Their talk was at an end. Wes pulled himself back to the problems at hand. He knew he would not see her again or have a chance to talk with her until the night was over. But somehow in the few words they’d said, they’d made a peace.
Gideon drew him back to reality.
Just after midnight, Wes made the rounds again. He took his time, even stopping to visit with the one-eyed man called Dillon at the door near the kitchen, though the man was still short on being friendly and long on being irritating.
At least in the dark he looked better, Wes thought as he returned to the house. It would have to be a moonless night at the bottom of a well before that man would ever find a woman to couple with.
Wes swore. With two eyes, he was doing little better.
Walking the ten feet to the kitchen door, he stepped inside, deciding he needed more coffee to stay awake. He was halfway through his second cup when Dillon clambered in.
‘‘I’m here,’’ he grumbled. ‘‘What’s so all-fired important?’’
Wes stood, smelling trouble. ‘‘Why’d you leave your post?’’
‘‘Miss Katherine said Miss Victoria sent for me. Said you had a dangerous job only I might be able to do. Katherine brought two replacements. Slone and one of the stable hands.’’
Wes grabbed his rifle and ran for the door, almost knocking Dillon out of the way.
‘‘Wait just a-!’’ Dillon shouted as he grabbed Wes’s collar.
‘‘I didn’t send for you!’’ Wes jerked free.
Realization dawned in the old man’s one eye. ‘‘Hell’s fury!’’ Dillon breathed the war cry in like liquid rage. He swelled up, shoved Wes hard, and ran from the room. The old soldier had only been gone from his post for a minute, maybe two, but it might have been a minute too long.
Wes was a step behind him when they stumbled over the body of the huge bald man. The gun belts across his chest had done him no good. He’d been stabbed in the back.
The moon through the open side door reflected off the dead man’s blood.
Gunshots rang from the barn area.
Dillon rose and took a step toward the noise.
‘‘No!’’ Wes shouted. ‘‘There hasn’t been time for more than a few to cross through the door. Let the others take care of anyone near the barn. You get to the front gate and warn the men to stay put. If several are within the compound, they’ll have to open the gate to let more in. The main entrance would be the fastest way to enter.’’
Dillon nodded.
Shots volleyed again from the barn.
Wes closed the open door, bolted it once more, and ran for the house. He wasn’t sure how many rats were inside, but one thing he knew. At least one of them would be headed straight for the study and Maxwell Hardy.
Allie jumped from her chair at the sound of gunfire. She was halfway across the room before she realized she wasn’t in the middle of a raid. Everything looked exactly as it had since she’d arrived. Maxwell was resting with Victoria by his side. All was still around her.
But Victoria’s head turned toward Allie. ‘‘You heard it, didn’t you, child?’’ she whispered.
‘‘Gunfire.’’
‘‘Gunfire.’’ She motioned for Allie to move closer. ‘‘Maxwell told me you’d been in raids. Well, if this is what I think it is, I’m facing a raid on my place and no one,no oneinvades my home and lives.’’
She stood slowly and paced her way to the corner of the room without touching any furnishings. ‘‘Once during an Indian uprising, I found the perfect place to hide. In plain sight.’’ She pointed up, toward the top of an eight-foot bookshelf framed into both sides of the wall. ‘‘It’s an easy climb. Go, child, we’ve no time.’’
‘‘But…’’ Allie couldn’t leave Victoria and Maxwell alone.
‘‘You’re the one they’ve come to kill.’’ Victoria pushed her toward the shelves. ‘‘We’ll be safe enough. Now go and don’t come down until it’s safe.’’
Allie placed her hands and feet on the polished wood and climbed as easily as if it had been a ladder. Once she reached the top, she spread out across the dusty wood, melting into the ceiling shadows.
She felt like an observer, no longer part of the room. Victoria seemed very small from this height.
The old woman returned to her chair and lightly brushed her hand along Maxwell’s arm. Several rounds of gunfire exploded from the direction of the barn.
‘‘Maxwell,’’ she said simply, ‘‘we take to arms.’’
The old sheriff opened his eyes and winked at her as though she could see. ‘‘I’m ready, Victoria.’’ He patted her hand. ‘‘Is the girl safe?’’
‘‘She’s safe.’’
Neither one of them showed any surprise when the door shattered open with a loud, cracking sound. An instant later, Maxwell’s gun fired, as did the intruder’s.
Allie watched the sheriff jerk backward onto the couch, his side splattered in blood. The intruder stumbled forward a few steps before falling dead. Only one drop of crimson marked a wound on his forehead.
The old sheriff whispered Victoria’s name before letting the gun slip from his hand onto the covers at his side.
Victoria grabbed his hand. ‘‘Don’t you dare die on me, Maxwell.’’ She stood slowly without releasing her grip on his hand. ‘‘Katherine,’’ she called toward the door. ‘‘You can come out now.’’
To Allie’s amazement, Katherine stepped past the shattered door. Just behind her stood a man dressed in black. He wore his hat low and walked with a swagger of one who thought himself above such surroundings. He was the man Allie had seen mornings ago. Michael. He advanced, using his aunt as a shield.
‘‘Who is that with you?’’ Victoria asked. ‘‘I hear another crawling behind you like a snake.’’
‘‘Don’t you recognize your own son?’’ Katherine snapped. ‘‘Has it been so many years you’d forget the sound of his footsteps?’’
Victoria’s face softened for a moment. ‘‘Michael, I thought you’d never come home.’’
‘‘I didn’t, Mother. I came to take what’s mine before you give it away. You’ve dominated everything and everyone in your life for years. But you never could dominate me. Not even with your slave-dog, Hardy, to keep tracking me down. I took my freedom years ago, and now I’ve come back to take what belongs to me.’’
Allie watched. He raised his weapon.
‘‘Good-bye, Mother!’’ He said the last word with pure hate in his tone.
Victoria stood like a ruling queen before him. She didn’t look surprised or even hurt by his words. She silently accepted a fate she’d known would come with the same courage with which she’d faced all problems in her life.
Just as Michael drew his mother into his gun sight, a shot rang out from the hallway, hitting him full in the chest. Blood splattered over the fine lace tablecloths and handmade cushions as he fell.
‘‘You’ve killed him!’’ Katherine screamed as she dropped with Michael to the floor. She tried to break his fall, but her body was too frail.
Victoria didn’t move as Wes stormed the room, his gun still aimed at Michael as though the man in black might yet rally to fight.
‘‘Are you all right, Victoria?’’ Wes yelled.
She nodded slightly.
‘‘And Allie? And the sheriff?’’ Wes advanced, laying his weapon down when he saw Hardy’s wound.
Before Victoria could answer, Katherine screamed a full war cry. ‘‘Who cares about them? They’re nothing! Michael’s been shot. Victoria, McLain’s killed your last son.’’
The old blind woman blinked back tears, not allowing them to fall. ‘‘I know. It had to be done, and I couldn’t have pulled the trigger. He was rotten from childhood. By the time he could talk I knew something was twisted in his soul. He hated me for everything I ever did to help him. Just as he hated Maxwell.’’
‘‘Well, a man like McLain is not getting away with killing one ofmykin.’’ Katherine rose with Michael’s gun in her hand. ‘‘A life for a life, that’s what the Good Book says.’’
Wes jumped for his Colt as twin blasts shattered the room. For a moment he froze, surprised he felt no pain. Then Katherine crumbled, her body falling protectively over Michael’s. Her blood blended with his on the multicolored rug.
Victoria calmly laid Maxwell’s gun back at his side and walked slowly to her sister. Her steps were not as sure
