Page 78 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Pushing up on her uninjured arm, she tried to focus on Brody sitting in a chair next to her bedside. But her eyes felt heavy and glassy. Her head ached. And she was as weak as a baby bird just hatched.
His dark brows furrowed, and he shifted a cup toward her mouth. “Hey, darlin’.”
She shook her head and took in Flynn standing at the end of the bed. His thumbs were tucked into his belt, and his anxious eyes peered at her from within the shadows of his battered hat.
“I love Jericho,” she croaked. She began to shake, and her head pounded harder. She wanted to say more, but she fell back onto the mattress, too weak to do anything but give way to oblivion.
Jericho tugged on the handcuffs. The adjustable ratchet was tight against Otis’s wrists.
“You must be getting quite a reward for turning me in.” Otis reclined in the hay-filled wagon bed, claiming to be weak and in pain, even though the doctor had confirmed the gunshot wound was healing well.
Jericho reached for the manacles around Otis’s ankles and rattled them, making sure they were still as secure as they’d been earlier when he’d put them on.
“What are they paying you?” Otis spoke casually, but the outlaw was once again trying to connive his way out of the situation, just as he’d been doing ever since Jericho had captured him.
Jericho had kept Otis manacled and locked up in Fairplay’s makeshift jail for the past three days. And he’d paid a couple of trustworthy cowhands to stand guard while he’d ridden back up to Windy Peak and brought down Hance’s dead body along with the other two accomplices. One of them probably wouldn’t make it. But the other was recuperating.From the information Jericho had gathered from the two, they were simply pawns in a bigger scheme to find the gold.
He’d been telegramming back and forth with Pinkerton ever since bringing Otis in, and the agency had sent two lawmen up from Denver to help him transport Otis to Chicago, where he would be held in prison until his trial.
“Listen, Bliss.” Otis pushed himself up. “I can take you to another treasure down by Pueblo that Hance and I were going to after we located the one here.”
“No thanks.” Jericho stepped away from the wagon bed and reached for his horse, a trickle of perspiration making its way down his spine. The early morning sun was already hot and the air dry without a breath of wind. Except for a lone stagecoach rattling away, Main Street seemed as withered and lifeless as pale prairie grass.
“With the gold from Windy Peak along with the gold from the Pueblo hideout, you’ll have at least ten times what the bounty is.”
For a fellow who’d just spent three days in a shack, Otis still didn’t have the hardened, crusty look of a criminal. Jericho suspected that’s why he’d kept himself clean, asking for a change of garments every day along with water to wash up, so he could appear less threatening.
“In fact, the gold in Pueblo would be enough for a man to get a fresh start anywhere he wanted.”
The lawman driving the wagon had pivoted on the bench and was watching Otis with new interest. The second escort paused in the process of saddling his horse. Maybe Otis’s tactics would work—and had obviously worked in the past—on someone less principled, but the criminal wouldn’t be able to move Jericho. Not even a fraction of an inch.
“No one in their right mind can turn down the offer of gold.” Otis shifted his attention to the two lawmen, sizing up their interest. “Especially a large enough supply to keep a man from having to work another day in his life.”
No wonder Otis always managed to get loose. He knew how to read people well and play on their weaknesses. If he rattled on long enough, he’d convince one of the lawmen to believe him and cut him loose in the middle of the night or when Jericho had his back turned.
Jericho unsheathed his knife, returned to the wagon bed, and grabbed Otis. “You’re talking too much.”
Otis shrank back as though instinctively trying to protect himself. No doubt the man had developed the habit as a child in warding off his father’s blows. Whatever might have happened and no matter how horrible, that didn’t excuse anyone from learning to make better choices and moving forward with honorable intentions.
Jericho pulled Otis’s shirt taut and slit it at the hem, rending the linen until a long, loose strip formed. He cut it free, then dangled it in front of Otis. “I didn’t keep the gold from Windy Peak. I’m returning it to the mine owner the Kingston Gang stole it from.” Without waiting for a reply, Jericho wrapped the strip around Otis’s mouth.
The outlaw’s brows rose in surprise, whether from his news about the gold or the gagging, Jericho didn’t know or care. All he cared about was making sure he got to Chicago before the man somehow finagled his way free.
Jericho hadn’t returned the gold to its rightful owner yet. But he’d brought it into Fairplay and locked it away in a vault at the mayor’s house for safekeeping until all the inquiries were completed. Now that he knew the Kingston Gang hadbeen involved, tracking down the original mine owner would be a little easier.
Sheathing his knife, he glanced down the street toward Steele’s house and envisioned the Independence Day celebration when he’d spoken to Wyatt at the dessert table and Wyatt had recognized how much Jericho loved Ivy even before he’d been willing to admit it.
“You love her.Reckon every cowhand this side of the Divide knows it but you. Best you work through whatever’s holding you back before you end up losing her.”
A sharp pain twisted at Jericho’s heart. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from going out to Healing Springs Ranch yesterday to check on Ivy and see her one last time.
As he’d ridden across the yard, Flynn had stepped out the front door of Brody’s house. When Jericho started to dismount, Flynn shot right in front of his horse. The second Jericho’s feet touched the ground, a bullet nearly pierced his boot.
“Go on, hightail it outta here!” Flynn wore his hat brim low but couldn’t disguise the fierce love and loyalty in his eyes and tightening his features. “And don’t come back.”
Jericho returned to his saddle. “Just came to say good-bye to Ivy—”
“She ain’t gonna say good-bye to you.” Flynn aimed his revolver at Jericho with an unswerving hand.
