as if the devil himself was on their
tail.

The horses thundered back into town, sliding
to a halt at the doctor’s office. John dismounted and carefully
took Charity from the back of Brandon’s horse and carried her
inside, shielding her from curious gazes of bystanders that had
gathered. Aunt Winnie and the rest of the women watched as he
crossed the room without saying a word. He went straight up to his
room and shut the door, not yet knowing what his sister might have
endured in the hours she’d been captive. He laid her on his bed and
covered her with his blanket.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking in her
scraped and blood-stained face. His heart feared the worst.

“I am now.” She sat up, keeping the cover
pulled tight to her chest. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

Unable to
stop it, John heard a sound like a hurt bear escaped his throat. He
sat on the mattress next to her and enfolded her in an embrace,
marveling at how small and delicate his usually tough little sister
felt. “
Of
course
I’d come for you.
If hell froze over I’d come for you. If Texas broke open creating a
vast cavern a thousand feet deep, I’d come for you. Find you.
Nothing could stop me. I hope you realize that.” He had to know
more. “Did they hurt you—” he paused for a heartbeat, then sat back
and looked into her face, “—more than what I see?”

There was a light knock, then the door opened
slowly. Brandon stood there for a moment, then came in and shut the
door. John stood and Charity looked from one man to the other.

“I’m okay. I mean, they didn’t have their way
with me.”

The relief on Brandon’s face mirrored what he
was feeling. “Thank God,” John said. “I think I’ve aged about
twenty years since Tucker came running into the office to tell us
you’d been kidnapped.”

“Is that how you found out?”

John nodded. “Did the Comanchero take you
from your room at the hotel?”

Charity looked away, breaking eye contact.
John could tell she was hiding something. “What? Where were you,
Charity?”

She wouldn’t look at him. He knew her
stalling tactics all too well. Finally she said, “I was outside. On
Main Street.”

“In the middle of the night?” Brandon’s
expression darkened. “In your underwear?”

She nodded, watching him closely. Despite her
tough demeanor, her cheeks pinked.

John didn’t want the wall between the two of
them to go back up. “Why?” he asked hurriedly, wanting to get to
the bottom of it before Brandon did. “Why would you go out by
yourself in a town like Rio Wells?”

“Because…” A look of consternation crossed
her face. She glanced up at Brandon, then stood, boldly letting her
covers fall away. Stepping close, she had to tip her chin up to
look Brandon in the eyes. “Because I saw you riding down the
street, Brandon,” she whispered, inches from his face. She reached
out and laid her open palm on his chest. “I wanted to talk to you,
tell you everything, before you got away again.”

“That was foolish,” Brandon replied softly,
with no trace of his usual sternness.

“I agree,” she said. She inched forward.

John cleared his throat. “That explains it,
then.” He took Brandon by the shoulder, a smile tugging at his
mouth. “Let’s go. Little sister, I’ll have someone bring you up
some warm water and clothes.”

“Wait.” Charity turned so fast she almost
lost her balance. Brandon steadied her, leaving his hand
possessively on the small of her back.

“I almost forgot. Shellston,” she said,
looking from one man to the other, the spell broken, “he had the
stagecoach attacked.”

“Are you sure?” John asked. “What else did
you learn?”

“It’s something about a letter somewhere. The
Comancheros were supposed to stop the stage and get a letter, then
take it to Shellston.” In her excitement she was talking with her
hands, waving this way and that. Her eyes, opened wide, sparkled
with the passion of youth, and every time she looked in Brandon’s
direction, her lips curled just a tiny bit, pleased to be able to
help in Brandon’s occupation of crime fighting.

“But, they failed,” she went on. “The banker
hasn’t paid what he promised, and that’s why the Comanchero
kidnapped me. He thought Shellston would pay to get me back.” She
laughed. “He didn’t know Shellston could care less if I was dead or
alive. That’s when the Comanchero said he’d kill Harland next, then
Mr. Shellston himself. He’s paying the Comanchero today.”

John exchanged a heated look with
Brandon.

“I’ll take the deputy and go arrest him,”
Brandon said.