A Man for Glory Page 19

  “The problem is, should it be known that you were aware of the gold, you could be accused of collaborating with Harvey, and be blamed for the gold being in your home. The Pinkerton Agency is certain of the gold being here—in fact, they hired me to search for it. There’s no way, I’d allow you to be so unfairly involved in Harvey Clark’s problems. Better that the gold be forever hidden than that you be in the midst of such a mess. We’ll talk more about that later on,” he said, for Glory looked fit to blow.

  “The bottom line is, I want you to be able to keep yourself and Essie safe, here in the house, in case visitors arrive unexpectedly. I’ll keep Buddy with me as much as I can. You just keep a good eye on Essie.”

  Cade felt regret that he had been required to make an armed camp of his home, but he knew it was better that they be prepared than to be taken unaware by strangers.

  Cade and Buddy left the house daily, working with the horses, tending to the cattle and readying the barn for the additional stalls to be built before winter. For a week, life went on in an orderly fashion. Glory and Essie patched pieces of fabric together on the parlor floor, making a colorful quilt top for Essie’s bed, and another, much smaller one for her doll.

  Each morning, Glory went to the pantry, checking on the shotgun before she began the day, unable to hide a shiver of dismay as she thought of ever shooting the weapon at a man, but determined that Essie should not be harmed because of her own fears.

  It was a week after they’d seen the men in town that Cade went to the hay field, along with Buddy and Earl Bradley’s eldest boy, Robert, a lad of fifteen, who had been hired to help out with the gathering of the hay into the barn. Cade told Glory they would be in just after noontime for dinner and she kissed him at the door, apprehensive for some reason, but unwilling to let him know of her unease.

  “I’m going to put the mares and foals into the barn this morning, Glory. We’ll be in and out of the pasture and I don’t want them running loose out there. If they should take it into their heads to run off I’ll be half the day rounding them up.”

  She watched him as he drove the mares and their foals into the corral, then into their stalls inside the barn for the day. It was hot out, an ideal time to pick the last of the tomatoes. So with Essie by her side, she took the gun from the pantry, loaded both barrels and put extra shells into her apron pocket before heading for her garden. The tomatoes were dead ripe and she’d carried one bucketful into the house and was well on her way to filling it again when she heard horses approaching, heard the whinny of a mare from the pasture and looked up from her work.

  Her gun lay just a foot or so from where she knelt and Glory reached for it, grasping it tightly. Kneeling between the tomato plants, heavy with ripe fruit, she heard the mare from the pasture whinny again.

  From behind her, another horse answered the greeting, and Glory turned to see two riders coming up the lane, effectively cutting her off from the house.

  She called to Essie and whispered to her quickly, “Go get Cade. Tell him that there are two men here. Run fast, Essie.”

  The child did as Glory instructed her, running for the barn, through the wide front door and out the back. Glory watched uneasily, for Essie did not reappear in the pasture, and she heard nothing from the child. Not her voice calling out to Cade or any sort of outcry.

  And then a large shadow filled the barn door, a man, holding Essie before him, his hand over her mouth, the child kicking and squirming in his clasp.

  She reached for her shotgun and held it to her shoulder and then recognized the futility of such a move, for if she were to fire, she would no doubt find a target in Essie. And not for the world would Glory take a chance on hitting the child.

  Even as she watched, the man turned back into the barn and, carrying Essie with him, ran into the corral. From the lane near the house, the other two men dismounted and headed for Glory. One of them aimed a pistol at her.

  “Drop that gun, lady, or you’re dead where you stand.” There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the man would follow up on his threat, but Glory took one chance, lifting the barrel of her shotgun and firing both shells into the air. It vibrated against her shoulder and she held it before her as the men sped to where she stood.

  If only Cade heard the weapon, and realized it was a call for help. And of course he would, Glory knew, for they had planned for just such an event perhaps taking place.

  “If you need me, fire the gun, both barrels, and I’ll come ‘arunning,” he’d said just this morning before he left her for the work awaiting him in the hay field.

  And so she had, and what if he ran right into trouble? What if the man in the barn saw him coming and shot him? Glory cried aloud, holding her weapon before her, even as the two men reached her and tore it from her grasp.

  From behind the barn, the third man rode past them, heading for the town road, Essie perched on the saddle before him, the child crying loudly, calling to Glory for help.

  “Don’t worry about the young’un, lady. She’ll be fine so long as you cooperate with us and tell us what we need to know.”

  They dragged Glory into the house, her feet making deep trails in the garden, for she was not willing to be of any help to them. “I don’t know what you want with me,” she cried aloud.

  “All we want is the gold old man Clark brought home with him,” one of the men said, his arm tight around Glory’s neck. She choked and gagged as he tightened his hold on her, and she began to retch violently. He released her a bit, and she bent to vomit on the ground near the porch, aggravating him beyond his endurance, for he cuffed her on the side of the head and lifted her from her feet to carry her into the house.

  Cade’s scythe swept through the ripened hay. Buddy was to one side of him with a smaller version of the tool, and Earl’s boy, Robert, with his father’s scythe, worked just a few feet away. When the sound of the shotgun split the air with a double report, Cade stood erect, looking toward the house, the roof barely visible beyond the barn and corral.

  He dropped his scythe and set off at a dead run, heading for the barn, only to halt when a horse left the corral, ridden by a man in dark clothing, with Essie held before him on the saddle. Even as he ran through the back of the barn, he saw Glory dragged to the house, then carried into the kitchen by two men.

  “Damn, and I left her alone. I should have stayed in the house with her.” He ran full tilt through the barn, stopping only to pick up his pistols and strap his holster on in the tack room. Buddy was fast on his heels, and he turned to the boy.

  “Use the black mare, Buddy. Ride bareback and get the sheriff. There’s no time to waste, for those two fellas have Glory in the house and Essie’s been kidnapped.” Without a word, Buddy slid a bridle into place on the black mare and left by the back door of the barn, riding across the hay field to the woods and beyond, taking a shortcut to the road leading to town.

  From the kitchen window, a gun barrel emerged and a shot was fired toward the barn, pinning Cade and Robert where they stood behind the barn door.

  Glory found herself on the kitchen floor, one of the men shooting from the window, the other one intent on questioning her.

  “No sense in worrying about that fella out back, lady. He ain’t gonna help you any. You might as well tell us where the gold is while you’re still able to talk. If I have to start pounding it out of you, you’ll be sorry you didn’t spill the beans while you had a chance.”

  Glory looked up at dark, hate-filled eyes, a mouth that spewed obscenities and hands that were fisted. She could only shake her head and whimper, pleading with the man to let her go.

  He laughed loudly, his hand unclenching long enough to reach for her, his wide palm slapping her roundly, almost knocking her insensible as he brutally hit her across the face and on the side of the head.

  “You’d better tell us what we want to know,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again. And if I have to, I’ll tear this house apart, one pie
ce at a time, till we find that gold. We know it’s here. Harvey took it with him when he left St. Louis, and me and the boys got stuck in jail. We was supposed to hang for the robbery, but there was a jailbreak a month ago and we got loose.

  “Harvey told us he was headin’ this way, and that he’d stash the gold for us until we were ready for it. We heard he’s been hanged for his trouble and now we’re here to collect.”

  Glory shook her head, stunned by the sharp blows dealt her, half conscious as she hung in his grasp. He dragged her to the stairway, hauling her behind him as he climbed the stairs.

  “Keep that fella out there busy,” he called back to his crony, and Glory could only think of Cade in the barn, knowing that he was worrying about Essie and herself at the mercy of two madmen.

  “Your fella ain’t gonna help you, lady. He only married you for the gold and he ain’t about to risk his neck for you, no way in hell.”

  The man dragged her down the hallway, into the first bedroom, the one she shared with Cade, and looked around the room, as if the gold might be in plain sight. “Where is it, lady? Might as well tell me before I take it out of your hide.”

  He headed for her wooden trunk and looked at the brass fixings on the front, then took aim and fired at the lock. He lifted the cover as she wept, there on the floor, knowing that her possessions were exposed to his view.

  “Nothin’ much in here, unless you got it buried under all this junk.” He bent and turned the trunk onto its side, the fabric and items from Glory’s three years here in this house falling to the floor. He kicked the trunk against the wall and turned back to where she lay.

  “Is it in the dresser?” Without pause, he pulled the drawers out, tossing them to the floor, Cade’s clothing and her own heaped in a jumble as he emptied them without care for the contents. He bent and peered behind the space where the drawers had been, finding but emptiness there.

  “How about the bed?” he muttered, tearing the quilt away, then bending to look beneath the frame. He went to the corner where her commode stood, her pitcher and bowl atop it, her slop jar beneath. He tore the screen aside and the pitcher and bowl hit the floor, bits and pieces of china flying hither and yon. Glory watched him in silence, unwilling to say or do anything to bring his attention to rest on her again.

  He dragged her with him as he left the room, threw open the other bedroom doors and looked within the rooms, his anger growing as there seemed to be nothing of any value to be found.

  “We’ll go back downstairs. Maybe in the parlor,” he said beneath his breath, grasping Glory’s arm and dragging her with him. She stumbled and fell to her knees in the hallway and was jerked harshly to her feet and then down the stairs. Then they entered the kitchen once more. “You stay right here, lady. If she moves, shoot her, Ralph,” he told the man, who was still shooting sporadically from the window.

  With a wave of his hand, and a look back at Glory on the floor, he ran from the kitchen, down the hall and into the parlor. She could hear the furniture being tossed hither and yon, the sound of glass breaking as he apparently broke into the library case and tore the books from the shelves.

  Returning to the kitchen, he approached her again, and Glory feigned weakness, holding her hands to her head and collapsing full length onto the floor, falling on top of her shotgun, one of the men having dropped it there, uncaring, for it held no shells now.

  From the open back door, she saw the barn door open wider and the two mares and three foals run from the barn. Both of the men in the kitchen were looking out the window now.

  Glory lifted herself up a bit, found the two shells she’d put into her pocket earlier, moaned to cover the faint sound as she quietly opened the gun, slid the shells into place, then lay back on the floor. One of the men turned to look at her and she watched from beneath her eyelids as he scanned her body on the floor, then turned back to the window, his attention taken by the open barn door.

  She watched as the mares and foals headed to the watering trough and bent their heads to drink from the cool water. Then she caught sight of Cade’s denim-clad legs, his body low to the ground as he hid amidst the four-legged animals, half out of sight behind the trough.

  A shout rang out from the lane beyond the house and one of the men ran to the parlor, apparently intent on firing at the newcomer. Cade rose from his prone position and the man at the window sighted his long gun on him.

  Glory moved quietly, lifting the shotgun and firing once at the man’s back. The pellets hit him in a widespread pattern, felling him with a single shot. Cade stood then, shouting one word.

  “Glory!”

  “I’m here, Cade,” she answered, her voice strong, even though she shook with terror as the crook lay bleeding profusely just a few feet from her.

  With a shiver of dread, she realized she had killed him, and yet no remorse touched her, for he had been intent on firing at Cade, and not for anything on God’s green earth would she have acted differently.

  From the front of the house, she heard a shot fired and then the second man ran along the side of the house, apparently intent on reaching his horse. Behind him rode the sheriff, his handgun blazing as he closed in on the man fleeing toward the horses.

  Cade came from behind the trough, lifted his pistol and let loose with two shots. Cade’s aim was true. For as the man reached the horses, he fell to the ground, his leg bleeding. But he was still holding his gun. He rolled to his stomach and returned Cade’s fire, then was the target of the sheriff’s handgun as the lawman rounded the house. Finally, the robber slumped forward and his gun fell from his hand.

  Cade ran for the back door, bursting into the kitchen where Glory sat in bewilderment on the floor. “Honey, are you all right?” He squatted beside her, lifting her a bit, his sharp eyes seeming to inspect every inch of her with one sweeping glance.

  “I’m fine, but Essie is gone, Cade. And I shot a man.”

  “I know, sweetheart. Go on upstairs. I sent Buddy to town to fetch the sheriff. Take your gun with you and stay in Buddy’s room. You can see both the back and side of the house from there. I’m going after Essie.”

  She nodded. Rising quickly and taking the shotgun with her she ran for the stairway, eager to do as Cade told her.

  She entered Buddy’s new bedroom and shut the door, pushing a heavy box against it, then went to the window, lifting the sash and leaning her shotgun against the sill. She heard Cade’s voice, then that of the sheriff and Robert Bradley, and then watched as they rode down the lane to the town road, following the path taken by Essie’s kidnapper.

  Glory slouched by the window, trembling as she imagined what Essie must be going through, her heart feeling heavy in her chest at the thought of the child’s terror. And then, as if she had somehow conjured up the image, she caught sight of a rider coming across the pasture from the woods, headed for the barn.

  He called out as he rode, apparently warning his cohorts that he was nearing the house. But no voices answered him and he rode into the barn and slid from his horse.

  Glory called from the window. “Drop your gun, mister. I’ve got you covered.”

  “Fat chance, lady. I’ve got the girl and if you aim at me, you’ll hit her.”

  He grabbed at Essie, but she slid from the other side of the horse and ran from him, apparently intent on reaching the safety of the house. He lifted his gun and took aim at the window where Glory knelt, firing his shotgun twice.

  The shots hit the window, shattering the glass, and several of the pellets found a target in Glory, penetrating her shoulder and arm. She fell to the floor as he fired again and this time his aim was lower, blasting a hole through the wall beneath the window. The wood splintered and cracked and from the wall, Glory watched in amazement as gold coins poured forth in a stream.

  The leather bags were split by the shots fired and released their contents from the hiding place beneath the window. She heard Essie cry out her name and then as she crawled to the other window, she saw the child run
ning to the house. The gunman opened the barrel of his gun and loaded it quickly, intent on the child who fled from him.

  Glory heard the sound of the gun and lifted herself up. Her left arm was bleeding and useless, but her right hand still held the shotgun. She propped it on the windowsill and took aim at the man, aware that she had only one chance, for she’d used the first shell in the kitchen, and her pocket was empty.

  She knew she presented a clear target, and watched as the man lifted his gun to his shoulder.

  With a prayer on her lips, she pulled the trigger and shot her remaining shell, then fell to the floor, the shotgun dropping from her hand.

  Essie called out from the kitchen. “I’m coming up, Glory,” and Glory heard her pounding footsteps on the stairs. The door was barricaded, but she crawled to that side of the room and lifted herself, grabbing the box and then shoving it from before the door.

  Essie pushed the door open and her face reflected the terror of her ordeal. “I’m here, Glory. I ran from the bad man and then he musta got shot, ‘cause he’s lyin’ on the ground out back. And there’s another fella in the kitchen, all bloody, just lying there on the floor.”

  She knelt beside Glory and her cries faded as Glory sank into oblivion. Darkness seemed to surround her and she could only cry out Essie’s name before she lost consciousness.

  Cade and the sheriff rode until they could no longer find a trace of tracks made by the man who’d fled with Essie. Buddy was on the black mare beside Cade, and even Robert was with them, eager to help. “I think we’d better head back and see if there’s any sign of the fella in the woods beyond your pasture, Cade,” the sheriff said.

  “I agree. And I want to make sure Glory is all right. If that man shows up, she’s all alone in the house.”

  They turned in the middle of the road and headed back to the farm. Buddy clung to his mount, his hands tangled in the mare’s mane, for without a saddle, he was clinging to the animal, his legs not able to hold him erect.