Twilight in Texas (14 page)

“Well, it worked. You found me.” Callie Ann shoved a tear off her cheek. “You scared me, yelling my name.”

“I’m sorry.” Molly guessed the child was not half as frightened as she had been. What if in her fear she’d fired the gun? “How about we start over? I’ll carry two milks, and you get the crackers. We’ll go upstairs together so you won’t be scared anymore.” As she spoke, she guided the child into the kitchen area.

Callie Ann climbed on the chair and collected the tin of crackers. “After we eat these, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course.” Molly reached for the pitcher of milk kept in a cold box near the floor. In Austin, no place was cool in the summer, but the cooler air beneath the house kept milk for a day. “Whenever you want to sleep with me, you’re welcome to.”

As she poured the milk, Molly thought she heard the splash echo through the night like someone pouring another liquid at the same time. A moment later, the smell of kerosene drifted past the thin curtains and filled the kitchen.

Molly set the pitcher down and reached for Callie Ann’s hand. She’d been right, she thought. Someone was in the store. Somehow they’d gotten in and replaced the bells before she could get down the stairs.

Panic climbed her spine. She’d left the Colt on the steps and the other one was in the store.

The sloshing sound came again. The liquid splashed lightly against the glass counters just beyond the kitchen. She could hear it spilling over, dripping down the edges.

Kerosene fumes burned her eyes. Slowly, she pulled Callie Ann backward. Their only hope was the alley door. Whoever was pouring had been too impatient to wait until they returned upstairs.

“Hurry,” Molly whispered.

The child might not understand, but the fear echoing in Molly’s voice kept her silent.

They moved quickly to the back of the kitchen and into Wolf’s room. Molly’s mind raced through their chances. If whoever was in the front room struck a match, the store would burn fast. She had no hope of retrieving anything from upstairs. There was nothing of value in the kitchen except her journal and she’d be backtracking to get that. It wasn’t worth the risk.

As they moved through Wolf’s room her eyes fell on Wolf’s extra gear and the box that held his
papers. Protectively, she grabbed the box with her free hand and headed for the back door.

A light flicked, as harmless as a falling star, for a fraction of a second. Molly blinked and the front room flashed bright.

Within seconds fire raged behind them, exploding containers. A sudden blast knocked them against the wall beside the door as though the very air fought to escape. Molly shoved open the bolt, then pulled the wedge, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled the rope from the handle, listening to the clang of the bells calling too late a warning.

Flames lit the front room brighter than day. It was a matter of seconds before they engulfed the kitchen and spread across Wolf’s room.

Molly shoved harder on the door, pounding against it, demanding escape. Callie Ann held tightly to her waist as if she believed Molly could protect her.

Shoving again, harder, Molly screamed in frustration.

The door didn’t move. Callie Ann began to cry and burrow against her gown. Molly coughed and covered the child’s face with her skirt.

Kneeling suddenly, Molly placed the box in the child’s hands, unclenching tiny fingers to force them to take hold. “Carry this!” she yelled then grabbed the army blanket off Wolf’s bed and covered Callie Ann. “Stay under this tent. You’ll be safe.”

Molly backed up a step and rammed the door with her shoulder again. The wood groaned in answer. Her lungs felt like she was breathing fire. The air pressed against her, burning before the blaze even reached them.

She glanced back. Flames had crawled into the kitchen, running like vines along the old rug and racing up the curtain. The thin-legged table and chairs popped and crackled as they died.

Pounding with all the force she could muster, Molly screamed for help.

As she stepped back to hit the door one last time before the heat overpowered her, the portal suddenly opened, swinging wide as if in welcome.

For a moment, Molly couldn’t see anything. Smoke raced her for the opening, then she felt the cool air.

“Come on, ma’am!” someone yelled from beyond the porch. “I can’t carry you. You got to run.”

Lifting Callie Ann, blanket, box, and all, she ran for their one chance to survive.

Tumbling more than walking down the back steps, Molly reached clear air and took a deep gulp. She pulled the blanket from Callie Ann and tightly hugged the crying child.

“It’s all right,” she whispered again and again, more to herself than to the child.

The fire lit up the alley. Men ran everywhere, forming bucket lines, beating out secondary fires born from wind-carried embers.

Molly held Callie Ann and moved backward until she hit the woodpile behind Miller’s furniture store and coffin factory.

“You all right, ma’am?” a little man beside her asked. “I moved the boxes blocking your back door as fast as I could once I heard you screaming.”

She blinked away tears to see Charlie Filmore. The little beggar’s face was twisted in worry. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You saved our lives.”

Charlie looked embarrassed. “Weren’t nothing, ma’am. Just part of the job.”

W
OLF HAD BEEN PREPARED TO FIGHT FOR
J
OHN
C
ATLIN’S FREEDOM
, but to his surprise, Wes asked only that he tell the truth. Well, most of the truth. The plan was to walk into the Waco sheriff’s office and tell them who he was and that he thought the boy was wanted in Austin for another murder downstate.

All Wolf had to do was talk them into it. Nichole told Wes the sheriff wasn’t sure of the boy’s name, so Wolf stood a good chance. The man who’d wired Nichole hadn’t bothered to step forward and identify the boy as a Catlin. The law in Waco planned to hang him as a John Doe, which always looked bad on the records and in the cemetery.

They’d probably be happy to turn the boy over to Wolf, who would, of course, convince the sheriff he recognized him. As soon as they got out of town John would slip through the ranger’s fingers into Wes’s.

Wes reasoned that since Wolf had never lost a prisoner, a few might think it strange that a boy got away, but then, one loss wouldn’t ruin his reputation. Some might think the mighty Captain Hayward was getting old, but Wolf could disprove that theory with the next good fight that came along.

Wolf agreed reluctantly. He wasn’t a man who took to tarnishing easy.

The plan was simple. No one would get hurt. No one would get killed. Most important, no one would get hanged.

As they rode into what old-timers still called Waco Village, Wes McLain stretched in the saddle and asked, “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Wolf had always been amazed how Wes could read him like a book. Most men who’d known Wolf since he’d been in Texas couldn’t tell you three facts about him without being wrong on at least two. But Wes, he’d somehow pieced the puzzle together.

“Lavender soap. Clean clothes. Biscuits with jam. A bath. It’s not even Saturday night.” Wes laughed. “Shall I go on?”

“No,” Wolf grumbled. Hell! He might as well be wearing a sign. “You remember me telling you about the woman I met once at a crowded train station in Philadelphia?”

Wes tipped his hat as they passed a couple taking an evening walk. “Only every time you’ve had a few drinks.”

Wolf growled, but Wes continued, “Her name was Molly, and she was a vision in Union blue. She helped take care of the wounded. You fell for her the minute you saw her. And, if I remember the story, you kissed her and swore you’d find her when the war was over.”

The ranger didn’t comment. The romantic peak of his life sounded almost comical coming from Wes.

“Don’t tell me you ran into her again? Another crowded station? Another kiss?”

Wolf chewed on the words a minute before he answered. “Something like that. I married her.”

“What?”

“I married her!” If they had more time, Wolf would’ve been angry at Wes for acting like the three words couldn’t possibly be connected to him.

Wes shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. When we get John out and away, I don’t care if I have to sit on him for an hour, I’m hearing the rest of this story.”

“There ain’t no more ‘rest.’ I married her. That’s all there is, except she doesn’t know I’m the same fool who kissed her all those years ago.” They pulled up to the sheriff’s office.

A passer-by would never have guessed what the two tough men were talking about, Wolf thought.

“She’s gone mad since the war, right?” Wes asked as he stepped down from the saddle. “Lost all her teeth, and you felt sorry for her. A widow with a litter of kids to feed, and you were her only meal ticket.” He tied his horse. “Blind as a bat and just stumbled into you one night.”

Wolf fought the urge to slug his good friend. “No, she’s sane, got all her teeth, never been married, and more beautiful than I remember. As for her eyesight, I’m not sure about that.”

“Congratulations.” Wes slapped Wolf on the back. “Seriously. If she hasn’t figured it out yet, she will. Beneath all that hair and muscle is a fine man.”

“Thanks,” Wolf said as they walked toward the office. “Only one problem. When she finds out who I am, she’ll probably never speak to me again.”

“You’ve got to tell her,” Wes advised.

“I will.” Wolf promised. “I hoped to give her time to fall in love with me as I am first.”

Wes shook his head. “Time can go against you just as easily. Your best shot is to remind her of the good times.”

“That won’t take long. We only had about three minutes of good times.”

They entered the sheriff’s office laughing.

The deputy on duty nervously checked them out. Strangers dropping by after dark were usually not welcome. He almost shrank in the chair.

Wolf opened his coat to show his badge and the deputy relaxed a few degrees south of panic. “Evening,” he mumbled as he leaned back in his chair, obviously trying to show his authority and hide his fear. “What can I do for you fellas?”

Wolf sobered his tone to sound official. “I’d like to have a word with the prisoner named John Doe. I’m Captain Hayward from Austin. We’re after a killer who fits his description and is wanted for half a dozen murders near Austin.”

The deputy rose. “You can talk to him, but he won’t talk back. I don’t think he understands a word we say. We couldn’t even get a name out of him. But I’ve no doubt he’s bad. One look at those eyes and you can see that.” The deputy unlocked the door to the cells. “He’s just a kid, but it’s easy to see he was born to kill. A baby rattlesnake is just as deadly as a grown one.”

The ranger waited without commenting. The deputy might be surprised to learn that the boy was John Catlin, heir to one of the biggest ranges in Texas. It was run by an aging couple waiting for their only grandson to stop believing himself to be Comanche and take on his birthright. From what Wes and Allie had told him, Wolf knew John saw the ranch as another prison and not his home.

“He’s in there.” The deputy opened the first door and pointed to a line of cells, all with doors open except one. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Wolf moved down the hall with Wes a few feet behind. “Kid,” he said in a calm voice.

The boy didn’t look up.

Wolf knew the kid recognized him. Hell, he’d tried to fight his way past the lot of them on more than one occasion. “You might as well face me. I’ve come to get you. There’s folks waiting to see you, son.” Wolf fought the urge to add “as usual.” If the boy hadn’t been Allie’s only brother and Victoria Catlin’s only grandson he would have given up long before now.

Wes gave it a try. “John?”

No response.

“John!”

The boy raised his head, and Wolf locked his jaw at what he saw. John’s face looked purple and blue with marks the size of a fist beaten into several places. One eye was swollen completely closed, the other blood-red where white should have been. A wound at his hairline slowly dripped blood over dried scab.

Wolf moved against the bars for a better look. John’s clothes were filthy and ripped to rags. He had no boots or socks. Blood had soaked through in several spots, telling Wolf there were injuries he couldn’t see.

“Hasn’t this man seen a doctor?” Wolf yelled.

“Couldn’t find one to go in the cell with him,” the deputy hollered back. “We got two men out on sick call because of this one. Word was he took down eight men in the bar that night. He ain’t all that old, or big, but he’s plenty mean. Only doc we got worth anything is out of town. The army doc said he values his own life too much to get within striking distance of the kid. He ain’t fit to treat anything except horses anyway.”

As Wes moved closer to John, Wolf took a few steps backward until he could see the deputy in the other room. “What time does the train get in from Fort Worth? I heard there’s a doctor coming in.”

The deputy shifted as if bothered by all the effort he was wasting answering questions. “How would I know? Sometime tonight.”