The Gunfighter and the Heiress - By Carol Finch Page 0,26
see that Natalie had defied his orders—again—and had crept into the bedroom. She stood over Rigsby with a cloud of auburn hair floating around her face and the barrel of her pistol crammed into the side of his head.
“Can I shoot him, Crow?” she drawled, then got a crazy gleam in her eye that was amazingly convincing.
Rigsby swallowed with an audible gulp.
“I’ve been itching to shoot somebody all day.”
“No,” Van snapped, and bit back a grin.
“Why do you always get to have all the fun?” she complained. “I want to draw blood, too, and watch them squirm in pain.”
Van shoved Rigsby aside, then gestured toward the injured bully who was clutching his bloody shoulder. “If Potts tries to move you can blast away at him.”
He gestured for Rigsby to get down on his knees, then used the ties from the curtain to restrain him.
“Thanks for the help.” Bart stared at Van with his one good eye and licked his split lip. “Looks like I owe you again.”
“No, you’d have handled these goons easily if I hadn’t given you peyote for the pain.”
Taking charge of the situation, Van dragged the unconscious Caine into the sitting room while Bart held Rigsby and Potts at gunpoint.
“Sunshine!” Van called from the other room.
She poked her head around the corner of the bedroom door and arched a questioning brow. “You decide to let me shoot one of these hombres for target practice?”
“Not tonight. Please put a cold pack on Bart’s eye and lip and change the dressing on his arm while I march these goons to jail.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a snappy salute. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, don’t shoot Bart for practice, either. He’s had a rough night.”
When Natalie disappeared from sight, Potts stared curiously at Van. “Why’d you marry that hellion? She’s plum loco.”
“She’s the best I could do,” Van said with a straight face. “Now let’s move. You’re disrupting my wedding night.”
Natalie dabbed lightly at Bart’s puffy eye and swollen lip. “Who were those men? And what did they want with you?”
Bart shifted position and winced in pain. Apparently, the sedative was wearing off. “Those were the bullies I told you about that attacked me when I first moved to Wolf Ridge.”
Natalie blinked in surprise. “They retaliated because you made sure they served jail time for all their crimes?”
“Yes, and I am so sorry they targeted me during your wedding reception,” he said out the side of his mouth that wasn’t swollen. “They spoiled your evening.”
“They shot you?” she chirped. “Not the men hunting for me?”
“And not the Harper Gang that Van thought had arrived to ambush him and hit me by mistake.” Bart levered himself against the headboard and reached for the glass of water on the end table. “Turns out I was the original target and I was to die for making those goons spend so many years in prison.”
“Eight years is a long time to hold a grudge,” she murmured.
“Not if you possess their spiteful mentality.” Bart sighed in frustration. “This should have been my opportunity to use the self-defense tactics Van taught me. Instead I was sleeping the evening away.”
“A shame they didn’t do you the courtesy of contacting you in advance, the way the Harper Gang did for Van. Which is why he presumed he was the target of ambush and I assumed I hadn’t covered my tracks well enough to prevent my stepfather and former fiancé from finding me so quickly.”
“There is a very real possibility of that happening to you,” Bart forewarned. “Van has the uncanny knack of finding people who plan to stay lost. He might be the best in the business, but there are others less honest who dispose of witnesses or anyone else if the price is right. Hired killers are easy to come by in any part of the country, I’m sorry to say. I’ve seen to it that several were convicted in court.”
Bart stared at her grimly with his good eye. “That is why you need to tell me your real name so we can be prepared for possible ambush that might place you or Van in danger.”
Natalie shook her head, sending the curly tendrils drifting around her shoulders. She considered Crow and Bart trustworthy—to a point. But she’d been serious when she informed Crow that she trusted no man explicitly. The Robedeaux-Blair name was a blessing and curse. People often accepted bribes to offer information that might earn them large rewards. It would break her heart if Bart or Crow betrayed