Chapter Fifty-Three

Samantha woke with a start and glanced around the room to catch her bearings. Judging by the dim light coming through the window, dawn was approaching.

Nerves ate ravenously at her stomach. She had a feeling that daybreak was going to bring a fight with it. People were going to be hurt today—people were going to die. All Samantha could pray for was that it wouldn't be the people she loved that payed the price for Clinton's obsession with her.

Part of her was tempted to simply leave the house and surrender herself to the monster to spare her loved ones any more suffering—but she couldn't do that to Zachary. If Samantha allowed Clinton to take her, Zachary would never stop hunting, never stop killing, until he saw her free again. She laid a hand over her stomach and the baby growing there—the baby that Zachary still didn't know about.

She should tell him, she knew that, but not now. Not until Clinton was dealt with. She didn't want her husband to have anything more on his mind than he already did.

Slowly, Samantha got to her feet. Her head swam a bit and so she kept one hand on the bed until her legs steadied beneath her. The pain in her shoulder was intense and throbbing. She wanted nothing more than to take soemthing to ease that pain but she didn't dare. She couldn't allow her mind to be the least bit foggy or clouded.

Samantha's stomach growled a bit and she sighed. She needed to find Zachary and let him know she was awake, then go figure out something for breakfast. If daylight was going to bring a fight with it, everyone needed some food in their bodies to keep them going.

Bootsteps sounded on the floor behind her—entering the room. Samatha stiffened. That wasn't Zachary. Zachary moved silently. She turned her head and immediately felt an unsettling mixture of fear and confusion swell in her chest.

Why was Edgar, the bartender from the Hackney Saloon and Brothel standing in her room with an unconscious Caroline tossed over one of his massive shoulders and a rifle in his hands? "Hello Samantha."

She opened her mouth but he shook his head. "Don't make a sound. And don't go for that revolver on the side table either. You and I are going outside and if you fight or you make a sound, I'll kill your friend here and it'll be all your fault."

Suddenly the reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Edgar was one of Clinton's men. He'd been watching them for weeks, learning their routines and infiltrating their circle by his association with Caroline. That was how Clinton knew Zachary and Timothy were going to be gone and her and Eleanor would be alone at the ranch.

A sense of betrayal burned in her gut. "Zachary will kill you," she whispered, her gaze flitting to the table where her gun sat six feet away.

"Not before I kill her. And you. If I'm going to die, I'll take you both with me."

Samantha couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't fight back and let Caroline die for it. No. She had to play this smart. Go along with what Edgar wanted, surrender herself to Clinton, and figure out everything else later.

She nodded. "Okay. I'll come with you. Please, don't hurt Caroline anymore..." A frown pulled her lips. "You haven't killed her already, have you?"

The man let out a quiet chuckle. "No. She's very much alive but won't be for long if you don't get your ass moving."

Samantha's movement were stiff as she walked out fo the patient room with Edgars large form hovering behind her. She saw the doc slumped in the chair inside the store and turned an accusing eye at Edgar. He nodded. "One more person I'll finish off if you don't go out that door right now."

She could see the nervousness in his gaze as he kept looking toward the staircase. Samantha tried to will Zachary into the room by sheer mind messages but apparently she lacked that particular talent.

Her entire body shaking, Samantha let Edgar push her out the door and onto the street. With jerky footsteps, Samantha headed down the road, Edgar's rifle in her back.

"Stop right there!" Sheriff Thomas' voice rang out.

Samantha whirled her head around but before she could shout a warning, Edgar had swung the rifle up and the gunblast echoed off the storefronts around them.

The bullet slammed into Arthur Thomas' head, knocking off his hat and sending the man crumbling to the ground.

"Go!" Edgar bellowed, once again turning that rifle to Samantha. She put up her hand and rushed in the direction he'd indicated, onto the porch of the Launders. Edgar held that gun on Samantha as they took cover behind a wooden sign.

"Samantha!" Zachary's voice bellowed in the early morning air.

"You'll wanna stay over there, Zachary Marston, or I'll kill your bitch myself!" Edgar warned.

"I would not recommend that."

Samantha's blood froze in her veins. It had been close to three years now since she'd heard that voice but she had never forgotten it in all that time. Turning slowly, she saw the man who had stolen her father from her. The man who had sent her running for her life and chased her for years. The one person in the world that Samantha hated with every breath within her.

"Hello Clinton."

A smile curved his gaunt, pock marked face. "Helly little Samantha. The time since I last saw your face has only made you more beautiful."

Her stomach rolled as her heart thundered against her ribs. "And it's only made you more ugly."

Instead of anger, his icy blue eyes lit with amusement. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her body against him. "You will keep me on my toes, won't you?" Then he looked at the sling securing her right arm and frowned. "I hate that they hurt you, little Samantha. They weren't supposed to."

She snorted. "I hurt them back."

A cold smile curved his thin lips. "Yes, you did."

"Clinton Matthews?" Zachary's deep voice called from the street. "Why don't you come out and face me like a man instead of hiding behind my woman?"

Now there was anger in Clinton's expression. "Your woman! She was mine first and only mine! You had no right to touch what I'd already claimed!"

"She's a woman, not a goddamn prize at a festival," Zachary growled. "And she's my goddamn wife so you'll be wanting to send her over here to me now."

"I'm okay, Zach!" Samantha called out. "This bastard won't hurt me."

"Don't lie to him, Samantha," Clinton whispered, his warm breath washing over her face and causing her to wince. "I want you, yes, but I want to live more. I'll kill you if he makes me."

***

Zachary had thought he'd known fear in his life. He'd thought he'd known the deepest dread that could settle itself in a man's gut and make him forget how to breath, speak, think... But he'd been mistaken. Nothing he had ever felt before, none of the moments that had brought him to his knees, could compare with walking into the room he'd left Sam in and finding it empty after seeing the doc had been knocked unconscious in the next room.

Before he'd fully been able to process the soul crushing desperation in his chest, a gunshot had blasted outside and he'd rushed to the window to see Nathan Thomas falling to the ground and Edgar, the bartender from the saloon, leading Samantha at gunpoint across the street with Caroline tossed over his shoulder.

Which could only mean that Edgar was working for Clinton. He'd been keeping an eye on town and he'd been the one to know that Zachary and Tim would be gone and have Clinton send his men to the ranch for Samantha.

When Zachary got his hands on that son of a bitch....

"Charles!" Catherine's voice cut through his rage and Zachary went back into the store to find her bent over the doctor with tears in her eyes as she attempted to rouse him. Timothy cam barreling down the stairs next with his gun drawn.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"They have Samantha," Zachary ground out, every muscle of his body tight with pent up emotions too strong to dive into. "And it looked like they used Caroline to get her. Edgar must have used Caroline to get into the house, took out the doc, and then threatened Sam to get her to leave with him."

Timothy's jaw was set and his gaze hard. "Okay. Where's the sheriff? Tell us what to do."

"The sheriff is down in the street, possibly dead. It's just you and me, Tim."

"How many of them are there?" Tim asked, his throat bobbing a little.

"I have no idea More than two I'm sure."

Zachary wanted to tell his best friend to stay inside and let him handle things. He didn't want anything to happen to Tim. But Timothy deserved his vengeance just as much as Zachary did. Timothy deserved to do this—and it was clear the man was determined. "Tell me what to do, Zach. I'll follow your lead on this."

Zachary forced his anger aside. Anger would only serve to get people he loved killed. He had to turn off his emotions. It wasn't hard. Zachary had spent years doing just that.

"Go upstairs and out the back door at Eleanor's room. There's a ladder that leads up to the top of the store next to us. Get up there. I need someone up high."

"Okay then." Timothy turned and headed back toward the stairs.

"Tim?" he turned and looked back at Zachary expectantly. Zachary's jaw tightened. "Have you ever killed a man?"

Tim's eyes widened a moment before he shook his head and squared his own shouders, holding tight to the rifle in his hands. "No. But I have lost people I loved before and I'm not about to let that happen again. We'll get her back, Zach. I won't let you down."

Zachary didn't trust himself to speak as he watched Timothy disappear up the stairs. Doctor Reynold's stirred in the chair. "Zachary..." he moaned, sitting straight and wincing as Catherine patted at his bloody head with a bandana.

"You rest, doc."

"But.. Edgar is..." his voice was weak and strained. "He's working with them.."

"I know. And they got Samantha. I have to go get her back."

The doctor tried to stand up but fell back down hard. "I'll help...."

Zachary shook his head, sliding his rifle off his back. "You stay here. I'll take care of those bastards."

***

Timothy stepped into the room and found Eleanor on her feet, holding the bed post. "I heard a gunshot!" she gasped, blue eyes wide. "What's going on?"

Creed whimpered from his bed on the floor and Timothy sighed. "Edgar was working with Clinton."

Her brow furrowed. "The bartender?"

"Yeah." He wanted to hold her in his arms but if he did that she would feel him shaking, she would know how damn afraid he was to go outside and get in a gunfight. "He used Caroline somehow to get inside and knocked the doc out—then he took Samantha."

"Sam's out there?" Eleanor grabbed the derringer pistol from the bedside table. "I want to help."

Timothy felt fear damn near bring him to his knees. "No!" Her eyes narrowed and Timothy shoved his hand through his hair. "No, Ell. I need you and the baby to stay here safe."

A frown pulled down her lips as a tear gathered at the corner of her eye. "Tim...."

Cursing the trembling he knew she would feel, Tim took two steps to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He prayed it wouldn't be the last time he ever got to experience the feel of her soft body pressed against him. He prayed he would get to spend the next sixty years at her side and raise their children and grandchildren together—have the family he'd never truly had of his own.

Without a word, Timothy pressed a hard quick kiss to her lips, moved away from her and went to the back door. Sliding the wardrobe out of the way, he didn't even spare a glance back as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

He leapt down the stairs quickly and went to the ladder. As he slid his rifle over his shoulder and began to climb up it, he heard Zachary call for Samantha and knew his best friend was outside. A tense conversation began between Zachary and Clinton. Timothy felt his own hatred for that man grow.

Clinton had murdered the closest thing to family that Timothy had ever had—Tim would be damned before he let that bastard take another from him.

Swallowing his fear and hardening himself for what he knew had to be done, Timothy climbed that damn ladder.