“Jesse Colton,” Boss repeats, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile. Then he leans in real close, every feature on his face going hard and fiery, and says, “If you cross me, Murphy, yer ma will pay for it tenfold. Do you hear me? If you don’t bring me Jesse Colton on Sunday, she will lose a finger. And for each day that follows that I don’t have my revenge, she’ll lose another. When she’s outta fingers, she’ll lose toes. And when she’s outta those, she’ll earn herself some pretty scars. I hear folk don’t like to pay for cut-up whores, and it’d be a pity if she can’t earn a living.”
His eyes dance as he makes this threat, the murderous bastard who swears he does no ill ’gainst women or children. But I can’t show that I’m scared, can’t give away that I’m upset. I gotta look like this ain’t a concern in the slightest.
“I’ll bring you Jesse Colton come Sunday,” I tell him.
We stare at each other a moment, like two gunslingers ready to pull. Then he leans forward, ever so slowly, and offers me his gloved hand.
I shake it. Knowing right well I don’t got honorable intentions, I shake that bastard’s hand. ’Cus I ain’t lied. I’ll bring him Jesse Colton. Just not for the reason Boss hopes.
He straightens and waves the boys over. They gather round, looking at me like a pack of hungry coyotes. When Boss tells ’em they’ll ride out first, Diaz explodes.
“You trust this rat?” he roars.
“I trust,” Boss says calmly, “that he’s got a plan with the best chance of success.”
“The bastard killed Hobbs and Jones!” Diaz continues. “He’s a backstabbing, no-good coward, and he’s gonna stab us in the back ’gain now!”
“Murphy said the lady killed Hobbs and Jones.”
“The woman weren’t even armed.”
“You were so frazzled, you don’t remember what you seen!” I snap. “Who shot at you, Diaz, me or her?”
“She did,” he admits. “She fired on me right through the doorway.”
“Think it’s possible you remembered things wrong? That maybe she were armed all along and it was me that needed help, only you rode off and left me to rot?”
His frown deepens. It were dark that night, and everything happened so fast. There’s a crease in his forehead, and I know that if I press him more, he’ll break.
“Well?” I bark.
“If’n that’s all true, tell me why yer still alive, Murphy. If’n she killed two of our boys and shot at me, why ain’t you dead?”
“’Cus I’m sharper than you, Diaz. I played her like a fiddle, made her sympathize with me, pretended to be a victim. I got close to her so once her husband showed up—the cowboy Boss’s been after all these years—I could turn him over. And look what I got for it!” I motion at my bloodstained jacket. “A beating for being loyal.”
“I still got a bad feeling ’bout this, Boss,” Diaz says, shaking his head. “Murphy ain’t never been one of us, not really. We can’t trust him.”
“Aw, lighten up, Diaz,” Crawford says, all his weight held on his good leg. “Kid’s got a right solid plan, and if it don’t pan out, his ma gets a knife. You think he wants things to go south?”
Boss nods in agreement, then grabs me at the wrist and pulls me to my feet. Every muscle in my body protests, bruised and weary.
“See you Sunday, son.” The other boys don’t seem to catch it, but his voice trails up at the end just slightly, like he’s asking a question.
“See you Sunday,” I echo.
That’s all he wants to hear, ’cus he mounts his horse and heads north. The others follow suit. It begins to snow, and I blink fat flakes from my eyes as I watch the gang grow smaller. They disappear ’long the horizon, and I keep watching to make sure they don’t come back.
I used to think Luther Rose didn’t have no foible, but he does. Despite the legends and stories and infamous tales, he’s human. He’s got a weakness, and it’s me. I’m the son he never had, but he ain’t my boss no more, and I will be his undoing.
I smile, and it hurts like hell.
Chapter Thirty-Four
* * *
Charlotte
It is snowing heavily when Reece finally returns.
He appears on the trail leading to the clearing, and at first he is nothing but a dark smudge among a storm of snowflakes. When I see him slumped forward in the saddle with his oversize hat angled aggressively against the weather, my initial reaction is relief. Dusk is approaching, and we’ve been worried for a solid hour. He’d been gone longer than expected. But as Reece draws nearer, that relief dissolves into terror, for what little I can see of his face is revealed to be covered with blood.
“Reece!” I shout to the Coltons. “Something’s happened to Reece.”
I’m out the door before Kate has wrestled herself to her feet or Jesse has straightened from where he’s stooped to tend to the fire. Mutt chases at my heels, then easily pulls ahead, kicking up snow.
Already an inch has covered the ground, blanketing the clearing and coating the tree limbs with white. Only the tank remains naked, its unfrozen surface reflecting the gray sky overhead.
I skid to a stop before Silver and tug at her reins. Reece takes this as a sign that I mean to help him down, which I do, but he leans forward too quickly, slipping from the saddle, and all but dives onto my shoulder. I do my best to slow his fall, but he still topples headfirst into the snow, graceless, limp.
I roll him over, and my hand flies to my mouth, smothering a gasp.
He found the Rose Riders all right, or rather, they found him. One of Reece’s eyes is swollen clear shut, and his nose—which was still recovering from when Kate cracked him with the rifle a few days ago—is broken once more. Blood coats his mouth, chin, and the bandanna around his neck. His jacket is stained with it too, and I’m sure that beneath all those layers of clothing he is covered in bruises. It’s a miracle he even made it back to the clearing, that he didn’t fall from the saddle miles earlier.
“Christ,” I mutter.
“It’s a sin to take the Lord’s name in vain, Vaughn,” he grits out. “Don’t tell me I done had a bad influence on you.”
He has to be clever about everything. Even now.
“You haven’t seen yourself. You’d be swearing too.”
“Made it all this way in a snowstorm,” he counters. “Can’t look that bad.”
“Smart-aleck.”
He smiles and cringes just as fast, but not before I get a glimpse of his teeth, smeared with red.
Snow crunches behind me.
“Aw, hell,” Jesse says, getting a good look at Reece. Kate is waddling over too, a blanket slung over her shoulders.
Jesse squints down the trail. “Were you followed?” The path is silent, no movement except for the falling snow.
“Nah,” Reece says.
“Yer sure?”
Reece nods, blinks snow from his eyes. “I got jumped before I could get a word out to ’em. But it’s all good. They rode out first. I watched ’em go.”
There’s a collective sigh among the rest of us, and Reece closes his eyes, exhausted. For a moment the clearing is so silent I can hear the crystallized snow ping and plink as it joins what’s already gathered on the ground.
Jesse grabs Silver’s reins. “Charlotte, can you get Reece inside while I see to Silver?”
I nod.
“I’ll help,” Kate says.
“You’ll go sit by the fire and not tax yerself,” Jesse says.
“I’m sick of being fretted over and treated like a delicate doll,” Kate grumbles. “The baby’s gonna come eventually, even if I do nothing but lie in bed for the next week. I can’t keep it in forever.”
Jesse gives her a pleading look, and she reluctantly complies, plodding for the house.
“Reece?” I crouch down beside him.