Nobody's Darling

The realization hurt more than it should have. Even more than her brother’s betrayal. For a moment, Esmerelda didn’t know if she was going to be able to breathe through the unbearable tightness in her chest.

“Who the hell is he?” Bartholomew demanded, jealous of her attention just as he’d been as a toddler. “And why is he looking at you like that?”

Esmerelda barely heard him. She had eyes only for Billy. “You knew all along, didn’t you?” she asked softly. “You knew exactly what I would find in Eulalie.”

Unlike Bartholomew, Billy didn’t try to excuse his actions or charm her into forgiving him. He simply looked her straight in the eye and nodded, damning them both with his honesty.

Esmerelda’s hoarse laugh sounded more like a sob, even to her own ears. “How utterly delicious! One of you thinks I’m a dried-up old spinster, the other some outlaw’s whore.”

Bartholomew stiffened to his full height, outrage glittering in his eyes. “Just who do you think you are, sir, calling my sister a whore?”

Billy gave her brother a look of pure contempt. “I’m William Darling, you ungrateful little whelp, the man you let Snorton accuse of killing you.” Slipping his hand into his vest pocket, he pulled out something shiny. He shoved the object under Bartholomew’s nose, distracting them all from the quicksilver grace of his other hand drawing his Colt. "I'm also the deputy U.S. marshal who’s about to take your sorry ass to jail.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Oh, son,” Virgil wailed, squinting at the badge in Billy’s hand. “Say it ain’t so!”

Esmerelda stood transfixed by the sight of the shiny tin star while Bartholomew’s gang went scattering in all directions. They shot through the three doors hard enough to leave them banging behind them. Only Sadie appeared unfazed by Billy’s revelation. She reclined on her haunches and hiked one back paw for a lethargic scratch behind her left ear, yawning in satisfaction.

“Get the hell out of here, Virg,” Billy ordered, never taking his eyes off of Bartholomew. “Take the boys and go before I have to haul you in, too.”

Enos and Sam huddled together, looking even more sallow than usual. Jasper snorted in disgust while Virgil shook his head, genuine grief darkening his eyes. “I do believe my big ole heart is broken. I never thought I’d live to see the day a Darlin‘ crawled into bed with the law.”

They silently filed out, Jasper pausing at the door just long enough to spit over his shoulder.

Ignoring the crude insult, Billy jerked his head toward the cowering bank patrons. “You’re free to go,” he called out. “And I wouldn’t waste any time about it.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. They crawled, ducked, and scrambled their way to freedom, leaving Billy, Bartholomew, and Esmerelda alone in the deserted bank lobby.

Esmerelda was still reeling from shock when Bartholomew grabbed her wrist, bruising it in his desperate grip. “You can’t let him take me, Esme. You don’t understand. I’ll never make it to trial alive. I’ll never even make it to jail. He’ll make sure of that.”

“Step away from the lady,” Billy said, his steely composure as unwavering as the pistol in his hand.

Bartholomew began to inch backward, freeing Esmerelda’s wrist when he realized her feet were still rooted to the floor. “He paid you, didn’t he?” he shouted at Billy. “Paid you to shoot me down in cold blood. Well, if I die, he’ll never find out where that gold is hidden! And neither will you.”

“What gold?” Esmerelda wailed. “Who are you talking about?”

Bartholomew stabbed a finger toward Billy. “Ask him. He knows who hired him to find me.”

“Of course he does. I did.”

That admission momentarily distracted her brother from his mounting hysteria. He squinted at her. “With what? You don’t have any money.”

Painfully conscious of Billy’s heavy-lidded scrutiny, Esmerelda said, “Mr. Darling is well aware of my present impoverishment. A state, I hasten to remind you, that I owe solely to your selfish and callow pilgrimage west. However, he was kind enough to extend me credit. Especially after I explained to him how grateful our grandfather would be once you were found.” She clenched her teeth in a frantic approximation of a smile. “We both know how generous dear Grandpapa is inclined to be when it comes to his beloved grandson.”

“Grandpapa? Grandpapa?” Bartholomew parroted with a shrill squawk of laughter. “And you dare to call my fiction overwrought!”

“Step away from the lady and put your hands over your head, boy.” Billy’s lazy drawl warned them that he was running out of patience. Esmerelda had already deduced that the slower Billy talked, the faster he could move.

“Do what he says,” she urged her brother. “We’ll sort out all this confusion later.”

“Why not sort it out now?” As Bartholomew shifted his attention from her to Billy, his eyes took on a calculating glint. “You and me, Mr. Darling, we could be partners. I’ll even give you Winstead’s share of the gold. Whatever he’s paying you, it can’t come close to what I’ve got stashed away only a few miles from here.”

Although Esmerelda feared both men had lost their wits, her brother had left her no choice but to appeal to the least deranged of the two.

She ran to Billy, grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and gave him a savage little shake. “What in heaven’s name is he babbling about? Who is this Winstead and why is Bartholomew trying to bribe you?”

She might have thought she was invisible if Billy’s arm hadn’t clamped around her waist, drawing her hard against him. She barely managed to wiggle around enough to see her brother’s face, which was now wreathed in a friendly smile.

“You’re probably thinking you can’t trust me,” he said, taking a step backward each time he paused for breath. “But I swear I never would have double-crossed Winstead if I hadn’t overheard him telling one of his hired guns to kill me after I returned with the gold.”

Billy’s exasperated sigh ruffled her hair. “I don’t want your gold, son. I want you to put your hands over your head where I can see them.”

A spasm of raw panic crossed Bartholomew’s face. He began to scuttle backward in earnest, a strategy that might have been successful if he hadn’t tripped over his own boots and gone sprawling on his backside. Even with the beard disguising his baby fat, in that moment he looked painfully young.

Esmerelda breathed a sigh of relief. Until she saw his hand rumble with the mouth of his holster.

“Don’t do it!” Billy shouted.

“Bartholomew, no!” she screamed.

Billy drew back the hammer of his own pistol. The click rang in Esmerelda’s ears, louder than a gunshot itself. Frantic with desperation, she wrenched herself out of his arms and stumbled across the lobby, flinging her body across her brother’s.

Dead silence greeted her gesture. Bartholomew’s chest heaved beneath her own, but his arm did not close around her as Billy’s had. Raising herself up on one elbow, she twisted around until she could meet Billy’s stricken eyes.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, his words more prayer than oath. “I could have killed you.”

Billy lowered the gun, his hand unsteady for the first time in his memory. If he hadn’t been gazing at Esmerelda in helpless horror, he might have heard Sadie’s low-pitched growl, felt the hair at his nape prickle in warning.

As it was, he didn’t see the black steel barrel emerge from beneath Esmerelda’s arm until after the explosion. A fiery inferno erupted high in his chest.

His pistol clattered to the floor. He flattened his hand against his chest, then held it out in front of him, struggling to grasp why so much blood would be dripping from his fingers. As comprehension dawned, he shifted his disbelieving gaze to Esmerelda.