Without a word, both thieves dismounted. Jones held out a hand to Clara. She glared at him before taking it. She didn’t have much of a choice, given that he was still holding that pistol.
Hoskins collected the discarded weapons before ushering Mr. Wiley and Mr. Benton inside the stable. Jones pressed Clara along, grabbing hold of her arm again as he led the horses in behind him.
Inside the stable, Hoskins had taken the lamp and was already moving along the row of stalls, examining each horse. At the end of the row, he turned back to them. “We’re taking them all,” he announced.
Clara’s heart fell.
“But how—” Jones began.
“Tie them together. Let’s get this done with,” Hoskins replied.
“You can’t do that,” Clara said, her voice rising with emotion. “You’ll put Roman and Mr. Wiley out of business.”
The grin on Hoskins’s face made Clara shiver. “That’s why we’re here, little lady. We owe Carlisle a little taste of what he gave us. Thaddeus and I ain’t had legitimate work since he smeared our names from here to Denver.”
Roman had been right—itwaspersonal.
“Lock them up, but keep her out here. We may need her if Carlisle returns,” Hoskins said, his attention already turned back to the horses. “These ones should fetch a good amount.”
Jones waved his pistol at Mr. Benton and Mr. Wiley. They both stood rooted to the floor, Mr. Benton looking mean enough to spit and Mr. Wiley angrier than Clara ever thought possible. When they didn’t move, Jones shoved Clara in front of him, almost like a threat.
They slowly made their way to the room where the saddles and rope and other equipment was kept. Normally Clara loved that room, with its heady scent and shining leather, but all she felt right now was guilt as Jones ordered the men to toss out halters and lead ropes for the horses. If she hadn’t let the thieves grab hold of her at the boardinghouse, Mr. Wiley and Mr. Benton would’ve had a fighting chance. They’d given up to keep her safe.
They were giving upeverythingfor her.
Clara bit down hard on her lip. Going to pieces was the easy choice. But it wouldn’t help anything. As Jones locked the men into the room, she knew she was the only one left who could save the livery.
Roman might not want her, but she’d prove to him exactly what he’d miss by sending her away.
Chapter Twenty-three
THERE WASN’T A SOULnear Silver Creek.
Roman had stood there on the bank, breathing hard after that ride, as it all began to make sense. They weren’t luring him here to kill him. They were getting him out of the way.
And Clara was likely with them.
