Kirkpatrick motioned for Brody to come to him. “Ever hear of a man named Sinjin Drake, son?”
“Stay where you are, Brody.” But Brody ignored Caleb, edging his way toward Kirkpatrick, his eyes never leaving the gun in Caleb’s hand.
“Read about him in some dime novel. Said he’s an even faster draw than Hickok—” Brody stopped, his eyes growing suddenly wider as realization sunk in. “This ain’t—”
“But it is,” Kirkpatrick said, placing a hand on Brody’s shoulder and bringing him closer, strategically placing him in the direct line of fire. “Seems your sister had some strange taste in men.”
“He said his name was Beckett.” Brody spit the words out, the glare he’d saved for Titus earlier now aimed at Caleb.
“You need me boss?” Titus had remained near the back door. In his peripheral vision, Caleb watched him edge closer to the exit after hearing who he was up against. Now that Caleb had a gun in his hand, Titus wasn’t nearly as bold as he had been the afternoon he’d attacked him in the forest.
“Nah, but stick close, Titus,” Kirkpatrick said, his grin firmly in place. He had the upper hand now, and he knew it. Caleb couldn’t shoot him without endangering Brody, and they both knew he wouldn’t do that. “Just in case Mr. Drake here gets any funny ideas about leaving. Alive, anyway.”
Brody’s head swiveled around. “What do you mean, alive?”
Seeing the two next to each other, the resemblance was unmistakable, but it was apparent in Brody’s reaction that he lacked the cold ruthlessness of his father. He was sullen and moody, prone to a mouthy bravado he’d yet to grow into, but he was no killer. His sister’s influence had been substantial, and at his core, Brody was a good boy. Killing was not in his nature.
“Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, son, but the man has a gun on us. Seems he’s intent on killin’ me. Thinks I had something to do with all those shenanigans going on over at your sister’s place.”
Brody lifted his chin, but fear had begun to seep into his eyes. “He ain’t had nothin’ to do with that. He told me so himself. They were just accidents.”
Caleb slowly arched one eyebrow. “You don’t say? So four of his men, Titus included, accidentally jumped me in the woods? And the bullets shot at Len’s horse just magically appeared out of the air? And what about the bunkhouse? Struck by lightning, perhaps?”
“Shamus had nothing to do with the fire at the bunkhouse.” But Caleb could see the change in Brody’s eyes, hear the question threaded through his words.
Kirkpatrick tightened his grip on Brody’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to his propaganda, son. He’s just trying to trick you. I can hardly be held responsible because some old coot fell asleep with a lit smoke, now can I?”
But doubt had already crept in. Brody may be impressionable, but he wasn’t an idiot. “Foster doesn’t smoke.”
“Then one of the other men likely—”
“No. They wouldn’t be that careless.” Brody tried to pull away, but Kirkpatrick held firm and jerked him back, pulling his gun from the holster and jamming it into Brody’s ribs. As much as Caleb wanted to shoot, he couldn’t get a clear shot, not without risking harm to the boy.
“Stay put, boy. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“B-But you’re my father.” Realization dawned on Brody’s face as he spoke the words and Caleb’s heart went out to him. He didn’t deserve that kind of hurt.
“And you’re a disappointment as a son, I don’t mind sayin’. Always jawin’ on about helpin’ your sister and wantin’ to visit a whore’s bastard like he was your brother. Only purpose you can serve now is being my ticket out of here.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Caleb said. He couldn’t let Kirkpatrick leave. He’d come here to kill the man, to protect Rachel and her family. Letting him leave with Brody in tow was not going to happen. If he grew desperate enough, Kirkpatrick wouldn’t hesitate to throw Brody into the line of fire, or kill him himself. It was a risk Caleb couldn’t take.
One way or another, it ended here, in this room.
Tears stung Rachel’s eyes, causing her vision to waver and blur as she ran Hunter’s horse hard and fast across the rough terrain. Part of her feared she was pushing the animal past its limits—it had already made the ride from town to her ranch—but the horse had a strong will, and as hard as she pushed it, it responded in kind.
When she reached the Kirkpatrick place, she pulled up near one of the outbuildings and slid from the saddle, grabbing Hunter’s rifle from its scabbard. She crouched low at the corner of the building and surveyed the land between her location and the main house. Her heart sank at the sight of Jasper waiting patiently near the porch. She was too late to stop Caleb from confronting Shamus.