Everything in Maggie wanted to scream again, but she reined in the urge, knowing—again instinctively, some animalistic part of her coming to life in this frightening situation—that to show fear now would be a terrible mistake. Fear only emboldened men like Sully Weatherspoon, amplifying their cruelty.
“Miss Dunne,” Sully said. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you. I thought you were dead.”
“My family is dead.”
“So I heard. But I thought you’d burned alongside them. Pity.”
“Pity that my family died?” she asked. “Or that I didn’t burn with them?”
“Miss Dunne, your question wounds me. Why would I ever wish you harm?”
“Because I rejected your proposal.”
Sully’s face darkened at her words.
Maggie knew she should hold her tongue, knew that she was putting herself in danger here, but her temper leapt up, and before she could stop herself, she said, “And speaking of proposals, I am no longer Miss Dunne, as you insist in calling me. I am now Mrs. Bentley.”
Sully sputtered with rage, his face going a dangerous crimson. “Bentley? As in Will Bentley? Did you marry Will Bentley?”
“That’s right,” Maggie said. “Will Bentley is my husband, and we’re very happy.”
“Where is he?” Sully demanded.
“Not here.”
“Where did he go?”
“The Thicket, if you must know.”
“The Thicket,” Sully said and smiled suddenly.
Somehow, that smile frightened her more than his anger ever could have.
“Long way from here,” Sully said. “Risky move, going down to the Thicket and leaving his pretty wife all alone. I mean, anything could happen to a woman out here. Anything at all. Nobody would even hear her scream.”
Suddenly, Maggie was so terrified it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. “Well, he’ll be home soon, so I really must be going, Mr. Weatherspoon. Good day.”
She made a move to walk around him, but again he edged his stallion to one side, blocking her path. “You don’t go anywhere until I’m finished with you, Mrs. Bentley. You thought you could snub me, you red-haired?—”
“Boss,” the man Maggie didn’t know said. “Trouble coming.”
“What is it, Chad?” Sully said, turning to follow the man’s gaze.
Maggie looked past Sully to where Mama and Rose were hurrying this way, Rose holding a derringer in each hand, Mama pointing the shotgun straight at Sully.
“How dare you point a weapon at me?” Sully demanded.
Maggie, seeing her chance, ran around the stallion and hurried to Mama and Rose, who continued to point their weapons at the intruders.
“Sully Weatherspoon,” Mama said, holding the double-barreled 10-gauge on him. “You leave my family alone, or I will send you straight to your reward.”
Mama had never looked so much like Will, Maggie thought. Her eyes were hard and dangerous. Her voice was full of steel and rock steady, just like the hands gripping the shotgun.
“You can’t kill all three of us,” the man named Chad said, edging his horse away from Sully’s.
“Maybe not, but at this range, you’ll catch some lead, too, stranger. So will your horse. Now, get out of here, all three of you, before I give you both barrels.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Sully said. “This is the new Texas. I’m going to be a big man. I’m going to run things, do you hear? Men like Will Bentley, we don’t want his kind around here. Rabble-rousers, troublemakers, rebels.”
