“I’m not trying to get away with anything. I’m just trying to get the gold back and stop Mulcahy.”
At a shove from Braddock, Langston fell back on the bed. “You have a funny way of doing it.”
“We’re not going anywhere with him, Lorelei,” Corey said in a hiss. He hovered over his sister and unpacked each item she packed.
Lorelei said something stern under her breath that Braddock couldn’t decipher.
“Corey, get a rope,” called Braddock, breaking up their secret discussion before Corey could talk his sister into something that would surely land her in more trouble.
Corey glared again, then reluctantly left the adobe.
“What the hell are you doing with those two, Braddock? Never known you to be so lowdown before to use a woman, but there’s no explanation—”
“Shut up, Langston, or I’ll hang you instead of tying you up.”
Lorelei focused on rearranging sacks in the bag she had packed. Her effort not to look in their direction made it apparent she had heard.
Corey returned with the rope and tossed it on the table without a word.
Braddock fumbled in Langston’s front pockets until he retrieved the key to the man’s handcuffs. He picked up the rope and placed the key on the table, then loosely tied Langston’s legs to the bed. Langston eyed the dull metal lying out of reach. The deputy marshal would be able to get loose and retrieve the key, but it would take a while. It would leave Braddock enough time…for what?
“Even if she were your wife, that doesn’t mean she’s above the law. You either. You better stop and think about what you’re doing. She threatened to shoot an officer of the law. Helping a couple of fugitives will ruin you.”
Braddock untied the kerchief from around Langston’s neck and poised himself to stuff it into his mouth the next time he opened it, which didn’t take long. Braddock had the same things going through his head. He didn’t need Langston to tell him he’d gone too far.
Langston spit out his gag. “You’re going to be wanted, just like them.”
Braddock forcibly stuffed the gag back in Langston’s mouth and cut a length of rope to keep it secure. When he had tied the last knot, he turned his back on the deputy and the last of his sense. He strode toward Lorelei and picked up the bag she had packed with supplies. Staring at the floral, cloth covered valise for a long moment, he wondered, what kind of fugitive loaded supplies in a flimsy bag printed with bright pink roses.
Lorelei touched his arm. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should go to the authorities and tell them this was all just a big mistake.”
Corey spoke up before Braddock could tear his gaze away from her trusting face. “Forget it, Lorelei. They’d throw us both in jail before we could even say ‘boo.’ ”
Braddock knew Corey was right, and he wasn’t going to let Lorelei spend one single moment in a jail cell. Nor was he himself. He’d already had trouble because he looked too much like a dead fugitive named Lincoln Knox. And he didn’t think Langston would be too helpful if the law in Santa Fe got a little confused. Langston would love to see him rot in a jail cell, even if it meant Mulcahy would escape to Mexico.
“Trust me.” The words left Braddock’s lips before he knew what he was saying. Trusting him was the last thing she should do, the last thing he wanted her to do. But somehow he’d landed this misguided woman’s life firmly in the palm of his hand, and he felt relieved when she nodded yes.
“Well, I’m not going to trust you,” said Corey.
Braddock strode toward the door. “Good. ’Cause I don’t give a damn about you, kid. Let’s go, Lorelei.”
He didn’t stop and wait to see if she followed. Maybe she wouldn’t. It would be better that way. He heard her soft steps across the wooden porch. He slowed, unable to help himself.
Corey stomped across the porch ahead of them. He went around the house and returned leading a white pony splashed with various shades of brown. The animal was on the small side, a little too lean. Probably a wild horse, but the way it pranced behind Corey like a thoroughbred told Braddock the kid had at least one thing going for him: he knew how to handle a horse.
Langston’s golden stallion shook its mane and backed away from them, testing the length of the reins looped around the water pump in the middle of the yard.
“Lorelei rides your horse,” said Braddock as he stepped off the porch. “Corey, you ride Langston’s.”
“I’m not a horse thief,” protested Corey with real indignation.
“Your sister’s not riding a stolen horse. That’s final. I don’t have time to argue.” Braddock strode to the barn to retrieve Lucky, knowing his reasoning was faulty. The only one Langston was going to blame for the theft of his horse was Braddock.