Chapter 3 Intercepted

Kitty Russell let out a contented sigh. The stagecoach was still bumping along, the seat still too hard, and the temperature rising as the afternoon sun broke through the clouds to bake the plains, but none of that could spoil her mood. She was right where she most liked to be, snuggled against the muscular chest of her man, his strong arm holding her tight against him. And they were alone. Totally, blessedly alone, and far away from Dodge and the many responsibilities that seemed to control their lives so much of the time.

A particularly hard series of jolts had her grabbing onto Matt's jacket as he wrapped his other arm around her to keep her from bouncing off the seat. Kitty started to chuckle as she recalled the earlier 'bouncing' they'd been doing – another reason for her sunny mood. Her man had done his usual thorough job of satisfying her, and a satisfied Kitty was a happy Kitty.

She was secure as well in the knowledge that she'd more than returned the favor. Since they'd gotten back on the stage for the rest of the leg to Pierceville, Matt had been relaxed and drowsing, periodically issuing a satisfied sigh and squeezing her to him a little tighter, letting his hand wander slowly up and down her side in a gently sensuous caress.

He was alert now, though, hanging on to her as the coach bumped and jolted over the bad stretch of road. Kitty's chuckling turned into laughter. "Oh, my! Matt, don't let go of me!"

"Never." Matt's voice was deep and sure.

Glancing up, Kitty met his steady blue gaze, marveling as always at how much her taciturn cowboy could tell her with just a look. This one spoke loud and clear of his steadfast love for her. Her heart drank deeply from the well of his love as her eyes held his, wanting him to see the answering devotion in hers.

The road seemed to be smoothing out finally, and he relaxed his hold a little, bending down to steal a lingering kiss. "You okay?"

"More than okay, thanks to you, Cowboy." Kitty's soft purr and seductive smile made him grin at the clear reference to their earlier activities.

"Like I said, ma'am, we aim to please." As if to illustrate his point, he tipped her chin and kissed her thoroughly.

She was slightly out of breath when he finished. "Oh, I'm very pleased." She smiled up at him. "And I intend to be even more pleased later this evening, once I finally get you out of this stage and into a bed!"

Matt's eyes were twinkling mischievously. "Well, then, I'd best get some rest while I can, make sure I'm up and ready when you need me!" Suiting actions to words, he leaned back against the seat and tipped his Stetson down over his eyes.

Smiling happily as he pulled her close, Kitty resettled herself against him, figuring she should probably try to rest a bit herself if she wanted to take full advantage of their first evening together.

While the contented couple drowsed, Jim Buck was peering hard at the horizon. Through the dust haze he could just make out what looked like several riders off to the south, moving fast and unless he was mistaken, heading their way. Of course, there were lots of reasons a bunch of cowboys might be heading toward the main road, but for some reason he had a bad feeling about these.

Maybe it was because they weren't heading straight for the road. They were moving at an angle to it, on a track that aimed them in the general direction of his stage. Jim Buck didn't like that, because people wanting to intercept his stage was pretty much never a good thing. At the very least it meant trouble for one of his passengers.

Of course, he mused, given that he was carrying a U.S. Marshal, he should probably be expecting someone to interrupt the trip with some sort of urgent message. Or they could just be a group of cowhands from a nearby ranch, headed north, just by chance crossing his path.

That's probably what it was, he admitted. He was getting twitchier every year he spent in this business. But still, it never hurt to be cautious. Buck shifted the rifle into his lap, ready to provide whatever sort of welcome the situation required.

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At the head of the riders, Frank Mason spurred his horse to greater speed, his eyes fixed on the approaching target. He could see the driver now, alone atop the stage. Looked like he had his rifle ready. That was to be expected. Man would have to be an idiot not to take at least that precaution. But no matter, they had a plan.

"Ready, boys?" He glanced back at the other three, riding just behind and to either side of him. They nodded, as intent as he on their goal. If they were lucky, the driver would figure them for local cowboys heading for one of the ranches near Pierceville.

"Okay, Billy, get ready." Frank glanced at the youngest of the riders, wishing again that the Boss hadn't entrusted this key part of the plan to the least experienced member of the group. Barely out of his teens, Billy Doyle was a wild lad, with an Irish temper to match his thatch of red hair, and a line of blarney to complement his deep blue eyes and cheeky grin. Women couldn't seem to get enough of him, and even the Boss seemed to be taken in by his charm.

For his part, Frank distrusted men who came by fortune too easily. When things got tough, it surprised them, and surprised men made stupid mistakes. He just hoped Billy would do as he was told, when he was told, and leave the thinking to those that knew what they were doing, namely him.

If he were planning any harebrained stunts, Billy didn't let on, simply nodding his understanding, grabbing hold of the burlap sack hanging off the pommel of his saddle and slipping a Bowie knife out of its sheath on his leg.

As their horses reached the road, only a dozen yards or so ahead of the stage, Billy dropped slightly behind the others. Out of the corner of his eye Frank could see the flash of Billy's knife. The boy's jubilant whoop told him the deed was done, and he veered off again to ride north away from the road.

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Jim Buck watched the four cowboys cross onto the road maybe a dozen yards ahead of him. The trailing rider was looking at something down by his leg. Suddenly something tumbled to the dirt. The rider looked back, but didn't try to retrieve what he'd dropped. Instead all four riders veered off the road, heading north. It didn't make much sense, any of it, but that bad feeling he had wasn't going away. Whatever the last cowboy had dropped was lying in the road just ahead of him, but he couldn't make it out.

Jim hauled on the reins, staring hard at the unknown object just ahead of him. Suddenly it moved, and in a horrified second, he realized what it was. Unfortunately, so did the horses, and before he could react, they whinnied in fear and bolted. Before he could yell down a warning for his passengers to hang on, the stage left the road, lurching hard as one wheel found a large hillock and its mate a hole. Jim had to grab onto the wooden seat to keep from being thrown from the stage as they went careening across the prairie.

Jim recovered his balance and hauled on the reins, but the horses were more afraid of the snake than of their driver, and neither he nor the stage they dragged behind them were going to stop them from making their escape.

Then things got worse. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spotted the four cowboys. They'd circled around and were headed straight for the stage. He wished he could imagine otherwise, but he knew in his gut they weren't rushing to help. They were homing in on their prey.