The Alaska Brides Collection Part 35

The door to the cabin swung open.

"She's gone!" Stucky's voice mixed with shouting from Owen.

"You said you'd tied her up." Owen's fury cut through the room. "We've got to find her."

Amy froze. The walls weren't that solid, and movement could possibly be seen through cracks. Any creaking wood, even just from shifting weight, might draw the men's attention to this room. She saw Braden's shoulders tense beneath his brown shirt and didn't realize what he meant to do until he'd moved.

Swinging the door open, Braden stepped into the main room. "Put up your hands."

Gun level, his voice bitter cold, he froze the two men in their tracks.

Amy peeked around Braden's broad shoulders. Neither man had a gun. She could see that now. Braden must have noticed this fact and decided to end the nightmare right here.

"Both of you sit down." Braden gestured with the muzzle of his gun toward the two chairs in the room. One of them still had leather straps hanging from where Amy had sat bound.

"What are you doing in my house?" Owen backed away, looking between Braden's eyes and the gun. "This is trespa.s.sing. I'll have you arrested."

"This is one of them Raffertys," Stucky said.

Owen cut him off. "He don't have no proof a' nothin'." Owen scowled at his brother and then slumped into a chair.

Amy slipped out of the back room and stood behind Braden.

Both men's eyes widened. Barnabas Stucky's face turned beet red, and Owen bared his teeth until Amy expected him to growl. The two men looked alike now that she saw them together. Middling tall, stout of build, dark hair streaked gray, full s.h.a.ggy beards-in that they looked like most of the men who came north. But they also shared ruthless blue eyes and cruel lips. Hate etched the same lines into their faces.

Braden held them captive, but now what did they do?

As if she'd asked the question aloud, Braden said, "Stay behind me." He planted himself between the front door and the two snarling men with Amy at his back. "Tucker's on the way. We'll hold 'em here 'til he comes, then go on into Skaguay and leave them with the sheriff."

"We ain't done nothin' wrong," Owen erupted from his chair.

Braden leveled the rifle. Amy couldn't see Braden's expression, but she saw Owen blanch and sit back down.

"Whatever you want here, mister, just take it," Owen sputtered. "I'm a law-abidin' man. I don't know what you're talking about, takin' us to the sheriff. There's no call-"

"You killed my father." Amy stepped up beside Braden, her temper too hot to think of safety. "You have tried to kill me four times."

"He's tried four times?" Braden glanced at her, his brow furrowed. Then he went back to watching his prisoners.

Amy nodded and pointed at Stucky. "He admitted it. On his brother's orders, he tried to kill me in Seattle, then twice again on the boat. He never caught me alone for long enough."

She looked at Owen. "So do not waste your breath with lies. Braden came in and found me tied up, and we heard what you said to your brother when the two of you came back to the cabin. It is not my word against yours. Braden is a witness, too. You cannot explain that away."

"Hey, whatever my brother did ain't no business o' mine." Owen glared at his brother.

Stucky's jaw tightened. Fury burned in the man's eyes until Amy thought he'd attack Owen. She realized that unless they could break Owen's story, Barnabas, who had tried to kill her but never managed it, might be arrested. Owen, the man who had murdered her father, might go free.

Before Barnabas could accuse his brother, a noise caught their attention from behind. Amy whirled around and looked into the eyes of Darnell Thompson, the other man who'd paid so much attention to her on the boat. He held a Colt revolver in his hand, pointed steadily at Braden's midsection.

Braden's finger tightened on the trigger. Amy prayed, knowing her recklessness had brought Braden to this moment. She might be responsible for his death.

"Ease off, Mr. Rafferty. I'm not here for you. I'm here for him." The gun shifted from Braden to Owen. "I've been hunting you for a long, long time. I lost your brother's trail in Dyea, and it's taken me a long while to get here. But this is the end of the line for you and your claim jumpin' ways."

Thompson, dressed like a stampeder with three-months growth of beard and a probing, a.s.sessing look in his eyes, reached into the pocket of his brown wool pants and pulled out a badge. "I'm a Pinkerton. If you even remember anymore, you killed a man in Texas nearly four years ago and sold off his homestead. You prey on men who live alone, far from anyone. But this Texan had friends. He was a loner, but his father is a powerful man back East who kept track of him quietly. When his son came up missing, he called in the Pinkertons."

"So you have proof he is a thief and a murderer?" Amy stepped sideways to let Thompson inside.

"I followed Stucky north, hoping he'd lead me to his brother. I saw Stucky gettin' ready to shove you over the railing of the Northward."

Amy's eyes widened in shock. "You saw him? Why did you not arrest him?"

"I saw what was in his eyes, miss," Thompson said. "The evil intentions he had toward you. But he didn't do anything because I stepped in with that trumped-up story about wanting to come with you. I was just makin' talk until your watchdog got there."

"Watchdog?" Amy's forehead wrinkled.

"Rafferty. I saw him coming your way, and when he got close enough so Barnabas couldn't hurt you, I eased back. Another reason I didn't accuse him of anything was because I wanted him to lead me to his brother. Now, I'm taking Owen back to Texas to stand trial. And I reckon we'll just throw Barnabas right on in with him."

"But what about my father?" Amy looked between Thompson and Braden. "How does a jail cell in Texas add up to justice for Papa?"

"A noose, when it comes, collects all a man's debts." Thompson tugged the front of his Stetson low on his forehead. "He'll pay for it all, miss. Don't you worry. I'd like you to write a letter explaining all that happened here for me to take back. He's done this a heap of times and left a trail of death across this country. But this is the first time he's ever stayed put long enough for me to catch up with him. He'd kill the landowner, sell the property as his own, and then move on. Not sure why he stayed here."

"I know why." Amy nodded. "This is the first time he has ever found gold."

"It's mine. No one is going to take it from me." Owen lunged out of his chair at Amy.

Braden grabbed his shoulder and sat him down hard.

"We'll just have your word for this theft, because there's no proof your father's dead without a body. Some old trappers keep moving. But your testimony will add weight to the charges."

"I can do better than write a letter. I can prove he stole this land."

Thompson gave her a long, sharp look.

Braden smiled encouragement at her.

She carefully skirted the two outlaws and went to the mantel.

Touching the sun and the raven at the same time with her left hand, she pressed in on the hidden drawer until she felt the catch snap. Sliding the drawer open, she stared down at the old deed, yellow with age. She slid the papers out carefully and gently unfolded the brittle doc.u.ment. This was the last thing connecting her to her father. Tears burned her eyes as she thought of the gruff but loving man who'd brought joy to her childhood and whom she'd missed terribly all her years in Washington. She'd never see him again.

Turning, she took the deed to Thompson. They looked down and saw that the land t.i.tle was unreadable.

"What is that?" Braden glanced at the papers but went back to watching Owen and Barnabas. Amy noticed Thompson's watchful eyes only looked away from the men a second at a time, too.

"It is in Russian." Amy's voice faded. She swallowed and continued. "I had forgotten. I always knew the drawer was there and what it contained, but we did not get it out often. Probably not since I was too young to read."

"That isn't a deed. It's chicken scratchin's that prove nothin'," Owen raged. "And some man comes in here and says he's a lawman." Owen glared at Thompson. "He don't have any say over me up here in the Alaska Territory."

"You won't be in the Alaska Territory for long." Thompson pulled shackles from the pack he carried on his back. Thompson gave one last grim look at the deed. "Too bad that's in Russian. To have solid evidence in Alaska would strengthen my case in Texas. Don't reckon there'll be anyone between here and there that'll read Russian."

Amy's heart ached when she thought of her father and all she'd lost. "He killed the only man I knew who could read it."

"He's covered his tracks with killing for years."

"This time he picked a man who didn't kill so easy." The deep voice filled the cabin.

They all whirled around.

Petrov Simonovich stepped into the cabin.

"Father!" Amy launched herself at the thin figure who had replaced the robust man who'd raised her. She'd take him however he looked.

Her father caught her to him with a soft grunt. "My Amy." His arms wrapped around her with a strong grip that belied his slender frame. "You've come home."

Amy heard a crash and turned to see Owen running toward the small cabin window. Thompson dove for him and dragged the killer to the ground before he could escape. Barnabas jumped at Braden, who'd lifted his gun off the prisoners when Amy had distracted him.

Amy's father set her aside, reached for the man grappling for the gun, and hurled him against the solid wood mantel with a dull thud.

Braden took one look at Barnabas as he crumpled unconscious to the floor and then turned to Thompson. "Let him up. I've got you covered."

"Yep, 'n' if you don't, I do." Petrov chuckled.

Braden gave Petrov a narrow-eyed look.

Petrov clapped Braden on the back. "Sorry, boy. I know you're doin' fine." He turned back to Amy and pulled her firmly into his arms.

"They told me you were dead, Papa."

Petrov grunted. "Not the first time nor the last they'll prove up to bein' stupid."

Amy smiled and clutched her father tight, afraid to believe her own eyes. "Where have you been all this time? You stopped writing months ago."

"That one there"-Petrov nodded at Owen as Thompson pulled him to his feet- "shoved me over a cliff last winter, clear up north of here. Broke my leg in the fall. He stood over me and laughed about leaving my body for wolves."

Amy turned and pulled back her leg to give Owen a swift kick.

Her father stopped her, laughing, and hugged her again. "Always was a feisty one, my Amy."

Amy saw Braden nod and heard him whisper to Thompson, "That's the honest truth."

Amy's father looked over her shoulder for a long time. Amy pulled back far enough to know he was staring at Braden. A firm jerk of her father's chin seemed to settle something between him and Braden. Then Papa set her on her feet and reached for the deed, which had fallen to the floor.

"I'll do more than translate this for you. I'll go with you back to Texas and make sure he stands trial for all he done to me."

"But Father, what about me? I want you to stay here in this cabin with me."

"I'll be back." Amy's father turned to her. "You're in good hands here with your young man."

"He is not my young man." Amy glanced over her shoulder at Braden.

Braden grinned. "Sure I am."

Braden lowered his rifle now that the Stucky brothers were securely shackled. He came forward, his hand extended. "Petrov Simonovich, I'm Braden Rafferty. And I'd be proud to take care of your daughter, sir."

"I-I cannot live with Ian and Merry any longer," Amy stuttered.

Amy watched Papa shake hands with Braden as if they were sealing a bargain.

"No, you can't." Braden released her father's hand and took hold of hers. "That'd never be fittin' for a married woman."

"A what?" Amy's jaw went slack.

"Her mother was like this, too, son." Petrov chuckled again. His full beard quivered. Amy remembered his broad, deep-chested strength.

"But Father, what happened to you after Owen shoved you?"

"Now's not the time for that. You need to talk to your young man."

"Tell me!"

Papa and Braden exchanged a long look. Her father shook his head and sighed. "I got taken in by your mother's people. They found me before the wolves did, but they were on their way to their winter hunting grounds and didn't have time to bring me back. My leg was mighty slow in healing. Looked for a time like I might lose it. One of your mother's uncles seemed way too willin' to be the one handling the knife when the time came. It was a powerful incentive to keep on healing up."

"But still, why would it take you so long to get back? Summer is nearly over. You could not have been healing all this time."

A high-pitched wail came from outside the cabin.

"Come on in. It's safe."

A woman, dark and quiet with the serene eyes Amy remembered from her mother, came into the cabin, carrying a baby.

"We had to wait until my son was old enough to travel." Petrov smiled.

"Son?" Amy saw two little fists reach up from a blanket woven of fine goat hair. She leaned against Braden without thinking about it. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Amy, this is my wife Guwakaan."

" 'Deer,' what a beautiful name." Amy left Braden's side and rested a hand on the pet.i.te lady, quite a bit older than Amy but still a young woman, svelte and graceful as a deer. She could give her father many sons and daughters yet.

Amy had to smile, thinking about her father with little ones around his knees. He'd been a wonderful father to her, and he'd been alone for a long time. This would make his life rich again.

"And we called the baby Ch'ak'yeis'." Petrov nodded with a look so proud Amy thought the laces on his buckskin shirt would burst.

" 'Young Eagle.' Perfect," Amy said.

"I s'pose." Her father frowned. "I wanted to name him Boris."

Guwakaan looked up. She'd been demurely shining her midnight eyes on her son, but now she smiled at Amy and rolled her eyes. Amy had to fight to hold back a laugh. She knew she and Guwakaan would be good friends.

"Are you interested in a trip to Texas, Guwakaan?" Amy asked.