Desert Rage Read online

  “She’s not part of this, Maloney!”

  Colin Maloney had gotten what he had so desired. He had found away to hurt Jacob, both physically and emotionally. The bounty hunter tried to keep his voice calm, so as not to betray how anxious he was about Bonnie’s safety.

  The marshal had closed the final steps and his own revolver pulled, aiming at Maloney from the other side. “Let her go, you fiend,” he called. “We’ve got you covered on both sides. You’re not getting out of this alive.”

  “If I’m not, then neither is she,” Maloney said darkly.

  Bonnie gulped, eyes wide, but didn’t say anything. Her equanimity under such duress was admirable.

  Jacob’s revolver was held tightly in his left hand. His non-dominant hand. While he had been telling himself for years he needed to spend more time practicing his shot from his left hand, he in no way felt confident in his skills yet.

  “Colin Maloney,” a deep voice yelled. “That woman is not part of this.”

  Jacob looked around, shocked and curious about who belonged to the new voice. The only other ally he could have guessed might appear was Deputy Lowry but that hadn’t sounded anything like the man. After a disbelieving moment, Jacob realized that the outlaw he had seen earlier, the one man returning to the scene in spite of his chance to escape, had removed his mask and admonished Maloney.

  The man was shorter than Jacob, but still carried himself with a presence and bearing that bespoke leadership. He had pale, icy blue eyes under a mop of curly brown hair. With his masked removed, Jacob noticed the man’s square jaw covered in a light brown stubble, as though he had been on the road for a few days after a shave.

  It was Stone.

  Elliott “Slippery” Stone. The leader of the outlaw gang was risking his own capture to rescue an innocent woman he had never met before. Jacob was shocked into silence.

  “Shut it, Stone,” Maloney yelled at him. “This isn’t your fight any more.”

  The outlaw never took his eyes off of Jacob. The bounty hunter didn’t take his eyes off of him either. He couldn’t let himself be distracted and miss what might be his only chance to rescue Bonnie.

  Whether Elliott “Slippery” Stone had been in on Maloney’s plan to get caught by Jacob Payne, he couldn’t say. The bounty hunter found it hard to believe that there would be anything happening in that man’s gang that he didn’t know about. Of course, a few moments ago Jacob would have also found it hard to believe that the outlaw would berate any of his men for any crime, let alone capturing a woman.

  Regardless of how it came about, Seamus Maloney’s brother had used the gang and their schemes to attack Jacob in the most personal way possible. Revenge and rage had driven each of Colin’s actions over the last few days.

  Jacob winced at the pain from his shoulder, as well as from the bruises all over his body. With the back of his hand he wiped the still-wet blood off of his face. He must look a sight, with the blood, dirt, and sweat smeared every which way. And yet Bonnie never once looked away.

  He clutched his revolver in his left hand. In spite of the pain in that arm, he held steady, aiming carefully at the outlaw. With Bonnie sitting in front of Colin, there was every reason to worry about possibly hitting her. That was the only reason Jacob hadn’t fired yet. He would. He had to. But he didn’t want to risk injuring an innocent himself, or risk Maloney shooting her in the ribs reflexively when the gun went off.

  Jacob took two slow steps forward.

  “You stay where you are, Payne,” Maloney said. “You’re going to watch me take what you love, just like you took from me.”

  “We don’t have to do this,” Jacob said calmly. Soothingly. “Your brother died exactly the way he chose to. He could have let himself be brought in for a trial, but he insisted on a dual. It was what he wanted. Seamus had every chance.”

  “Don’t you let his name cross your lying lips,” Maloney shrieked. “You’re not fit to lick his boots.”

  “I’m sorry I had to kill the man. Truly. But your quarrel is with me, not with Miss Loft.”

  “I hope after I kill her, it breaks your heart,” the outlaw said coldly.

  “Maloney,” Stone said in a commanding tone. “We do not kill innocent women.”

  The outlaw broke eye contact from Jacob, turning his attention to Stone. Whatever authority and hold the leader had over members of his gang he had wielded in that moment, demanding Maloney’s attention.

  Jacob saw his chance.

  In turning to give Stone his attention, Maloney inadvertently directed his horse to turn as well.

  That was all Jacob needed. The tiny window of opportunity to end this.

  With the slightly different angle, Jacob could get a clear shot at Colin Maloney, without putting Bonnie in the middle and with enough of a margin that he was willing to risk the shot with his less-skilled left hand.

  The bounty hunter took a deep breath and held it, willing his hand to stay steady.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  The shot tore the air. Bonnie yelped in surprise. Santos yelled for Jacob. A rough cry of pain escaped Maloney’s lips.

  Only Slippery Stone remained silent. He met Jacob’s eyes for a short beat, across the dirt street. Whatever disagreements or quarrels the two men might have, they came together in that moment. Neither had wanted to witness the death of an innocent woman.

  Stone nodded almost imperceptibly to the bounty hunter and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Jacob called.

  The outlaw glanced at him over his shoulder, before breaking into a run. Before Jacob could wrap his mind around what had just happened the gang leader had rounded the next corner and was out of sight.

  Jacob had a short moment of turmoil within himself, trying to decide if running after Elliott “Slippery” Stone was the best option. Could he really just let an outlaw of that notoriety leave Tucson unpursued? But, then, could Jacob really make any kind of respectable chase in his condition?

  He had to take care of himself. And Bonnie.

  Only a short moment had passed, but Maloney had fallen from the saddle into the dirt, clutching his chest where the bullet had landed. His foot remained tangled in the stirrup. In the surprise of the gunshot, his horse had moved forward another few steps, dragging the injured, bleeding outlaw in the dirt by his broken leg.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Get the doctor,” U.S. Marshal Santos yelled out.

  Two of the men who had been a block away cleaning up the rubble and detritus from looting both ran down the street following the marshal’s instruction. A small crowd was gathering, some to help but most only to gawk at the action.

  After a quick glance at Maloney, to ensure the man would not be getting up, Santos reached up to help Bonnie down off the horse.

  “Are you all right?” Jacob asked, hurrying to her side.

  She nodded, as though still numb and shocked by the entire affair.

  “Miss Loft, will you please take this man to my office?” To Jacob, he offered a more direct command. “Go with her. Sit. I don’t want you moving. We’ll get this all taken care of.”

  Jacob looked over the street at the complete mess and disaster that had resulted.

  Bonnie put her arm around his waist, helping him through his limp.

  He wrapped his one good arm around her, while his other hung down.

  After a few feet, with no one else in hearing distance, Jacob stopped. He needed to look at her. He needed to be sure she was okay. He looked full in her face briefly before pulling her into a hug.

  “I’m sorry, Bonnie,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “Please don’t say that.” She pulled out of his embrace to look up into his face. “This is my fault. When I heard everything that was happening I thought I’d be able to help, but instead I just got in the way.”

  “No, no,” he protested. “I love that you wanted to help—”

  “That may be,” she said gently
interrupting him. “But I still mangled it up. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready for this. I thought I was, but I was wrong. I couldn’t even bring myself to raise the rifle, let alone shoot it.”

  Jacob was quiet for a moment, pulling her into another hug while he thought.

  “Would you like to learn to shoot it?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered immediately. “Please. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. I’d like to be able to do it myself.”

  Jacob nodded. “All right, then. We’ll do that. You’ll learn how to fire a rifle in case you ever need to protect yourself.”

  “Not until you’re all healed up, though,” she said with a laugh. “You told me before you’d give yourself some time off. And now look at you.”

  “I can barely stand.”

  “You can barely stand and your arm doesn’t work and you still have that hole in your side,” she teased. She smiled at him and softened. “Please, Jacob.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There must be some other bounty hunter in the territory, isn’t there?”

  “Oh, I would think so. The marshal can find someone.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” she said.

  He grinned at her and pulled her close for a kiss. Any outlaw that needed chasing would just have to wait.

  The adventure continues in Arizona Legacy, the eighth book of the Jacob Payne series

  Also by A.T. Butler

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  Jacob Payne Series:

  Trouble By Any Name

  Danger in the Canyon

  Justice for Jasper

  Blood on the Mountain

  Outlaw Country

  Death By Grit

  Desert Rage

  Arizona Legacy

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  Jacob Payne Box Set: Books 1-3

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  Other Western Novels by A.T. Butler:

  Hawke’s Revenge

  About the Author

  I grew up in the southwest—California Missions, snakes and constant threat of drought weaving the backdrop of my childhood.

  But it wasn’t until I moved to Texas a few years ago that the magic and mythology of the American West began to seep into my soul.

  I’d love to write about Jacob Payne for a long time…

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  If you enjoyed this book, a review on your favorite retailer would be greatly appreciated.

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  Desert Rage is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2019 by A.T. Butler

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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