Heart pounding, she slowly rose onto an elbow. Clay had done the same, most likely to shield her from the view of the bandit who stood a few paces away.
She didn't recognize him, but she knew who he must be: a surviving member of Beaufort's gang. The man was covered with dirt, and his scraggly beard was dusted with burrs. But the pistol in his hand was shiny enough to catch the red glow of sundown. The gun looked like blood in his hand. He cocked its hammer back ominously.
"You gonna make me waste a bullet on you, Marshal?" the man spat a dark stream of tobacco across Clay's boot.
"I'd like to save you two bullets by advising you to turn around and ride off as though you never found us," Clay replied evenly. "A smart man would do just that. Your leader's on the verge of certain hanging and the rest of your gang are dead. Just ride away, and no one will know who you once were and what you did."
"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Make life simpler, huh?" The bandit rolled his neck. Mariel groaned beneath her breath with dread when the man glanced over at Vellum's sleeping crate. "What you got there, Marshal? Transporting somethin' as valuable as the pretty lady? Maybe some gold? Or guns?"
Clay shrugged. "Why don't you lift the lid and find out for yourself? Not like I can stop you."
Mariel stared, aghast, at the back of Clay's head. Anger and betrayal stabbed her through the heart.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. "The sun's still up!"
"It's fine," he muttered, his expression hard.
It was then that she knew, and she was horrified.
"How could you?" She punched him in the back of the shoulder, though his big body barely registered the hit. "He's not the monster. You are!"
"Be quiet, Mariel," Clay said calmly as the bandit sauntered over to the crate, his curiosity and greed piqued by the mystery of it. "It's easier this way."
"Just because he forced you to face your feelings you're willing to end his life? You're despicable!"
Her stomach heaved. She thought she might be sick all over him, and it wouldn't be half of what he deserved.
Unable to sit by while the bandit lifted the crate's lid and burned Vellum alive, Mariel rose to her knees. Clay grabbed her by one arm and yanked her back down. "Mariel, don't interfere!"
"You bastard!" She punched him again. "I hate you!"
Muscles jumped in Clay's jaw as he held her away from him. "Leave off, Mariel. You don't know what you're doing."
Crying, she flung herself away from him. How could she have misread him so much? She regretted every smile she'd bestowed on him, every kiss. And yet deep inside, she mourned the loss of Clay. He had been the type of man you fell in love with and married. Who kept you smiling for the rest of your years.
"If this is a trick, like you got a rattler in here, I'm raping your woman twice before I kill her," the bandit warned as he paused with one hand on the crate's lid.
"No rattler," Clay ground out angrily.
Bleary-eyed, Mariel raised her head to watch. She owed it to Vellum to watch the last few seconds of his life. I'm so sorry I dragged you into this.
The bandit reached for the lid.
A single shot rang out, making Mariel jump. The bandit looked down at the crate. Then he reached up and fingered the dark hole that had appeared at the base of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but only blood poured from his mouth. He topped sideways over the crate and to the ground.
"What happened?" Mariel gasped, uncomprehending. But right away she smelled the gunpowder rising from Clay.
The Marshal rolled smoothly to his feet, his smoking gun barrel aimed at the bandit's unmoving body.
"Where did you get that?" she asked.
"Vellum and I made a deal. He held up his end of it. Just like he always does," he added, almost to himself. When he reached the bandit, he toed the man's leg before kicking it. It was a corpse.
Clay sighed as he holstered his weapon. With his back to Mariel, he said, "I can't believe you thought I would do such a thing, Mariel. Am I really such a bastard that you thought me capable of killing Vellum just because he made me uncomfortable?"
Shame rushed through her. She jumped to her feet. "Clay, I'm sorry. I never should have thought that of you. Never. You're a good, kind man. I know that."
"No, I wasn't so good or kind earlier," he mused while resting his hand on the crate's lid. "I was a bastard, Mariel. To Vellum. And to you. I've never been in a situation like this before. Never felt…Never mind. It hasn't been easy for me, but that's no excuse for acting the way I did toward you both. Neither of you deserved that."
The sun disappeared behind the hills and immediately the crate lid slid aside, making Clay jump back reflexively. Vellum sat up, as handsome and unruffled as ever. He glanced dismissively at the body of the bandit before staring hard up at Clay.
"I won't make you issue an apology, Marshal," he said quietly. "I don't need that from you."