Every syllable dripped with the woman's pain, and Daniel resisted the urge to reach out to her, knowing she didn't want anything but a truthful answer to her question. He hitched one hip on the corner of his desk. “Not if I can help it.”
“But the odds are he will.”
Daniel shook his head slowly. “I'm not a betting man, Mrs. Hampton.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he walked over to the spindly-legged table next to one of the two cells in the office and poured a cup of steaming black coffee into a tin cup.
He heard Anna sigh. Anna. When had he started calling her that in his mind? She'd certainly never give him permission to do so aloud. “Here you go.” He handed her the cup and pulled a wooden chair closer.
Anna surprised him by sitting down and accepting the coffee. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to take this out on you, Sheriff.”
“You're angry, scared, and confused. You need some place where you can express those feelings, and I'm as good a place as any.” His lips tilted in a smile.
Her light blue eyes watched him. Stray tendrils of pale blonde hair had escaped her bun and now hung around her face, giving her a disheveled appearance. Daniel still thought she was about the prettiest woman he'd seen since, well, he couldn't remember when.
She shifted in the chair, and the movement snagged his attention. She continued to look at him, awaiting information or maybe a kernel of hope, something to keep her from falling apart.
“Around seven this evening, Barnaby'll let us know his terms for releasing Sam.”
“How will he contact you? I’m sure he’s not just going to come knocking on the door.” She sounded tired...and tearful.
Her emotion tugged at his heart. The urge to comfort her grew stronger. “One shot. The mayor should be telling everyone to return to their homes now.”
“Beth!” Anna surged to her feet, but Daniel stepped in her path, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Mary’s mother will be taking Beth home with her and her family. It's best that she not be here.”
Anna sank back down onto the chair. “How can you be sure Barnaby will keep his word?”
“I can't, but right now, waiting is about all we can do. He's going to need to pass through Strawberry Junction, and he's not getting through with your son.” Daniel squatted down beside her, listening to her struggles for breath. “I promise you I will do everything I can to save him.”
“I feel like I should be doing something.”
“All you can do now is pray.”
The words might as well have been a gunshot for the effect they had. Anna jumped back to her feet, coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup. “That's all everyone wants to do is pray! What makes you so sure God is listening? If hundreds, no, thousands, of people are all praying at one time, how can you be so sure He can keep up?”
She spun around, her gaze drifting toward the only window in the office. “I used to believe that everything happened for a reason, Mr. Cochran, that God was in control.” Each word dripped with bitterness. “Now, I don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
“I'm sorry.” The words were insufficient. Her pain was almost palpable, so intense he couldn’t imagine anything he’d say would break through.
She continued as though she hadn't heard him. “Zach, my husband, had the strongest faith. When my parents died two years after we left them back East, he helped me to be strong. When he was taken away from me last year, I lost any reason to believe God actually cared about my family. If that makes me sound like a bitter widow...” The words trailed off.
“It makes you sound like a woman who's still grieving,” he corrected her.
She turned to face him, and for a long moment, they simply looked at one another. Daniel didn't figure there was anything he could say to change her mind. Words weren’t what she needed anyway. Anna Hampton was looking for something no one could give her—proof of God’s love.
“Thank you for the coffee.” Her soft voice finally broke the silence. She walked across the newly swept floor and took hold of the doorknob.
“Mrs. Hampton, I—”
A gunshot shattered the rest of his sentence.
****
The winds whipped around him, and arcs of lightning stabbed the sky. The air smelled of rain as Daniel stepped down off the sidewalk and onto the street left muddy from the previous night's torrential rains.
Every business had heeded his warning and closed up early, and families had sought refuge in their homes. Nothing stirred, and it was almost as if the entire town held its collective breath, waiting for a showdown. Occasionally, as he walked, he saw a curtain move. Otherwise, he walked alone.
Daniel's hand rested on the handle of the Colt protruding from the leather holster at his hip. “Barnaby!” His gaze searched ahead, but the darkening sky offered little light beyond the stray snatches of lightning that served only to illuminate the ground several inches ahead of him.
Todd Barnaby was nowhere to be seen.
“You said you'd call me with a gunshot, Barnaby. Are you not a man of your word?” Reasoning with a desperate man was like trying to convince a rattlesnake not to bite, but Daniel always tried to take the path of least resistance first. Occasionally, he'd succeeded in talking men into giving themselves up.
Continuing to walk forward, he prayed under his breath, every muscle in his body tense. Always expect the enemy. The words of his first captain came rushing back to him. Because the moment you stop expecting him is the moment you become a target.
“Ranger!”
The one word brought him to a stop. The voice had come from ahead of him, just to the left. Still he couldn't see Barnaby. “How's the boy?”
“He's okay...for now.” The words dripped with menace, or, at least, an attempt at menace. To Daniel, they sounded more like they’d come from a desperate boy trying to be a man.
Barnaby continued, “'Course, I can't guarantee his safety, mind you. The way I see it, you and me need to come to a meeting of the minds of sorts.”
Daniel gritted his teeth so hard his jaws ached. “I'm listening.” He also prayed. Silently. Fervently. One phrase. God, please protect the boy.
“Not in the middle of the street.”
“You said we'd talk. So let's talk.” Though his voice remained level, Daniel’s muscles were tense. He couldn’t see the boy, didn’t know if he was even still alive. And in the back of his mind, he could still hear Anna’s question.
My son’s going to die, isn’t he?
“No!” Barnaby screamed the word, pulling Daniel’s focus back. “I'm the one in charge here, Ranger! Not you. Don't forget I have the kid. I will make all the decisions.”
For now. Daniel had to concede that much. “So when would you like to have this talk then, Barnaby? The way I see it, you probably have plenty of money but no supplies. How long do you think you can last without food?”
A long silence followed. “I don’t take well to threats, Ranger.”
“It wasn’t a threat. Just a question.” Daniel took a few more steps forward.
“Stop!” Barnaby sounded almost hysterical, not at all like a man in charge.
“Why the wait? One would think you’d want to get out of here as fast as possible. Staying over a night’s not going to move you any closer to freedom.”
A high-pitched laugh followed. “I know whatcher tryin’ to do, and it ain’t gonna work! Like I said, I’m the one in charge here. I call all the shots. Now, tomorrow morning at dawn meet me at the livery. Come alone. No weapons. The boy is depending on you to save his life.”
“I want to make sure the boy's alive before I agree to anything.” Daniel stood his ground. Thunder rumbled all around him, and over his shoulder, he heard the hushed whispers of the women huddled inside his office. Apparently, they'd cracked open the door. No doubt led by Mrs. Hampton. Not that he could blame her. She was terrified for her son, and that knowledge only served to add fire to Daniel's determination.
More silence.
“Barnaby, if you think I won't hunt you down like a rabid animal, you don't know me very well.” “Oh, I know all about you, Ranger Cochran. Decorated war hero. Youngest man to ever join the Texas Rangers. Had a brother killed while he was a ranger, too, and you saw it all happen. Even held his hand while he crossed over. Stories like that just tug at your heart strings.”
Daniel's hand curved tighter around his Colt. The man knew far too much about him for Strawberry Junction to be a random choice for him. He'd wanted to come through this town, had known Daniel was here. The question was why. “Do I know you?”
“You know my name.”
“But do I know you?” Daniel tried to remember if he'd ever arrested anyone with the last name of Barnaby, but in all honesty, he'd made over a hundred arrests in his career. The names just didn't stand out unless the crime was particularly heinous.
“Could be, but you know my father better. Russ Barnaby. You killed him two years ago. Shot him down like a dog in the street and left him there to die all alone.”
Daniel sorted through the names in his mind, but more importantly, the circumstances. Two years ago he’d been on duty close to the Mexican border. So where exactly had he run into this Russ Barnaby he was supposed to know?
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember him, Ranger. Maybe I can refresh your memory. You Rangers called my daddy a horse thief, and without so much as a trial, you hunted him all the way to Mexico. And just when he was about to give himself up, you shot him!” Barnaby screamed the last words.
Memories came crashing back, and Daniel winced. He did remember now, all too vividly. The scenario hadn’t happened quite the way the boy had described, though. Daniel hadn't been the man to pull the trigger, but he doubted Barnaby would believe his father caused his own death.
“You ain’t got nothin’ to say now, do you, Ranger? You recollecting how you killed my daddy?”
“No. I’m trying to figure out if this is your way of getting revenge. If it is, you’re going about it the wrong way. The boy’s done nothing to you. If it’s me you want, then come after me.”
“That’s all you got? My Ma tole me you were full of yerself. When you Rangers brought my Pa’s body back to town, you wouldn’t even look at her. Guess you thought you were too special.” Barnaby spat the last word with more venom than a rattler. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you ain’t special, Ranger. Not at all. No, matter of fact, I’m here to show you.”
“You think taking a little boy hostage is going to prove anything to me?” The hysteria in the young man’s voice caused Daniel’s muscles to tense.
Barnaby coughed before abruptly changing the subject. “I've talked enough tonight. Tomorrow morning at dawn. Oh, and have the good folks at the diner prepare a basket of food and set it at the end of the road next to the barber shop. I'll come by to pick it up later this evening...or I should say the boy and me will come by.”
“You'll get nothing until I know Sam Hampton is alive and well.” Daniel remained firm, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead even though he could see nothing.
A sharp, high-pitched yell erupted from Barnaby's vicinity—the voice of a child.
Daniel took two steps forward. “Sam? Has he hurt you?”
“No, Sheriff, but I might hurt him!” Sam sounded belligerent, though his voice shook.
“Well, for now, I want you to stay calm. You hear me? Don't you go giving him any trouble. You let me work this out with him.” Daniel could only pray the boy would heed his words.
“That's enough!” Barnaby shouted the words back. “Don't forget the food. No later than eight. Oh, and don't be thinking of doing something stupid like hiding out trying to catch me, Ranger. Just because I'm a thief doesn't mean I'm stupid. You've killed the only Barnaby you'll ever kill.”
A knot the size of a fist formed in his chest. The moment Barnaby had refreshed his memory, Daniel knew this wasn't about escaping or making it through Strawberry Junction. The boy wanted him.
He tried once more to reason with the unreasonable. “If revenge is your intention, why not just come out and face me like a man? There's no need to involve an innocent child.”
“How very noble of you, Ranger, but we're gonna do things my way.” The words didn't sound as loud, and Daniel figured Barnaby was already retreating.
He stood there for a long minute as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. All he saw was the empty street. Not even the merest hint of a shadow.
His hand dropped to the handle of his Colt as one, sudden sinking fact occurred to him. Barnaby would force his hand and give him no choice but to use the weapon at his side.