Christina Skye - Code Name - Baby

This time there were two of them.

Baby hadn’t barked, so the intruders wouldn’t yet realize they’d been discovered. When Kit cracked the patio door silently, she could make out low whispers.

“I told you this whole idea sucked, Emmett. If she had the box, she wouldn’t leave it all the way out here. Hell, she probably sleeps with the thing under her bed. She’s crazy like the rest of her family.”

Kit inched up beside Baby. “Stay,” she whispered. “Stay, Baby.”

The dog’s position didn’t waver, though her eyes glinted with wary energy.

Kit swung open the gate and leveled her father’s old Smith & Wesson revolver at two men in dusty jeans peering down the well beneath a huge mesquite tree.

Fear prickled at the back of Kit’s neck. The speaker was a big, sullen man she’d seen hauling feed at the local tack store or drinking from a brown paper bag outside several different bars.

“You’re trespassing here, gentlemen.”

The smaller man spun around with a surprised curse. “You said she was in town, Emmett. Why’d you lie to me?”

“Because you’re too damned stupid to know better.” The man named Emmett stood up slowly, his gaze locked on Kit. “Tell us where it’s hidden. We’ll just keep coming back until you do.”

There was no point in asking what they meant. This man was just like the others, hoping to find the famous treasure supposedly hidden somewhere on the ranch.

Except there was no treasure.

Kit’s hands tightened on the grip of the revolver. It had been her father’s gun, and he’d taught her how to handle it safely and well. “There’s no treasure here, fellas. You think I’d be driving a ten-year old Jeep with no air and bad brakes if I was sitting on a fortune? With that kind of cash, I’d be living the high life down in Santa Fe.”

Emmett appeared to think this over for a long time before spitting on the ground beside the well. “I figure that’s exactly what lie you’d tell us, but we both know there’s Apache treasure hid somewhere in this damned well. Bones Whittaker saw it with his own eyes. That old Injun gave it to your father.”

Kit kept her expression calm despite the anger burning in her throat. “Bones was seventy years old and a drunk to boot. Why believe him?”

“Because he saw it,” Emmett said tightly. “So did his best friend and they was sober when they told my uncle. No way they’d lie about that gold your father got out on the mesa.”

“Bones Whittaker was drunk and sick,” Kit said flatly. “He wanted to be important so he made up the whole thing, right down to the story of the box he supposedly saw my father lower into the well. He even admitted it to my mother when he came up here a week before he died.”

“Your ma told you that, did she?” Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I guess she would. Best way to quiet things down and keep your nice nest egg hid. But that’s mesa gold, and it belongs to anyone that finds it. That’s exactly what I’m fixing to do.”

Kit took an angry breath. The rumors of buried treasure had begun when she was a girl, fed by the tales of an old, lonely man desperate to feel important before he died. When her parents had come into extra money after the death of Kit’s maiden aunt, they’d bought a badly needed truck and built an addition to the kennels, adding fuel to the flames of local suspicion. Unfortunately, more than a few people still believed Bones Whittaker’s crazy story.

When Kit’s brother was at home, no one came sniffing around, but Trace had been gone for over a year now, and this was the second set of trespassers in the last month.

Kit felt a sharp tension at her neck. She glanced up and saw something move up on the ridge. A coyote?

Emmett continued to watch her, frowning when Baby barked inside the courtyard. “That your dog?”

“Yes, it is. And she—”

A callused hand shot around her shoulders from behind. “Got her, Emmett. What do we do now?”

A third man. She should have realized Emmett had an ace in the hole.

Kit dropped her revolver into the pocket of her baggy sweatpants, out of sight. Unable to break free, she pivoted and drove her boot heel down against her captor’s instep.

She fought to stay calm, to wait for her moment.

A second arm locked at her waist.

She caught the smell of aftershave and old sweat as she tried to jam her elbow into his solar plexus, but he was fast, constantly twisting out of range.

“Get her gun.” Emmett’s voice was strained. “Damn it, Harry, do I have to do everything?”

Her captor slammed her forward and pinned her against the courtyard wall, driving her cheek into the rough stucco.

She blinked back tears, refusing to show weakness or pain to these lowlifes. “My brother will kill you for this.”

“But your brother’s not here, is he? Maybe he won’t be coming back.”

Kit kicked viciously, felt her boot strike bone.

“Ben, where’s her gun? You see her drop it?”

“I don’t see no gun here, Emmett.”

Low growling drifted over the wall. “It’s those dogs of hers again.” Ben sounded frightened. “You said they wouldn’t be here, Emmett.”

A mass of dark fur and angry feet shot over the courtyard wall. Missiling down, Baby struck Emmett’s shoulders. Moments later two other furry shapes crossed the wall. One rammed the back of Ben’s legs, knocking him to the ground, and the third landed in front of Kit, teeth bared and menacing.

Then she was free, her revolver trained on the intruders who were circled by her snarling seventy-pound puppies. The dogs had waited for their moment to strike, working together.

“Get moving, you three. And spread the word that the next man who comes up here will be dodging my bullets.” She sighted down the length of her revolver, glaring at Emmett, who was clearly the instigator of this harebrained operation. “But first take off your shoes. Do it now. All of you.”

Three sets of eyes measured Kit, then cut back to the snarling dogs.

“Do what she says, Emmett. Never knew a woman could handle a gun worth shit. She’ll kill all of us in a second.” Ben pulled off his boots and tossed them to the ground. “Can I go now?”

Kit waved her hand and the man immediately took off over the dirt. “What are you waiting for?” she snapped at the other two.

“Dogs don’t scare me.” Emmett crossed his beefy arms. “Especially puppies.”

Baby bared her teeth while Butch and Sundance, Kit’s other dogs, moved into a tight line next to Baby, the three ranged together as one unit.

Kit stared coldly at Emmett. “They could break your arm in a few seconds. Probably chew up your face pretty bad, too.”

“Don’t think you frighten me none, O’Halloran. Don’t think it’s over yet, either.”

“Come on, Harry,” Ben called from down the hill. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Fine by me. I’ve had enough.” The other man pulled off his boots, tossed them beneath the mesquite tree and headed down the slope after Ben.

Two down. One more to go.

“You too,” Kit snapped at Emmett. “Don’t forget your shoes.”

Color surged into the man’s heavy cheeks. After some angry fumbling, he freed his battered sneakers and threw them hard through the air.

Kit was surprised to see Baby jump up and catch them in her teeth.

“One day you won’t be so lucky. Those dogs of yours might not be around.”

Kit kept her expression cold. “Get going, and remember what I said. Next time I’ll shoot first and consider the legalities later.”

Dust drifted over the hillside. Kit didn’t move until all three men had made their way past a row of cottonwood trees far down the hill, where an old pickup was hidden. After they shot out of sight, her knees began to shake, her stomach twisting in knots.