Prologue Page 26

The bounty hunter looped a strong arm around her waist and dragged her roughly along the floor to the hall like a sack of potatoes. From a sheath at his waist he produced a huge hunting knife and with two strokes sliced the ropes tying her.

  Chloe gaped at him while she rubbed her wrists, trying to comprehend his presence. Each event, every passing minute, was more unreal than the last. She struggled to get to her feet, but they were numb.

  "Stay down and stay out here," he instructed tersely. He turned his frightening blue gaze on her for an instant, then went back to Travis.

  Chloe sat on the floor in the hall, her pulse thundering in her head while she strained to hear what was happening.

  Evan stood staring at the two of them, nearly hysterical with fury and disappointment. 'You," he said to Jace, waving his gun again. "I thought you'd kill him for me! Why did you let him come back?"

  "Give it up, Peterson. It's over," Jace said.

  "No, it isn't!" Evan howled and pointed at the doorway. "She's mine and her house is mine. I deserve them."

  "Put the gun down," Travis commanded, sharpening his aim.

  "No!" he yelled. The roar of the shot Evan fired was deafening.

  Oh, God—Travis! Chloe scrambled on hands and knees to the doorway. She felt a scream rip through her throat as Jace sank to the floor next to her, blood gushing from his shoulder.

  "Peterson, you bastard!" Travis snarled.

  Chloe jumped as Travis fired twice and she looked up to see Evan fall backward over a chair in the corner. Travis's face was pale and set, his eyes narrowed to silver slits, as a twist of smoke drifted from the barrel of his gun. The smell of sulfur and a bluish haze hung on the abrupt silence. Travis bent over Evan and pulled the pistol from his lifeless hand. A bright red stain grew rapidly in the center of Evan's chest, marking the site where two .45 bullets entered his heart.

  "Travis," Chloe called with a voice that trembled. She was too stunned to cry.

  He went to her where she knelt, love and relief bringing life back to his face. They embraced briefly, fiercely, huddled in the doorway. A heartbeat pounded between them, whose she wasn't sure.

  "Did he hurt you, honey?" he questioned anxiously. He scanned her face, then let his light touch follow the path of his searching gaze over her hair and cheeks. She felt the tremor in his hands. "Did he," he faltered, "do anything to you?"

  "No," she gulped. "Is he dead?" She ventured a quick look at Evan's still form.

  Travis nodded. "I didn't have a choice."

  Lying on the floor, barely conscious, Jace mumbled incoherently. Travis turned his attention to him. "Is it bad?"

  Chloe tore open Jace's blood-soaked shirt, trying to see how much damage Evan's bullet had done. The wound, high on his shoulder, was messy and he was losing a lot of blood.

  Travis winced at the ragged bullet hole.

  "I don't know—it looks bad. We need to get Doc Sherwood right away. What is he doing here, anyway?" she asked, gesturing at Jace.

  "He said he didn't want to risk having someone else kill me."

  White-faced with pain, Jace lost consciousness. Chloe glanced at the wound again and then back up at Travis. Their eyes locked as the same possibility occurred to them. "Do you think he—what if he dies?" she posed in a shaky whisper.

  If Jace Rankin died, all the problems he'd created would die with him, Travis thought. He and Chloe would have a new start without Jace behind them. But not really. Travis knew if he let Jace die, the man would have more power over him than he did while alive. His conscience would torture him for the rest of his days and not even Chloe's love would save him from the ghost that would plague his sleep.

  Travis stood and reached down to pick him up. "Come on, we've got to take him to Doc."

  "No, Travis, wait," Chloe hissed. She gripped his arm urgently and pulled him back to the floor. "You have to get away and this is your chance. I'll get Doc and then meet you outside of town. We'll leave, just like we planned."

  He shook his head and gave her a sweet, gentle smile that pierced her heart. "I can't do that. I made a promise."

  "What kind of promise?" she demanded with sudden apprehension.

  He stood again and lifted Jace to his shoulder. "Travis, what kind of promise?" she repeated, her voice rising.

  "I'll explain it all after we take him to Doc."

  She followed him helplessly down the stairs. A sick foreboding rose in her to take the place of the fear she'd just left behind her.

  The sound of voices and running feet reached them through the open doors. As they stepped outside, they saw a small group racing toward the Rose and Garter.

  Albert DeGroot was the first to reach them. "Thunderation, McGuire! Did you shoot this man?"

  Travis kept walking, with Chloe at his side. "No, I shot Evan Peterson. He kidnapped Chloe and you'll find him in a room upstairs. He's the one who shot Jace."

  Everyone spoke at once, their voices a confused, questioning babble.

  "Is Evan dead?" Albert called after them.

  Travis stopped then and turned to face the shopkeeper. The question he posed carried easily on the still afternoon. "Could I let a mad dog live?"

  * * *

  "Chloe, you should go home." Travis sat hunched on the edge of Doc's old horsehair settee, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor between his feet. His hair fell forward, concealing his face. Jace's blood soaked the back of his shirt.

  They had just finished answering Fred Winslow's questions regarding Chloe's kidnapping and rescue. The sheriff had left, satisfied with their explanation that omitted the details about where Chloe had spent last night.

  "No, I'm not going home! Why are you sitting in this parlor instead of riding away? You have to leave, now, while Doc is operating." She struggled to stay calm. It seemed that hours, not just forty minutes, had passed since Doc had taken Jace into his surgery room. But the grandfather clock in the parlor ticked on in tranquil accuracy. "Why won't you tell me what this is about?"

  He lifted is head and held her with his gray eyes, then gave her that same poignant smile he'd shown her earlier. "Come and sit over here, honey. I'll tell you," he said, and held his arm out to pull her to him.

  She sat in the cove of his embrace, her hands clenched in her lap. His touch was warm and vital, but inside a frigid shakiness gripped her. Something was desperately wrong.

  "When you didn't come back, I went to your house. I saw the broken lamp and your rag doll—" He swallowed. "I thought Jace had stolen you, so I went looking for him. But then I figured out it was Peterson who had you. Without help, I knew I might not get to you before it was too late." He touched her long braid where it fell over her arm, letting it slide through his fingers. "I needed Jace, so I asked him to help me find you. Like I said before, he's got—something—a sixth sense, I guess."

  "But, Travis, you put yourself in terrible danger," she moaned.

  "You were already in terrible danger. Peterson was crazy. He could rape you or even kill you."

  Chloe couldn't deny she'd had the same valid fears. But Jace Rankin didn't strike her as the kind of man who gave something for nothing. "What did you promise? Did you have to pay him?"

  "Not exactly." He looked away from her pale anxiety and drew a long breath. "I surrendered to him."

  "What do you mean?" Chloe stared at Travis, aghast.

  He opened her cold hand and laced his fingers with hers. His words were heavy with resignation. "I promised I'd do whatever he wanted if he'd help."

  Swamped with horror, Chloe didn't realize she was crying until she felt tears splash on her wrist. "You can't be serious! I won't let you keep a promise like that. He'll kill you!"

  He'd never really seen her cry until now and the pain of it cut deep. "I would have done anything to save you. Don't you know that?"

  "But to hand your future—our future to Rankin!"

  "That's what I'm trying to save, Chloe." His expression was nakedly earnest, then settled into tired lines. "I'm fed up
with running. There's a chance I can reason with him. You were right that morning, it's time to face him."

  "But 'a chance' isn't enough," she argued brokenly. "And I was wrong to tell you so."

  He shrugged. "I have to try. We were good friends once."

  "Obviously friendship means nothing to a man like that!"

  He pressed both her hands to his lips for a moment, his eyes closed. "Living on the run is just existing. You deserve better than that. We both do."

  "I wouldn't care if we had to live in a tent for the rest of our lives," she appealed. "We still have time to go. You did the right think by bringing Rankin here and now your responsibility is finished."

  "Chloe, please. I want you to go home and wait for me. I'll be there. I will."

  "Come with me, Travis," she implored.

  "No more running. Damn it, Chloe, I'm innocent!" He pounded his fist on his knee.

  "I'm not the one who thinks you're guilty. You don't have to convince me. But you won't be able to convince Rankin."

  He didn't reply. His set face told her his mind was made up. She suddenly realized that it had become very important to Travis to make Jace Rankin believe him, to redeem himself in the bounty hunter's eyes. The future was a secondary issue. There was nothing she could do to turn him from his decision. She looked around the room, remembering the last time she'd seen it. It was the afternoon she'd sprinted down here like her feet were on fire to bring Doc home to help a tall, slender drifter who'd passed out in her yard.

  He'd given her a scant glimpse of life at its sweetest and its most unbearable, a life filled with passion and sorrow and joy. A life she hadn't dreamed of for herself. Now that she'd tasted it, she couldn't tell which was worse: having never known it, or losing it forever. But the result was the same.

  "So Jace Rankin wins again," she mourned. "That man keeps tangling up my life and I don't even know him. I'm grateful for his help, but I'm not willing to offer you up as payment." She rose from the settee and swiped impatiently at her tears, then stared down at his handsome, weary face. "Travis, I love you so much—more than I know how to tell you. You want me to go? All right, I'll go. But if I walk out that door"—her voice broke—"I know I'll never see you again."

  "You will see me again," he said, pushing his hair off his forehead. He stood and reached for her hand, then, pulled her into his arms. "And when I come back, it'll be for good."

  She clung desperately to Travis. She knew that he was only trying to soothe her fears and keep her calm. His promise to Jace Rankin made it impossible for Travis to keep his pledge to her. Her arms encircled his waist so well, her head fit against his shoulder so perfectly. How could she obey him and turn her back, leaving him to what could only be imprisonment or death? Surely as long as she stayed here she could protect him from the bounty hunter.

  His arms slipped away from her and he reached around to loosen her grip, holding her fists against his chest.

  She looked up into his eyes, trying desperately to find some weakening of his resolve, some hint that he might abandon this idea. How had circumstances swung so wildly from futile to exultant and back again? She'd found Travis again and discovered their love for each other, only to lose it all once more.

  "Please don't send me away," she begged, barely over a whisper. She saw his throat work as he swallowed and offered her a crooked smile.

  He pressed urgent kisses to her temple and cheek, then her lips. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough with emotion. "Go on now. Everything will be all right." His hand on her shoulder nudged her toward the entryway.

  She strode across the parlor to leave, hoping every inch of the way to hear his footsteps follow her, but she didn't. He wasn't coming with her. Her hand on the doorknob, she turned to face him.

  For an instant while he stood watching her, raw, bare pain glittered in his eyes. Then the mask she knew so well dropped into place again.

  "Goodbye, Travis," she choked. Not waiting for his response, she pulled the door open and ran down Doc's steps.

  * * *

  A huddle of people loitered outside the Rose and Garter, down the street, and Chloe hoped to slip to her house on the other end without being seen. She wasn't up to answering all the questions they would ask.

  She headed home, her steps leaden. She glanced over her shoulder to see if she was spotted, but the group was too absorbed with discussing the afternoon's tragedy. It was certainly the most sensational incident Misfortune had seen in the last ten years.

  A darkness lay on her spirit as she trudged along, stumbling over the ripped hem of her skirt. Her clothes were a mess, torn and bloodstained, but she didn't care. A sob flooded her throat and she struggled to keep it there. She wasn't about to let herself start weeping in the street, but dear God, it was hard not to. Guilt was a cruel burden and there was no question that she was guilty.

  Every event that had happened today was her fault.

  If she hadn't been so stubbornly blind about Evan's insanity .

  If Travis hadn't felt compelled to stay in the hills to be near her .

  If she'd swept into the house last night without talking to Rankin . . .

  And the worst fault of all—if only she'd left with Travis this morning when he'd wanted her to.

  No matter how she justified or cursed fate, she knew that Evan's capture of her and his resulting death, Travis meeting Jace again—none of these things would have happened if she hadn't been so bullheaded about returning to Misfortune today. Travis had tried to talk her out of it. He'd practically begged her not to go. But, no, she'd wanted to see the house one last time, to have her own way.

  Well, now she could sit in that house, without Travis, and review her regrets for years to come.

  To have gained his love but lost him in the blink of an eye, added to everything else that had happened, was more than her mind could accept. And Travis's love for her ran so strong and deep, it had made him sacrifice his freedom or his life just to save her from a madman that he'd warned her away from months ago. Why hadn't she listened to him then?

  There was a chance, she reminded herself, a chance he would survive this and come back to her. He'd said so, and she clutched at the fragile possibility. Still, she'd looked into Jace Rankin's eyes, and she'd seen no pity, no remorse. Remembering that, her skimpy faith died. What did Travis find there to give him hope?

  Behind her, she heard the rattle of harness and iron wheel rims. When a wagon came abreast of her, she saw young Andy Duykstrom on the seat. On the flat wagon bed under an old blanket, lay Evan's body. A spontaneous shudder rolled through her at the sight of it.

  "How do, Miss Chloe," the slow-witted youth called to her. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just taking Mr. Peterson to the undertaker." He grinned happily then, as a thought occurred to him. "Guess now that he's gone, I won't have to go to school no more."

  The wagon rattled on with its grisly cargo, raising a cloud of dust, and Chloe felt her burden of guilt weigh still heavier.

  When she got to her gate, she stood looking at the house for a moment, her hands gripping two of the pickets. The wind tugged at her hair and torn skirt as she stared in silence, eyes dry.

  There was certainly nothing lavish or majestic about this old place. The county was dotted with large, plain farmhouses designed very much like it. Yet it had touched several people and such battles had been waged over it. She'd struggled to save it from foreclosure. Evan had courted her in order to live in it. Travis had walked away from it, and so had she, briefly. But the path of her life brought her back to it again.

  She slowly pushed on the gate and walked to the porch. Grief and the strain of the day's events settled over her and an icy tremor began in the pit of her stomach that spread to the ends of her limbs. Shivering, she tucked herself into a corner of the porch swing, wrapping her arms around her waist. The afternoon sun fell on her as she huddled on the swing, staring dully at the dry, treeless miles beyond the yard.

  Chlo
e wondered if she'd ever be warm again.

  * * *

  Travis watched Chloe from the window until she was lost from his view and tried to block the despondency weighing him down. He'd seen the utter hopelessness in her face, and it shook him to his soul. If she didn't believe in him, how could he believe in himself? Couldn't she see how important it was that he make peace with Jace? He leaned against the window frame, feeling as tired as he could remember.

  The clock was just striking four when Travis heard the door to the surgery open. He turned as Doc came into the parlor, drying his hands.

  "That boy is tough," he remarked. "The wound was a nasty-looking thing. At first I was worried that he'd shattered his collarbone."

  "He'll live?" Travis asked.

  "Oh, sure. It cleaned up fine. He lost some blood, but he's awake and asking to see you." Doc fixed a serious eye on him. "Don't linger with him. He's weaker than he admits. If you've got differences to settle, they'll keep. He's not going anywhere today."

  Travis nodded and walked down the dark hall to face his bygone friend, the man who would just as soon kill him. Doubt and determination were at odds within him. He pushed open the door and saw Jace lying on the table, still in his jeans and boots, his arm wrapped across his ribs with white linen bandages. The odor of carbolic acid was heavy in the little room. As Travis approached, Jace rolled his head toward him, his eyes drowsy with chloroform. His waxy pallor was unsettling.

  "How are you feeling?" Travis asked quietly.

  "I've been better." Jace's words were groggy and halting. "Did you kill him?" There was no question who he meant.

  "Yeah. I didn't mean for you to get shot, you know."

  "I didn't either." He paused, as though gathering strength to continue. "I wanted to shoot you lots of times, but I never got close enough till now." Jace drew a breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Then you walked right into my hands. Why?"

  Travis looked away. He hated having to explain himself to Jace. It required him to reveal his heart and that wasn't an easy thing for him to do. But if they were going to understand each other, he knew he had to be honest. "I told you why. I was willing to trade my freedom or my life to save Chloe. I'd have done anything to save her."