Part 45 (1/2)
”There were dozens of Blackthornes.”
”Laurel wanted me to make sure Daisy knew she could stay with us. She insists we postpone our return until you two get things settled between you. You had a long ride in from the ranch,” Hen said, hopefully. ”Did you get things settled?”
Tyler looked at Daisy. He held out his hand and gave hers a squeeze. ”There might be one or two things left.”
”I wish you'd hurry up. I'm sick of this hotel, Albuquerque, and lovesick fools like you. You're wrecking my plans.”
They emerged from the stable and headed toward the hotel.
Daisy held on to Tyler's arm. It was a simple thing, walking down the street on the arm of the man she loved. She found it hard to believe. So much had seemed to stand between them. Their differences had seemed impossible to resolve. Yet now it all seemed so simple. She couldn't imagine why she hadn't realized it before.
She was so deep in her own dreams of the future she would have with Tyler that she almost walked right by him. But suddenly she was jerked from her daydream and pitchforked into the reality of the crowded Albuquerque street. There he was, standing not twenty feet away. The man who shot her father.
Daisy stopped in her tracks. She turned to Tyler, but no words would come out of her mouth.
”What's wrong,” he asked.
She pointed at the man.
Tyler looked and then turned back to her. ”Who are you pointing at? There are a dozen people in front of us.”
”That's the man who killed my father,” Daisy finally managed to get out.
Hen grabbed for his gun, but he had allowed Laurel to talk him into putting his them aside while they were in Albuquerque. Tyler had his rifle with him, but he didn't want to shoot in the crowded streets. The killer didn't feel the same restriction. He grabbed his gun and fired at Daisy. Tyler brought up his rifle and returned his fire. He hit the man, but he disappeared down an alley amid screams and shouts of shocked and frightened pedestrians and vendors.
”Take care of her,” Tyler said to Hen and dived into the alley after the killer.
Coming practically face to face with Daisy Singleton had been a terrible shock to Frank. Though he still smarted over his failure and Regis Cochrane's insulting remarks, he had decided it was time to head for Montana. He hated to admit failure, but he had decided it would be tempting fate to try to kill her again. She was too closely involved with the Randolphs. Since returning to town, he had heard plenty of their reputation, enough to decide him to make that trip north. Just his luck she should see him when he was on his way to the livery stable.
He should have turned around and disappeared into the first alley he came to, but he'd been too shocked to think clearly. He didn't know what made him fire at Daisy. He missed her again, but it didn't matter. Both Randolphs knew what he looked like now.
Frank was relieved to see Hen Randolph carried no gun -- he would have been dead by now if he had -- but he had been shocked to find out Tyler was so fast with a rifle. The bullet had entered his thigh just below his hip. He limped down the alley, frantically searching for a place of safety, a sanctuary where he could hide until he could get to a doctor. He didn't believe the wound was dangerous, but he was losing blood fast. And with it, his strength. He wouldn't be able to run much longer.
That's when he decided to go to Regis's Cochrane's office. The son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h had gotten him into this mess. He could hide until the search died down. n.o.body would think to look for him in the town's only bank.
”Go after him,” Daisy pleaded with Hen. ”You're the one who's supposed to be good with a gun.”
Hen kept her moving rapidly along the street away from the buzzing spectators. He pulled back his coat to show that he wore no gun. ”I can't help him unarmed.”
”But you can't let him go alone.”
”I don't intend to. But first I'm going to escort you to the hotel.”
”I'm going with you.”
”No, you're not,” Hen said, and Daisy had no doubt but what he meant it. ”I have every intention of helping Tyler, but I won't have both our lives jeopardized by a female who doesn't know what she's doing.” They reached the porch of Post's Exchange Hotel. Hen hurried her inside and upstairs. ”Make certain she doesn't leave this room until I get back,” he said to his startled wife. ”Lock her up if necessary.” He disappeared into the bedroom.
”What's happened?” Laurel asked. ”Tyler didn't kill Guy Cochrane, did he?”
”No. I saw the man who tried to kill me,” Daisy explained. ”Tyler went after him.”
Hen came out of the bedroom buckling on his guns. Laurel's face went white. ”I can't leave Tyler to face that man alone, not after what he did for me in Sycamore Flats.”
”I know,” Laurel said, but Daisy noticed she gripped her hands so tight her knuckles turned white.
”This shouldn't take long. Tyler's already wounded him. Where are the boys?”
”I gave them permission to play in the plaza.”
”d.a.m.n!” Hen swore, then kissed his wife before leaving without another word.
”Aren't you going to do anything?” Daisy asked when Laurel turned back to her.
”Yes. We're going to sit down, and you're going to tell me what happened today. And don't leave out a single word.”
”But Tyler and your husband are out there. That man could kill them.”
”I know. That's why you've got to talk and go on talking until they get back.”
”But aren't you going to help him?”
”The best way I can help my husband is to have faith in him.” She sat down, but Daisy couldn't keep still.
”But I can't do nothing.”
”You can wait. Very often that's the best thing a woman can do.”
Tyler wound his way through a maze of alleys that twisted their way between decaying adobes. Their thick walls and few windows and doors served as an effective sound barrier. Few people had even heard the shots. He couldn't find anyone who had seen a wounded man run past. He started to fear the trail had grown cold.
He kept going over the same ground, through the same alleys, knowing the killer must have traveled at least one of them, knowing there had to be a clue if he could only find it. Then he saw the spot of blood. Farther along the alley he found another one. He didn't need any more clues. He knew the killer was headed toward the bank building.
Frank managed to reach the back of the bank before his strength gave out. He leaned against the rough adobe wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes darting right and left to see if anyone might have noticed him.
He was bleeding too much. He had to get to a doctor soon. He opened the back door and practically fell through the entrance. The bank had closed a little while earlier. At first he saw no one. Then he noticed Regis Cochrane peering out the front window, apparently trying to discover the reason for the shots.
Frank moved forward, leaning heavily on the counter to support him. He felt his strength waning. A creaking floorboard caused Regis to turn. His complexion went ashen when he saw Frank.
”Get out!” he hissed. ”I told you never to come here again.”
”I've been shot. I need a doctor,” Frank managed to say. He clawed at the counter to keep from falling.