“That’s it, my love,” she said, feeling a surge of hope. She filled the bucket’s ladle with water and held it to his lips, and he drank. His eyes opened suddenly after swallowing a few gulps. He looked at Charlotte with amazement and hope.
“Drink some more,” she said, and had a sudden flashback to the day they met, the day he ordered her to do the same.
He drank and then reached his hand up to touch her arm. “Are you real, Charlie, or am I dreaming?”
“I’m real, darling, and we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
Charlotte could tell that Max’s mind was processing the information available to him, including the desperate edge to her tone that indicated they were not yet out of danger.
Max’s gaze found Tim at the door. He struggled to his feet. Tim didn’t look at Max, instead keeping his eye fixed on the door of the house, the gun in his hand for immediate use. “Glad you finally woke up,” he said, his voice deeper than how Charlotte remembered it.
“Are you two here alone?” Max asked, incredulous. “Didn’t you bring the marshal?”
“No, Max,” Charlotte answered. “Simon left a note saying that if we did he would…” She choked out the last words. “Kill you.”
“Is that my gun?” Max asked as he walked unsteadily toward the front of the barn with his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Where’s Simon?”
Tim didn’t answer Max’s first question about the gun. “He’s inside the house. I’m going to shoot him when he comes out.”
Max leaned against a beam near the door where Tim stood. “Give me the gun, Tim.”
Tim turned his head to look at him then, his eyes shooting daggers. “Like hell I will, Max. This is my fight, not yours.” He returned his gaze to the house.
“Tim,” Charlotte said in a pleading voice. “Do as Max says.”
Tim ignored her. Max stood upright from the beam and walked to where Tim stood. He placed one hand on his shoulder and reached down. He wrapped his hand slowly over the barrel of the gun, and Tim let it go without further resistance.
“You and Charlotte already saved my life, son. That’s enough heroics for one day.”
“We haven’t saved it yet,” Charlotte hissed. “Simon is still in the house.”
“He’s not much of a threat now that I’m untied and armed,” Max responded. “Let’s go.”
The three of them walked out of the barn and headed for the path.
“Go up ahead,” Max said to them, placing himself between his two rescuers and the house. He walked backwards with his gun trained on the front door as they moved away. Simon didn’t make an appearance. When the house was out of sight, Max stuffed his gun in his trousers, and they walked the quarter mile to the horse without incident.
Max untied the mustang from the tree and held the reins. He looked at Tim and Charlotte with confusion when they didn’t make a move to mount. “Go on,” he said. “What are you two waiting for?”
“Waiting for you to mount the damn horse,” Tim growled. “If you honestly think I’m going to ride instead of you when your head is bashed and you’re bleeding from places I’ve never seen bleed, you have another think coming.”
Max stared at him. “All right, Tim. Geez.” He mounted. “Land’s sake, when did you get such a mouth on you, son?”
“You’re pissing me off,” Tim replied. “And I was scared as hell Simon had…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Charlotte could hear the trace of a sob that choked back his words.
Max heard it too. “No worries, Tim. We’re safe now, and Simon will pay for what he’s done to all of us.”
Chapter Twelve: Brave Man, Capable Woman
Max was right. The marshal arrested Simon later that day, and he informed them after they signed their statements that Simon would likely go to prison for a long time, now that he’d committed a violent crime that could be proven.
The doctor bandaged Max’s head and attended to his other wounds, then instructed Charlotte to observe him overnight. She held his hand all night long and watched him sleep, waking him every once in a while to assure herself he was alive.
Max woke up the next morning in a foul temper. He demanded that Charlotte make his eggs a certain way and not screw them up like she did the last time, and he yelled at Tim for leaving the door open when he left to feed the horse. Tim and Charlotte exchanged looks and rolled their eyes behind his back every time Max barked an order or scolded them for a petty reason, but they did his bidding in silence without argument. They were both so happy he was alive they would have done anything he asked, and they suffered his ill temper in good humor, grateful just to hear his voice, loud and snarly though it was that morning. Charlotte suspected it was more than a headache that had put him in such a bad mood, and they finally learned what was truly bothering him when they sat down to lunch. He ignored the food on his plate and bellowed at them, pounding his fist on the table once before speaking.
“The next time I’m captured by a raving lunatic, I expect you two to bring the marshal, not come alone to rescue me. Got it?”