Chapter Three

Brantley paced the rickety porch of the rundown cabin. He didn't do cooped up well. But, the bullet he'd taken to the shoulder a couple weeks ago ensured there was nothing for him to do except be cooped up.

As long as his right arm was in this sling, Hoff wasn't going to let him ride along—or ride anywhere without a fight.

Brantley wasn't normally the type to give a damn about the gang leader's opinion. He had a strong aversion to authority and tended to be the loner of the gang and keep to himself. However, being injured made him slightly more vulnerable so he was a bit more willing to heed orders and lay low.

Damn, that uptight card dealer to hell and back for sending that bullet slamming into his shoulder. It wasn't his fault he'd beaten everyone at the table. Their accusations of Brantley's dishonesty had been false but before he could so much as offer a word in his own defense, the dealer had shot him.

Of course, Brantley had shot him back—blown that itchy trigger finger of his clean off-but the damage had already been down. Brantley was now a wounded damn cow in a sea of wolves and that was a dangerous thing to be.

Grumbling, Brantley adjusted the sling on his arm and his eyes fixed on the figures currently riding hell-bent for the house. He grabbed the looking glass and sighted through it, recognizing Hoff at the front.

Tension filled him, though he was careful to keep it well hidden. Weakness was a death sentence in the world he lived in.

Brantley leaned his weight against the porch post, hooked his thumb through his belt loop and watched the men thunder in.

"Hey there, Brantley. You're looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed this morning," Hoff greeted as he brought his giant black gelding to a stop.

"Chomping at my bit is more like it," Brantley replied. "I ain't made for sittin' idle."

"Well you're in luck then," Samson announced, sliding his over-fed frame from his mare and pulling what was obviously a woman with a sack on her head down with him. He tossed her limp body down in the dirt. "We brought you some company."

Brantley's brow raised slightly. "Is she dead?"

Hoff chuckled. "That'd make her a bit less entertaining as your houseguest, wouldn't it?"

So, she was alive. Brantley pushed the brim of his hat up slightly as most of the men filed inside for a meal. "What the hell am I supposed to do with her?"

Gilman, a short weasel of a man, chuckled and leaned in close to Brantley as he passed by him. "Surely, we ain't gotta give you a lesson on the birds and the bees."

"I prefer my women conscious and willing," Brantley replied, staring down at the tiny man with boredom.

"Aww ain't that sweet," Gilman mocked. "Always knew you were a soft one."

Faster than Gilman could blink, the blade of Brantley's ten-inch knife was at his throat, pressing against his dirty skin. "Don't go mistakin' me for someone who won't kill you," Brantley warned.

"Alright, alright, break it up you two," Hoff chuckled. "Go on in and get something to eat, Gilman."

"Yeah Gilman." Brantley pulled the knife away. "Go eat."

Gilman scurried out of sight ad Brantley holstered his knife. "So why the hell did you bring a woman here?" he asked Hoff.

Hoff scratched at his scarred cheek. "She's that rich rancher's wife. Smallwood? We snagged her up and left that man of hers a nice note. She's gonna be one hell of a payday for us."

Brantley shook his head. "Have you really gotten that desperate? Kidnapping helpless women?"

Hoff's dark eyes narrowed. "This'll be one hell of a payday, Brantley, and if you want in on it, you'll play along."

Brantley still wasn't sold. Hurting and threatening ladies just didn't interest him. Sure, he'd steal the coins off a dead man's eyes, gut a man like a fish and disobey authority every chance he got but hurt a woman? Brantley had loved his mama. Hurting women just didn't seem right.

"Just what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Keep her here and don't let her escape. I'm sending some men south on separate business and me and the rest will go deal with her husband."

"A nanny then?" Brantley grunted. "I ain't about to be a goddamn nanny."

Samson shrugged. "That's alright, boss. If Brantley ain't willing, I'd be more than happy to be her nanny." He rubbed his hands together and leered down at the woman at his feet.

Hoff shook his head quickly and fixed Brantley with a pointed gaze that held clear threat. "Brantley will watch her. With that busted arm he ain't suited for much else"

Brantley felt his temper flare but said nothing. He wouldn't allow Hoff to goad him into a fight. That man lived to flex his muscle. Now, Brantley wasn't afraid of the man but he saw the way Samson was looking down at that unconscious, umoving woman and he wasn't about to let him be in charge of her care. No one in the world deserved to have that dirty, hairy, fat-bellied bastard panting on top of them.

"So, I reckon you want me keeping her safe too. What if she gets out of line?" Brantley asked.

Hoff chuckled. "Surely you can handle one tiny woman."

Brantley shrugged his good shoulder. "Sometimes they get mouthy."

'We gotta keep her alive and fairly unharmed." He winked. "A bruise or two won't hurt anything. Accidents happen."

Brantley grunted. There wouldn't be any damn accidents. He wasn't a woman beater.

He glanced at the blood on her light blue dress. "Did she already have an accident?"

"No, I shot the pathetic old man she was riding with. That's his blood." Hoff held up his hands. " 'We don't want no trouble.' Hell, why do people go and say stupid shit like that?"

A chuckle left Brantley's throat. "Probably because they don't want any trouble."

Hoff snorted. "Well he got dead is what he got." He turned his attention to Samson. "Pick that lady up, get her inside and tied up before she starts coming to. We gotta eat and head back out. Not all of us can laze around all day like Brantley."

Brantley moved aside to allow both men past him. He found himself alone on the porch, cursing his luck. He didn't want to spend the next few days—or weeks depending on what Hoff had planned—playing nanny. Especially to some hoity toity rich man's wife who'd probably been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and never heard the word no.

She'd probably do a lot of screaming, crying, whimpering and begging. Brantley would do a lot of banging his head against the wall.

Hell, he didn't know exactly why he tolerated Hoff and the others. He supposed it was because Hoff had saved his life when they'd been little more than boys and they'd been riding together ever since. They'd had each others backs more than once over the years.

Hell, Hoff was the closest thing to family Brantley had left.

So, he put up with his threats and his hair-brained schemes. This was honestly the first time Brantley had a problem with something Hoff had done. And he'd do what he could to make sure no harm came to the woman.

Brantley was the safest bet to care for her. Most of the other men had no qualms with harming a woman. And he knew that's why Hoff had truly given him the job. Rich husband was less likely to play along if his wife was dead.

Adjusting his hat, Brantley sighed and headed for the door. He might as well enjoy a bit of bullshitting with the men before he became nanny nursemaid extraordinaire.

yXc:~