The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge. Lori Connelly

bend. Shock rooted her to the ground. Sounds evaporated, until only her heartbeat remained. Ben’s flattened hat rested in front of her boot next to a patch of new spring grass, splattered with blood.

       Chapter Two

      The low rumble of several horses soon became thunder on his heels. His fingers tightened on the reins. Ben twisted in the saddle, looking behind him. The number of riders who approached him at a fast pace didn’t bode well. As he straightened in the saddle, his gaze swept the area.

      Flat grassland stretched for miles to his right. A thick stand of pines sat an impossible distance from the other side of the road. His only hope rested in the direction he had chosen just moments before, down the road toward Evie. Although his gut warned him to put his heels to the mare, race around the bend for home, Ben refused. He’d been a poor excuse for a man but whatever trouble was about to descend upon him, he wouldn’t endanger his wife.

      Edgy, he pulled up then hunched forward to hide his actions from view. Ben fumbled, his fingers clumsy, to open the hidden pocket his friend Henry had fashioned in the saddle after they’d been robbed one too many times. He stuffed coins out of a small bag in quickly, gauging how long he had to work by ear. When the riders sounded close, he fastened the flap and tossed the last of the money into his saddle horn bag.

      Ben turned to face the danger head on. He didn’t have to wait long as within minutes several men rode up, surrounding him. The stench of stale sweat and rotgut whisky filled the air. The man right in front of him with greasy blond hair and bloodshot eyes glared at him for a second then all six of them dismounted.

      “Is there a problem?” Ben strove for calm.

      “Yeah.” A man to his left cocked his revolver then ordered in a low, lethal tone. “Get down.”

      “Why don’t we just talk for a while?”

      Ben heard movement behind him and turned to face it a second too slow. Rough hands pulled him from the saddle. He hit the ground hard, pain radiating from his shoulder, side and hip.

      A man stood over him, his expression fierce. “Shut up.”

      “Look guys let’s-” With effort, Ben got to his feet.

      “You cheated our boss.” A fist slammed into his face. His nose cracked. Blood, warm and metallic, streamed down into his mouth. He staggered back. “And cost us our jobs.”

      Talbert’s men. “I can make this right. I-”

      Another punch landed on his jaw, jerking his face to one side. Ben remained upright through sheer stubborn will. In rapid succession, several punches slammed into him. He tried to defend himself, landed a couple of blows, but the pummeling continued unabated. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, he soon collapsed.

      With him flat on the ground, barely responsive to the most vicious kicks, their attack started tapering off. A heated exchange erupted. Disoriented, Ben struggled to focus. It took some minutes before he grasped the meaning of their words. Raw terror struck his heart. They were arguing over which of them would comfort his widow first once they finished him off.

      His fingers curled, forming a fist. Ben lifted his head off the hard packed earth. Anger burned. They had gathered to one side and focused on each other, paying him no heed. His gaze found Sugar about a yard to his left. Seconds felt like hours while he crawled to his horse. He painfully pulled himself up into the saddle.

      Ben clutched the reins along with a good hunk of mane and slumped forward. He pointed Sugar toward the trees and put his heels to her flanks, his only thought to get the men as far from Evie as possible. Each stride jarred and sent shards of pain through him. He heard angry shouts then the sounds of pursuit. Desperate, he urged the mare on, faster.

      Blood roared in his ears, drowning all other sound, still he sensed the men were closing in. Sadness filled Ben. There was little hope of survival. He’d never get to hold Evie again or tell her he was sorry. She’d never know that he’d turned around and headed back home, that he’d wanted a second chance.

       Dear God, I want a second chance.

      Pain eroded the remnants of strength. Ben started to slip off one side and barely caught himself. For only a moment, the world came into sharp focus then his thoughts clouded. His grip weakened. The mare started to slow. A moment later, he lost his hold, toppling off her.

      Ben rolled for some distance over rocky ground before he at last came to a stop. He ended up flat on his back, stunned. It took several seconds for him to remember how to breathe. Limbs leaden, he tried to get up but could hardly move. A shadow fell over him. He looked up to discover the blond man beside him, a smirk on his face.

      A boot slammed into his side and his body exploded in pain. The man kicked him a couple more times. Ben felt ribs snap and moaned, a raw animal sound.

      White-hot pain pierced his shoulder then rough hands seized him, pushing hard. He had no strength to resist. They rolled him over an edge and Ben tumbled down a hillside, battered by brush and stones. His misery ended when his head hit something with enough force that agony consumed him and he lost consciousness.

      Fingers pressed against the rifle stock hard in a painful, numbing grip, Evie stepped forward, moving past the hat that she couldn’t bring herself to pick up. Her gaze studied each stump and bush for any sign of her husband. Minutes passed like an eternity. Reality pressed upon her, ruthless. The land that surrounded her appeared empty of all but small wild creatures.

      By the distant tree line, a couple of deer meandered along. Some small brown rabbits played by a rotting log. A turkey vulture flew by so close her nose wrinkled at its stench. Unsure of what to do next Evie started to turn around to head back home, and then stopped cold.

      Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted distant puffs of dust on the previously deserted road. Rhythmic beats of horse hooves against the earth soon disturbed the quiet. Wind swayed tall blades of roadside grass on either side of her. Evie brought a hand up, shaded her eyes and spotted a rider. The image roused hope. She wanted to believe it was Ben, safe and sound, on his way home.

      Apprehension swept over her when it became clear the rider wasn’t alone. Evie could make out three, none with a mount that had Sugar’s coloring. With the realization that Ben wasn’t one of them, another possibility occurred to her.

       It could be the men from yesterday.

      Alarm rooted her to the ground. Her mind screamed run but her feet refused to move. Nausea churned her stomach. Her legs threatened to buckle. Yet Evie stood, a statue, the entire time it took for them to reach her.

      As they neared, it became clear she’d never seen these men before but the sight of strangers brought little relief. They slowed then stopped only feet in front of her. Evie kept a calm façade even as her heart raced. Expressions serious, they didn’t look lost and the only destination on this section of the road was her home.

      “Gentlemen.”

      “Mrs. Rolfe?” The stocky older man in the center wearing a dusty dull white hat moved his horse slightly forward.

      Evie cradled the firearm against her mid-section. “Yes?”

      “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m William Talbert.”

      “Mr. Talbert.” Nerves sharpened her tone. “Did you know some of your men harassed me last night?”

      “I’m aware of that ma’am.” He dismounted with the ease of a man who’d spent a lifetime in the saddle. “And I don’t hold with craven behavior. I let those boys go as soon as I found out what they’d done. It won’t happen again.”

      Evie inclined her head, acknowledging. “Thank you.”

      “It was the right thing to do.”

      “And you rode out here just