The Lone Rancher

Chapter Fourteen

After concluding business in town, Adrianna headed home. She had several duties to tend to before she circled back to the 4C to meet Cahill. He had taken Rocky with him to recover the cattle Ezra and Chester had stashed in the ravine to the north. They planned to check for other livestock that might have been penned up by the thieves.

She nudged Buckshot into a faster clip and her thoughts drifted back to the two traitorous cowboys undermining both ranches. Something sinister was going on here, she mused. Talk of robbery and involuntary manslaughter in Ruby and Earl’s wagon wreck disturbed her. Setting Cahill up for murder annoyed her. She wanted answers but none were forthcoming.

According to Ezra and Chester—if they were to be believed, and how much was a thief’s word worth?—they weren’t involved in the Phantom Springs murder and the wagon wreck. What the blazes was going on and who was responsible? Were there two gangs of criminals lurking about, taking advantage of each other’s illegal activities?

Her curiosity was aroused and Quin was in turmoil. She wanted to do all within her power to make his life easier by solving the mystery—quickly.

Her thoughts scattered when she reached home to see Butler standing on the porch, staring into the distance. She frowned warily as she dismounted. “Is there a problem?”

“No more than usual,” he replied with a shrug. “I was just thinking about the two men you and Cahill put in jail. I remembered seeing the saddle horse you described. That Ezra character has been here several times this month. I guess I was too busy settling in to realize the man didn’t belong here.”

“Not your fault.” She entered the house that still held the faint scent of smoke. “Those hooligans were operating in the area before we arrived. We were fortunate to make the connection.”

“You wouldn’t have if you hadn’t sneaked out to follow Cahill after you were ordered to stay home under guard,” he said darkly.

She flashed an undaunted grin. “I was lucky to see the two horses outside the bunkhouse and to realize there were four men conspiring to extort money from Cahill.”

He followed her into the office, grumbling. “Still, you could have been hurt.”

She shrugged off his concern as she squatted down to open the safe. “Everything turned out fine, except for the stitches in Cahill’s head.”

“And don’t forget his stint in jail,” Butler didn’t fail to point out.

Adrianna wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “Dealing with that by-the-book marshal didn’t help. At least he didn’t put up a fuss when we brought in Ezra and Chester. But I don’t think he likes me much.”

Butler smirked behind her. “He might be nicer to you if he knew exactly how much money you’re worth. Most men are.”

He was right, she mused as she grabbed several stacks of banknotes. “After I pay the men’s wages, I’m taking Elda back to Cahill’s. That’s where she wants to be. I’ll be home later tonight. But I plan to stay at Rosa’s apartment in town tomorrow. You and Bea can have this place to yourselves.”

“You’re too good to us,” Butler murmured, then got all choked up. “For what it’s worth, I tried to convince your father that he could never mold you into the genteel, soft-spoken woman your mother was. But he was determined to create you in her image…without success, thankfully. I like you just the way you are.”

Adrianna hugged him close. “Thank you for trying to make him see who I really was, not who he wanted me to be. As for the use of the house, it’s my good deed for the year,” she said, grinning. “Besides, you and Bea are my family.”

And what a shame Quin didn’t have the support and connection with his siblings that she had with her adopted family. She would make a point to hassle him about that. Maybe his siblings had mellowed after their lengthy separation. Perhaps they wanted to reconcile—and were waiting for someone like Quin, the eldest—to initiate a reunion.

She stepped back, then patted Butler’s cheek. “If you wouldn’t mind helping Elda gather her things, I’ll make the rounds to pay the cowboys.”

Butler nodded his brown head, squared his shoulders, then strode off. She smiled wryly. For all Butler’s stoic manners, he had a sentimental heart, the sweet, endearing man.

Lurching around, Adrianna grabbed an oversize pouch from the desk to carry the payroll. Thank goodness those rustlers were in jail so she didn’t have to fret about being attacked for the money. Speaking of money, she planned to offer a loan to Quin since the money for his payroll had been stolen during his attempt to buy information at Phantom Springs. He was likely too proud to accept the loan, but she knew he hadn’t had time to visit the bank after incarcerating the rustlers.

She glanced northwest, hoping Rocky and Cahill would return with the confiscated cattle, hoping other thieves weren’t lurking to take potshots at them. Quin didn’t need holes blasted in him. He hadn’t yet recovered from having his skull hammered.

“I’m ready!” Elda called from the porch, jolting Adrianna from her pensive musings.

The cook stood beside several suitcases and a sack of special utensils she’d brought all the way from Boston. When Isaac Moss, a tall, clean-cut but young cowboy brought the buggy, Elda scuttled down the steps and climbed onto the seat—with Isaac’s assistance. A moment later, he had the luggage loaded and Adrianna took up the reins. She glanced northwest again but there was still no sign of Rocky and Cahill—and that made her anxious.

“That was an incredibly nice thing you did for Butler and Bea,” Elda said as she settled herself on the seat. “Glad they finally decided to tie the knot.” She stared pointedly at Adrianna. “All that sneaking around at night isn’t good.”

Adrianna ignored the comment and found herself wondering what it would be like to be married. The only man she’d consider was the one who’d never ask. Ironic, she mused with a remorseful smile. She’d heard proposals galore for seven or eight years—but never from the right man.



When they arrived at 4C, Adrianna called to Skeeter Gregory. The wiry, thirty-year-old cowboy jogged from the barn to help Elda down, then he scooped up her luggage and utensils.

“Nice to have you back, ma’am,” Skeeter drawled. “Sure have been missing those mouthwatering cakes and cookies you sent to the bunkhouse for me and the other men.”

Adrianna watched the plump-faced cook beam in satisfaction, then she patted Skeeter’s leathery cheek. “You can expect more desserts once I’m settled in, my dear boy.”

Apparently, Elda, who hadn’t married and had no children, had decided to mother Cahill and his hired hands. No doubt, they showered her with constant compliments. Elda felt more useful and needed than she had at the mansion in Boston.

Adrianna understood because she felt more alive in Texas than making a halfhearted attempt to become the woman her father expected her to be.

Once Elda was upstairs putting away her belongings, Adrianna ambled back to the buggy. She frowned warily when she noticed the same gawky Mexican boy, riding a burro, who had delivered the anonymous note the night Quin got clobbered and set up for murder.

“For Señor Cahill,” the boy said with a heavy Spanish accent. Then he extended the folded note.

“Who sent you?” Adrianna demanded.

The boy shrugged beneath his tattered poncho. “It was on my burro’s saddle, as before, along with a few pesos.”

“You saw no one?” she questioned intently.

“No, señorita,” he said before he rode away.

Adrianna unfolded the note, and noticed the handwriting was different from the first one. Yet, the message was similar.



Bring two thousand dollars to Triple Creek to buy information about Ruby and Earl Cahill’s wagon wreck.





She cursed sourly. The note gave no hint that robbery or accidental manslaughter was involved. But Adrianna was anxious for information to appease Cahill’s curiosity. The anonymous notes Ezra and Chester received suggested a similar method of operation. What the devil did that mean?

Were the four men who were involved in the murder and extortion at Phantom Springs connected to the mastermind behind the arson and rustling? What about George Spradlin, her former foreman? Was he mixed up in this? And what did anyone know—if anything—about Ruby and Earl’s wagon wreck?

For sure and certain, Adrianna wouldn’t allow this rendezvous to play out the way the last one had. She was going in Cahill’s stead. He could back her up—which is how it should have played out at Phantom Springs, she told herself sensibly.

Her unexpected appearance would surprise the would-be informants, she reasoned. No one was going to set up Cahill a second time for murder—if that’s what these encounters were really about. Or was it a scheme to dispose of a gang member and steal money? If Cahill followed her—and she was certain he would, mad as hell at her though he’d likely be—he could get the drop on these hooligans. His dealings with Ezra and Chester were proof enough that Cahill was a tough, deadly force to be reckoned with. He had certainly impressed Adrianna when he had outdrawn the outlaws.

Determined of purpose, she left the note in the parlor, along with a letter she’d written. She borrowed Cahill’s Sunday-go-to-meeting hat and a jacket that hung by the front door. She hiked to the barn to borrow a saddle horse that looked similar to Cactus. She left her carriage by the house to ensure Cahill went looking for her.

A relieved smile pursed her lips as she glanced northwest to see Cahill and Rocky appear on a rise of ground, herding cattle to the corrals. Good, Cahill wouldn’t be too far behind her. Just far enough that he couldn’t discourage her from following through with her plan to disrupt the outlaws’ scheme and have Cahill provide reinforcement.

With a pistol tucked in her waistband and her trusty dagger in her boot, she trotted toward the junction of the three creeks at sunset. She veered to the eastern side of the tree-lined stream so Cahill wouldn’t spot her immediately. No matter what else happened, he wasn’t going to be clubbed on the head or bushwhacked, she vowed resolutely.

The thought of him being hurt was unacceptable. She was in love with the man, after all. She would do all within her power to protect him from harm. It was her way of expressing her carefully guarded affection without blurting out her feelings and facing embarrassing rejection.

“This is your second good deed of the year,” she told herself as she trotted away.



Quin herded the cattle he and Rock had found in an obscure box canyon into the corral. He’d hoped to locate another note with instructions, but no such luck. He wondered where the stolen cattle had been sold but it would take time to check around. Damn it, he wanted answers…now.

His mood improved when he noticed Boston’s carriage near the house. A passionate evening spent in the privacy of the master suite held tremendous appeal. Leaving Rocky to sort 4C cattle from McKnight cattle, he trotted Cactus to the house.

“Hey, boss! Elda’s back!” Skeeter called to him.

Quin nodded and smiled. Skeet had a sweet tooth that wouldn’t quit. Quin’s appetite, however, required a steady diet of a green-eyed, chestnut-haired firebrand named Boston.

He barreled through the front door but she wasn’t there to greet him so he went looking for her. She wasn’t in the kitchen or dining room and neither was Elda. His stomach dropped to his boots when he veered into the parlor to see two notes lying on the seat of his father’s leather chair. With mounting dread, Quin approached, wondering if there was something symbolic about where the notes had been placed.

He plucked up the first one that offered information about his parents’ wreck and he noted different handwriting. He picked up the second note in Boston’s elegant script—and cursed the air black and blue. Twice.




I’m posing as you to determine if this rendezvous at Triple Creek is a hoax. I’m using my extra payroll money as bait. Maybe we’ll find out if there is any truth to the possibility of foul play in your parents’ deaths.





Yours truly, Boston





Yours truly? Quin swore he’d never live to see the day she signed a note “Love, Adrianna.” “Dang and blast it!” he roared. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman?”

Damn the woman; he knew she thrived on excitement and adventure but she faced uncertain danger. She was putting herself in harm’s way for him. That tormented him to no end.

Scowling furiously, he stalked outside to mount Cactus. Too many things could go wrong with Boston’s harebrained scheme. Besides, this was his problem, not hers. “Someone needs to get control of that woman…if that’s even possible,” he rumbled as he gouged the bloodred bay gelding in the flanks and raced off, praying he wouldn’t arrive too late.



Adrianna dismounted in a stand of trees. She took the precaution of stashing the money pouch behind an oversize stone on the path. She intended to use the money as insurance. No answers, no money, she vowed as she walked toward the meeting site. Her plan was to find out everything she could and stall until Cahill arrived. As plans went, it was iffy at best. But it provided protection for Cahill.

“Toss out your pistols, Cahill,” came a gruff voice from the underbrush to her left.

The sound startled her but she composed herself, gathered her courage and tossed her pistol into the clearing beside the junction of the three creeks.

“Where’s your other six-gun?” the man demanded.

“I only have one,” she called out.

“What the hell—?” came a deep voice from her right.

That accounted for two men, she thought. Where was the third man?

“Take off that hat!” the first bandit ordered sharply.

Adrianna removed Cahill’s oversize hat and her thick braid tumbled over her shoulder.

“You?” the second outlaw crowed incredulously. “What are you doing here? We sent for Cahill.”

“He wasn’t home. He was herding the stolen cattle your sidekicks stashed away. Those are your sidekicks, right? Ezra and Chester?”

“Are those the two cowboys you stuffed in jail?” the first hombre asked.

“Yes, friends of yours?” she questioned persistently.

“No,” said the second man. “Now move to the clearing. Don’t try anything, lady, or you’ll be damned sorry. And get those hands up where we can see ’em.”

She did as she was told. Her objective was to keep the men busy talking and gather vital information. “Which one of you shot your cohort at Phantom Springs?” She walked into the clearing, then glanced sideways to note both men were wearing black hoods and long duster coats to conceal their identities.

“That don’t concern you, lady,” the second outlaw scowled. “Now where’s the money?”

She turned slowly to face her mysterious captors. “You’ll receive no money until I have information,” she insisted, lowering her arms. “What do you know about Ruby and Earl Cahill’s deaths? Was it a robbery attempt?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” the first bandit muttered evasively.

She rolled her eyes. “No straight answers, no money.”

“Lady,” the second ruffian growled, “you ain’t in no position to make the rules. Now where’s the damn money!”

Okay, Cahill, you can show up now, she thought anxiously. These men were short on patience.

“So you and the other two men planned to rob the Cahills on their return trip from Wolf Grove,” she speculated. “They tried to outrun you in their wagon, right?”

“Shut up, lady,” Number Two sneered beneath his black hood, then aimed his pistol at her chest.

“So you chased them and the Cahills lost control on the sharp curve at Ghost Canyon?” she prompted, calling upon every ounce of bravado she could muster.

“You don’t hear too good, do you, lady?” Number One said sarcastically. “Be quiet!”

“I will not be quiet.” She tilted her chin defiantly. “I came here for information in exchange for money. Now, did you climb downhill to rob the Cahills of money and take their supplies after the wreck?”

“Yes, damn it,” Number One muttered in exasperation.

“Then you wiped away the tracks so no one would suspect foul play,” she ventured. “What did you remove from the bodies?”

“Don’t you ever shut up, woman?” Number Two sneered as he took a step closer. “Maybe I’ll make you shut up.”

“We don’t have the money yet,” Number One re minded his angry cohort.

“Where is the third man?” she questioned, glancing this way and that. “Or did you dispose of him so you could have more money for yourselves? Was there a falling out between thieves that resulted in the death at Phantom Springs? Or did your friend try to extort money behind your back and you shot him for it?”

The question was met with silence and Adrianna swore under her breath, wondering if she would ever find the third man. Was he here now, hiding in the trees, taking her measure with a rifle?

“Lady, you are a pain in the ass,” said the second outlaw.

“I hear that often,” she said, undaunted. “So why did you wait two years to approach Cahill about the wreck? Why did you set him up for murdering your buddy at Phantom Springs?”

“Enough!” the second thug snarled as he stalked toward her. “Where’s the damn money!”

“Answer my questions and you can have it,” she countered defiantly. “You—”

Her voice became a pained yelp when the stocky, thick-chested hooligan backhanded her, causing her to stumble and fall. Despite her stinging cheek and the stars revolving around her eyes, she scrambled to her feet to plow into the first thug. He yelped as the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Adrianna made a wild grab for his pistol but Number Two pounced on her and jerked her up by her braid.

He crammed his pistol into the underside of her neck and clamped his burly arm diagonally across her chest. The man reeked of whiskey and sweat. She stamped on his foot, hoping he’d recoil so she could launch herself away from him. No such luck. He grabbed her braid like a rope and jerked her against him again.

“Let her go,” Quin snarled viciously as he appeared from the shadows of the trees. He stepped into the clearing with both pistols drawn and ready to spit lead.

Both men lurched sideways. The first man stepped behind the second—who held Boston as if she were his shield of armor.

“Give us the money and we’ll let this hellcat live,” the second ruffian demanded as he crammed the pistol barrel deeper into Boston’s throat.

“I don’t have money. I just returned to the house, then came looking for Boston.”

Both men muttered beneath their concealing black hoods. It no longer mattered if Quin received the answers to the questions that hounded him. His only concern was Boston’s survival. If these men had killed his parents in a robbery attempt, he’d track them down and dispose of them later.

“Let her go. I’ll bring money to you,” Quin bargained, holding both men at gunpoint—while they held him at gunpoint.

“I don’t trust you—awk!” The bandit’s voice dried up suddenly.

Quin nearly suffered a stroke when Boston took advantage of her captor’s distraction and gouged him in the soft underbelly. The outlaw cursed foully and backhanded her, sending her cartwheeling in the grass. Then he aimed his pistol at her.

Quin moved into the open to make himself a target. He fired both six-shooters simultaneously, drawing attention away from Boston. He hit the second hombre twice in the chest. The man yelped and slammed into his friend but he fired off a shot before his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.

“No!” Boston shrieked at she stared at Quin in horror.

Quin felt the burning pain in his left side but he was too intent on holding the first man at gunpoint so he couldn’t use Boston for his shield of protection.

Stalemate, he thought, breathing raggedly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boston reach into her boot to grab her concealed dagger. She sprang to her feet and charged the bandit left standing. She managed a glancing blow to his neck before he knocked her aside but she came at him again, slicing his arm.

“Where’s the money?” the thief demanded as he pointed his weapon at Boston and cocked the trigger.

Somehow, Quin found the strength to shoot the pistol from the man’s hand, but the outlaw swung his second revolver toward Quin, who wobbled unsteadily, then sagged to his knees.

“Get the money, lady, or I’ll kill him, I swear it!”

Quin swore mightily as his strength ebbed and the world faded in and out of focus. He tried to raise his arm to fire off another shot but the bandit darted over to kick the six-shooter from his hand. The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils. He refused to look down to see how badly he’d been injured. All that mattered was seeing Boston escape with only two bruises to the cheek.

“I’ve got the money with me,” she insisted as she bounded to her feet. “He’s been shot. He can’t attack you. Just let him be.”

She dashed off, then returned a minute later with a leather pouch. Defiant to the end, Boston tossed the money out of the man’s reach. “Take it and go.”

The gunman kept his gaze trained on Quin as he scooped up the leather poke. When he turned to leave, Boston darted toward the downed man’s pistol.

“Damn it, Boston, don’t draw fire,” Quin panted as he tried to prop himself on his elbow.

She didn’t listen to him. When had she ever? She fired off three shots as the bandit darted into the underbrush, then disappeared from sight.

A moment later, Quin heard the sound of two—maybe three—horses thundering into the darkness. He suspected the first thug had taken the second horse and had ridden hell-for-leather. Either that or a third outlaw had been watching from a safe distance. Damn it, he wished he knew for sure!

Quin dragged himself by one arm to reach the downed man. With what little strength he could muster, he shoved the thief to his back. He jerked off the hood to reveal a mop of black hair and dull brown eyes that stared dazedly at him. Bloodstains soaked the man’s shirt.

“Did you purposely kill my parents during the robbery?” Quin demanded in panted breaths.

The dark-haired hombre nodded ever so slightly. “Wasn’t just a robbery,” he rasped. “Murder… You got no idea how deep this goes….”

When he slumped lifelessly on the ground, Quin swore ripely. He’d learned his parents had been murdered, but he still had no idea why this information had surfaced two years later or if their deaths were somehow connected to the rustling and robberies plaguing the 4C for the past few years.

“I’m so sorry,” Adrianna blubbered as she stared at the bloody wound on Quin’s side. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry!”

He sucked in a ragged breath as he slumped to the ground. “Not your fault,” he whispered. “I got you into this.”

Tears erupted as she ripped away the dead man’s shirt to use as a makeshift bandage for Cahill. “Can you stand up? We need to get you to the doctor.”

“I don’t think so,” he wheezed.

Heavens, thought Adrianna, the very thing she had tried to prevent from happening had happened! “Stay here,” she ordered as she sprang to her feet.

“Don’t think I have much choice,” he mumbled dully.

Adrianna dashed off to locate Cactus, then brought the horse to Cahill. The improvised bandage was soaked with blood so she ripped off another section of the dead man’s shirt to tie around his belly. Then she grabbed Quin beneath the armpits and heaved him upward to clamp his hand around the saddle horn for support.

“You listen to me, Quin Cahill, you are going to help me get you on Cactus so we can ride to town,” she raged at him through her sobs and tears. “I love you like crazy and I refuse to lose you. Now help me, blast it!”

Adrianna wasn’t sure how they managed to hoist him onto the saddle before he collapsed against Cactus. After she mounted up, she led Quin to town for help—and prayed nonstop that he would survive.

And damn the man! she railed silently. She had tried repeatedly to draw attention away from him but he had left himself open to attack to draw gunfire away from her. He had taken a bullet for her and that tormented her beyond words.

“Blast it, you just can’t do some people a favor, and you’re one of them, Cahill,” she muttered. “Now look at you.”

He didn’t comment, just lay over Cactus like a feed sack.

Adrianna bawled her head off all the way to town. Anger, guilt and regret hounded her every step. Her attempt to spare Cahill from danger had backfired.

Plus, the dead outlaw had only lived long enough to impart a tidbit of information. The other bandit had escaped with the money—and no more than minor stab wounds on his neck and arm.

Adrianna had no idea whether the third thief had stood guard, then rode off. There was no conclusive sign of him. The third bandit could be dead already, for all she knew.

Even worse, Cahill could be a dead man riding. She might have killed the only man she had ever loved—by trying to protect him! The tormenting thought circled her mind like a vulture. She would give her fortune if it could save Cahill.

Muffling a sniff, she glanced back to see Cahill’s motionless form and pale face in the moonlight. Her heart twisted in her chest and another sob burst from her lips.

It wasn’t enough that Cahill had to deal with that stupid curse and rumors constantly circulating around town. She had become the worst curse of his life…or what he had left of it….