But before she could find out, there was a noise in the trees behind her. As she turned, she cried out a warning to Strong Heart. Morris Murdoch, on his horse, his eyes crazed, was trying to run Strong Heart down.
Strong Heart heeded her warning. He turned on a moccasined heel and leveled his rifle at Morris and fired. His aim was accurate as Morris’s body lurched with the sudden impact of the bullet in his chest. His horse reared and threw him to the ground, where he lay, blood pouring from his wound.
Elizabeth could not stop the tears of relief when she saw her father step into sight from some bushes. Yet she did not go to him. Even now she still could not go to him and throw herself into his arms, declaring how happy she was that he was all right—and to thank him for having come when he did.
No. A part of her held back, while another part of her fought the stubbornness that held her there.
Earl walked slowly toward Morris Murdoch, his pistol aimed at him, not trusting that even though he looked injured, he might not be.
Earl glanced over at Elizabeth, so glad that she was unhurt. Yet he ached inside when she did not come to him and welcome him. He had to correct that. Now!
Earl was going to see to it that Morris Murdoch cleared his name, or else. He saw that Morris was not mortally wounded, and that he would stand trial.
That is, if Earl did not kill him first.
Morris’s chances were better in court than with Earl, and Morris surely knew that, for there was dread in the depths of his eyes as Earl knelt beside him. The fingers of Earl’s free hand grabbed hold of Morris’s hair, lifting his head up to look eye to eye with Earl.
“You son of a bitch, you tell my daughter the truth about everything, or so help me, Morris, I will take you and make you die a slow, torturous death,” Earl said between gritted teeth. “And don’t think the law won’t allow it. I’d be saving them money by not having to pay a judge to hand down your sentence.”
Morris coughed and clutched at his chest wound, blood seeping through his fingers. “You bastard,” he said, his eyes hazy with pain. “You damn bastard. I should’ve known you’d be bad luck. You brought your bad luck with you from San Francisco. You threw it my way. Damn it, I should’ve known that you were a worthless dumb ass, unable to make things work right.”
“My daughter,” Earl said, yanking harder on Morris’s hair. “Damn it, Morris, tell my daughter the truth. Tell her that I had nothing to do with the attack on the village. Tell her that the only thing I did that was underhanded was place the nets in the river.” He leaned closer to Morris’s face. “Tell her now, or be sorry.”
“How’d you know about this ambush?” Morris breathed out between gasps of pain. He closed his eyes wearily. “Who double-crossed me? Who?”
“You aren’t as smart as you think you are,” Earl said, laughing sarcastically. “There are several among your gang who have turned informants to bargain for their freedom. They were smart enough to know that the end was near for your bastard gang of outlaws.”
“The dumb asses,” Morris said, his eyes flashing with anger. “How could they?”
“Enough of this,” Earl said with a snarl. “I’m waiting for you to tell the truth so that not only my daughter will know it, but also so that Strong Heart can hear you.”
When Morris stubbornly clamped his lips together, Strong Heart stepped forward and knelt on the other side of him. Elizabeth moved closer, her pulse racing.
Strong Heart yanked his knife from its sheath at his waist, and placed the sharp blade against Morris’s throat, “You speak the truth now,” he said, his eyes lit with fire. “Do it for my woman. She deserves all truths. She has earned them.”
Fear creeped into Morris’s eyes. He gulped hard and stared up at Strong Heart. “Her father is innocent of everything, except for putting the nets in the river,” he cried out. “Please. Please . . . move that knife away. I . . . I . . . don’t want to die.”
Tears streamed from Elizabeth’s eyes. She reproached herself for believing all of those ugly things about her father, when all along he was mostly innocent.
Innocent!
Now it was his turn to forgive, it seemed, for she had treated him callously instead of trusting him. In truth, her father had been as wronged as the Suquamish. He had been used by Morris Murdoch in the worst way.
Earl rose slowly to his feet. He flipped his pistol into its holster and turned to Elizabeth. His eyelids heavy, he beckoned for her with his arms to come to him.
“Baby, I’m sorry for all of this,” he said thickly. “My choice of partners was bad, don’t you agree?”
Elizabeth brushed tears from her cheeks and she swallowed back a sob as she broke into a run and flung herself into his arms. “I’m the one who is sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to him. “Will you ever, ever be able to forgive me?”
“How can you ask that?” Earl said, holding her away from him, so that their eyes could meet. “Baby, you have done nothing to be forgiven for. It was your father who is to blame for everything. I’m sorry that I gave you cause to mistrust me. And I shan’t ever cause you another moment’s stress or worry. Your mother and I are going to start a new life together. My life will be centered around family, not business. Will you be a part of our new life, Elizabeth? It would make everything complete for me and your mother.”
“Are . . . are . . . you asking me not to marry Strong Heart?” she asked, her voice wary.
“Not at all,” Earl said, smiling down at her. “Your mother and I want to wish you much happiness with Strong Heart. And we would like to be invited to your wedding. Do you think that can be arranged?”
Fresh tears rose in Elizabeth’s eyes—joyful tears. She again flung herself into her father’s arms. “Yes, yes,” she cried. “It can be arranged.”
Strong Heart looked on, his heart warm, his eyes smiling.