her. Scowling, Ike lurched around and lumbered back into the trading post. Quinn had to agree that Ike was making a mountain out of a molehill and that Agatha was right. His plate had dried food caked on it and it could have used a good scrubbing.
“What are you smiling about this morning?” Agatha asked as she came toward him.
He opened the door of the coach for her. “I enjoy watching you set folks straight, as long as it isn’t me,” he said dryly.
When she climbed in, he caught a whiff of her appealing perfume. It reminded him of the wild lilac bushes that grew around his childhood home.
And that was about the only fond memory he had retained from childhood.
Well, no sense dredging that up, he told himself while he waited for the pup to bound into the coach. His life hadn’t been a fairy tale. So what? He had learned a long time ago to endure. As far as he could tell that’s what life was about.
“Are you getting in, Calvin, or do you plan to stand there woolgathering? And where are the driver and guard?” She looked him up and down, then said, “You look nice this morning in that colorful red vest.”
“Thanks,” he said, startled by the unexpected compliment.
As if on cue, the driver and burly guard scurried outside. For a moment Quinn appraised the shaggy-haired guard, wondering if he might be in on the robberies. He would make sure to keep a close eye on the man if they were held up so he could watch how he reacted.
Three hours later, as the coach bounced over the rock-strewn path that wound through a mountain pass, an eerie sensation skittered down Quinn’s spine. He jerked to attention to survey the looming granite walls that rose on each side of the narrow pass.
Soon, came the instinctive voice inside his head. He could almost feel danger looming in the distance, having dealt with it so often in the past.
He glanced at Agatha, who was carrying on a one-sided conversation with the mutt. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Her head snapped up and she tensed. “About what?”
“All my instincts tell me trouble is lurking. Do yourself a favor and don’t provoke the bandits if we get held up.”
“What?” she squawked, glancing this way and that. “Hell and damnation, this is just what I don’t need!”
Sure enough, she clutched protectively at her reticule again. Yep, she had something valuable with her, he predicted. If he could see her face, he knew it would be skewed up with alarm and anxiety.
Her hand shot out toward him. “Give me one of your six-shooters. I’m not going down without a fight.”
Quinn shook his head. “You shoot and they shoot back. Believe me, you would not like getting shot.”
“You speak from experience?”
He nodded grimly. “Yeah, it ain’t much fun. It would make you cross and cranky.”
She snorted at that.
“Okay, a lot more cross and cranky,” he amended wryly.
She poked her head out the window to study the towering stone precipices, and then she twisted around on the seat so that her shoulder and face were turned away from him.
“What are you doing?” he questioned, bemused.
Her head swiveled around, the thick veil swinging across the collar of her gown. “I’m unloading, of course.”
He saw her tuck something down the front of her gown. “If you don’t think bandits won’t frisk you because of your gender and age, think again. You might as well accept the fact that no one gets by untouched.”
“And you’re an expert, are you? Don’t tell me you supplement your lack of funds at the card table by holding up stages and banks.”
“No, but—”
Quinn’s voice dried up when he heard the first gunshot echoing off the rock walls, and then felt the coach lurch into a swifter speed.
“Oh, my God,” Agatha wailed as she grabbed hold of the window frame to prevent being launched into his lap. “This is going to spoil everything!”
He noticed the absence of the nasal tone in her voice again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He poked his head out the window to watch six masked riders descend from an elevated trail. Sure as shootin’, their faces were concealed by the same patterned red bandanas.
“It’s about damn time,” he said to himself. “Finally, some results.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing—”
The coach caromed around a sharp bend in the road, flinging him sideways. Agatha screeched, a high-pitched sound that nearly burst his eardrums—and sent the frightened mutt up in howls. When the coach rocked wildly on its springs Agatha was flung on top of Quinn before he could upright himself. He barely had time to register the fact that she felt as soft as a feather pillow before she planted her hands on his chest and shoved herself away.
Quinn peered out the window to see two riders thundering beside the coach. A moment later, the stage skidded to a halt.
“Hands up!” one of the masked bandits roared at the driver. “And you there, throw down that shotgun.”
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” Agatha chanted as she laid a shaky hand over her bosom.
While the driver and guard were being disarmed, Quinn unfastened his holsters and laid them on the seat.
“I never would have taken you for a coward.” Agatha’s voice was harsh with disappointment. “You aren’t even going to put up a fight, are you?”
The condemnation of her words rolled off him like rain off a canvas tent. “No, I’m not. Money comes and goes. I might have the nine lives of a cat, but I’ve used up about half of them already. I don’t intend to expend another one of them today. Since you probably don’t have too many to spare yourself, I suggest you act complacent for a change.”
“When my money goes it’s gone for good,” she grumbled.
“Be quiet,” he said, making a slashing gesture with his hand. “I’m thinking.”
“Well, think fast, Calvin. We are in serious trouble here!” she muttered.
Although the outlaws wore bandanas to conceal their faces, Quinn made note of the ringleader’s bushy eyebrows and beady eyes that were shaded by his wide-brimmed sombrero.
Quinn quickly memorized the appearance of the outlaws’ horses, saddles, boots and spurs for future identification. When he brought these murdering bastards to justice he damn well intended to point an accusing finger at each and every one of them.
“Step down from the coach,” one of the men ordered gruffly. “And hurry up about it.”
Piper’s heart was pounding so hard
