The Gunfighter and the Heiress - By Carol Finch Page 0,85
the prancing horses, while the Harpers fired repeatedly in an attempt to force her to release the reins.
I’m not going to make it, Natalie thought as she scrambled madly, hoping and praying she could claw her way onto one of the horses before a bullet brought her down.
One almost did. She tucked and rolled beneath one of the high-stepping horses then slammed her shoulder against a protruding boulder. She shifted before the frightened horse trampled her. Then she asked herself if it was better to be trampled than have three furious outlaws follow through on the vicious threats they hurled at her.
At dawn, Bart rapped his trademark knock on Van’s door. He had intercepted another message, delivered by the second teenager who worked for the hotel. When Van didn’t open the door immediately, Bart turned the latch and discovered it was unlocked.
“Van? The Harpers are holding Natalie in Phantom Canyon.”
He pushed his drooping spectacles back in place as he hurried across the sitting room. He had expected to see Van pacing the floorboards, awaiting the next missive. Surely he hadn’t tried to drown his troubles by downing glass after glass of whiskey. Truth be told, Bart had been tempted to guzzle a few drinks to take the edge off his nerves. But he wanted to keep his wits about him. He and the Rangers needed to assist Van in rescuing Natalie—if it wasn’t too late.
Bart glanced down at the scrawled handwriting on the note that said, If you want to see your wife alive, come alone to Phantom Canyon.
“No chance of that,” Bart muttered on his way to the bedroom. “What the hell?”
His voice trailed off when he saw Van’s everyday garments scattered on the empty bed—and no sign of the headband, buckskin clothing and moccasins he always carried with him.
“Hey, Crow! Are you in here?” Montgomery called from the sitting room.
“I’m in here but Crow turned Kiowa during the night,” Bart called to the Rangers. “He didn’t bother to tell me that he wasn’t waiting for the second message.”
When the Rangers formed a semicircle behind him, Bart gestured to the discarded white man’s clothing. “He’s wearing buckskin and the beaded headband his mother gave him before she died during the army’s ambush. I’d say he’s gone on the warpath.”
“What chance does he have against those three outlaws?” Phelps asked no one in particular.
Bart well remembered what Van had said to him last night about sacrificing himself to save Natalie. He whirled toward the door. “We need to set a fast pace. The Harpers are holed up in Phantom Canyon.”
“I know where it is,” Bristow said as he fell into step behind Bart.
“So does Van. It’s the place where three members of his family died,” he said grimly. “If there are such things as Indian spirits lurking in the Kiowas’ former stronghold I hope they haunt the living hell out of the Harpers.”
“He should have waited for us,” Phelps grumbled as he hurried down the steps. “I know he doesn’t respect the Rangers, but we can provide reinforcement if he needs it.”
Bart knew Van’s only concern was the safety and welfare of his wife. It reminded him of another time and place when he had set aside his own wants and needs to ensure the happiness of the woman who had held his heart—and still did.
Natalie scrambled madly in an attempt to control the jittery horses. She yelped when an unseen hand snagged her arm and yanked her behind the oversize boulder. She tried to scream but another hand clamped over her nose and mouth while she was dragged against a rock-hard chest. Her captor jerked the reins from her hands so fast they burned in pain.
Dear God! She hadn’t realized one of the Harpers had circled around to sneak up on her. If she didn’t escape now she wouldn’t have another chance. She dug in her heels and pushed—hard—trying to knock her captor off balance.
“Calm down, sunshine. I’m on your side, remember?”
Natalie nearly wept at the sound of Crow’s rich, baritone voice. She tilted her head sideways to stare into his grim expression. He wore the beaded headband, along with the buckskin clothes and moccasins he’d donned the day Teskee and Chulosa joined them in camp. Red, black and white war paint covered his cheeks, chin and forehead. If Natalie didn’t know and love Crow to such a fierce degree, she would have been terrified. He looked as formidable and dangerous as she had ever seen him.