Page 83 of If the Boot Fits

Asher’s mind whirled. His coat should hide the packet he’d stashed in his waistband. And a treasure hunt might buy him enough time to figure out a way to turn the tables. It would mean leaving his gun behind where it had fallen, but the weapon wasn’t doing him any good at the moment anyway.

“I’ll show you,” Asher said.

“Get on with it, then.” Kendrick waved his gun toward the door. “Keep them hands up,” he warned as Asher slid past him.

Having a gun pointed at one’s back proved rather unnerving. Asher much preferred having danger out in front of him, where he could keep an eye on it.

“You play this smart, Ellis, and I just might let you live. Return my money and point me to where you got your horse stashed, and I’ll put my bullet in yer leg instead of yer head. Give you a fightin’ chance.”

“Charitable of you.” Asher turned right, leading Kendrick in the opposite direction from where he’d secured his mount.

“Where’s my money?” Kendrick demanded.

Good question. Asher scoured the landscape for anything that might pass as a hiding place.

“See that rock?” Asher pointed to a stone roughly the size of man’s head sitting a couple of yards away. The thing looked to be half buried, but it was the best option he could find.

“Fetch it.”

The man was getting nervous. Asher could hear it in his voice. Probably disliked being out in the open. Maybe Asher could use that to his advantage.

Keeping his steps slow and deliberate, Asher glanced over his shoulder. “You know, using your son as a shield to aid your escape probably wasn’t the best way to foster loyalty with the boy.”

“Shut up. Ain’t none of your concern.”

Asher returned his gaze forward, but he’d barely taken two steps before Kendrick started justifying his actions.

“Clint woulda forgiven me in time. A single misstep can’t undo a dozen years of good memories. Besides, the kid was never in any real danger. Not from me, at least. And I figured no one else would risk shooting the beloved heir of the Three Cedars. The bluff paid off. When the kid’s older, he’ll understand why it was necessary.”

Asher slowed as he approached the rock. If he managed to distract Kendrick enough, he might be able to pivot and charge. Take him by surprise. Get control of the gun. But he needed his opponent to come closer. “Doubt he’ll understand you tryin’ to kill the people he loves.”

“He was never supposed to know!” Kendrick’s shout echoed off the cabin wall. “That stupid sister of his was supposed to stay in Boston and marry some fancy gent who’d keep her away from the ranch. When that didn’t work, I intended to grieve with the rest of ’em when she died in an unfortunate accident. But the little she-cat has nine lives. She ruined everything! I only had six years left. Once Clint turned eighteen, I could start lacing Eli’s coffee with arsenic, just like I’d done with Victoria’s medicine. With the rest of the family gone, Clint would turn to me to help run the ranch, and I’d finally have everything I deserve. The Three Cedars and my son!”

Asher fought to tamp down his outrage over the ugly truths Kendrick spouted, as if the people on his mental chessboard held no more value than ordinary wooden pieces.

He reached the rock and began to circle it, glancing at Kendrick to judge if he stood close enough to make a move. His opponent hung back too far, though. Instead of causing him to close the gap on Asher, Kendrick’s distraction had brought his feet to a standstill a good three yards away.

Before Asher could decide if a charge was worth the risk, Kendrick snapped to attention. “Twelve years of plannin’ gone in a single morning, thanks to Dearing’s brat.” He stalked forward, his gun arm rock steady, his demeanor alert. “And don’t think I’m unaware of your role in all this, Ellis. We wouldn’t be here today if you’d just let that runaway wagon do its job in the first place.”

Thank God he hadn’t. He never wanted to return to a life void of Samantha’s vibrancy.

“Now quit stallin’ and fetch me my money.” Kendrick’s dark eyes carried all the warmth of frozen obsidian.

Asher hunkered down beside the rock, keeping his right hip angled away from Kendrick. As he squatted, he inched his hand toward the knife at his belt.

“None of that!” Kendrick took a menacing step forward. “Touch that knife, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Asher brought both hands up and stretched back to a standing position. “Easy. I’ll keep my hands where you can see ’em, all right? I’ll kick the rock free with my boot.” If he couldn’t retrieve his knife, he didn’t want to fold himself into a crouch and limit his mobility. Quickness was the only weapon he had left.

Lord, I’d really love not to die today. Asher kicked at the rock he knew hid nothing more than dirt and bugs. But if I do . . . He kicked the rock again, dislodging one side. Watch over Mama Bess and the boys for me. Samantha too. Using extra force, he slammed his toe beneath the loosened edge and flipped the rock, praying Kendrick’s greed would divert his attention. As the rock flipped, Asher reached behind him for the missing money.

“Liar!”

Before Kendrick could pull the trigger, Asher flung the packet at the foreman’s head. “Here’s your money!”

Kendrick made a grab for the packet, and Asher charged. A gunshot fired into the sky as Asher drove his shoulder into Kendrick’s ribs and tackled him to the ground. He grabbed for the gun. Kendrick grabbed for dirt. A thick spray of sandy soil pelted Asher’s face and burned his eyes. Unable to see, Asher missed Kendrick’s fist until it collided with his temple.

The blow disoriented him. As concentration slipped, Kendrick took advantage. He wrestled free and kicked Asher beneath the chin. Asher’s head snapped back. He fumbled for his knife as he rolled onto his side and tried to rise. He swiped his left sleeve over his watery eyes, desperate to see more than a blur. He blinked in time to find Kendrick gaining his feet and bringing his gun around.