Badlands Legend Page 6

  Cara pointed to the darkened outline of men pulling themselves into their saddles. “Look, Yale. They’re leaving.” Before he could respond she threw her arms around his neck. “We’ve won. Look. They’re leaving.”

  She gave him a hard hug that sent his heart spiraling out of control before lodging in his throat. And though he didn’t intend it, his arms came around her, molding her to the length of him.

  “Thank you for staying, Yale. I’ll never forget this.”

  She saw the smoldering look in his eyes and quickly pushed herself free of his arms. She was just turning away when she heard the soft thud on the roof. With a puzzled glance she looked up and saw a strange red glow.

  “What is…?” She clapped a hand to her mouth when she realized what it was. “Oh, sweet heaven. Fire.” Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper.

  Yale swore, even though he’d anticipated as much. “They can’t get us with their bullets, so they’re going to burn us out.”

  She turned to him, her eyes reflecting the flames that were already licking along the roof. “If you knew, why didn’t you join them? Why did you stay and fight on the losing side?”

  He shrugged before giving her that roguish, heart-stopping smile. “Hell, a man can’t always choose when he’s going to die. But sometimes, if he’s lucky, he can choose where and how. If I have to die tonight, I can’t think of a better place to do it than right here, with you.”

  And because he figured their time together was about to end, he dragged her close and covered her mouth with his. A jolt of lightning would have been less startling, as heat sizzled and snapped between them.

  Cara felt the floor beneath her feet sway and tilt and was forced to hold on to his waist to keep from falling. As she did, she felt an explosion of stars behind her closed eyes.

  It wasn’t so much a kiss as an assault on her senses. She could feel her blood heating, her bones melting, as he drew out the kiss until her mind seemed to go blank. She couldn’t think. All she could do was feel. The warmth of the hands holding her. The hard muscled body pressed to hers. The taste of him. So fierce. So potently male.

  When he finally lifted his head and held her a little away, her breath was coming in short bursts. She could see twin points of flame reflected in his eyes. Then he smiled. That wonderful, over-the-edge smile that had always done such strange things to her heart.

  “Too bad it took us so long to do that. But it was worth waiting for, Cara.”

  He deliberately turned away and picked up his rifle to keep from touching her again. But the need for her was still vibrating through him. And the taste of her was still on his lips.

  Chapter Five

  For the space of several seconds both Yale and Cara seemed mesmerized by the glow of flames licking along the roof.

  “We’ll have to give up.” Her voice was filled with despair. “I have to think of my children. I can’t let them pay this price. I’ll summon them.”

  Yale held up a hand to stop her. “Fenner and his men are expecting that reaction. They’re waiting just beyond the door. I don’t mind for myself. They’ll just kill me. But what they have in mind for you and the children is much worse.”

  He saw her shudder and wished he had the time to comfort her. But time was a luxury neither of them could afford now.

  Suddenly he looked around as a thought struck. “Do you have a bucket of water?”

  She pointed to a bucket and basin beside the wooden table.

  He started across the room. “I’ll get it while you fetch all the linens you have.”

  “All right, Yale. But why? What good will it do?”

  He shook his head. “There’s no time. Get them now.”

  Minutes later she found him lifting the rug that covered the trap door. He waited until she climbed down the ladder, then he followed, carrying the bucket and an armload of linens.

  Even the darkness of the root cellar was illuminated by the eerie red glow. As Cara dropped to her knees, the boys, who had been cowering in a corner of the cellar, hurried to her side. Immediately Seth began crying softly against his mother’s shoulder.

  “What’s that sound, Ma?” Cody asked.

  “The outlaws have set fire to our cabin.”

  “Are we going to burn?” he asked.

  Cara turned to Yale, who gave the children a wink. “Now we wouldn’t want to do that, would we?”

  When the boys shook their heads he knelt down beside them and said, “How would you like to wear masks?”

  “Like outlaws do?” Cody asked.

  “That’s right, Cody. Just like outlaws.” Yale soaked strips of linen in the water and handed them to Cara. “We’ll tie these around our lower faces to help us breathe. When the fire gets closer and hotter, we’ll soak the rest of these and use them to cover ourselves.”

  He watched as Cara secured them around the children’s noses and mouths before doing the same for herself.

  While she did that, Yale began a thorough inspection of their hiding place. It wouldn’t take long for the fire to burn through the dry logs that served as support beams beneath the cabin. When that happened, the entire structure would begin to cave in on itself, trapping them beneath a mound of flaming rubble.

  On the far side of the cellar he found the earth gradually sloping upward. Following it, he reached up to find a crude wooden door above his head.

  He turned. “Where does this lead?”

  Cara glanced over. “It opens near the garden. We positioned it here so that I’d be able to haul my crops in at harvest time, for easy storage.”

  Yale felt the first slim ray of hope.

  “There’s a chance we might be able to make good our escape without being spotted. Unless I miss my guess, Fenner and his men are standing watch on the far side of the cabin.”

  Unless, of course, one of the men had already found this entrance to the root cellar. If so, he and Cara would find themselves facing rifles when the door was pried open. Still, it was a chance he had to take.

  Above their heads they could hear the crash of timbers and the deafening roar as the flames fed on rugs and curtains and raced through the tiny cabin. Yale knew if they stayed here much longer, they would have no chance to survive.

  “Cara.” He beckoned her close. “How is this outer door secured?”

  “We use a wooden brace.”

  He nodded, feeling hope grow. The same fire that could snuff out their lives would burn through the wood that kept them locked in this fiery tomb.

  Quickly he told her his plan. “We may find ourselves staring into Fenner’s guns. But I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

  She nodded, then drew her arms around her sons. “I’ll risk whatever I have to for the chance to save their lives.”

  As the flames burned closer, Yale tied a wet rag around his face, then leaned a shoulder into the overhead door. It didn’t budge, even though the heat of the fire could be felt clear through the wood.

  He stepped away and poured water over himself, then took several deep breaths before trying again and again, until he felt the door start to give. Despite the precautions, his clothes were smoldering. He took no notice as he continued his assault on the door.

  Finally, sensing that the door was about to give, he turned to Cara. “When I get the door open, you and the boys need to run as fast as you can toward the cover of woods. Don’t look back or wait for me. Is that clear?”

  She seemed about to argue until she saw the look of fierce determination in his eyes. She swallowed back her protest. “I’ll do whatever you ask, Yale.”

  “Good.” He touched a hand to her shoulder. Just a touch. Then he took a deep breath and pushed against the door with all his might.

  The burning door slipped free, sending a shower of fiery sparks and debris over them. Seeing Cara hesitate, Yale drew his pistol from its holster, prepared to defend them against attack. Instead of armed men, he faced a fireball that reached as high as the treetops. He holster
ed his gun and lifted Seth into his arms, then caught Cody by the hand, dragging him through a wall of flame. When Cara faltered he lowered Seth to the ground and placed his hand firmly in that of his brother.

  “Run,” he said fiercely. “Now.”

  Gathering Cara into his arms he carried her through a wall of flames and into the cover of the woods that ringed the ranch.

  When they found themselves in the coolness of the forest, they dropped into the grass, coughing and retching, their eyes and lungs burning from the smoke.

  “Did they see us?” Cara asked when she could manage to speak.

  “If we’d been spotted, they’d have come at us with guns blazing. But just to be sure…”

  Yale caught her hand and helped her to her feet, then put the exhausted Cody up on his shoulders and lifted Seth into his arms, leading them deeper into the woods until they came to a stream. There they knelt on the banks and drank, before splashing water on their soot-blackened flesh.

  At the sound of thrashing in a nearby thicket they froze. Seeing the look of terror in Cara’s eyes Yale lay a hand on her arm. “Hide yourself and the boys. If you hear gunshots, run as deep into the woods as you can. Whatever you do, don’t ever stop. And don’t look back.”

  Before she could say a word he was gone, heading toward the sound. She led the way through thick underbrush. There, hearts pounding, she and her sons watched and waited for what seemed an eternity.

  The woods were so dark they could barely make out the shadow of a man and horse. When they heard Yale calling softly to them, they stepped out of their hiding place to find him leading the plow horse, still hitched to the little cart.

  Cara gave a delighted laugh. “It’s old Sadie. How did she find us?”

  Despite Yale’s soothing tone, the animal’s eyes were wide with terror, its nostrils flared. “Looks like she must have bolted after being spooked by the fire. She ran until the cart became hopelessly entangled in brush.” As he spoke, he continued running his hand along the horse’s neck until the quivering began to ease up. He pointed to the cart. “It appears that most of the supplies are still there. I suggest you and the children climb inside. We have only a few hours left before dawn. If we hope to get away, it has to be now, under cover of darkness.”

  Cara lifted her sons into the back of the cart. Then she suddenly looked up. “Where will we go, Yale?”

  “Which direction is Crescent Butte?”

  “North of here.”

  He glanced up at the sky, barely visible beneath the canopy of trees, studying the path of the stars. “That’s where Fenner will expect us to go. What’s south of here?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Just wilderness.”

  He took up the reins, eager to escape. “Then that’s where we’re headed. Let’s just hope we find a place to hide by the time daylight comes.”

  Suddenly the enormity of what she was about to do seemed to come crashing down upon her. Cara leaned a hand against the wheel of the wagon and slumped forward, pressing her other hand to the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She lowered her head to hide the sudden rush of tears. Her voice was choked. “What about our cabin? The barn? Our cattle?”

  “Don’t think about that now, Cara.” Yale knew he had to move quickly. Right now, it was absolutely essential that he get them as far away from here as possible. He couldn’t afford to allow emotions to get in the way of doing whatever was necessary to survive.

  He took her arm and helped her up onto the hard seat of the wagon. Then he climbed up beside her and flicked the reins.

  As the horse started forward Cara turned for one last glimpse of the flames destroying her home. Then, turning back, she folded her hands in her lap and took a deep, steadying breath.

  Yale thought about his mother, and the stoic way she had faced leaving his grandfather’s farm, despite her hasty preparations. Her death along the trail had thrust her children into a life unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

  This was different, he told himself as he urged the horse into a faster pace. Unlike his mother, Cara wasn’t alone on her odyssey.

  He was a man now, not a helpless boy. What’s more, he knew how to survive in the wilderness. If anyone had to die along the trail, he vowed, it wouldn’t be this woman and her children. On that, he intended to stake his life.

  Cara clung to the hard wooden seat as they moved through the darkness into the unknown. So much had happened in such a short time, she was still trying to sort it all out in her mind.

  It didn’t seem possible that she was calmly sitting beside Yale Conover while they escaped the clutches of a gang of outlaws. She glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that both children were sound asleep. If only she could do the same. But her mind was whirling in a dozen different directions, feeling again the shock when she’d found a man in her cabin, ordering her and her children to flee. When she’d discovered that the man was Yale, her shock had turned to wonder, and then to fear, when she’d figured out his relationship to the Fenner gang.

  He was one of them.

  She had to keep reminding herself of that. It would be so easy to think of him as the boy she’d once loved. The wild, restless young man who had turned his back on his family, on his town, and had asked her to do the same.

  She had never forgiven her father for what he had done that night. She’d wept buckets of tears, until there were none left. Still, if she had followed her heart, where would she be now? What would her life have been like, tied to an outlaw?

  He glanced over. “You should climb in the back with your children and try to get some sleep.”

  She shook her head. “I’d never be able to close my eyes.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But sooner or later it’s going to catch up with you.”

  “I know. I’ll sleep later.” She studied the big hands holding the reins. Soft hands. A gambler’s hands. He had long ago left the respectable life of a rancher to ply his skill in saloons with drifters and women of the night. She’d heard the rumors about him. Rumors that had grown until he had become a legend in the Dakota Territory. Yale Conover was the envy of most men, who saw his life of ease and excitement as the exact opposite of their own lives of unending, thankless chores, failure and despair. The women who spoke of him did so in whispers. And though they claimed to disdain his lifestyle, they were clearly fascinated by the man, who seemed larger than life.

  She lifted her gaze to study his rugged profile. “What do you think will happen now?”

  “I’m not much good at predicting the future. But at least for the time being we’re still alive.” He grinned. “Considering the odds against that, I’d say we’re already winners.”

  “Do you think the Fenner gang will follow? Or will they give up now that we’ve managed to slip away?”

  His smile grew. “You’re asking for another prediction? I’m not sure I have it in me.”

  She shook her head, sending dark curls tumbling around her face. “How can you smile after all this?”

  “That’s easy.” He surprised her by closing a hand over hers and squeezing gently. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a born gambler. I’ve always loved beating the odds.”

  Despite her fears she felt the warmth of him seeping into her and marveled that even this simple touch had the ability to bolster her courage.

  “You’re not afraid, Yale?”

  “Are you?”

  “I’m terrified.”

  “Come here.” He brought his arm around her, tucking her close against him. “You just close your eyes awhile, and let me do the worrying for both of us.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.” His hand moved across her shoulder, and along the top of her arm, gently massaging the knots of tension. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  Though she was reluctant, she did as he asked, closing her eyes, and forcing herself to relax.

  There was something so comforting about the warmth of his body, the surprising strength of the arm that
encircled her. Resting here against him it was difficult to remember that he was an outlaw. Instead she found herself slipping back to that time in her youth when she’d been so blindly in love with him, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

  She’d be tending to her chores, when she would spot him on the hill overlooking her father’s ranch. And suddenly the chores were forgotten. All she could think of was watching him. He had a way of walking. As though he knew exactly where he was going, yet had all the time in the world to get there. Her father had called him cocky, arrogant. To Cara, Yale Conover had been merely confident. A man forced to live in a boy’s body, a boy’s world. A man who always played by his own rules. A man who made no secret of the fact that he wanted her. And she’d wanted him. Wanted to be with him. Only him.

  The yearning in her heart had been so overwhelming, it frightened her. She’d never wanted anyone or anything the way she’d wanted Yale. And yet she’d been too young, too afraid, to defy her father. Added to that was a fear of Yale. A fear of the things that drove him to be so different from all the other boys she knew.

  Maybe what she’d feared the most was that she wouldn’t be able to measure up in his eyes. He was willing to take any risk, choose any road, without regard to where it led. A true gambler. She’d always wanted to know exactly where she was going and what she would find at the end of the road. She hated surprises. And was afraid of the unknown.

  And so she’d married Wyatt Evans, a man hand-picked by her father. His ambition had pleased her mother. His plainspoken ways had pleased her father. And their approval had overcome whatever reservations she’d had about marrying a man twice her age.

  If there had been no excitement in their marriage, at least there had been no estrangement from her parents. She could take comfort in that. And now they were all gone. Her father and mother. Wyatt. But she and her children were safe for now. And though it seemed a bitter irony, she owed their safety to that wild, restless boy from her past.