Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Three

Samantha woke with a start and glanced around the room to catch her bearings. Judging by the dim light coming through the window, dawn was approaching.

Nerves ate ravenously at her stomach. She had a feeling that daybreak was going to bring a fight with it. People were going to be hurt today—people were going to die. All Samantha could pray for was that it wouldn't be the people she loved that payed the price for Clinton's obsession with her.

Part of her was tempted to simply leave the house and surrender herself to the monster to spare her loved ones any more suffering—but she couldn't do that to Zachary. If Samantha allowed Clinton to take her, Zachary would never stop hunting, never stop killing, until he saw her free again. She laid a hand over her stomach and the baby growing there—the baby that Zachary still didn't know about.

She should tell him, she knew that, but not now. Not until Clinton was dealt with. She didn't want her husband to have anything more on his mind than he already did.

Slowly, Samantha got to her feet. Her head swam a bit and so she kept one hand on the bed until her legs steadied beneath her. The pain in her shoulder was intense and throbbing. She wanted nothing more than to take soemthing to ease that pain but she didn't dare. She couldn't allow her mind to be the least bit foggy or clouded.

Samantha's stomach growled a bit and she sighed. She needed to find Zachary and let him know she was awake, then go figure out something for breakfast. If daylight was going to bring a fight with it, everyone needed some food in their bodies to keep them going.

Bootsteps sounded on the floor behind her—entering the room. Samatha stiffened. That wasn't Zachary. Zachary moved silently. She turned her head and immediately felt an unsettling mixture of fear and confusion swell in her chest.

Why was Edgar, the bartender from the Hackney Saloon and Brothel standing in her room with an unconscious Caroline tossed over one of his massive shoulders and a rifle in his hands? "Hello Samantha."

She opened her mouth but he shook his head. "Don't make a sound. And don't go for that revolver on the side table either. You and I are going outside and if you fight or you make a sound, I'll kill your friend here and it'll be all your fault."

Suddenly the reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Edgar was one of Clinton's men. He'd been watching them for weeks, learning their routines and infiltrating their circle by his association with Caroline. That was how Clinton knew Zachary and Timothy were going to be gone and her and Eleanor would be alone at the ranch.

A sense of betrayal burned in her gut. "Zachary will kill you," she whispered, her gaze flitting to the table where her gun sat six feet away.

"Not before I kill her. And you. If I'm going to die, I'll take you both with me."

Samantha couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't fight back and let Caroline die for it. No. She had to play this smart. Go along with what Edgar wanted, surrender herself to Clinton, and figure out everything else later.

She nodded. "Okay. I'll come with you. Please, don't hurt Caroline anymore..." A frown pulled her lips. "You haven't killed her already, have you?"

The man let out a quiet chuckle. "No. She's very much alive but won't be for long if you don't get your ass moving."

Samantha's movement were stiff as she walked out fo the patient room with Edgars large form hovering behind her. She saw the doc slumped in the chair inside the store and turned an accusing eye at Edgar. He nodded. "One more person I'll finish off if you don't go out that door right now."