Corbin rested his finger on the trigger of his Colt .45. He kept his gaze steady on the open window of the VanLeer homestead, which sat thirty yards directly in front of him. A yellow curtain blew in the breeze, but beyond that, there was no movement in the house that he could see. Sheriff Robinson had been right about the location of Frank Sutherland. What he hadn’t expected was their pursuit to turn into a hostage situation.
Corbin rested his arm against the thick log that he’d stayed burrowed behind the past thirty minutes alongside the Lancaster sheriff and two other deputized men. So far, the situation was at a standoff, as Sutherland had already made it clear his plan was to hunker down and wait things out. But surely the felon knew he’d never win.
Unless Sutherland had decided to take down as many hostages with him as he could. The Masked Gang had never stopped to worry about the number of dead bodies they’d left behind. Which meant no false moves. It was up to them to ensure this situation ended well.
Corbin flicked a bug off the tip of his nose then reached for his father’s brass binoculars. The only thing on their side was that Sutherland was purportedly injured. Shot in the shoulder two days ago by one of Sheriff Robinson’s men, the felon had to have lost a lot of blood. A close-up glimpse inside the house could give him a clue about how to proceed. Sutherland was weak and vulnerable, but despite his clear disadvantage, he still refused to back down. If they could find a way to separate him from the hostages, they could end this with little or no bloodshed.
“What do you see?” Sheriff Robinson asked from farther down the fallen log.
“Still nothing yet.” Corbin wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Are you sure we’re only looking at two hostages?”
“Mason VanLeer lives here with his spinster daughter, so I wouldn’t expect more than the two of them. They both tend to stay to themselves.”
“What else do you know about them?”
Sheriff Robinson repositioned himself behind the fallen log. Fifteen minutes had passed since their last communication with Sutherland, but none of them could dismiss the possibility of a bullet headed their way.
Robinson cleared his throat. “Mary used to be the town school teacher until her father got sick and demanded she stay home and take care of him. That was ten years ago. They’re both quiet and not very social. The only time anyone sees them is at church once a week. Needless to say, they’re not likely to put up a fight of any kind.”
Good. Corbin set down his binoculars so he could recheck how much ammunition he had. At least they shouldn’t have to deal with a cocky hostage who wanted to play hero. The last thing he needed was for this to turn into a bloodbath. And the way the odds were stacking up, Sutherland probably figured he had little to lose.
Sheriff Robinson rose slowly from his hiding place.
Corbin motioned for him to get down. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve waited long enough.” The sheriff pulled out a second revolver.
“No, we haven’t.” Corbin’s jaw tensed. “We need to wait this one out to ensure no one gets killed. There’ve been enough lives lost in this battle to take down the Masked Gang. If you rush out there half-cocked, you’re only going to get yourself or someone else killed.”
“I said we’ve waited long enough.” Sheriff Robinson glared back at him. “I’m headed for that oak tree and a better shot of the house. Cover me if you have to.” He darted ten yards, then crouched behind the oak tree. “Frank Sutherland, we know you’re still in there, and we’re through playing games. I want you to come out of that house with your hands up.”
The sheriff’s demand was met with silence.
Corbin watched as Robinson fired a shot, and the front window shattered into a hundred pieces.
Corbin yelled at the sheriff to hold his fire. “I want this man alive.”
“This is my territory, which means we’ll do it my way.”
A breeze hit the back of Corbin’s neck. He pressed his lips together and bit back the reply he knew he’d regret. All he wanted to focus on right now was saving the hostages and getting the information he needed out of Sutherland. If he got lucky, he’d be able to clear Catherine’s future brother-in-law at the same time.
Catherine. He’d watched her at the picnic today while Penny Martin and half a dozen young, single women tried to catch his attention. He couldn’t help but smile at her when she’d stumbled over her apology. She’d always been a fiery mixture of pluckiness and stubbornness, but those had been some of the very things that had drawn her to him—and had eventually made him fall in love with her.
Corbin tightened his grip on the butt of his gun. But that had been years ago, and today, he had to shake her image and concentrate. One mistake and they all could end up dead.
A shot rang out from the direction of the house and yanked Corbin from his thoughts.
Sheriff Robinson signaled toward the house. “I’m moving in.”
“Don’t be a fool.”
Corbin’s response fell on deaf ears. Robinson ran toward the side of the house.
Before the sheriff could find cover, Sutherland walked out the front door with a gun and Mary VanLeer in his grip.
“What do you want, Sutherland?” Robinson called out. “You know this is the end of the road for you.”
Sutherland yanked Miss VanLeer closer to his chest. “I don’t think so.”
Corbin grabbed his binoculars and peered out over the neglected front yard of the property. He stopped at the framed image of the terrified women then moved to Sutherland. The man’s hollow expression stared back at him. He wasn’t going to make it much longer.
“I want a horse and two hundred dollars.”
Corbin kept his gun aimed at the man’s temple. He wanted the man taken alive, but not at the cost of other lives. “That isn’t happening, Sutherland.”
“Then I’ll kill the woman.” He pushed her out in front of him, held out his hands, and pressed the muzzle of his gun against her head.
“Don’t do it, Sutherland,” Robinson said. “You’ll force me to shoot you myself.”
One of the other deputies maneuvered beside Corbin. “If you keep him talking, I’ll crawl around the eastern side of the house where I can get a clean shot.”
Corbin weighed the situation. Robinson had wanted to come in like an army with a wave of bullets, but Corbin hadn’t agreed. He’d insisted they evaluate the situation and make a plan before jumping into a gun battle.
He peered through the binoculars again and shook his head. “Don’t do anything yet. You’ll end up hitting Miss VanLeer.”
“I’m the best marksman in the county. Give me thirty seconds to set up the shot then distract him.”
Corbin shook his head. “Sutherland’s been shot and doesn’t look like he’s going to make it much longer. If we give him a bit more time, he’s going to collapse.”
And with the way things stood at the moment—with a loaded gun aimed at Mary VanLeer, that was the only sure way they were going to get out of here with no one else getting hurt.
“If you think I’m foolin’ around, you’re wrong.” Sutherland’s voice cracked. “I’ll give you a minute to make your choice. After that, the woman’s as good as gone.” Sheriff Robinson had a reputation for being hot-tempered and trigger happy, and he was living up to the locals’ claims of always having to play the part of the hero.
Miss VanLeer pleaded with them. “Please, do what he says. He’ll kill me.”
Corbin caught the woman’s terrified expression. He needed to keep Sutherland talking. “I’ve got the horse, but not the cash. That’ll take time.”
“I don’t have time.”
None of them did. If Sutherland was as weak as he looked, he’d end up dying before Corbin could get any information out of him. He needed him in custody, because without Sutherland, he’d be back at square one, a place he couldn’t afford to be.
The sound of gunfire ripped through the mid-morning air. Corbin searched for the source. Robinson. Sutherland fired his weapon. Two more shots followed, then silence. Sutherland loosened his grip on his hostage and dropped to the ground.
Robinson clutched his right leg. “I’m all right. Go see what you can get out of that no-good scoundrel before he dies.”
“You shot him!” Corbin jumped up from his position and ran across the dirt yard toward the house. If the man was dead…
“He’d have killed her and you know it,” Robinson shouted.
“No. This didn’t have to happen. He was so weak, he was about to pass out.” Corbin knelt down beside Sutherland, ignoring the Sheriff’s excuses. Already a trail of crimson soaked through the outlaw’s white shirt and stained Corbin’s hands. The man let out a raspy breath of air. Corbin grasped Sutherland by the collar and raised him a couple of inches from the ground. This would be his only chance to get the truth. “Who’s behind the Masked Gang robberies?”
“Why should I tell you?” The man’s throat gurgled as he choked on his own blood.
“Why? Because I need the last act you do in this world to be decent.” Corbin shook him by the shoulders. Time was running out along with every lead he’d followed the past few months. “Tell me now.”
“I need…doctor…”
“It’s too late for a doctor, and I, for one, wouldn’t want to die with a string of cold-blooded murders on my conscience.”
“It’s too…late…”
“No!” Corbin tightened his grip. “Tell me, who is it?”
Sutherland choked then slumped back onto the hard ground, mumbling something unintelligible.
Corbin lowered his face toward the dying man’s. “What did you say?”
“Har…Harrison Tucker. He’s…he’s who you want…but…”
Corbin let the dying man drop back against the hard earth. A sick feeling washed over him as he watched Sutherland take his last breath. A vacant stare looked up at him. Whatever else he had to say had just been forever silenced, but Corbin now held the one piece of evidence he’d sought. He’d been right. Harrison was the leader of the Masked Gang. A bank robber, womanizer, and con man, all wrapped up in one package.
Audrey’s world—as well as Catherine’s—was about to crumble.
He wiped his blood-stained hands against the dusty earth. What was Catherine going to say when she heard the truth about Harrison?
“Sheriff, please.” The choked words came from behind him. “My daughter.”
Corbin jumped to his feet. Mr. VanLeer hovered over his daughter. Corbin searched her still body for signs she’d been shot, but saw nothing. “She’s fainted—”
“No. She was hit in the crossfire.” He rolled her over onto her side to show Corbin what everyone had missed in the confusion. His heart pitched. Blood was seeping through the waistline of her dress. “Please, you’ve got to help her.”
“Get your wagon hooked up. We’ve got to get her into town to see the doctor.” He signaled at the sheriff, who was nursing his injury across the yard. “We’ll get you patched up at the same time.”
Corbin lifted the woman into his arms and headed for Mr. VanLeer’s wagon. How had this happened? Everything he’d prayed wouldn’t happen had just played out in front of him. He glanced down at Mary VanLeer’s lifeless form. If it wasn’t too late, they might be able to avoid another death, but he wasn’t sure that was possible. The body count was rising…and so was his thirst for revenge.
“Is she going to make it?” The sheriff shuffled beside Corbin as they hurried toward the wagon.
“I don’t know.”
What he did know, though, was not only could this have been avoided, but that Catherine’s life was in danger. She’d wandered far too close into the circle of a murderer, and someone else was going to get hurt. It was time he put a stop to the senseless killings.
Horace Baldwin slid a small bottle across the counter toward Catherine later that afternoon and grinned. “Miss Morgan. I think we’ve finally done it.” His beaming smile reached his eyes as he glanced at his brother, who stood beside him with a small bandage on his forehead. “Behold, Horace and Harold’s Effervescent Cold Remedy.”
Harold cleared his throat. “Harold and Horace’s Effervescent Cold Remedy.”
Horace nudged his brother with his elbow. “We haven’t done the label yet, but we thought you’d like to be the first one to see it.”
“I’m honored.” I think. Catherine picked up the jar and opened it cautiously before taking a whiff. “It smells like…licorice.”
“That would be one of our ingredients,” Horace said. “And what do you think about the bottle? Mr. O’Conner sold it to us. He promised us as many as we need.”
“For a small price, of course,” Harold added.
Catherine held up the jar, wishing Corbin would walk in the door and let her know he was all right. At least the Baldwin twins and their latest experiment was a distraction. “What exactly is inside the jar?”
“Vaseline, a bit of camphor, eucalyptus, licorice extract—”
“And our secret ingredient.”
“Which is?”
Horace leaned forward. “We can’t tell you, of course.”
“It’s a secret,” Harold added. “How many do you want to purchase? You know, as our favorite customer, you will get a reduced price.”
Catherine coughed. “How…thoughtful of you.”
“You can resell them for a profit, of course.”
“I see.” Catherine pressed her lips together. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Baldwin?”
“Anything, Miss Morgan,” Harold said.
“I was simply wondering why your forehead is bandaged. “
Harold glanced at his brother. “Oh, that.”
“Yes. Does it have anything to do with your cold remedy?”
“No—”
Harold dropped his gaze. “Horace, I told you we couldn’t lie to Miss Morgan.”
“What happened?” Catherine asked again.
“It was the last batch of cold remedy,” Harold began. “Not this one, of course.”
“And it’s not serious,” Horace continued. “Just a few blisters.”
“Nothing serious at all,” Harold repeated.
Nothing serious? Right. This wasn’t the first time the twin’s cold remedy had come with questionable results. One formula had exploded, while another had burned off the top layer of skin.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Catherine said.
The two brothers leaned forward. “You continue working on your Magical…Effervescent…Cold Remedy.”
“Horace and Harold’s Effervescent Cold Remedy,” Horace said.
“And once you have a formula that doesn’t burn, or explode, or…dye the skin blue, I’ll promise to consider it again. Why don’t you go help yourself to a handful of penny candy? On the house.”
“Catherine?” Lily signaled Catherine from the switchboard.
Catherine bid Horace and Harold good day, then slipped into the back room. She pressed her hand against her chest and whispered to her sister. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. Horace and Harold are trying to sell me their latest invention.”
“At least it didn’t explode this time.”
Catherine laughed. “You have a point.”
“There’s a phone call for you. It’s Mr. Peterson.”
Catherine frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“He won’t tell me anything. Insists on speaking only to you.”
Catherine hurried to the phone. “Mr. Peterson, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. I promised I would look into that matter we spoke of earlier.”
Catherine lowered her voice. “Please, go ahead.”
“I found out something interesting you might want to know.”
Catherine frowned as she scribbled a few notes on the back of the ledger before hanging up. There was only one thing left to do. It was time she had a talk with Harrison herself.