“I am Mrs. Longstreet, and I prefer that you remember it, but if it troubles you, you may call Frances. I would not mind that terribly.”
“Frances. That’s where you get your starch. I like Franny better. I have a notion that it’s a bit softer.”
“Do you think so?” Jane dropped her pins and combs on top of the linens and walked toward him. She stopped at the other side of the bed. “Shall I turn back the covers?”
He smiled. “You’re goin’ to stay all proper about it. I like that. No, you can leave the bed as it is and just lie down. I’ll cover you.”
Jane smoothed her apron with damp palms and nervously licked her lips. The brief darting of her tongue brought his attention to her mouth. She worked to keep her breathing steady. “I do not want you to kiss me.”
He cocked a wiry eyebrow at her. “What you want is five minutes, remember? Let me see what you have, Franny. Come here.”
Jane went. She did not have to feign reluctance. And when he pulled her close, dug his fingers deep into her hair, and ground his mouth against hers, she did not have to feign despair. Her husband loved to plunge his fingers into her hair, sift it, thread it, and this touch of Marcie’s was a violation.
She would not let it stand. She would not. The solution came to her as Marcie grabbed a fistful and yanked.
The pins clicked. The tumblers fell. Morgan put the glass on top of the safe.
“You got it?” Gideon asked.
“We’ll see. Stay where you are. Let me see if this works first.” Morgan placed a hand around the long brass handle and gave it a pull. The door opened, revealing neat stacks of bills, valuables, certificates…and one more thing.
He had only seconds to act; Gideon was already on his feet and trying to get a view of the interior, but the position of the door blocked his efforts. When he moved to get around it, Morgan shoved it hard at him. The heavy steel door struck him solidly in the side before he could get out of the way.
“Cover your eyes, Finn,” Morgan said.
Finn did. He made himself as small as he could in Mr. Webb’s big chair and pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Something in the deadly calm of Mr. Longstreet’s voice warned him to do that.
Morgan already had possession of the gun that had been placed in the safe for him when he gave Finn the directive. Jumping to his feet, he took quick aim with the Colt as Gideon was lifting his own weapon and fired.
Jane squeezed her eyes shut as she set one hand on Marcie’s hip and the other in her apron pocket at the level of his groin. Her fingers folded around the hilt of the paring knife. Her knuckles brushed his button fly as she twisted the blade and aimed. Her touch had stirred his blood. Jane hoped all of it had settled between his legs.
She struck hard and sure and the knife sliced through layers of fabric as easily as if she were back in the kitchen slicing potatoes. She kept that in mind as she struck again.
And again.
Gideon got off one shot as he staggered back. The bullet ricocheted off the safe’s steel door. It was Finn, not Gideon, who cried out. Morgan pushed the door out of the way and grabbed the boy out of the chair with one arm while he kept the Colt aimed at his brother. That Finn could stand at all he took as a good sign. He pushed the boy behind him.
“Drop the gun, Gideon. You set the rules. You know I don’t have time. Drop it!”
Gideon looked at the open safe and then back at Morgan. “You knew I would come for the money. The gun was waiting for you. I bet you knew the com?—”
Morgan fired again, this time taking aim at Gideon’s wrist. The bullet only grazed him, but it was enough to make him drop the gun. “Don’t move! Finn? No, stay where you are. Hold onto me. Were you hit or were you frightened?”
“My right leg’s burnin’ somethin’ fierce, Mr. Longstreet, but I reckon I was scared pretty good, too.”
“All right. I’m going to get you to Doc Kent’s.”
“There ain’t time,” said Finn. “You said yourself, you don’t have time.”
Gideon chuckled. Blood was seeping from the wound in his shoulder. He slipped his injured hand under his coat and pressed his palm against it. “Hard choices.”
“You let me hold the gun on him,” said Finn. “I know all about ridin’ the longhorns of a pretty big dilemma, and you shouldn’t have to wrestle that steer now. You gotta go. Dix will be here. He’s got to have heard the shots.”
“You heard the boy. It’s a pretty big dilemma. I’m guessing you’d want to know that I left your missus with a man who served time for raping his sergeant’s wife.”
Morgan loosed Finn’s grasp on him and stepped forward to kick Gideon’s weapon out of the way. With Gideon’s attention at his feet, Morgan flipped the Colt in his hand, held it by the barrel and clubbed Gideon in the side of the head with the ivory grip.
Gideon slid down the wall to the floor, where he slowly toppled sideways.
