After the Ashes(87)

“I know you from somewhere,” said Mulcahy.

Cole returned with an army issue folding chair. He popped the collapsible legs open and helped Mulcahy ease onto the canvas seat.

Braddock maintained an outward calm while his mind scrambled for his next lie. He had never expected Mulcahy to recognize him. His hair was longer, the color altered by the sun. He had let his beard grow, and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth caused by a permanent frown were deep enough to make even his parents not know him. He wasn’t the same man Mulcahy had briefly served under. Braddock barely recognized himself as that man.

“He escaped from Tombstone jail. I read it in the papers,” supplied Cole. Ricochet hovered to the left of Mulcahy’s chair, breathing fire through his flared nostrils.

Mulcahy let Cole wipe the sweat from his brow with a red bandanna he’d untied from around his neck.

“No. It was during the war. Whose side were you on?” Braddock shrugged. “Both, when it suited me.”

Mulcahy grinned. “I hear you. Damn stupid war that solved nothing.”

Braddock nodded, not having to lie about his agreement. He picked at the frayed ropes still wound around his right hand, then deliberately dropped his broken bonds to the ground.

Mulcahy’s sharp gaze showed he didn’t miss the significance. “Corey send you here?”

Braddock chose his words carefully. Mulcahy and his men teetered on a sharp edge. Whether they’d be shoved over seemed to have everything to do with Corey. Association with him could save Braddock’s life or get him killed.

“You couldn’t say Sullivan sent me, but he told me how to get here.”

“That little son of a bitch. I’m going to rip his heart out when I get my hands on him.” Ricochet stomped around in a complete circle.

Mulcahy nodded and smiled. “In exchange for what? Corey doesn’t do things for no reason.”

Braddock hesitated, not liking Mulcahy’s answer, because he recognized the truth in his words. Suddenly Braddock felt like a pawn.

“Protection. He had a deputy marshal on his ass, and he doesn’t cover his trail too good. I took care of the law for him.” The taste of the confession was unexpectedly bitter on his lips.

“Son of a bitch,” repeated Ricochet, his eyes bulging to maximum capacity. He was literally slobbering. “If he gets himself strung up…”

Mulcahy held up his hand, a simple gesture that seemed to take all his strength, but was effective enough to silence his crony. “Where’s Corey?”

“My guns,” Braddock demanded in his steadiest, coldest voice.

Mulcahy closed his eyes while he rasped his next breath. He was fading fast. “Give the man his guns.”

Cole complied while Ricochet burned a hole through his every move. Braddock meticulously checked the weapons for ammunition. “Saw him last near Arriba.”

Braddock silently vowed never to let Lorelei go near the ranch again.

“He went back to his ranch. Jesus, that boy is stupid.”

“Smart enough to fool you, Rowen,” sneered Ricochet.

“He fooled us all, Ricochet. Even you,” Cole spoke up. For the first time, Ricochet’s withering glare didn’t cower Cole.

“It’s all right, Cole. I deserve it.” Mulcahy turned to Braddock. “Got him off an orphan train a few years back. He’s too loyal for his own good.”

Mulcahy’s admission of guilt effectively simmered the animosity boiling over from Ricochet. Braddock had to admit he seemed to be a good leader, even if he’d been on the wrong side. Not that Braddock knew what the right side was. The hatred he should feel for the sneaky trick that stole Jay’s legs was suddenly hard to muster. Instead of an invalid wasting in a wheelchair, he pictured the laughing father of four with one on the way.

At the moment, Rowen Mulcahy appeared worse off than Jay. A slow death while holed up in a dirty shack couldn’t have been more fitting. Maybe life had given him what he deserved without Braddock’s needing to have a damn thing to do with it. But for some reason he felt sorry for Mulcahy. Maybe because he saw a glimpse of the end he himself had been heading for before he’d met Lorelei.

Unfortunately, now was not the time to lay down his guns and turn over a peace-loving leaf. He gripped the smooth handles of his Smith & Wessons and his confidence soared. This was the job he’d set out to do, and he planned to do it. Though he’d be bringing in a dead Mulcahy rather than a live one. Braddock would be surprised if the outlaw survived the night. Now the only problem was the gold.

“Why did you come here?” Mulcahy looked Braddock straight in the eye.

“Heard you were shorthanded. Figured you could afford to pay a fast gun.”