Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(91)

The shot reverberated up the hallway and echoed outside the door to the room. Caleb straightened, having just pushed his gun across the floor. Every instinct of self-preservation screamed at him to dive and pick it up, but it was out of reach of both him and Kirkpatrick now, having slid beneath the opulent desk.

There was a brief, muffled curse, then silence. A hint of alarm brightened Kirkpatrick’s cold eyes before he quickly regained control.

“Sounds like maybe we have ourselves an uninvited guest.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Rachel burst into the room, rifle held high. “Drop your gun, Shamus. Drop it, or I swear to God I will kill you!”

Caleb cursed under his breath. As much as he had longed to see Rachel once more, this was not the time or place he would have chosen.

“Rachel, get out,” he said. She was still close enough to the door to save herself and leave him with one less body to be concerned about. She ignored him, walking farther into the room until she was an equal distance between him and Kirkpatrick.

“I’m not leaving.” She wouldn’t look at him, but he could see her hands trembling and the pallor of her skin. Not a good sign. He knew what a poor shot she was. She was just as likely to hit Brody as she was Kirkpatrick. Caleb’s mind raced with all the possibilities of what could happen, none of which had a happy ending.

“Brody, are you okay?”

The boy nodded, but Caleb could tell from the way he clenched his jaw he was holding back his fear.

“Boss?”

Kirkpatrick’s gaze slid to the window. “Titus, get the rest of the men and get your butt in here!”

Caleb didn’t like the escalating edge to Kirkpatrick’s voice. It spoke of desperation, and desperation led to rash decisions, which led to dead bodies. And now Caleb had one more body to protect and no gun with which to do it.

“She shot me in the arm, boss.”

“I don’t care if she shot you in the head. Do what I tell you!”

There was a silence on the other side of the window, then, “Me and the other men...we figured we ain’t goin’ to prison again.”

“If you don’t get in here now, prison will be the least of your worries.”

But Kirkpatrick’s threats had lost their luster. Titus had made his choice, and it seemed his henchmen considered it a better idea to get out while the getting was good.

“Sorry, boss.”

“It’s all over, Kirkpatrick. Let the boy go.” Caleb kept his voice calm. He could sense Kirkpatrick’s mounting anger and anxiety. He prayed Rachel wouldn’t add to it. To her credit, she’d stayed stock-still since speaking to Brody. Her gaze continued to bounce between Kirkpatrick and him.

A smarmy smile crested Kirkpatrick’s face. “Oh, it ain’t over by far, Drake. I have no intentions of letting you out of here so I can spend the rest of my days lookin’ over my shoulder.”

“Your days are numbered as it is, Shamus,” Rachel said, and from the steel in her gaze, Caleb believed her. She may be terrified, but she was determined. She would protect her family at any cost.

“You might want to remember, I got the boy.” Kirkpatrick tightened his hold on Brody, but the motion caused him to react. Brody jerked away, the sudden movement throwing Kirkpatrick off balance long enough for him to slip out of his grip and run to Caleb.

Caleb pushed Brody behind him, using his body to block him from Kirkpatrick’s line of fire. “Get out, Brody. Do it now.” For once, the boy did as he was told without argument, leaving just the three of them.

“Guess you’ve got nothing now,” Rachel said.

Caleb eyed the desk where his gun lay out of reach. Dread flooded his bloodstream. He couldn’t kid himself. In a shootout between Rachel and Kirkpatrick, he knew her lack of skill left her at a distinct disadvantage. And with Kirkpatrick growing desperate, there was no telling what the man would do.

Caleb met Kirkpatrick’s gaze. A sick smile edged upward into his cold eyes and in that moment, his intent was clear.

Kill Rachel.

The muscles in Kirkpatrick’s arm bunched, and Caleb knew he had run out of time. His body was in motion before he could consider the consequences, his only thought was of Rachel and reaching her before the bullet did. He dove toward her, wrapping one arm around her and grabbing the rifle with his free hand. He didn’t have time to aim. He pulled the trigger and dropped it as it recoiled.

Twisting his body as he fell to the ground, he pulled Rachel beneath him. It all happened in seconds. Less than that.

Fire burned across his back as the gunshots echoed through the room, loosening every tightly held memory of every man Caleb had ever killed. But in that moment, as he hit the floor and knew the next shot would take his life, he realized it had never been about death. It had been about choice.