The man had the audacity to laugh, but did as he was told, dropping his pistols to the floor to join the bullets there. “Well, if it ain’t Marshal Goodrich.” His black eyes darted from him to Merrill, then back. “Heard you brought in old Smiley Burdette.”
“I did. Big Bill Cassidy, too.” Devlin didn’t move. The outlaw was up to something. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Well, they was stupid. Lettin’ themselves be taken in by the likes of you.” He shook his head. “I ain’t that stupid. You ain’t gonna take me in.” He quickly reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol.
Devlin pulled the trigger on both his guns. Merrill’s went off as well.
The outlaw dropped where he stood, blood blossoming from the fatal wounds in his chest. He wore a perplexed expression, as if he couldn’t believe he’d been shot as his eyes clouded over. He took his last breath and crumpled to the floor.
Devlin turned toward his deputy. “You all right?”
“Son of a bitch hit me.” He held up his arm. Blood stained the sleeve.
“Let me see.” He ripped the shirt sleeve away and inspected the wound. The bullet had only grazed Merrill’s upper arm.
“See? It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.” Merrill chuckled though the situation didn’t warrant it. “Was it me or was he a bad shot?”
“He was a bad shot. Can’t believe out of all the bullets he fired, he only hit you once. Must have gone to the school of more is better for all the good it did him.”
“He missed you completely,” Merrill said with a laugh.
“Check and see if there is anyone in the barn. It looked to me like he was waiting for someone.” He let out a sharp, shrillwhistle. In moments, Challenger, along with Merrill’s horse, galloped toward him from around the side of the house. Merrill quickly caught their reins and tied them to the porch railing before heading toward the barn, gun drawn.
Devlin jumped up to the porch, stepped over the dead man, and went into the house.
What met his eyes made his blood boil. Both Alfonso and Damita were gagged and tied together on the floor. Bruises marred their faces and from what he could see, Damita’s arms. Her eye was swollen shut and nearly purple. Her nightgown was torn, revealing her skin…and more bruises. But they were alive.
They stared up at him in relief.
Quickly, he set about removing the gags.
Alfonso let loose with a string of angry cuss words in Spanish, most of which Devlin had heard before but a few he hadn’t. He worked to untie them.
“Thatdemoniobroke into the house this morning before dawn, guns drawn, threatening to kill us.” When he was free, Alfonso gathered his wife close and kissed her on the forehead. Tears made his dark eyes shine and his split lip was swollen. “We were caught unaware. Hell, we were sleeping. He dragged us from bed and tied us up, though we both fought him until he hit me in the head with the butt of his pistol. I went down like a sack of old potatoes.” He touched the spot on his head gingerly, winced, then tightened his arms around Damita, his anger palpable. “I hope you killed him.”
“Yes, he’s dead.”
“Who the hell is he?”
“Ned Delany. He killed Josie earlier this morning. He was looking for a place to hide, probably knowing a posse would be coming after him. Your place seemed as likely as any.” He didn’t say they were lucky to be alive. By the expression on Alfonso’s face as he rocked his wife in his arms, he already knew. It mighttake a bit of time before that reality sunk in. He’d be there when it did. “Can you stand?”
Alfonso nodded and tried but failed. He’d been sitting too long with his hands and legs bound.
He patted Alfonso’s shoulder. “Just sit here for a minute.”
Devlin looked down at Damita. She’d yet to say anything, but there was a look in her eye he’d seen before when one suffered trauma. “He’s dead now, Damita. He won’t hurt you anymore.”
Her gaze rose to his face as if she’d finally heard his words before every muscle in her body lost their strength. He grabbed her before she fell forward, lifting her effortlessly in his arms, quickly bringing her to the small sofa in front of the fireplace. Alfonso followed, crawling to the couch, softly whispering to her as he gently caressed her face.
“Dear God!” Merrill exclaimed as he entered the house and saw the condition of his friends, people he’d probably known all his life.
Devlin warned him with a quick shake of his head. The deputy closed his mouth but the expression on his face clearly said that if Delany wasn’t already dead, he would be. “Did you find anyone else?”
Merrill shook his head, unable, it seemed, to take his gaze from the Serranos. “They need to see Doc Hart.”
“Yes. Hitch up their buckboard and we’ll bring them into town.” He jerked his thumb toward the door and the dead man on the porch. “See if you can find some canvas or burlap to wrap him in.”
Merrill scowled, unusual for him. “Let the wolves have him. It’s more than he deserves.”
