Melody (Journey's End Book 2) Page 11

  “Did Melody send you to fetch me?” Mitch asked. Hope that she had turned to him for help surged in his veins.

  “No. No, she cussed a blue streak, and said she knew who was responsible. I talked to her, Boss. I told her we should get you. I told her she couldn’t take the law into her own hands. I told her not to go to town alone. She wouldn’t listen.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know how she can be, Boss.”

  “I know,” he said. “What did she do?”

  “She had her horse saddled and headed for town to ‘settle it once and for all’. Those were her very words, ‘settle it once and for all’. I tried to stop her. I pointed out all the reasons a woman alone shouldn’t ride off looking for trouble. There was no stopping her short of laying hands on her. I’m not her father or her husband.” He sent a baleful glare at Mitch. “I don’t have the right, but I wish I’d carried her to her room and locked the door and sent for you to handle her. I wish I had.” Thomas twisted his toe into the ground and kicked at the dirt.

  “For the love of Pete.” Mitch didn’t bother not to shout. “What’s happened? Where’s Melody?”

  “That’s just it. We don’t know. Her horse came back without her. I took a few of the men out searching. I suspected she’d been thrown, and we’d find her along the road to town. We didn’t find her, but we found a spot where hoofs churned up the ground like there’d been a struggle. Two horses headed off toward the west range. I think someone snatched her off her horse, Boss.” He swallowed hard. “I rode here as fast as Socks would bring me.” Thomas’ voice faded away.

  “Melody’s been kidnapped?” Mitch yelled.

  Thomas’ nod held an ocean of regret. “I don’t know what else to think, Boss.”

  Lars laid a reassuring hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. Any idea who would snatch her?”

  “Best guess is the mayor. He and Madame T want to buy her ranch. Her brother’s been murdered over it already,” Mitch groaned.

  Lars turned a steady blue gaze on Thomas. “You say they headed north. What’s up that way?” he asked.

  Thomas scratched his head. “About an hour away is an old homestead. It’s on the place owned by Chester Smith, but I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

  “That’s because the mayor bought it. The fella in the land office says it’s been kept a secret. He was none too happy about the way affairs are handled in Oakville. Land deals should be made public.” Mitch paused. “I’ll start where the scuffle took place and follow the trail, but that’s a good possibility.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. Damn. He hoped he’d find her there alive and feisty. The image of her brother lying over his desk with a gun planted in his hand haunted him.

  “We’ll come with you,” Lars declared.

  “I won’t say I wouldn’t welcome your help, but what about…” Mitch motioned to the little crowd gathered on the porch.

  Caroline and Ellie stood on the porch. They each held a child, and Caroline held Micah firmly by the hand. That little fella wanted to be out with the men and hearing every word. His curiosity was a flaming fire. Mitch would have shared a laugh with his pa over the sight if things weren’t so dire. He had a woman to save.

  “We don’t have an extra horse, and Socks is tuckered out,” Mitch said. “Would you stay and keep watch here, Thomas? I don’t have any reason to think trouble will come this way, but it would ease our minds.”

  “Ellie girl,” Lars called to his wife. “We’re going to find Melody. She’s got herself into a peck of trouble.”

  “All right,” Ellie replied. “You men be careful.”

  “This here is Thomas. He’s foreman over at the Bar W. He needs a good meal, and I expect a glass of whisky would be welcome. He’ll stay until we get back.”

  “I’ll pack food for you to take, Lars.” Ellie turned toward the cabin.

  The three men traveled to the barn with long strides and emerged with saddled horses. Lars and Sven stopped at the porch. They gathered their woman into their arms and kissed them good and proper before laying gentler kisses on the children. Mitch shifted in his saddle. The urge to gallop from that yard and keep galloping until he held his own woman tight to his chest was near painful. Time was wasting. Time best spent saving Melody.

  The three men rode with cautious urgency. They walked, cantered, galloped in turn sparing the horses as much as they could. Mitch balked at the pace. Sweat trickled down his back and muscles knotted between his shoulder blades into a hard ball of pain. If they laid a hand on his woman, that mayor would regret it to his dying day.

  “Let’s bypass Ford,” Mitch called over the beating hooves. “Once we’ve crossed the river, head for Oakville. There’s a man there I think can help us.”

  They slowed the horses to a walk when they entered Oakville. “I know the fella at the Livery. Let’s leave the horses for a little brushing and oats.” Mitch pulled his horse to a stop.

  “Hello, again,” a voice called from the inside of the darkened barn. “Did you get your woman back?” He chuckled. “I know it ain’t any of my business, but I been mighty curious.”

  “I aim to get her back today,” Mitch paused. “Say, did you see anybody ride out of town this morning?”

  “This morning? Yes, sir. The mayor and the woman that runs the Gilded Garter. They rode out about ten.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be back for the horses in half an hour or so. We’re in a hurry,” Mitch explained.

  “I’ll get right to ‘em. They look a bit tuckered out, but water and oats will help.” He took the reins of the horses and disappeared.

  “I think that damn mayor has my Melody,” Mitch fumed. “Come on. I want to talk to the man in the Land Management office.”

  Mitch strode up the street the other men hard on his heels. He stopped at the door declaring Land Management, State of Oregon. He gave a single knock and entered.

  “Mr. Tucker,” Mitch began, “You probably don’t remember me, but my wife and I were here a while back asking to see a map of her property, the Bar W.”

  “I remember,” he answered. “We discussed the possible coming of the railroad. Mitch McBride, right?”

  Mitch nodded. “Mr. Tucker, do you have a map showing improvements to a property?”

  “I do,” Tucker responded.

  “I need to see the map of the ranch that was owned by Chester Smith. I don’t know if you’re allowed to share detailed maps of a property you don’t own, but I’ll be honest with you.” Mitch ran his hands up and down the side of his dusty pants. “Someone has been trying mighty hard to force my wife to sell her property. Since we talked last, cattle have been rustled, a fire set, and more of our stock killed.”

  “My stars,” he exclaimed. “Who would do such things?”

  “I don’t have proof yet, but I think the mayor and Madame at the Gilded Garter are behind it. I think they’ve kidnapped Melody,” Mitch choked on the words. He took a deep breath and continued. “Her foreman came to my ranch today and said she’d headed for town but never arrived. The horse tracks left behind were headed toward the old Smith ranch. The fella from the livery says the mayor and Madame rode out this morning. It just adds up.”

  Tucker nodded. “How can I help?”

  “If we could see the map of the old Smith place that shows any improvements, old or new, we could narrow our search. Even then, it’s a long shot, but it gives us a place to start.” Mitch rested his hands on his hips and waited.

  Tucker pulled out a drawer and dug through a pile of maps before he returned to the large table with one. He laid it flat, and they gathered around. “This,” he traced a line on the map, “is the border of the Smith ranch. Well, it’s the mayor’s ranch now. This,” he pointed at a mark on the map, “was the original homestead. It’s stood vacant for ten years, or there about. The new ranch house Smith built is here. He wanted to be closer to town.” He stabbed at another mark on the map.

  “The older homestead is closer to where Melody was
snatched. Let’s start there.” Mitch took a few moments more to study the map before he stepped away.

  “Thank you, Tucker,” he said.

  “This is off the record, Mitch, but that mayor is a shady character. He’s betting heavy on the railroad coming our way. Be careful. I’ll be praying for your wife.”

  Mitch squeezed his eyes shut and struggled with guilt, worry, exhaustion.

  “You’ve been a big help,” he said. He motioned toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  They fetched their mounts from the Livery and headed north pushing the horses hard, hoping the gamble would pay off and Melody was being held, unhurt, at the old Smith homestead.

  “Hold up,” Mitch ordered. “The old homestead is just over this rise.” He pointed at a copse of trees. “Sven, if you hold the horses, Lars and I can sneak up to the cabin and have a look.”

  Mitch removed his gun belt from his saddlebag and secured it around his hips. He tied the holster to his right thigh and checked the chamber for bullets. Lars followed his example.

  Sven shook his head. “I don’t like you boys going in armed. People get shot that way.”

  “That’s true, Sven, but we can’t walk in unarmed. We don’t know who is up there or what they plan to do. We’ll avoid bloodshed if we can,” Mitch said, as he patted the gun secured to his side.

  “I guess you’re right, but I don’t like it.” He gathered the reins of the three horses and led them to the stand of trees.

  Mitch and Lars scurried up the rise and dropped to their bellies at the top. They scooted forward until they had a view of the ramshackle house. Two horses stood tethered to a railing. Mitch motioned for them to wriggle backwards. “I think we should circle to the back. We have a better chance not to be spotted that way. Then I aim to get under that back window so I can hear what’s going on in there.” Mitch rose to a crouch and moved around the cabin. Once there, the two men ran across a barren patch of ground and knelt under the open window.

  “Honestly, Melody, I don’t understand. Sign the papers. We’ve offered you double the value of your property,” Madame T said. “It will save you all the trouble of dealing with the railroad men. Just between you and me,” she paused and lowered her voice, “they are a rough, unscrupulous bunch. Indeed, they are. You don’t have a man to help you deal with them, but I know all about men and what they want.”

  “So you dragged me to this shack for my own good? Please, Madame, I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I know the railroad will offer me three times the value of my land. If I wanted to sell, which I don’t, why shouldn’t I just wait for the extra profit?”

  Mitch squeezed his eyes shut tight and exhaled. She sounded like her usual, contentious self. He’d never been so relieved.

  “All right. The mayor and I are trying to make a little money. We want out of this godforsaken town. I need high rollers, not dirty cowpokes with a few coins in their pockets. My talents are wasted here.” Madame hissed like a snake ready to strike. “I need out of this two-bit town.”

  “Enough to murder my brother? Steal my cattle? Burn my barn?” Melody demanded. “You didn’t answer me. Enough to murder my brother?” Melody repeated.

  “Murder?” The mayor’s shocked response hung in the air. “We want to leave, but we wouldn’t kill anyone.”

  The door to the cabin flew open and bounced, hard, against the wall.

  “But we would.”

  Mitch raised his head high enough to see through the dirty window. He lowered himself back to the ground.

  “Who is it?” Lars murmured.

  “Brad Martin, that shifty lawyer, and the man Melody said murdered her brother. The one pretending to be Candy’s friend.”

  “Shit,” Lars declared.

  “Exactly,” Mitch agreed.

  Chapter 12

  “What’s the meaning of this, Martin?” The mayor pounded the table with a meaty fist.

  “You thought I was just a lackey. Someone to do your dirty work,” the lawyer replied. “But Silas,” he pointed at the burly man beside him, “and me have plans of our own. You’re not the only ones set on skedaddling with a saddlebag full of money,” he sneered.

  “But how?” the mayor asked. “How would the sale of the Bar W benefit you?”

  “If you’d looked at the papers, you’d have seen the name on the final page, the only signature that really counted, was mine. You shouldn’t have trusted me quite so much. You deserve to be swindled,” the lawyer smirked.

  Martin and Silas aimed their guns at the mayor.

  Melody rose from her chair. “You killed my brother.” Her index finger trembled in its fierce accusation. “I remember your voice. Why aren’t you in jail?”

  “The sound of a man’s voice ain’t evidence. The sheriff took me in that day to shut you up,” the man answered. “I had to get rid of your brother, he wouldn’t sign the papers. Brad said,” he shot his thumb in the direction of the lawyer, “you’d have to sign. He said you didn’t have any money, but you’ve been mighty determined to keep that ranch. Your brother was stupid and he paid with his life. You don’t aim to be that stupid, do you, Miss Williams?”

  “The name’s Mrs. McBride,” Melody fumed.

  A suppressed choke sounded from the direction of the back wall. Martin strode to the window and glanced out. “Nothing there,” he declared, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Well, Mrs. McBride, you aren’t as stupid as your brother, are you?” Silas trained his gun on Melody. “Martin and I intend to see our papers signed, but there’s no need for bloodshed. When the railroad comes, we’ll own your ranch. All legal and proper.”

  “That’s right. No need for bloodshed.” Martin pulled documents from his jacket’s inside pocket and laid them on the table. “Sign the papers.”

  “What price are you offering?” Melody asked.

  “We’ll let you live,” Silas replied.

  “You expect me to believe that you intend to let any of us live? You are holding us against our will and at gunpoint. That’s coercion. You want to force me to sign over the rights to my ranch. That’s extortion. You murdered my brother, set fire to my barn, rustled my cattle.” Melody clicked off the offenses on her fingers. “I don’t believe you will let us live.”

  Silas considered. “Maybe not, but if you sign peaceful like, I won’t have to put a bullet into the mayor’s knees.”

  “I don’t care what you do to the mayor. He’s nearly as bad as you are,” Melody countered.

  “If you don’t care about his kneecaps, maybe you care about your own.” Silas aimed his pistol at her legs. His eyes glacier cold. “We only need your writing hand to sign those papers. Are you right-handed? I made a mistake with your brother. He was left-handed, right?”

  “You son-of-a-bitch,” Melody snarled.

  Lars and Mitch stepped through the open door, guns drawn and jaws clamped tight.

  “Drop your weapons,” Mitch called. “My gun is aimed at Martin, and my brother’s is aimed at his trigger-happy friend. Don’t be foolish.” Mitch tipped his head toward the door. “Melody, Madame T, Mayor, get on out of the cabin.”

  Melody’s heart raced. He’d come for her. She was in danger, and he’d come to save her. The situation was as bad as a situation could be, but a smile tugged at her lips and the Hallelujah chorus boomed in her head. Maybe he liked her even though she was a mean tempered, foot stomping, tantrum throwing brat. He’d been right about that, but if they got out of here alive, she aimed to change her ways. She’d start right now by doing exactly what he’d asked.

  The three rose from the table and walked toward freedom. As they passed Silas, his arm shot out quick as a snake strike and grabbed Melody’s upper arm, causing the mayor and Madame T to stop in their tracks. Yanking her in front of him, he secured her with an arm around her waist and placed his gun at Melody’s temple, and smirked.

  “She don’t mean much to me, and I don’t aim to swing for murder. You let me pass, and I’ll let her live,”
Silas growled.

  “You let her go, and I’ll let you live.” Sven stood at the open window at the back of the cabin. His pistol aimed at the killer’s back.

  “We got us a stand-off. That fella in the window might shoot me, but not before I put a bullet in Mrs. McBride’s head.” He pressed the gun more firmly to her temple.

  Melody squirmed, but he pulled her against him with a brutal tug.

  She was in a mighty tight spot. Couldn’t be any tighter, she guessed, but she didn’t cotton to the idea of simply standing there until he decided to shoot her.

  Her mind raced. It settled on a memory of her father. She’d been about fifteen and just starting to turn a man’s head. Her pa had taken her aside and told her men could be trouble, and he wanted to teach her a thing or two about how to discourage their advances. Her best choice was to kick a fella between his legs, hard. That would have the biggest man rolling in the dirt. If he’d come at her from behind, she should stamp on his foot. Now, he’d most likely have on boots, so that wouldn’t be enough, but it would startle him. Then, quick, she should pull her arm up high and drive her elbow into his stomach with all her might. Hard. Boom. Boom. A one, two punch. Last thing. No matter which defense she chose, after she’d delivered the blow, run. Run fast. When the bastard gathered his wits, he’d be mad. Mad as a charging bull and just as mean. He’d give chase. She’d best not get caught.

  Melody’s lips lifted in a tiny smile aimed at Mitch. If things went all to hell, she wanted the last memory he’d have of her to be a smile.

  She’d laid down a good number of stomps in her life. Stomped in anger. Stomped in frustration. Stomped to get her way. This would be her first stomp in self-defense. It needed to be a good one.

  Melody raised her knee until her thigh was parallel to the floor. She brought her foot down on the boot behind her. The brute jerked. His arm loosened at the impact.

  She pulled her arm up and sent her elbow flying back just like her pa had demonstrated. A grunt, a whoosh of air sailing past her ear, and the loosening of his grip spoke to her success.