CHAPTER 34
The dive carried her toward Nick Creighton. Her shoulder crashed heavily against his side. Since he wasn’t expecting the collision, he wasn’t braced for it. The impact drove him off his feet and sent him sprawling to the ground as the crack of the shot reverberated through the basin. The quirley flew from his fingers and its coal traced an orange arc through the air.
Denny felt something pluck at her vest in midair and knew it was the rifle bullet whipping past her as she fell to the ground beside Creighton.
“Somebody just took a shot at the boss!” Turk yelled as he clawed at the gun on his hip.
Muddy grabbed his iron and both of them opened fire on the trees. Bark flew as slugs pounded into the trunks. Some of the bullets clipped branches and made them fall.
Rogers weaved to the side and threw lead at the trees as well. All over the camp, men were shouting and running toward the cabin to see what was wrong.
Creighton scrambled up. He reached his feet just as Denny made it to her knees. He grabbed her arm and jerked her the rest of the way up. “That shot was meant for me,” he said, panting a little. “How’d you know, West?”
“Caught a reflection of the firelight off the rifle barrel.” She didn’t like being that close to the outlaw. Her skin crawled at his touch, but it was more than that. She worried he would take too good a look at her. Her hat had fallen off when she lunged and knocked him out of the way.
Something suddenly occurred to Creighton and he exclaimed, “Molly!” He let go of Denny’s arm and wheeled toward the cabin door.
It was still open. Given the bushwhacker’s location and where he had been standing, the bullet that missed him might have gone on into the cabin where the woman was.
Creighton plunged through the doorway, hampered a little by his limp but not letting it slow him down much. Denny grabbed her hat from the ground, jammed it back on her head, and followed him. The shooting had stopped, so she assumed the bushwhacker was no longer a threat.
Molly stood next to the table, breathing hard. At first glance she appeared to be unharmed. She pointed toward the fireplace. A splash of lead on one of the stones showed where the bullet had struck.
Creighton grabbed her arms anyway. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Nick. Just startled, that’s all. What happened?”
“Some son of a bitch tried to kill me,” Creighton answered grimly. He let go of Molly and swung around toward Denny. His hand hung near the gun on his hip, and she tensed, thinking he might be about to draw on her.
He didn’t. “West caught a glimpse of the bushwhacker and knocked me out of the way. Saved my life, more than likely.”
Denny lifted her right shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Just did what any of the other fellas would have done, boss.”
“Most of them wouldn’t have seen the bastard in time to do anything about it. I owe you, West.”
Maybe she could turn the unforeseen incident to her advantage, Denny mused.
Before she could think any more about that, Turk appeared in the doorway, gun in hand. “Were you hit, boss?”
“No, I’m fine,” Creighton told him. “What about the man who tried to ventilate me?”
“He’s shot to pieces,” Turk said, “but he’s still alive. Probably not for much longer, though.”
“Good,” Creighton snapped. “I want to talk to him, find out who he is, and why he tried to kill me.” He stalked past Turk and out into the night.
Turk followed him outside.
As Denny started to follow them, she caught Molly staring at her. The scrutiny made Denny nervous, and she muttered a curse under her breath as she went out.
A glance back showed Molly standing in the doorway, one hand raised to rest on the jamb as she watched the men.
Several outlaws stood around a figure on the ground. The circle parted to let Creighton through. He stood there looking down at the wounded man for a moment, then knelt beside him.
Denny moved up closer so she could see and hear what was going on. She found herself standing next to Rogers, who gave her a speculative glance.
Somebody brought a torch from the fire and held it up so the flickering light washed over the bushwhacker’s face. Denny wasn’t surprised to see that he was one of the men Malone had brought to the hideout, the one called Daly.
“Why did you try to kill me?” Creighton demanded. “I never even saw you until—wait a minute. I do know you, don’t I?”
A worm of blood had crawled down from the corner of Daly’s mouth across his chin. His shirtfront was black in the torchlight, soaked with more blood. He coughed and tried to focus his eyes on Creighton.
“D-damn right . . . you know me,” Daly gasped. “I rode with you . . . five years ago . . . Went by . . . Al F-Fitzgerald then. That was . . . my real name.”
“I remember you now,” Creighton said, nodding.
“Didn’t know . . . when I rode down here . . . from Elkhorn . . . that you were the boss of . . . this bunch. That fella Malone . . . he never told us . . . your name.”
“What the hell do you have against me?” Creighton said. “I never did anything to you.”
“There was a girl . . . You took her . . . away from me . . . Always swore . . . I’d get even—”
The words stopped and the man’s breath came out of him in a rattling sigh. He was gone.
“The stupid son of a bitch,” Creighton said. “He tried to kill me because of a grudge over a woman? Some saloon slut?”
Turk Sanford said, “You never know what’s gonna be important to some fellas, boss. More important than anything else.”
Creighton jerked a hand angrily. “But he never would’ve gotten out of here alive. Even if he’d killed me, he would have wound up just like he is now, shot full of holes.”
“Maybe that didn’t matter to him. Maybe it would have been worth it.”
Creighton uncoiled from his kneeling position and turned away from the dead man. His eyes sought somebody else, and he found his quarry as Muddy Malone tried to draw back unobtrusively behind some of the other outlaws.
“Malone!” Creighton shouted. He yanked his gun from its holster.
The men standing between him and Muddy scrambled out of the line of fire. “Malone, you brought this . . . this murderous viper into our camp!”
“I didn’t know, boss!” Muddy said as he continued to back away. He held up his hands as if they would stop a bullet. “How could I have known? I wasn’t ridin’ with you back then, and Daly . . . Fitzgerald . . . whatever the hell his name is! . . . never said nothin’ about havin’ a grudge against you. I didn’t tell any of those new fellas your name because that’s the way you said you wanted it!”
“Stop your damn babbling.” Creighton’s voice was thin and hard with menace. “I ought to put a bullet in you.” He inclined his head toward Denny. “If it weren’t for West here, I’d be dead now and everything would be ruined.”
Turk said carefully, “Boss, I don’t see anyway Muddy could’ve known that loco son of a bitch had it in for you. If he had, he never would’ve brought him here. None of us would have, in those circumstances.”
Creighton whipped around, his gun swinging in front of him.
Men drew back from its threat.
“What about the rest of you?” he demanded. “Anybody else here have a grudge against me? Anybody want to kill me so bad you’re willing to pay for it with your life?” He lowered the gun and stuck it back in its holster. “Well, go ahead, damn you! Go ahead and take your revenge. See what it gets you!”
Coming so close to death had made Creighton almost hysterical, Denny thought.
“Nobody wants to do that, boss,” Turk said. “We’re all on your side.”
Denny was careful not to look at Rogers. She wanted Nick Creighton dead. He was responsible for the deaths of several Sugarloaf riders, as well as what had happened to Smoke. She supposed she would be able to accept it if he was locked up for the rest of his life, but she would much prefer to see him blown to hell or strung up at the end of a hang rope.
But she didn’t let any of that show on her face. She kept her features carefully impassive.
For a long, awkward moment, nobody said anything. The only sounds were the uncomfortable shifting of a few feet as the men stood there under Creighton’s baleful scrutiny.
Then Muddy swallowed hard. “You . . . you’re not gonna kill me, boss?”
Turk groaned quietly as if he wished his friend had just kept his big mouth shut.
“Kill you, Muddy?” Creighton said. “No . . . No, I reckon I won’t do that. You’re too stupid to know any better.” He looked at Turk. “I want all those other new men rounded up and brought to my cabin later. I’m going to talk to all of them . . . except for West and Williams. I know they’re all right.”
Denny knew she ought to feel relieved at that vote of confidence, but somehow she didn’t, not completely.
On the other hand, she had saved Creighton’s life . . . the life of the man she had set out to kill, or at least make sure he was stopped from carrying out his vengeance on her father. She hadn’t even hesitated before she knocked him out of the way of that bushwhacker’s bullet.
Sometimes acting on instinct could be damned inconvenient, she thought.
Creighton owed her, and he seemed like he intended to pay that debt. If nothing else, he trusted her.
Maybe that was a good thing and maybe it wasn’t.
Creighton turned to her. “West, come on back to the cabin with me. You’ll eat supper tonight with me and Molly.”
Denny nodded. “Sure, boss. I’m obliged to you.”
What else could she say?
He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “No, I’m the one who’s obliged to you. Don’t get any ideas, though. I’m still the boss here, and you’re still taking orders from me.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, boss.”
“Call me Nick.”
That was one of the last things Denny wanted to do, but she forced herself to smile and nod. “Sure, Nick.”
As they started walking toward the cabin, she saw the worried look on Rogers’s face as they went past and hoped he wouldn’t be too obviously concerned about her.
Creighton ordered over his shoulder, “Do something with that carcass. Take it out through the canyon and throw it in a ravine somewhere. I don’t want it drawing scavengers here.”
They continued on their way, Creighton limping, Denny holding her long-legged strides in check so she wouldn’t get in front of him. Up ahead was the cabin, with Molly still standing in the doorway watching them, the intensity of her gaze making icy fingers tickle their way up and down Denny’s backbone.