Page 68 of Wyoming Tough

She glanced at them sadly. “Yes. So do I. It’s why I came. And I won’t be discouraged from doing this. I’m right.”

“If Joe doesn’t kill Mal,” Tank said quietly, “and it works out that he lets him go, he’ll kill us for letting you take the risk.”

“We can deal with that when it happens. Right now, I need to change clothes, borrow a horse and ride out to the line cabin.”

“It’s pouring down rain,” Cane said.

“No problem. I packed a raincoat!”

She’d also packed five thousand dollars in large bills, with which she was going to appeal to Joe to release Mallory. It was a calculated risk. He might grab her and the money, and kill her with Mallory. But she was willing to take the chance that he wouldn’t. He was a basic sort of person. He needed money and he was angry that he’d been double-crossed. But he still needed money and he might bargain for it. The sheriff was closing in. He’d need to get out quickly. He wouldn’t know that Morie had already spoken to the sheriff, who was another friend of Uncle Danny’s, and outlined her plan. He would have two government agents in the woods overlooking the line cabin, woodsmen as good or better than Joe Bascomb. She couldn’t tell the brothers that, in case they let something slip. So she kept her counsel.

Darby was upset when she had him saddle the horse for her.

“You can’t do this,” he protested as she loaded a small pouch, along with a bag of biscuits and a thermos of coffee that Mavie, protesting, too, had made for her to take along. “You can’t let her do it!” he raged at the two brothers standing grimly nearby.

“Yes, they can, Darby,” Morie told him gently. “I won’t let Joe kill Mallory. No matter what I have to do to save him.”

“It’s not right.”

She smiled. “Yes, it is. You just send up a prayer or two for me, okay?”

“Dozens,” he promised grimly. “I wish I’d known who you were at the start. I’d never have let you go riding fence in the first place.”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten to know Joe Bascomb and I wouldn’t have a prayer of convincing him to release Mallory. Things work the way they’re supposed to. There’s a plan, and a purpose, to everything,” she said, shocking herself because she remembered saying that to Joe.

She mounted up gracefully and turned the gelding. Rain was peppering down over her slicker and wide-brimmed hat. It was getting dark, too, but she wouldn’t let that deter her. She had a flashlight in her pack. “Try not to worry. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” She had a cell phone in the pocket of her slicker. She patted it.

“If we don’t hear from you in an hour, we’re coming in,” Tank said quietly.

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

She turned the horse again and galloped off toward the line cabin. All she had was hope. But hope was the very last thing anyone ever lost.

MORIE PULLED UP AT THEline cabin and dismounted. She took the biscuits and thermos and money out of her saddlebag, along with her flashlight.

She noticed movement at the curtain. She’d guessed right. Joe was in that cabin. She wondered if he had Mallory there, and prayed that he did. If he’d already killed Mallory, her life would be worth nothing.

She went up the steps and opened the door. She looked down the barrel of a loaded shotgun.

“What are you doing here?” Joe Bascomb demanded hotly.

She felt sick at her stomach, and she was scared to death. But she didn’t dare show it. She only smiled. “Brought you something.”

He blinked. The gun wavered. “Brought me something?”

She nodded.

He hesitated. She glanced around the single room. Mallory wasn’t there. Her heart sank. What if he was already dead?

The shotgun barrel lowered. “What did you bring?” he asked.

“Is Mallory Kirk alive?” she asked.

He drew in a long, worried breath. He stared at her.

“Is he alive?” she asked again, more unsteadily.

He put on the safety and laid the shotgun across the long, rough wooden table. “Yes,” he said after an eternity of seconds.

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