Shadow's Stand Read online

  “Do you wish me to go back to my father and tell him the marriage was not possible?”

  “Jian sent you?” Damon asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Shit!”

  “This is not to your like?” Fei Yen asked.

  “I’d like you to tell him to shove it up his ass, and if it weren’t for his ways with explosives, I’d do just that,” Barney growled.

  Jian Tseng had a talent with explosives and the railroad needed a tunnel. His skill bought them better quarters, more consideration, favors. It would hopefully buy her this one.

  Barney stepped closer and touched his finger to her cheek. “But as soon as we get that tunnel through the mountain, it’s going to be a whole different game, little girl.”

  Disgust whipped down her spine. She didn’t lift her gaze or move away. This man would not see her run. “I’ll tell my father of your decision.”

  The fact that Jian would be unhappy was heavily implied and the men were not too drunk to pick up on it. Her father had a reputation for being quick to anger, and when he was angry, he didn’t work. Or he worked in ways that caused accidents for those with whom he was displeased. Barney dropped his hand. “You won’t be telling your father squat.”

  No she wouldn’t. But only because it would serve no purpose. Jian Tseng was not the man he’d once been since the madness had taken him. The thief was still studying her with those dragon eyes that saw more than a person wanted. Again, she wondered if this was a mistake, and again she knew she didn’t have a choice. The situation was getting too dangerous. The game too complex. The delicate web of her deceit too fragile. She needed an ally. At the very least, a guard dog. She waited.

  There was swearing, but nothing from the thief.

  “Someone go fetch the padre.”

  Padre was a loose term for preacher, that she understood. But if the man of God who served this camp had ever known the inner peace that came from greater wisdom and a connection to his ancestors, it was long gone. He drank to excess and always smelled of urine and vomit and was rarely coherent. Yet they still called him a man of God.

  There were many things she didn’t understand about this land. Her father had raised her in the way of his people, separate from the world, trained in obedience and duty. Until he’d decided to leave their home in China where he was but a third son and return to America with her and Lin to take up work on the railroad and make his own fortune. Dutiful daughter had never been a role with which she was comfortable, but life was exhausting outside it. She couldn’t wait for the day when she could escape. Her cousin wanted to go back to China. Fei Yen didn’t know where she wanted to go, just someplace where there was peace. She would really like to live in a world where she wasn’t seen as “less.”

  The priest stumbled forward, hawking and spitting as he got close. “You decide to marry up, Fei?”

  His lack of cleanliness was an affront. More so than his abbreviation of her name. She bowed slightly. The priest looked over at the thief. “Are you sure about this one? He’s more likely to kill you than help you.”

  Could no one stop harping on that? “My father made the choice.”

  “Jian’s a strange one, but you’re a good daughter to do what he says.”

  She wasn’t, but she tried. Sometimes. Bowing, she kept her voice. “It is my duty.”

  The thief still watched her. She felt his gaze like that of a burn on her skin. He didn’t have the look of a thief. There was pride in his stance and an arrogance in the lift of his chin that one didn’t expect to see in a criminal.

  “Are you sure he’s guilty?”

  “As guilty as sin, Miss Fei,” the padre responded.

  She still couldn’t believe it. The thief cocked an eyebrow in response to her searching look. There was something about the man that led her to believe he wasn’t what he seemed. Then again, neither was she.

  “Are you sure your pappy won’t reconsider this one?”

  Not looking up, she nodded. It was humiliating, standing there in front of men who knew she was purchasing a husband. And not even one of decent character or her race, but just the next available. Because they thought her father wanted it, and they thought she was an obedient daughter. When nothing could be further from the truth. It was her secret shame.

  The prisoner’s eyes narrowed. For a thief he had quite an attitude.

  “Sure you don’t want to wait a bit, Miss Fei? There’s bound to be a white man along shortly.”

  A white man who would feel superior to her because of the color of his skin. A white man whom all would see as superior to her because of her mixed heritage.

  She kept her voice soft. “I cannot go against my father’s wishes.”

  “Ain’t natural, him pandering you out,” Herbert muttered. Herbert was older, decent, a worn-out miner bent from too many hours panning for gold, and she’d often wondered what kept him among these men of no honor.

  “Don’t be talking a daughter out of her duty,” the padre snapped.

  She wished the priest’s concern was for her well-being, but she knew it was from fear of losing her father’s skill with explosives and what that would do to the income of the men who bought him his liquor.

  “Don’t see why the man can’t just hire help like others,” Herbert muttered.

  “He’s Chinese,” Barney interjected. “They’ve got strange notions.”

  As long as they believed that, it would work for her.

  “Well, what’ll it be, woman? Either he’ll do or he won’t,” the sheriff snapped. “If we’re not going to have a hanging, then I want to get back to drinking.”

  Her stomach clenched. She had to make this decision. Years of discipline maintained her poise as she found her courage. “If you would please to ask him?”

  “Don’t know why we have to go through this,” the sheriff muttered. “When a man’s facing death, he’s not going to quibble about taking vows he can abandon as easily as he makes them.”

  “I would feel better.” She needed some illusion that this plan would work.

  “You got a choice, injun.” The sheriff jerked his thumb in her direction. “Die now or marry up with this little woman and start a new life.”

  “Why doesn’t she ask me herself?” The thief’s voice was smooth and deep and soothed her like fine tea on a cold day. It was very hard not to look up.

  “It’s forbidden for her to ask you herself, you ignorant ass,” the sheriff shot back.

  For once Fei was grateful for the rudeness of the men in this rough town. It saved her from having to respond or explain.

  “So what’s your answer?”

  The horse shifted, tightening the rope, and, for a moment, the thief couldn’t speak. Barney backed the horse up a step and when the thief found his voice, his arrogance was not diminished. “I want her to ask me.”

  The sheriff drove the butt of his rifle into the thief’s stomach. He grunted and jerked in his restraints. The horse balked and danced out from under the tree limb. Smiling, Barney released the reins. With a slow slide, the thief reached the end of the rope.

  Fei watched in horror as the thief’s legs clung to the horse while the rope tightened on his neck. For four heartbeats, he was stretched out straight, suspended between the tree and the horse. His already dark skin took on a darker hue. His feet kicked as the pony stepped out from under him. The men laughed.

  “I guess he made his choice, then.”

  “Looks like we’re having our hanging, after all.”

  “No.” They couldn’t do this. “Cut him down.”

  Nobody paid any attention to her and she realized she’d spoken in her native Chinese. Not that they would have paid attention to her if it were English. Their macabre game had begun. Fei Yen darted through the men, grabbed the thief’s calves and pushed up. With no result. The man was too heavy. Harsh laughter accompanied her efforts.

  “No point in wasting your effort, girl. That boy’s hanging. Fate’s come to a decision.�
��

  No, it had not! It couldn’t. The long American skirts tangled around her legs as she tried to jump and reach the rope. It was far above her. She controlled her breathing. Think. She needed to think. The man gasped and gurgled and kicked. His foot caught her in the side. She went down, amidst more laughter.

  The men were getting the show they wanted. But what about what she wanted? Did it not matter? She’d worked too hard. Too much was at stake for their drunken play to interfere with her plans.

  She pushed up onto her hands. Two feet from her position, a knife stuck out of a boot. Grabbing it, she ran back, climbing up the man’s body like a tree, ignoring the abrupt cessation of noise as her weight was added to the noose.

  “Son of a bitch, would you look at that?”

  Ignoring the men, she sawed at the rope, using every bit of strength she had. With a snap, it let go, throwing them to the ground. But it wasn’t enough. The noose around the man’s neck was still tight. Still cutting off his air.

  She didn’t know what he did when he wasn’t stealing horses, but no one deserved to die like that, staring at the sky while they starved for air. No one.

  “Damn, that’s one woman that’s hungry for a man.”

  She ignored the growing threat around her and focused on the man. He started to struggle and buck, fighting for air. “Stay still.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. Wild. Defiant.

  She put the knife against his neck. “It is not your jugular I wish to cut.”

  With a discipline that shocked her, he went still. Biting her lip, she wiggled the knife between his neck and the rope. “Maternal grandmother,” she prayed, “let this work.”

  Blood welled as the knife slid like butter through a pinch of skin.

  And please do not let me cut an artery.

  As hard as she could, she pulled the blade toward her. The thief didn’t move. The rope didn’t give. His color took on an alarming blue hue. Maybe his neck was broken. What did she know? She jerked the knife upward and the rope separated under the sharp blade. The uncontrolled movement cut her breast. She cried out. The men around her swarmed in. She didn’t fool herself that it was out of concern. They were like vultures, these men. Brandishing the knife, she ordered, “Stay back.”

  They laughed, but at least they stopped. The thief just lay there, not kicking, not moving. She thought he’d slid too slowly off the horse to break his neck, but he was certainly injured. She stood there, brandishing the knife, blood running down her chest, her voice far from the well-modulated tones her father insisted she always use as was proper for a woman of her station. “Do not come closer.”

  “You think you scare us, little girl?”

  Shaking from head to toe, the knife clutched in front of her, bloody blade thrust out, she stepped down hard in the middle of the thief’s broad chest to get his attention. He sucked in a wheezing breath and coughed.

  “We must leave,” she informed him.

  His gaze met hers. There was no denying that he was a handsome man. It was an odd moment to notice such a thing, but with danger all about, her senses seemed sharper. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t immediately answer. He rolled to his side displaying his hands and the thin rope binding them. A quick, harsh slash removed the bond. Pressing his hand up to his throat, he checked the blood. “You rescuing me or killing me?”

  His voice was rough, masculine with a pleasant rasp. A shiver went down her spine.

  “I have yet to decide.” The men pressed in. This time she shivered for a different reason.

  “Get away from him, Fei.”

  “No.” She couldn’t back down. Couldn’t go forward.

  The thief looked around. “Make up your mind.”

  “I have. You are not listening.”

  One cock of his eyebrow and she was suddenly reminded that dragons had long memories and couldn’t always be trusted.

  “You don’t need a man as bad as that, Fei,” Barney said. “I’ll be glad to take care of your needs.”

  “Hell, if we’re getting in line, I’ve got first dibs. I’ve had my eyes on this sweet thing for months,” Damon said, licking his lips.

  Fear leaped inside her. This was not good. The thief just watched her, waiting. For what?

  I want her to ask me.

  For her to make a choice, she realized. The circle around her got tighter. Dragon or vultures? There was not much of a decision to make. Barney stepped in. The sheriff laughed. Herbert swore and turned away. The padre spat. Damon reached out.

  “Marry me,” she gasped.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  With a speed that left her blinking, the thief was on his feet, the knife she’d been holding now in his hand, redder now with Damon’s blood. Before her Damon was screaming and holding his hand. Barney was on the ground, clutching at his face from the thief’s kick, and everyone was backing up while he just stood there, the slightest smile on his lips.

  Dragon.

  The sheriff slid his hand down toward his guns.

  “I wouldn’t.” It was a warning given with lethal softness. The sheriff didn’t complete the reach for his gun, but his bluster continued. “What do you think you’re doing, injun?”

  The thief snagged her hand. With disconcerting ease, he tugged her into his side. When she looked up, it was to find him looking down. She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t read his eyes and didn’t know what he was trying to tell her as he squeezed her waist.

  “By the looks of things, getting married.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HIS NEW WIFE WASN’T MUCH of a talker. She’d been silent ever since their “wedding.” Shadow wasn’t sure the procedure they’d gone through was actually legal—hell, he wasn’t even sure the drunken fool who’d married them was really a preacher—but whereas other women would have been completely concerned with the legality of the ceremony, his wife was more concerned that he get his ass in the wagon so they could head out. But not before asking, in that sweetly melodic voice of hers, that his feet be tied as well as his hands. The sheriff and his men had been more than happy to oblige and had even done her one better. They’d found shackles for his ankles. With a soft “thank you,” his wife had dropped the key into the lace-trimmed pocket above her breast.

  Of all the things that pissed him off about the last day, it was her drawing his attention to her breasts that he resented the most. He wasn’t a marrying man. All he had to offer a woman was the pain and violence of his own upbringing and no decent woman deserved that. Hell, no woman deserved that, but his little wife had tucked that key into the pocket, and suddenly he was thinking in terms of rights and possibilities. Like how those small, pert breasts would look all creamy and white against his darker skin. How the nipples would feel, centered in his palm as he plumped them for his mouth. How she’d moan and whisper his name.

  Shadow pulled himself up short. With what? Love? Who did he think he was kidding? Tracker might have found love with his Ari, but there were differences between him and his twin brother. Differences that Ari had seen. Differences Tracker refused to acknowledge, but, safe to say, the parts of his brother that Ari had found to love didn’t exist in him. Inside him there was only darkness. If there wasn’t, murdering the man who’d tried to kill his sister-in-law and her daughter would have given him pause rather than satisfaction. He was a killer, plain and simple. Despite all those years he’d been a Texas Ranger, now, with a price on his head, he was on the correct side of the law. An outlaw.

  We’ll get this settled, Shadow.

  Tracker’s promise the last time they’d met up had slipped past Shadow’s guard, lingering in that weak place he’d never been able to kill off. The part of him that wanted to be worthy of softer things. Tracker had a way of saying things that made a man believe. Back that with the fact he was tenacious and loyal and his promises had weight. Shadow knew Tracker would never stop fighting and believing in him. Fighting even when Shadow stopped. He’d been Shadow’s consc
ience all his life. His barometer for what was good, because for Shadow sometimes the lines blurred, as if all those beatings during his years growing up had broken something in him that had hung tough in his brother. When necessary, Tracker would kill without batting an eye, but he found it a lot less necessary than Shadow did. Maybe it was patience or some latent belief in good triumphing over evil, but whatever it was, Shadow lacked it. And he’d long since stopped searching for it.

  Just stay out of trouble until we do.

  Shadow leaned back against the backrest and smiled at Caine’s warning. Caine might be as tough as nails and the leader of Hell’s Eight, but he couldn’t control everything, least of all the wildness inside Shadow that needed to lash out. Metal clanked against metal as Shadow shifted his feet. He wondered what Caine would think of this situation. A smile tugged his lips as he imagined the other man’s curse.