After the Ashes(92)

“You better hope you didn’t, Braddock. I knew from the beginning you were up to no good with that little lady.”

“You wanted to take her to jail.” Braddock couldn’t stop the accusation. Though he intended to paint himself as an evil bastard, he resented Langston looking down his nose at him.

“In the name of the law, not to use her for my own sick scheme.” Langston shook his head and the corners of his mouth tugged down in disgust. “Why did you do it? Can’t be for the money. Your father has plenty.”

Braddock looked him straight in the eye. “I did it because I could.”

Langston fell silent for a moment, taking in the depths of Braddock’s depravity. “I want a signed confession. I don’t want it to be my word against yours, not with your daddy and your war buddies on your side. You won’t be able to talk your way out of this one.”

Braddock nodded. “You’ve got it.”

“I didn’t want to rob anybody, sir. He made me. Make sure he puts that in there.”

Braddock cut his gaze to Corey. He looked just like the innocent boy he wasn’t. Langston turned to rummage, presumably for paper, in his saddlebag.

Braddock lowered his voice for Corey’s ears alone. “You’d better hope Lorelei’s at the ranch ’cause if she’s not I’m going to find a way to get out of these handcuffs. Now that I’m wanted man, thanks to you, God knows what I’ll do.”

Corey lowered his angelic gaze.

Langston scrounged up a wanted poster and a coal pencil.

With his pistol in one hand, he unlocked Braddock’s cuffs. He pushed the paper toward him with the toe of his boot.

“Start writing. And don’t forget the part about stealing my horse. I want it all in your hand, because no one’s going to believe this.”

Glad someone had, Braddock concentrated on resurrecting his lost penmanship, taking great care to make his usual scribble legible. Incriminating himself would be worth it if he found Lorelei at the ranch, and if he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. He’d still be wanted, but for murder instead of stagecoach robbery. And Wade Langston would be his first victim.

***



Lorelei dismounted when the wash that had formed their path ended in a solid tangle of spiny cat claw and prickly sweetbush. Ahead, Specter Canyon yawned an invitation. The angle of the afternoon sun painted the rust colored cliffs a deeper red but spilled cool shadows across the canyon. To Lorelei it looked like an open door. She glanced behind her to check on the state of her companions.

Jay watched her with serious eyes. He slumped in the saddle only slightly, but she’d seen the white lines of pain around his mouth often enough since they had entered the jarring, rocky terrain. Knowing that his pride would be hurt if she asked if he could stay in the saddle any longer was the only thing that held her silent.

Archie gulped water. His shirt was plastered to his thin chest, his pallor greenish. He mopped his brow once he lowered his metal canteen, a signal that he was having another bout.

Lorelei turned toward the canyon and began to pick her way through the brush on foot.

“Lorelei,” Jay called her back. “We can’t go any farther. I want to be well away from here before it turns dark.”

Lorelei tugged at her skirt to free it from a branch. Jay’s words hit her like a blow. In a violent yank, she ripped the thick brown wool of her only riding skirt. Frustrated tears stung her eyes as she poked her gloved finger through the hole. She’d let Christopher slip from her grasp like all her other dreams. She couldn’t take one more loss, had no strength for any more grief. Though she had known Christopher for just a short time, loving him had used up the last of her hope. She had nothing left. Not even Corey, because she would never forgive him for this.

On wobbly legs that worked despite her desire to crumple, she led her horse to Jay and Archie.

“I’m going on.”

Jay shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

Archie dismounted. “Please, Lorelei, don’t even think about going into the canyon.”

“It’s partially my fault. I told him to believe Corey. Besides, he means everything to me.”

Lorelei dropped her gaze to the rock-strewn ground. Not partially—entirely her fault. She never should have stopped Christopher from arresting Corey in the first place. But the burning truth in her stomach told her she would do the same thing over again. Her brother would have surely hanged if she had not intervened. That she couldn’t let happen. Nor would she let anything harm Christopher.

“He’s going to be all right. I’ve seen Chris in worse scrapes than this, and he always comes out smelling like a rose.”