Page 82 of If the Boot Fits

“It’ll never be yours!” Clint shouted. “You’re a murderer. Wanted by the law. You’ll never touch the Three Cedars.”

“Maybe not. But you will. A Kendrick will sit on the cattle king’s throne. I’d hoped to be there with you, work side-by-side with my son, shape you into the cattle baron you were born to be, but now I guess I’ll have to enjoy my victory from a distance. After you and I make up for lost time. Put the pretendin’ behind us, and start actin’ like the father and son I’ve always wanted us to be.”

“You are not my father.”

“The mark on my chest says otherwise. Recognize it?” Kendrick asked after a moment. “Looks just like yours, don’t it? You’re my son, Clinton. Your loyalty belongs to me. The sooner you accept that truth, the better.”

“I’ll never be loyal to you. You tried to murder my sister and shot my . . . shot Eli.”

Asher’s heart broke at Clint’s use of his father’s name. Kendrick had gotten into the boy’s head. Had him questioning things a child should never have to question.

“I’m done arguin’ with you, boy.” Kendrick grunted, and the sounds of a scuffle ensued.

“Let me go!”

“That leash idea of yours has merit. Think I’ll tie ya down in the cabin while I fetch our supplies.”

Asher tensed. If Kendrick was lugging Clint around, he’d likely use the boy as a shield again. With no shield of his own, Asher would likely end up with Kendrick’s bullet between his eyes. Flipping the gun around in his hand, Asher prepared to use it as a club. If he could knock out Kendrick from behind . . .

The door swung inward so hard, Asher had to block his face with his left arm to protect what little line of sight he had.

Kendrick stomped into the cabin, his boots pounding against the dirt floor as he wrested an uncooperative Clint into the room.

Not daring to so much as breathe, Asher raised the butt end of his revolver. Come on, Kendrick. Just a few more steps.

The footsteps stopped, and a quiet curse fell from Kendrick’s lips. He must have spotted the bedrolls.

Out of options, Asher slid out from behind the door and swung his pistol butt at the back of Kendrick’s head.

Alerted to the intruder, Kendrick dodged sideways. Asher’s blow glanced off the side of his head. Kendrick roared and spun, fist raised. Asher blocked the punch with his arm, but the force of the collision knocked the gun from his hand. Desperate to immobilize Kendrick any way he could, Asher lunged and wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Run, Clint!”

As Kendrick’s skull rammed into Asher’s forehead with the force of a mountain goat, Asher held on to a single thought, one he prayed Clint could hear. Take the horse and ride for the Three Cedars.

Stranding Kendrick out here without a mount provided the best hope of stopping him if Asher failed.

37

Speckles of light danced in Asher’s vision from the blow Kendrick had just delivered, but he held on to the bucking foreman as if he were a wild bronc. A flash of movement registered in Asher’s periphery. Clint darting outside.

The instant the boy exited the cabin, Asher swiped Kendrick’s leg with his foot. When the foreman stumbled, Asher pressed forward with all his weight, hoping to topple his opponent. Kendrick twisted as he fell, though, bringing them down sideways on Asher’s arm. The force jarred his elbow and broke his hold.

Kendrick scrambled to his feet. Asher latched on to the man’s boot and yanked. Kendrick crashed into the table by the window. He grabbed one of the chairs and swung it at Asher’s head. Asher ducked and twisted. The chair missed his head but smashed against his right shoulder blade, splintering the wood and nearly splintering his shoulder in the process. Pain shot down his arm, making it hard to form a fist. Kendrick had no such trouble. Granitelike knuckles ricocheted off the side of Asher’s head.

The room teetered in Asher’s vision. He groped for something solid to steady him, found the edge of the bed, and leveraged himself upward. He reached for the knife at his belt, but the click of a gun being cocked froze him in place.

“Where’s my money?” Kendrick’s growl carried the volatility of a cornered animal.

Asher blinked as the two gun-toting villains swimming in his vision merged back into one. “What money?”

“The money you took out of them bedrolls!”

He couldn’t tell him, of course. Soon as he did, he’d be sporting a new hole in his chest. But Kendrick didn’t seem the patient type. If Asher delayed too long, the fella would shoot him out of spite and search the place on his own.

A quick glance out the window told him Clint had made off with the horse. Confirming the boy was safe lifted a weight from Asher’s shoulders and brought a level of calm to his soul.

“You hid it outside, didn’t ya?” Kendrick must have noticed his eyes dart to the window.