Refuge Cove (New Americana 2)

“They’re all yours. I may be up for a while. Don’t worry if you hear me go out. I’ll just be checking the place.”

“Are you concerned?” She remembered how he’d checked the perimeter of the house before letting her out of the Jeep.

“I’m just being careful—making sure that bear doesn’t pay us another visit.”

“Then I’ll try not to worry.” She yawned again. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for all you’ve done. Please know that I’m grateful.”

He raised a mocking eyebrow. “You know I’d do the same for a lost puppy, don’t you? Now get some rest.”

Emma tottered down the hall, brushed her teeth, and got undressed. The bedroom was cold, the bed even colder. But little by little the sheets and blankets warmed to her body. Lulled by the wind in the trees outside her high window, she sank into sleep.

* * *

The moon had risen above the mountaintops, its cold gleam casting a moiré of light and shadow over the forest. The sky was clear, but the breeze off the narrows carried the sound of distant thunder and the scent of rain.

Armed with his pistol, John waited in the darkness next to the Jeep. He hadn’t wanted to alarm Emma by telling her about the tire tracks he’d seen earlier. But he’d gotten their message. Boone had stopped by while they were gone. And he’d be back.

After making sure Emma was asleep, he’d turned off the cabin lights, locked the door, and settled next to the Jeep to wait. His ex-brother-in-law was bound to show up. It was just a question of when.

He’d been outside for about twenty minutes when he heard the snap of a twig. The hair rose on the back of his neck. It wasn’t a bear—that much he knew. A bear’s approach would have been absolutely silent.

He raised the .44 and pulled back the hammer as a tall, pale form stepped out of the trees at the edge of the clearing. It was Boone, all right, wearing a fringed buckskin jacket with a slouched hat, and carrying a high-powered rifle. He would’ve parked some distance away, probably driving a vehicle borrowed from his mother’s homestead.

“Put the gun on the ground, Boone. ” John stepped into the light. “Nice and easy. No court would convict me for shooting an armed man on my property.”

Boone laughed as he lowered the weapon. “Hell, John, I should’ve known I couldn’t sneak up on a goddamned Injun. But I didn’t come to pick a fight with you. I just came to fetch my wife. I know you’ve got her. Hand her over and we won’t have any problem.”

“Slide that gun in my direction, and we’ll talk.”

Boone gave the rifle a shove with the toe of his boot. Keeping a careful eye on the man, John picked it up, removed the shells, and tossed the empty gun behind him on the ground.

“In the first place, she’s not your wife,” he said. “We found out about the fake wedding.”

Boone grinned. “Reckon she was pissed about that. Most women would give their teeth to be Mrs. Boone Swenson.”

“She’s pissed about more than that, like the money you stole from her.”

“Stole? Hell, she gave me that cash with her own sweet little hand. It was a gift. It’s mine. Now hand her over before things get ugly.”

John took a moment to weigh his options. True, he had the drop on Boone. If he thought he could do it, it would make sense to restrain him and turn him over to the police. But with no outside communication except the radio in the Jeep, he was on his own. And Boone, a tough, dirty brawler who outweighed him by thirty pounds, was bound to put up a fight. If the fight ended the wrong way, Emma would be left alone, without protection. He couldn’t take that chance. Short of shooting the bastard, which would be murder now that the man was unarmed, his safest bet would be to talk Boone into leaving.

“What you did is called theft by deception,” John said. “Emma’s alre

ady talked to the police. If they catch you, you’ll be in for some serious jail time. But if you’d give back her cash and promise to leave her alone, chances are we could talk the little lady into dropping the charges.”

Boone’s response was part guffaw, part snarl. “Charges? That’s a friggin’ joke. The bitch set my trailer on fire and burned it to the ground. She owes me!”

“You can tell that to the judge,” John said. “But there’s one more thing—something even more important to Emma than the money. You played on her trust and betrayed her. What she really wants is to make sure you never hurt another woman that way again.”

“Well, you can tell the friggin’ little bitch she already got her wish.” Raising a bandaged right hand, Boone swept away his hat. Moonlight gleamed on the burned and blistered streak that ran down the side of his head, from the crown of his scalp to his fire-maimed ear and down to his jaw. “No woman’s ever goin’ to want me again—not unless she’s as blind as a bat!”

John willed himself not to stare as the realization sank in. Emma’s escape had scarred this man for life. His thirst for revenge wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made her suffer.

Stepping back, he used his foot to shove the empty rifle back within Boone’s reach. “Emma didn’t do that to you, Boone,” he said. “You brought it on yourself when you set out to cheat her. Now put your hat on, take your gun, and go. If you ever try to come near her again, so help me, I’ll shoot you where it’ll hurt the worst!”

Boone slapped the hat back on his head and bent down to hook his hand around the rifle. As he straightened, his face wore a smirking grin. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’ve fallen head over heels for the little bitch, haven’t you? Well, good luck with her, my Injun brother. Don’t get burned like I did.” With that, he turned, strode away, and vanished into the trees.

John stood in place, pistol at the ready, until he heard the distant rumble of a truck pulling away through the trees. Even then he waited in the silence, alert for any sign that Boone hadn’t really left.