Rescuing Cain (Christmas Rescue Series Book 2) Read online

  He closed his eyes and the harrowing scene on that fateful day flashed before him as it had done a hundred times before.

  Skye interrupted his bitter memories. “Here’s your tea.” She handed him a cup.

  “Thanks.”

  She turned away and handed a cup to the old man. “After we finish our tea, you can come with me.” She patted the dog’s head. “Cain, you can stay here.”

  “I could help.”

  “You’re not well enough. I’ve got a stew on cooking keep an eye on that for me if you want something to do.”

  “That’s women’s work.”

  “Not today it isn’t. You said you wanted to help me, so you can.”

  “Oh, all right.” He sipped his tea, trying not to let his distaste show. How could people enjoy drinking such a poisonous brew? She was right. He wasn’t well enough to go outside. She had fed him only broth and mushy food up until now. A decent meal tonight and he’d be well enough to leave in a few days. At least with the rain and wind any tracks Jupiter had left would have been obliterated.

  Even if the Oliver gang hadn’t made it to Laramie and were hiding out, they wouldn’t be able to follow him here.

  After Skye drank her tea and ate a cookie, she put on a duster that was a couple of sizes too big and clamped a battered hat on her head. The old man did likewise. “Come on, Lochie,” she said. “The sooner we start the sooner we finish.”

  The back door banged shut and he was alone.

  Once the others left, he emptied the tea into the slop tin and poured himself a drink of water from the wooden bucket they always used. Weariness pressed down on him, but he wouldn’t return to bed, it weakened him too much. He marched up and down the room for a time and on the verge of collapse, checked the stew, gave it a quick stir then slumped in the comfortable old armchair and closed his eyes.

  The day after tomorrow he would leave here no matter what. The longer he stayed the harder it would be to leave.

  He and Brian Conlan, who he had met during their army service at the time of the war, had had such grand plans after surviving all the major battles relatively unscathed. They would make their fortune if they started a coach line. Mail and people would make it a profitable venture they had thought. Their future seemed secure.

  He had grown up on a dirt-poor ranch in Texas not far from the Mexican border. It wasn’t that his father didn’t work, it was just that the land was so dry and hungry, little would grow on it.

  His one chance to make something of himself had ended in a hail of bullets. How he had missed being killed was a miracle, or maybe it wasn’t. I might have been better off dead. Over two years of hard labor in prison for stealing mail bags that weren’t even on board. Someone from the post office had been on the Oliver gang’s payroll, but he could never find out who.

  By the time investigators had exonerated him, the bitterness had seeped into every fiber of his being. Revenge had become an all-consuming passion, which would not be appeased until the last two Oliver brothers were dead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cain was up on the barn roof sawing at half a tree that had collapsed in the storm. It was either do it himself or let Skye do it, something he wouldn’t allow. Just goes to show chivalry isn’t completely dead in me.

  How did a slightly built little gal like her think she could cut down the fallen branches and push the tree away. At least it would give them plenty of firewood.

  She had told him that they collected most of their wood from fallen trees and branches. She used to hitch up one of the horses to haul the large tree trunks to the back yard and gradually cut them up.

  He hated to think of her doing the work of a man. Life would be much easier for her in town, but she wouldn’t go because of the old man. The pair of them were close, it was easy to see. Dammit, why should he care?

  He would have left yesterday had the tree not toppled over. After everything these people had done for him it was the least he could do to try and repay them. Besides, he didn’t want Skye going anywhere near the barn roof and risk falling off.

  Was that dust in the distance? He squinted into the weak sun. It was, the sudden whooping and hollering had him scrambling down from the roof. Indians. And it wasn’t no peace party.

  Sprinting toward the cabin he yelled to Skye who was pegging washing on the line. “Indians. Quick, get inside.”

  She grabbed up her clothes basket and ran to the porch. They reached the steps together. He took the steps two at a time and dragged her up behind him as they dashed to the door.

  “Grandpa. Indians,” she yelled.

  By the time they got inside the old man was closing the wooden shutters over the windows, obviously he knew what to do. There was a round hole covered by a leather flap on the front and back doors, which had enough room for a rifle barrel to be poked through. Once it was pushed back, it left a couple of inches on either side to see out.

  “We haven’t had any Indian trouble for a few years,” she said, grabbing a rifle off the wall.

  “Yeah, well, you sure got some now by the looks of it.”

  The old man shuffled over to the stove and fumbled with a tin resting on a ledge over the fire. He managed to get it down, opened the lid and threw a handful of powder on to the fire. It caused a sudden hissing sound.

  “Green smoke,” McLeod said. “It might scare them off.”

  This old man was crazy in the head. Cain snatched the rifle out of Skye’s hand and loaded it. “Get mine, quickly.”

  She dashed into the bedroom and returned with his Winchester as the whooping intensified. He let off a couple of shots, scattering the group of ten or twelve braves. The next thing he knew arrows thudded into one side of the cabin. This time he aimed carefully and fired in quick succession, bringing down a couple of Indians.

  They wheeled their horses and fled. Only a temporary withdrawal he knew. They would be back. He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t continued their attack. The old man threw in another handful of powder. Once more it popped and hissed.

  “What in tarnation is he doing?”

  “Green smoke. I told you that before,” Skye said. “The Indians will think it’s powerful magic.”

  “Not for long they won’t. Grab all the guns you’ve got and load them ready. If things go bad, save a bullet, and if they overrun the place shoot yourself.”

  “What!”

  “Death from a bullet will be much better than what will be in store for you if you’re captured.”

  “I….I couldn’t.” She shuddered.

  “You can and you will. I’ve seen what can happen to white women who fall into their hands and it isn’t pretty.”

  The color drained from her face. He hated frightening her, but she had to be aware of what could happen.

  “Aye, he be right, lass.”

  “Get ready,” Cain said. “I think they’re coming back.”

  The whooping started up again, reaching a crescendo as arrows rained down on the cabin. He was surprised at how well Skye could shoot through the front door flap.

  “We’ve got to keep an eye on the back,” he said. “If they bunch up, we can hold them. If they separate and start to circle us, we’re in big trouble. We’ll fire together. On the count of three.”

  “One, two, three,” she said and simultaneously they let off a volley of shots. The old man reloaded the weapons.

  They couldn’t hold out for too long Cain realized. A fiery arrow landed on the front porch. He grabbed up a bucket of water. “Keep firing,” he yelled as he opened the door and tossed the water on to the flames which promptly sizzled and went out. “Don’t stop firing, try to keep them away from the cabin.”

  All hell suddenly broke lose, the Indians scattered as several soldiers and a civilian galloped into view, sounding the bugle and firing.

  “Whew, that was close.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

  The soldiers quickly dr
ove the Indians away. An officer and a civilian rode up to them while the rest of the soldiers pursued the Indians.

  Skye was crying, the old man marching up and down gabbling in Gaelic, while he was sweating like a pig. “It’s okay, darlin’, the army has ridden to our rescue.”

  “I thought we’d all die.” She sobbed.

  “Well, we didn’t.”

  The officer dismounted. A captain by the look of his uniform.

  Cain opened the door. “Howdy.”

  “Howdy, I’m Captain Renshaw.”

  The other man dismounted and joined them. “I’m Reverend Yates.”

  “I’m Cain Kilkenny, and these folks are the McLeods. What’s a preacher doing out here with the army?”

  “I’m on my way back from performing a wedding ceremony in Cheyenne.”

  “A General’s daughter,” Captain Renshaw said with a slight sneer. To say he didn’t seem impressed was an understatement.

  “Come inside,” Skye invited. “I’ll make some tea.”

  “Tea sounds excellent,” the preacher said as he stepped up on to the porch while a scowling captain tied the horses to a hitching rail.

  “Now, Mrs….”

  “I’m not married. I’m Skye Lonsdale and I live here with my grandfather.”

  “And you are?” The preacher swung around to face Cain.

  “I’m Cain Kilkenny.”

  They entered the cabin as the old man was collecting the guns.

  “My grandfather, Hugh McLeod.” She did the introductions.

  The preacher stared at the old man who shuffled over with a hand outstretched. They shook hands and Cain watched the preacher staring into the old man’s eyes. “Are you a visitor here, Mr. Kilkenny?”

  Cain was tempted to tell the man to mind his own business.

  “He’s staying here with us,” Skye said.

  “You’re not related?” The preacher’s voice rose slightly.

  “No, these good people found me wounded and nursed me back to health.”

  “You live under the same roof as this young woman?”

  “I just told you I did.”

  “It’s outrageous. Immoral.”

  The captain rolled his eyes.

  “We didn’t sleep in the same room if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Cain snapped.

  “It’s highly improper.”

  Cain felt like wiping the sanctimonious expression off the preacher’s face.

  “Why? Her grandfather is here to chaperone us.” He felt his temper rising.

  “A blind man couldn’t see if any immoral acts were committed,” the captain said with a sarcastic edge to his voice.

  “Exactly, Captain Renshaw. Are you married young man?”

  “No.”

  “Well, in the name of common decency I demand that you marry this young woman to save her tarnished reputation.”

  “My reputation isn’t tarnished. We didn’t do anything wrong.” Her face was pale, her hands trembled.

  “Listen, nothing happened between us. I’ll be leaving here tomorrow.”

  “Not before you do the right thing by my wee Skye.”

  Cain couldn’t believe his ears. The old man was siding with the preacher.

  “Grandpa! Cain doesn’t have to marry me.”

  “You want him to.” He gabbled something in Gaelic and if Skye looked pale and upset before, it was nothing to how she appeared now.

  “What did you say to her in that mumbo-jumbo of yours?” Cain glared at him. “You know nothing happened between us.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s blind so you could do anything to his granddaughter, and he wouldn’t know,” the preacher shot back.

  “I could have, but I didn’t.” When he saw Skye’s shocked expression, he could have bitten his tongue out. He was insinuating she was willing, but he wasn’t, which made her sound like a whore. She literally shrunk in stature before his eyes. Inadvertently he had humiliated her.

  “Stop this bickering,” Captain Renshaw said. “I have had it with you Reverend and with you Kilkenny. Marry the girl and be done with it. My men and I have wasted three weeks taking this man to perform a wedding, when we could have been out doing something useful.” He let his eyes roam over Skye.

  “Well, if he won’t marry you, Miss. I will. You’re a pretty gal and the army is a mighty lonely life sometimes.”

  Cain fumed. Let the likes of him marry Skye – never. The thought of any man other than himself touching her milky white skin, tasting those soft sweet lips had fury burning through him. He could almost feel the smoke pouring out of his ears.

  “All right, Preacher, I’ll marry her.”

  Skye was trembling and looked so stricken he stepped over to her. “Will you marry me?”

  “I….I. You don’t have to do this, Cain.”

  “Apparently I do.” He glanced around the room. The preacher wore a holier-than-thou expression on his thin face, McLeod looked triumphant while the captain scowled. He was certainly not a happy man. He had made it more than obvious he wanted to collect his men and hightail it out of here.

  “Will I change my dress?” Skye’s anxious tones interrupted Cain’s thoughts.

  He shrugged. “It’s up to you.” Why should he care what she wore? If he had to get hitched, he wanted it over and done with. He’d been maneuvered into a marriage he didn’t want, although he would enjoy making her his wife in the comfortable bed in which he had slept for over two weeks. It was the other implications of being married that worried him.

  Her hurt expression cut him to the core. “You look pretty as you are, darlin’, just take your apron off.”

  “Do you have a ring?” the preacher asked.

  “A ring! Oh yeah, I carry one around with me wherever I go. Wouldn’t leave home without it.”

  McLeod gabbled something to Skye who answered him in English. “Grandpa says he’s got grandma’s wedding ring and I can have that.”

  “What’s this gibberish you’re speaking?” the preacher asked. “I won’t have people talking in tongues like that in front of me. It’s sinful.”

  “Sinful?” Captain Renshaw growled. “You, pious hypocrite. It’s Gaelic. They speak it in the Scottish Highlands.”

  “How do you know?” Cain asked.

  “When I was a boy there was an old woman who lived near us and she spoke it too. I still remember a few words. You better get this marrying over and done with, because when my men return, I’m going, wedding or no wedding.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cain didn’t know why he did it, but he dashed outside and picked a white rose he remembered having seen growing in a sheltered corner near the cabin. About to step inside the door, his steps faltered. What was that awful noise?

  Pushing the door open he baulked. Skye stood with a tartan shawl draped around her shoulders while the old man played the bagpipes. What kind of craziness was this?

  “Better you than me,” Renshaw said with a grin. “Do you happen to have any haggis lying around?”

  Cain ignored him. “Here you are, darlin’, not much of a wedding bouquet.”

  “Thank you. It’s the Bonnie Prince Charlie rose, she said softly, caressing the petals.

  “The what!” Cain shot the words out before he could stop himself.

  “Don’t you know any Scottish history, Kilkenny?”

  “No, Captain. Why should I?” Thank goodness the wailing of the pipes had subsided.

  “The Jacobite rebellion.”

  “Never heard of it,” Cain snapped.

  “In 1745, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, launched an attempt to get back the Scottish and English thrones his grandfather lost in 1688. The Jacobite rebellion against the English, as it was called, was crushed at the Battle of Culloden, where the Scottish had nearly 2,000 casualties.”

  “I don’t need a history lesson, let
’s just get this marrying over and done with.” Before I change my mind and run out of this mad house.

  “Stand next to each other,” the preacher said. “Witnesses on either side of the happy couple.”

  Skye glanced at Cain. His lips were drawn into a tight line, his eyes cold. There was a hard ruthlessness about him now that she hadn’t noticed before. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Apparently I do.” He glared at her grandfather and the preacher.

  The preacher pulled a bible out of the pocket of his duster and opened it. “Place the ring here to be blessed.”

  Her grandfather did as the preacher asked.

  “Come on, get this over with. My men will be back soon and we’re getting out of here. I don’t want to spend any more time than necessary with this Holy Joe. If he isn’t ready to leave when we are, he’ll have to make his own way back to Laramie. If he comes with us, we’ll drop him off and do what we’re paid to do, chase Indians and keep an eye out for the Oliver gang.”

  Skye watched the expression on Cain’s face change from annoyance to interest, and fear filled her heart. Would he go with them to seek his revenge on the Oliver brothers? She blinked back tears. This wasn’t the kind of wedding day she had always dreamed of.

  “Dearly beloved….”

  “Cut out all that nonsense,” the captain snapped.

  “Your superior officers will be hearing about your unco-operative behavior,” the preacher said.

  “Just because your sister happens to be married to my Commanding Officer who is also Godfather to a General’s daughter, do we have to waste army resources?”

  She couldn’t believe the way these two men were bickering. The delay was stretching her nerves to breaking point, while Cain appeared ready to bolt out the door. Grandpa stood white and stricken looking. He shouldn’t have forced Cain’s hand like this, but she knew he was worried about what would become of her when he passed if she had no man’s protection.

  “Do you Skye Lonsdale take Cain Kilkenny as your lawful husband?”