Safe in His Arms

TWENTY-FOUR





Daniel kept his face impassive as he strode toward Frank. He resisted the impulse to turn and look back at Margaret. This interruption had come at the worst possible time. She would think he was putting her off again.

He reached the camp. The gang leader’s red face spoke of his anger and agitation. “What’s up?”

Frank was frowning as he paced in front of the fire. “I’ve just found out the money is going to be transferred out tomorrow. We have to get it today at closing time. Can you and your lady friend be ready? I’ve got the dynamite.”

“Sure.” Daniel’s stomach clenched. He had to get Margaret out of danger. This job wasn’t as important to him as she was. But how did he whisk her out of harm’s way with all the members of the gang watching every move they made? There had to be a way. He had to get Charlie as well. The tasks seemed overwhelming with the time frame even shorter.

Munster pointed to the west. “Your brother’s on lookout. Go get him, and we’ll ride within the hour.”

Within the hour. He needed more time. His thoughts whirled, but he saw no easy way out, so he nodded. “I’ll get him.”

Maybe he’d be able to talk to Charlie alone. There hadn’t been any opportunity to do that since he’d arrived. Richard had kept in the background as well, and only a nod from him had confirmed to Daniel that all the plans were still on target. If he could get to Richard, maybe they could come up with an alternate plan.

Why did Margaret have to show up? It would take everything in him to keep her safe. He clambered over rocks and boulders as he made his way to the top of the lookout hill. A rifle across his knees, Charlie sat with his back to the camp. His hat was pulled low to shield his face from the sun, but in spite of his tough stance, Daniel saw the little boy he’d always loved.

“Frank sent me to get you.”

At the sound of Daniel’s voice, Charlie grabbed his rifle and spun around. “Oh, it’s you.” Relief lightened his freckled, sunburned face.

“The job has been moved up. We ride today.”

Charlie licked his lips, and his youthful face looked suddenly old and worn. “Munster sure we can handle it?”

“You having second thoughts?” If Charlie was uncertain, it would make Daniel’s job easier.

Charlie shrugged. “Nah, I can handle it.”

His brother’s swaggering bravado touched Daniel’s heart. All of nineteen, Charlie’s desperate desire to make a name for himself— even if it was a bad one—had brought him here. Daniel touched Charlie on the shoulder. “You got time to come to the river with me? Margaret is waiting there, and I need to talk to both of you.”

“My relief is coming now.” Charlie nodded toward Sheppard, a surly man of about fifty, who was climbing the steep hill toward them. “I thought you said Frank sent you to get me.”

“He did, but we have a few minutes. We need to talk.”

“What about? And why are you even here, Daniel?”

“I have a lot to tell you. Meet me at the river.” Daniel went back down the hill toward the river. His heart sped up at the thought of the coming revelations he had to make to Margaret and Charlie. He prayed they would understand.




MARGARET SAT ON a rock and let the good sunshine bake onto her arms. The cool morning had quickly given way to a hot spring day. Dark clouds gathered in the southwest, their tops reaching toward the heavens in dark masses. The coming storm would blow this warmth away, so she’d better enjoy it while she could. A movement caught her eye. Golda came toward her along the path from camp. She kept looking furtively back over her shoulder.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, huffing from the exertion of the walk. “You ready to go?”

“What?” Margaret’s heart plummeted. Daniel wanted to talk to her, to explain things. He was on his way here right now. “I told you I needed to talk to Daniel about it.”

“It has to be right now while Frank is occupied with the coming job. I have horses waiting by Thunder Creek.”

Margaret pulled away from Golda’s grip. “I don’t think so.”

Golda pulled a small pistol from the pocket of her dress. “I want you out of here. Now. So you’ll come with me, or I’ll shoot you where you stand. I’ll tell Frank you jumped me and he’ll believe it.”

Margaret was sure he would. Her thoughts raced, but she could see it wouldn’t take much for Golda to pull the trigger. One false move and that tiny gun would put a hole right through her.

Golda didn’t wait for an answer. She motioned with the gun. “Move.”

Margaret allowed Golda to prod her toward the path. If only Daniel hadn’t been called away. What would he think when he got to the river and didn’t find her? Would he suspect something had happened to her?

She and Golda made their way along the path to a small tributary that fed into the river. Two horses munched on grass beneath the tree where they were tethered. Neither was Archie.

“My horse isn’t here.”

“These will get us where we’re going.” Golda made her mount, then led the way along a path sprinkled with wildflowers.

They came to a crossroad, and Golda turned her gelding’s head to the fork that went to the right. Margaret wasn’t familiar with the area but knew the path didn’t go in the direction of home. She pulled the horse’s head up short and stopped in the middle of the path.

“This isn’t the right way.” She tensed, ready to urge her horse away from the gun Golda still held.

The other woman grinned, but the smile didn’t reach her hard blue eyes. “Oh, it’s the right path, all right.” Golda laughed, and the sound was full of mockery.

She whistled, and three riders came from behind an outcropping of rocks. Margaret was surrounded before she realized what was happening. One man grabbed her reins, and the other two flanked her mare on each side.

“What’s going on?” Margaret struggled to free herself. Tension rippled through her body.

“You said your ranch was worth a lot of money. It must be if Daniel is willing to marry you,” Golda sneered. “You didn’t think I would let you waltz out of camp without making sure I got a piece of that, did you? If Daniel wanted you with the ranch, he’ll want me with a large chunk of cash from it.” She fished in her saddlebag. “You’re going to write a note to your attorney and tell him you’re being held for ransom by Daniel Cutler. If he doesn’t pay fifty thousand dollars in two days, he’ll never see you again.”

“I won’t do it!” Margaret tried to wrench the reins from the henchman’s grasp, but he growled at her and swatted her across the face. She fell from the saddle to the ground, her face burning. She raised a hand to her throbbing cheek.

“You’ll do what you’re told, or we’ll kill you here and now,” the man told her.

Margaret rubbed her cheek. “Why blame Daniel?”

“I don’t want there to be any chance that he can go running back to the Triple T. He shows his face at the ranch after this, he’ll be shot.”

“Not if I tell him the real story.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized the truth. Once they had the money, she was expendable. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and her mouth went dry. She was in the clutches of a madwoman.

Golda dismounted, then pulled a paper and pencil from the saddlebag. She handed them to Margaret. “Write what I tell you.”

Margaret stared at her implacable face. Help me, Lord. “I won’t. If you shoot me, you’ll lose Daniel. And your brother will be furious you ruined his plans.”

Golda’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed Margaret’s hair and gave it a vicious yank. “I could give you to the men for a little while. You’d soon change your tune.”

“I won’t.” Margaret put all the conviction in her voice that she could muster. “You don’t know me, Golda. There’s nothing you can do that will make me agree. I could never hurt someone I love.”

The blond woman screeched and flew at Margaret. Her fingers were hooked into claws, but Margaret was bigger and stronger. She fielded the blows at first, then Golda’s long nails raked Margaret’s arm. Margaret grabbed Golda’s arms and wrestled her onto her back, then sat on her and pinned her hands to the ground.

“You’ll die for laying a hand on me! Wait until Frank hears what you’ve done,” Golda panted. “I’ll kill you!” She bucked and squirmed, but Margaret held her fast. “Help me, you idiots!”

Margaret had forgotten about the men. She glanced to the right and saw the man who had struck her dismounting. She rolled off Golda and sprang for her horse. She’d put her boot in the stirrup when a hard hand yanked on her braid, and she went tumbling onto her back. The man hauled her to her feet and a massive fist descended on her. When the blow struck, the pain was immense, then her vision faded to black.