Looking for a reason to turn back, Braddock studied Langston and Corey. Corey’s head was down, watching the clip clop of the horse’s hooves in front of him. He looked asleep in the saddle. Langston, on the other hand, was wide awake, glaring poisoned arrows at Braddock.
Unfortunately, killing Langston would be wrong. Taking an innocent man’s life went against everything Braddock had been taught and—damn his honorable soul—everything he still believed in. After all the men he had killed, after all the men who had tried to kill him, how Braddock could still feel honor played a part in this world was beyond him. But like it or not, Christopher Braddock was an honorable man. At his ripe old age, he'd better just accept that about himself and get on with it.
Braddock slowed his mount to walk beside Langston’s. “Won’t be long until we pick up the posse’s trail.”
Langston stared straight ahead, his chin raised. “Won’t be soon enough for me.”
The skin under both Langston’s eyes had started to blacken. His nose swelled a painful shade of purple. Braddock scoured the horizon. He couldn’t exactly blame Langston for wanting a piece of his hide.
“Do you really think Douglas is going to believe I’m an outlaw? Especially when I’m riding out to meet the posse?”
“I have your signed confession.”
Braddock shrugged. “No one will believe it. I wanted you to believe I was on the wrong side. I was trying to get in with the gang so I could find the gold.”
“You planned it. You said you did.”
“I was worried about Lorelei Sullivan. I would have said anything to find her.”
Langston brought his horse to a halt, and Braddock was forced to look at him.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me that? I never wanted to see an innocent woman dragged into this.”
Braddock raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you held her at gunpoint in her nightgown?”
“I was just doing my job.” Langston slumped slightly in his saddle, giving Braddock hope that he was getting to him.
“You know, Langston, this is your chance to get on Douglas’s good side. We’ll tell him you tracked down Sullivan. The kid was scared and wanted to help you get Mulcahy. I was tracking Sullivan too, and when I caught up with you, you let me come along.”
Langston clamped his lips together. “You broke the law.”
“None that anyone’s going to pay any attention to. Especially not out here in New Mexico territory. All they want are gangs like Mulcahy’s wiped out and the railroad’s gold back. And we’ll give them both. Right, Corey?”
Corey had stilled his mount and watched them like a dazed spectator. The dark smudges under his eyes emphasized the pale smoothness of his skin. Braddock doubted if the kid was even eighteen. “You’re the boss, Braddock. Lorelei said so.”
Braddock unlocked Langston’s handcuffs. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t fight me on this. You can’t win. You want to be a hero, maybe even become a U.S. marshal? Stick with my story. The truth isn’t going to do anyone any good.”
Langston rubbed his wrists. “You’re not fooling me, Braddock. You might think you’re above the law, but you’re not. And you’re not going to do any good by that woman. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”
A flash of fury surged through Braddock’s limbs. He snaked out his arm and gripped Langston’s vest. A told you so smile curled Langston’s thin lips.
Braddock released him and scanned the horizon one more time. The landscape blurred in chunks of gray green shrubbery and miles and miles of dirt. A hot blue sky burned out the last inch of night, then stretched over them in unrelenting dominance—and the sun hadn’t even made a full appearance yet. Braddock tugged his hat brim over his face, wishing the day could as effectively whisk away the dark shadows in his heart. He could be good for Lorelei. He wanted to be good for her. Sure as hell more than he wanted to ride back up to Specter Canyon.
A plume of smoke rose above a distant clump of brush. It was too late to turn back. He nodded to the gray streak across the cerulean backdrop. “It’s the posse. If we ride hard, we might be able to catch up to them before they finish their breakfast. Are you with me, Langston? Instead of answering his question, Langston slapped his reins against his horse’s hide and took off toward the column of smoke.
“I hope that’s the posse and not Apaches,” yelled Braddock at his back.
Langston slowed his mount. Braddock rode ahead, knowing that at least for the time being, Wade Langston was at his mercy. But for how long was a real question.