The Fall of Jericho Page 2

  “Goin’ somewhere’s, missy?” the man said, his putrid breath filling her nostrils.

  “Get off me!” She tried her hardest to kick him, but he dodged her legs as well as her flailing arms, chuckling at her efforts.

  “Ooh, aren’t you a pretty sight?” he asked.

  “Please, let me go. Please! I have nothing. Search the house, you won’t find anything of value.”

  “Yer wrong, little girl,” the man breathed. “Way I figure it, you’re worth about two thousand dollars if that cowboy of yours decides to pay up.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My bounty.”

  With that, the man snaked his arm around her throat, cutting off her air. No matter how hard she twisted and writhed, she couldn’t break free. Black spots swam within her vision, and she panicked. Opening her mouth, she tried to scream, but nothing came out. Her head buzzed, and the room began to tilt before darkness finally overcame her.

  * * * * *

  The next morning when Mercy didn’t show, Jericho’s irritation grew. “She ever late?”

  Malachi shook his head. “No, but I’m sure she has a good reason. Perhaps Roger stopped by.”

  Jericho’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at his father over the rim of his coffee cup. “Roger?”

  “A suitor,” Malachi said, waving his hand. “He’s Mitch Ford’s boy. You remember the Fords, don’t you? They shoe horses and help with birthing foals, that kind of thing.”

  “Yes, I remember,” he growled. He wished he didn’t. Roger had been fawning over Mercy for as long as Jericho could recall. Never sat right with him for some reason. Perhaps that was why he had stolen a kiss from her behind the schoolhouse. When she’d innocently told him her virtue was his, nothing could have squelched his triumph that day.

  Nothing, that is, except his sister’s death.

  The loud scrape of the kitchen chair filled the room as he stood, downing his coffee in one swift gulp. He grimaced as it scorched his throat.

  “I’ll be back to see if Mama wakes up. I’m going to check on Mercy.”

  Malachi nodded and stood as well. “I’ll tell Nora you were here.”

  The two men stared at each other for a few tense moments, neither wanting to discuss what might happen if she never roused.

  Jericho’s guns were already strapped to his hips when he bounded out the door and down the steps. If Roger Ford was wooing Mercy, he’d have to come through Jericho first. She’d given him her heart years ago, and he had the uncanny need to remind her of that fact.

  An unfamiliar feeling swept through him as he charged down the road, but it wasn’t jealousy. Absolutely not.

  Chapter Five

  Jericho’s heart stopped when he saw the broken window in the front of Mercy’s childhood home. Instantly, his guns were in his hands as he climbed the porch steps. He tried the door, but found it locked. With one kick, the door flew open and he raced inside.

  “Mercy?” he yelled. Nothing but silence greeted him as he searched high and low. He didn’t get farther than her kitchen, where her dining table rested on its side and the backdoor stood wide open.

  “Mercy!”

  He knew she wasn’t out back, but he glanced out the doorway anyhow, trying hard not to let panic overtake him. First, he needed to search the rest of the house. If that son of a bitch Roger had laid one hand on her, Jericho was going to rip his heart out and feed it to him for breakfast.

  Just as he had that thought, he spied a piece of paper lying crumbled on the floor. He stooped and picked it up, reading the scrawled words.

  Bring my bounty to the Red Bluff caves or she’s dead. Come alone.

  Christ. It was Butcher.

  “Shit!” Jericho holstered his guns and dashed out the front door. That no-good outlaw must have busted out of jail and taken Mercy. He needed to tell the sheriff, if he didn’t know already.

  But as Jericho approached the jailhouse, a small crowd had already gathered. Excited conversation filled the air.

  “The sheriff’s dead!” he heard one lady say.

  “Oh, dear God,” another bystander cried, turning away.

  Among the throng, Jericho spied one of his old childhood friends, Javier Cruz, who’d been born in Arizona to Mexican immigrants.

  “Javier!”

  The dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Jericho? When the hell’d you get in town?” His soft Mexican accent painted his words.

  Jericho ignored the question. “Is it true the sheriff’s dead?”

  Javier nodded once. “Killed by some escaped prisoner.”

  “Charlie Butcher.”

  Javier’s eyes went wide.

  “I don’t have time to talk now. He’s taken Mercy Ainsworth. I need to catch him if I can.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” Jericho said, pushing on his chest to hold his friend back. “I need you to tell my parents where I’ve gone. And someone needs to step up and make some deputies to keep the peace.”

  Javier held up his hands. “I am not the sheriff!”

  “Then find the damn mayor! Will you do it?”

  “You know I will. You sure you don’t need help to hunt this cabron?”

  “I’m sure. If I’m not back in a few days, I went to the Red Bluff caves.”

  Javier gave him another nod, then turned and walked away. Jericho didn’t spare him a glance as he ran to the stables to get his horse. A soft nicker greeted him in stall number three. He wasted no time saddling Bandit, his appaloosa gelding.

  The horse pranced nervously, apparently sensing Jericho’s agitation. Once he was ready to go, Jericho leapt on the gelding’s back and galloped out the stables, making only one stop at Sagebrush Springs Hotel for his saddlebags before tearing out of town in a cloud of dust and fury.

  * * * * *

  Mercy awoke to the sun shining in her face and a mouthful of dirt. Her hands and feet were bound by a thin rope, and her body ached from head to toe. Gazing at her surroundings, she found she was on the floor of some kind of cave with the sprawling Arizona wilderness spread wide before her.

  Her captor was nowhere in sight, but his white horse stood a few feet away. She recognized that horse. It belonged to Sheriff Benton.

  It swished away a few pesky flies with its tail and sighed deeply. Mercy wondered if she could crawl to it and somehow escape before her attacker returned. The horse still wore its saddle and bridle. Perhaps she had a chance.

  She sat up and cried out at the pain that shot down her arms and legs. Had that man merely dumped her on the ground once they’d arrived? It felt like someone had reached through her chest and squeezed with a vice. Drawing a full breath was nearly impossible.

  Tears of agony blurred her vision. There was no way she’d be able to make it to the horse, much less climb on.

  “Well, look who decided to wake up?”

  She turned in the direction of that voice and instantly regretted it. Her breath hissed through her teeth and she winced, unable to hide the fact she was in pain.

  “Hurt that much, eh?” he asked with a chuckle. “Be thankful a cracked rib is all I’m gonna give you. For now.”

  The gleam in his eye made her shiver. His hair was black and greasy, and days-old stubble shadowed his jaw. His clothing appeared as if he’d slept in them for the past year. She couldn’t even tell what color his shirt had originally been.

  “Name’s Charlie Butcher. Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Go to hell.”

  He grinned at her and spat out his chaw. “Mercy, ain’t it? That’s what I thought I heard James call you.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You do realize that bounty hunter of yours holds your life in his hands?”

  “Great,” she murmured. “Jericho has no regard for me. Might as well put a bullet in my head here and now.”

  Butcher’s eyes roamed her body from the top o
f her hair to the soles of her boots which peeked from underneath her skirts. He tisked his tongue and shook his head. “Not yet, little lady. You’re worth more to me alive than dead.”

  The way he said those words made her skin crawl.

  “You’re the outlaw Jericho just turned in to the sheriff, aren’t you?”

  “In the flesh,” he said, bowing low. “Although, I must say, the poor sheriff didn’t fare as well as you have.”

  Mercy stared at him in shock. “You killed Sheriff Benton?” She glanced at the horse.

  Butcher shrugged. “Had to. He was going to put me back in that cell to face the hangman. I don’t intend to go quiet-like.”

  “But... Do you know what the penalty is for killing a man of the law?”

  He laughed at her. “I reckon it isn’t much worse than what they were plannin’ on doing to me anyhow.”

  Mercy shifted her position and moaned. “Please...” she said between pants.

  “Please what, darlin’?”

  “Can you please cut my bonds? I’m in...no condition to...run from you.”

  He gazed at her and cocked his head as if weighing his options. “Guess you’re right,” he finally conceded, pulling a knife from his back pocket. “Don’t doubt you cracked more’n one rib. Sheriff’s horse is taller than most.”

  Mercy tried hard to stifle a sob. If there was indeed a God in heaven, she prayed Jericho would find her.

  It no longer mattered if she owed him her virtue. If he somehow got her out of this mess, she’d owe him her life.

  Chapter Six

  The landscape flew by as Jericho pushed Bandit harder than ever before. He was desperate to make it to the Red Bluff caves by midday. Considering how far off the looming tower of rock was in the distance, that wasn’t likely. Butcher had quite the head start, and for all Jericho knew, anything could have happened by now. All manner of thoughts skittered through his head—of Mercy beaten, raped, or worse, killed by Butcher, an outlaw who’d more than lived up to his surname.

  A little soft-spoken, a little genteel—that didn’t stop the man from committing all kinds of atrocious murders across four states and two Territories, as if he’d wanted to make people’s insides their outsides. And he was good at hiding. It had taken Jericho a little over a year of tracking just to find him.

  Now the bastard had the one woman who’d ever given a damn about anything Jericho had cared for. He was not about to sit back and let what happened to Joy become Mercy’s fate as well.

  Butcher wanted his bounty. No doubt so he could disappear. But Jericho wasn’t so naive to think he’d take the money and run. No, his plan was surely to finish off both of them as soon as the cash changed hands. The only solution was to kill Butcher himself.

  Jericho was livid enough to do it.

  “I’m coming, Mercy,” he whispered into the hot wind. “Hang on a little longer.”

  * * * * *

  “Ha! Here comes your cowboy now!”

  Butcher’s voice had changed, almost as if he was ecstatic Jericho was riding to her rescue. Mercy glanced out the mouth of the cave and saw for herself the horse and rider racing across the red dirt of the Arizona desert. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

  Maybe he cared after all.

  “We need this to be believable,” Butcher murmured as soon as the drumming of hoof beats could be heard. Without warning, a sharp, excruciating pain jabbed into her midsection, stealing her breath. He’d kicked her!

  Points of light flared behind her eyes, and it was all she could do to hold on to lucidity. Opening her mouth, she couldn’t help the tortured cries rising from her chest.

  Butcher laughed and ran down the bluff, drawing his guns. “Keep crying!” he yelled.

  The sound of Jericho’s horse pulling short a few feet away filled her ears moments before his voice echoed throughout the cave. “Mercy! Oh God, answer me, baby.”

  His arms pulled her close, but the action only served to make her scream even louder.

  “Are you shot?” His hands roamed her body, stopping at her ribcage when she flinched at his touch.

  “He broke... He broke my...” she tried to say, but couldn’t get much beyond that.

  “Shh, don’t talk.” His arms gingerly wrapped around her. “Can you stand?”

  Mercy gazed into his amazing eyes and fell in love with him all over again. The look he gave her broke her heart, filled to the brim with worry and fear. She stroked his cheek and shook her head, intent on breathing rather than talking.

  “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “Don’t you worry.”

  “He’s...he’s hiding,” she managed to get out through her shallow breaths. “Out there.”

  A gunshot rang out behind them, whizzing by so close, Mercy felt it ruffle her hair. With a shriek, she pulled herself closer to his large body.

  “Damn it!” Jericho hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “Butcher, I have your money. Leave the woman alone, and I’ll bring it to you.”

  Silence answered him.

  “I’ll be back, Mercy.”

  “Don’t!” Clutching onto his shirt, she held him close. “He’ll kill you.”

  “He’ll kill us both if I don’t do what he wants.”

  With a sniffle, she stared at him, studying his face. Jericho was a beautiful, loyal, stupid man.

  “Please don’t die.” She knew her words were pathetic, but Mercy was beyond caring.

  He gave her a cocky grin and winked at her. “Not a chance, honey.” Before he laid her back on the ground, he gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Stay put.”

  Another shot hit the dirt behind them, sending pebbles and sand raining down on them.

  The moment Jericho stood, his countenance turned stony. With a few steps, he put his horse between himself and Butcher while he untied his saddlebags. Once they were free, he walked slowly to the mouth of the cave and hurled them with all his might. They landed somewhere amidst the sagebrush.

  “It’s all there!” he called out. “Now let us go.”

  A low chuckle emanated from somewhere outside. “You think it’ll be that easy? Let’s have some fun.”

  Just as Jericho was about to open his mouth to retort, another shot cracked the air. Mercy screamed behind him.

  That was it. His temper raged hot and he drew his guns. That bastard had threatened Mercy one too many times. He was going to die.

  The faintest hint of a rustle moved one of the larger sages. Jericho took aim and fired, unloading a few bullets with a primal yell. As soon as he came to his senses, both barrels were smoking.

  “Butcher!” he called out.

  An insane laugh answered him. “That all you got?”

  Another few shots whizzed by his ear, making him duck in the dirt. The outlaw had moved, but where was he now?

  Another large sage swayed to the left. Jericho aimed and fired once more. This time he heard the man cry out in pain. A rush of satisfaction surged through his entire body.

  “Give it up, Butcher. I’m gonna make sure you come to justice one way or another. Hangman’s noose or one of my bullets, don’t make a lick of difference to me!”

  In the uncanny stillness, Jericho made out the faint sound of a cocking gun.

  “If I’m goin’ ta hell, I’m bringing you with me!”

  Another shot rang out, missing him by mere inches before ricocheting off a rock. It hit somewhere near Mercy. She screamed, and the sound prickled every hair on the back of his neck. For all he knew, she could be hurt or dying. The thought made him sick with panic. He swallowed hard to return to his senses.

  Jericho’s blood boiled as more bullets filled the air. Taking his own life in his hands, he stood and ran toward the brush, pointing his guns in a crazy bid to end this once and for all. He fired a few times, taking a guess at Butcher’s whereabouts. Once his guns were empty, he dived to the dirt, taking cover in front of the large bush he suspected Butcher hid behind.

  With light
ning speed, Jericho took the time to load only one more bullet before cocking his gun and pointing it through the dense branches. He saw his quarry huddled on the other side.

  “Put your hands up, asshole!” He couldn’t keep the malice from his voice if he tried.

  No one answered. He waited a few moments before he stood and rounded the sage.

  The man’s body was face down, his blood soaking the dirt. Butcher didn’t move. He’d been shot a few times by the looks of him. If he was lucky, the outlaw was dead. Jericho kicked him none too gently. There was no response.

  “Good riddance.” Despite the oppressive heat, he still found enough moisture in his mouth to spit on him.

  “Jericho!”

  Mercy.

  Holstering his guns, he turned and ran, stumbling once. She was still alive. Hope filled his heart to near bursting.

  Chapter Seven

  The moment Jericho dropped to his knees next to her, Mercy tried her hardest to get as close as she could, pain be damned.

  “Did that ricocheted shot get you?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her frantically.

  “No. Is he...is he...?”

  Jericho nodded.

  The dam broke, and her eyes flooded with tears. Her sobs ripped through her, flaring her agony to new heights, but she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried.

  Jericho scooped her into his arms and held on tight. He whispered something to her, but she had no idea what he’d said. All that mattered was being with him. He wasn’t dead. Her relief had never been greater.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he breathed. “Can you ride?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her voice wavered.

  “I’ll hold on to you. Come on.”

  Once he reached his horse, he set her feet on the ground and told her to hold onto Bandit for support. He then released the girth strap on the saddle and pulled it off. She gave him a questioning look.

  “It’ll be more comfortable,” he told her. “Unless you don’t mind a saddle horn in your backside?”

  His easy grin hit her like one of Butcher’s bullets. He was trying to make her feel better by lightening the mood, but all he managed to do was make her want to kiss that sexy grin right off his face.