Chapter Ten

The plan was set. Dulcey wasn't sure if it'd work, but Francis had seemed so sure. She watched as he climbed the large oak tree beside the house. She had to wait until he was on the roof and then rush behind the barn, hop on her horse and scream as loud as she could. This wasn't the best of plans, she was sure, but it was all she could expect from Francis. She had to praise him for his cleverness though. They were, after all, running short on time.

Francis battled the tree and she cringed as she heard a twig snap and held her breath, half-expecting someone to appear outside to investigate. The house was silent. Dulcey wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad.

Francis looked down at her and she shrugged. He soon continued his climb and inched out on a strong branch towards the porch roof. Once he had stepped onto the shingles, he braced himself against the house and then gave Dulcey a thumbs-up sign, her signal to get to the barn.

This had better work. She thought glumly to herself as she began to quickly scurry through the darkness. The barn wasn't too far off. She just hoped Francis's plan worked and Kip and Reilly were lousy with a gun. If not, well… she didn't want to think about it. She had seen bullet wounds and didn't like the idea of getting shot in the back.

When she reached the back of the barn, she couldn't find the horses. That's strange… She wandered around a bit looking for them, but then decided it was best she continue on with the plan. Even if she couldn't run off, she could always hide in the barn until Francis on the drop on the criminals and came looking for her.

She wandered back over to the back of the barn. Screaming had never been one of her favorite things to do, but if it would save Marshal Crown and MacGragor… well, then it was necessary. She paused and took a deep breath, readying herself for the task at hand. She decided to count to three. Just to make the job seem more thought out. But before she could act she was suddenly apprehended from behind and a firm hand was clasped over her mouth. Her scream came out in a large burst of air and she gasped as a gun barrel was pressed to her temple.

"Alright, Reilly. Talk."

* * *

When Samantha awoke, she was surprised to see that she was still alive. Her head ached now and she felt worse then she had before, but she was alive.

How long was I asleep? She wondered as she lay there. She no longer heard the footsteps above and wondered if anyone were still home.

Why can't the end just come? She wondered. Why do I have to lay here sufferin'? Is there a reason why I haven't breathed my last breath? She couldn't think on anything. After all, Kip had been her entire life and he had turned on her. She had nothing left. Not even Marshall Crown. He was probably dead by now. Kip for sure went through with his plans to kill him.

I should have gone sooner. She scolded herself. It's your fault the marshal's dead. You should have gone to him from the start. But she hadn't. Back then she hadn't seen the truth. All she could think about was how much she loved Kip and how she would do anything for him. Even kill a man? Now, she wouldn't even kill a fly if he told her to.

Right then and there, Samantha vowed never to follow the wrong side again for love. If she survived this, though he hoped she wouldn't, she vowed to turn herself into the proper authorities and pay for her time in prison. She figured it couldn't be all as bad as Kip said it was. She figured nothing could be worse than being near strangled to death and left for dead in a muddy basement.

Then, to her amazement, she began thinking about Francis. She felt bad about all the times she led him on, pretending she liked him. Sure, he was a nice kid, but she could never love him romantically. She wished she could take back every moment they spent together. Every picnic, every horse ride, and even every meal they had shared at the restaurant. I wish I could take it all back.

Her lower lip quivered and then tears leapt to her eyes. Samantha couldn't remember the last time she had cried and recalled the time her pa told her it was a sign of weakness. But weakness or not, she didn't care about it now and she let the tears fall as she lay there in the dirt, feeling sorry for herself and all those she had hurt.

No, Samantha didn't want to die anymore. Death was too good for her. She wanted to live and deal with the consequences of all her actions. Samantha wanted to finally get what she deserved.