UNEXPECTED OPPORTUNITY

A BEN WADE STORY

By Layne Richards

PART ONE: 

Five men lay dead in the haze of the early morning Arizona sun. His latest robbery had gone well. With one small exception.

Ben Wade grimaced as he held a hand to his shoulder. Luckily, the bullet had gone straight through. Now, if only his legendary luck would hold until he could get the bleeding stopped. But there was one more thing he had to take care of first.

"Will!" he called out in his smooth, commanding, don't-fuck-with-me voice. "Will Thompson!"

"Boss." Will's voice faltered, as he faced Wade's steely gaze. "Boss, I swear I checked him! I'd've bet my own life he was dead! How could I've known he'd get a shot off?!"

Wade rested his hand casually on the pistol with the gold cross embedded in the grip. The cursed gun. The Hand of God, as it was known throughout the territory.

"Well, you see, Will- You did bet your own life." His unblinking stare held Thompson's eyes. "And you lost." In a move that was little more than a blur, Wade had drawn his gun, put a bullet between Will Thompson's eyes, and holstered the weapon again.

Still unblinking, and with no trace of emotion, he turned the black horse to face the rest of the men. "Jim," he said quietly, to his second-in-command.

"Boss." Jim Greer stepped forward.

"Wasn't there a house a few miles north of here?" Wade asked, as he calmly folded his handkerchief and slipped it against his shoulder, under his blue shirt.

"Yeah, Boss," Greer answered quietly. "There's also a couple of ranches west, and town's to the south."

"Can't ride into town with this." Wade nodded toward his shoulder. "Ride into town shot, with an empty coach and five dead men a few miles away, the marshal'd sit up and take notice. No, I'd better go to this house. Hole up there a few days. This is a clean-through shot. I just need to get the bleeding stopped and rest up a few days. You boys'll go on into town without me. It's Monday. You ride back this way sometime Saturday, and I should be ready to go."

"And what if the folks at this place ain't feelin' too--hospitable, Boss?" Greer asked.

"I'm sure we can persuade 'em, Jim." Ben Wade grinned. "One way or another."

They headed north without another word, the other four men in the outfit looking at each other a little nervously. They'd seen Ben Wade shoot men down in cold blood before, but not one of his own. Of course, they'd all heard about what happened in Contention--about how Wade had shot Charlie Prince and the rest of his old gang down, after Charlie had killed the rancher who'd put Wade on the train to Yuma prison. They'd heard it, but they were never too sure they believed it. Until now.

Jim Greer had to grin a little, as he watched their nervous glances. He'd been in Contention that day. He'd witnessed the shootings, and had stared uncomprehendingly as Ben Wade finished off his own men, then calmly climbed aboard the train to Yuma of his own free will. Damndest thing Greer had ever seen.

When he'd heard, a month or so later, that Wade was looking for new men, he'd been one of the first to look him up. He'd asked Wade why he did it. Wade had calmly replied, "Charlie Prince was a loose cannon. He got so he enjoyed the killin' too much. He was dangerous. It was time to clean house and start over."

Ben rode with one hand on the reins and the other pressing his handkerchief against his shoulder. The pain from his wound was bad--but bearable. Jim Greer rode at his side. Greer was a man he liked having at his side. The man was a deadly shot and, like Ben, did not hesitate to kill when it was necessary. He was also loyal. Wade could appreciate loyalty.

When Greer had first looked him up, Wade thought the wiry man with the well-used rifle and the hollow eyes wasn't up to the job of robbing and killing. But, for some reason, he'd given him a chance. Maybe it was because Jim Greer reminded him, in some ways, of Dan Evans. Like Dan, he had a lanky build, long dark hair, and a dark beard. He also had Dan's stubbornness. But, in the first job they'd pulled together, Greer had proved that the resemblance to Evans ended there. He didn't have Dan's conscience. He'd looked three unarmed men in the eye, and shot every one of them dead. Quietly, and without a fuss.

Ben didn't trust him, but then he'd never trusted anyone who rode with him. He'd seen men die carelessly and uselessly because they had grown to trust the men with whom they rode--had turned their backs on one of them a few seconds too long. Wade's idea was to treat the men who worked for him fairly. They all took the same risk, and they all got paid equally--and well. Ben took no bigger a share than anyone else. The men knew it. And they stayed loyal to him--because of his fairness, and because of fear. That suited Ben Wade just fine.

He stopped the men just over a hill from the house he'd seen earlier. Ben gave them instructions, making sure to fix each one of them in turn with the same hard, penetrating stare that he had used on Will Thompson just before he'd ended his life. Afterward, Wade and Greer rode on toward the house alone, the men waiting for Greer over the hill and out of sight.

Lacey Miller had finished up her breakfast dishes, and had walked off to one side of the house to empty the dishpan, when she saw two men coming down the hill. She stepped quickly back into the house, put down the dishpan, and picked up the rifle. The two men probably weren't dangerous, but you could never be sure out here.

As Wade and Greer rode up to the house, Ben took in the prettiest sight he'd seen in a long time. For a moment, he wondered if he had lost enough blood to hallucinate. A young woman in a blue dress, her light brown hair shining in the morning sun, streaming down her back. She had the complexion of a ripe peach, and a pretty figure to go with it. The fact that she was holding a rifle, which was pointed at him, only added to her charms, as far as he was concerned.

In spite of his pain, he gave her his usual charming smile and his most sincere, penetrating blue gaze. "You won't be needing that rifle, Miss," he said, as they pulled their horses to a stop in front of the porch.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Lacey hadn't put down the rifle. She wasn't trusting them yet.

Wade noticed her finger pressing the trigger slightly. Ready to pull it the rest of the way at a half-second's notice. Her brown eyes were alert and taking in everything about the two men in front of her.

"Name's Ben. Ben--Warner," Wade told her, again with his most disarming smile. "I'm a rancher from a 'ways west of here. This is my foreman, Jim Greer." He indicated the other man, who smiled and nodded, staying alert for anyone else who might show up.

"We were headed toward town with my herd, and some rustlers jumped us early this mornin'. Back over the hill there." He nodded in the direction from which they had just come.

"My men managed to fight 'em off, but in the thick of things I got hit." He moved his black coat aside to show her the blood which was now staining his vest, as well as his shirt. "I'd appreciate it if you could give me some help, miss." That charming smile again, in a face which had become slightly more pale.

At the sight of the blood on his clothes, Lacey lowered the rifle. He appeared to be swaying slightly in his saddle. Probably dizzy from loss of blood, she thought. He didn't appear to be much of a threat, in his condition. The other man obviously worked for Warner. He was silent, and acted subservient, as he sat on his horse, waiting for Lacey's decision.

"Can you make it into the house?" she asked Ben, as she leaned the rifle against a porch post.

"I think so, Miss-?"

"Lacey. My name's Lacey Miller."

Wade swung down from his saddle and took two steps toward her before he swayed on his feet again. Lacey caught him, guiding his arm over her shoulder, and wrapping one of her own arms around his waist.

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were full of concern. "Thank you, Miss Miller," he said softly, almost directly into her ear. He noticed her blush and felt immediately gratified. Even injured, he could still charm the ladies.

Jim Greer had moved over to catch his boss' other arm. Between them, he and Lacey got Wade into the house. "We'll put him in the bedroom." Lacey nodded toward a door on the right. They sat Ben on the edge of the bed.

"Can you sit here alone a minute, Mr. Warner," Lacey asked, "while I get some water?"

"I'm sure I can, miss," Ben replied, wincing as pain lanced through his shoulder. "Jim, why don't you water our horses and give Miss Miller a hand with whatever she needs." It was not a question, but a directive.

"And see who's around outside." The last order was unspoken, but Greer could read it in Wade's eyes.

"Sure, Boss." Jim Greer went out to the other room, where Lacey was hurriedly pouring water into a basin, and gathering bandages.

"Anything I can help with, miss?"

"Not right now. You could bring a bucket of fresh water from the well, when you've finished with your horses." She indicated the wooden bucket on the table.

"Sure thing, miss." Jim took the bucket and went out the door.

Lacey tried to calm her nerves and steady her hands, as she gathered up clean towels and some bandages. She wondered what on earth was wrong with her. She'd helped her ma tend injuried before--even a gunshot like this one. But she'd never been this shaky before.

It was this man. This Ben Warner. He had a strange effect on her. Those beautiful blue eyes seemed to look right inside her--intense and nerve-wracking. And that charming smile. "I can see right through you," it told her. And, as if that wasn't enough, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Rich brown hair falling to his collar, wide shoulders. Just a glimpse of the curling hairs on his chest revealed by the open collar of his shirt. That streaked beard.

"Get a grip on yourself," she scolded herself, as she finished gathering her supplies. "The man's injured. He needs your help, not some silly woman swooning over him."

She carried the basin of water, the towels, and bandages into the bedroom. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his pale look a little more pronounced now. He'd taken off his hat and put it on the bed.

"Can you get your shirt off?" she asked him, as she set the basin down on the table by the bed.

"I might need a little help," Ben told her, pulling the bloody handkerchief out of his shirt and dropping it on the floor.

Lacey helped him unbutton and remove his vest. Then, she got on her knees in front of him and, taking a deep breath, reached up to unbutton his blue shirt.

Wade smiled slightly over her head. He hadn't missed that deep breath, or the way she looked at him. If he hadn't been in pain right now, he would have run his fingers through that beautiful light-brown hair. Or maybe stroked her soft cheek with the back of his hand. She had a sweet, clean scent, he noticed, drinking it in as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. When they were all undone, she got the shirt off and inspected the wound.

"It looks like the bleeding's stopped," she told him.

"It was a clean-through shot," he told her absently, still thinking about her hair.

"Thank God for that," she said, busily cleaning both the entrance and exit wounds, and trying hard not to tremble, as she touched his body. She heard his breath hiss, as she touched one of the wounds with the wet towel.

"Oh, God! I forgot! There's some whisky in the kitchen, if you want some to help with the pain!"

"That's okay," he told her through gritted teeth. "Maybe I'll have a shot when you're finished."

When Jim Greer came back with the water, Lacey had the wounds dressed, the bandages wrapped around him. She had cleaned up the mess and put his shirt and vest over a chair.

Ben was lying back on the bed breathing slowly and evenly, one arm over his eyes. He'd been spending the last few minutes thinking about Lacey Miller. The way she looked in that pretty blue dress. That beautiful, thick brown hair and those brown eyes. Her clean, sweet scent. It made his pain seem further away.

He didn't often get a chance to turn his charm on a good, wholesome woman like her. When you made your living the way Ben Wade did, the women you met were whores and saloon girls. Women like Lacey were either scared to death of him or repulsed by him. This one didn't seem to be either.

" 'Course," he reminded himself, "she don't know my name's Ben Wade--yet." But the next several days with her should be interesting.

"You okay, Boss?" Greer asked him.

"Fine, Jim. I'll be just fine, thanks to Miss Miller." Again that charming smile was turned in Lacey's direction. She lowered her eyes.

"What now?" Greer broke into Wade's thoughts again, shaking his head at the unspoken question in Ben's eyes. There was no one outside.

"Well-" Ben said slowly. "I'm not gonna be fit to ride for a few days. I guess I could stay here. That is, as long as Miss Miller says it's okay." He looked the question at her.

Lacey blushed and averted her eyes from those intense blue ones again. "Th- That's fine," she managed to get out. "I live here with my folks, but they're away until Sunday. I'm sure it'll be okay with them." She wasn't at all sure it was fine, thinking about what her folks would say about her taking care of a strange man all alone. But what could she say? The man had been shot, and he needed to recover.

"Jim, you and the men take the herd on into town," Wade told Greer, grinning slightly as he kept up the pretense of being a rancher. "You can see to the sale and get the boys paid. Spend a few days and ride back this way, say--Saturday. By that time, I should be ready to ride."

Greer hadn't missed the looks Wade was giving to Lacey Miller, or the way she had been blushing and avoiding his eyes. He grinned at his boss. "Okay, Boss. We can handle all that. Anything you want me to bring you back from town?"

"Miss Miller." Ben looked over at Lacey. "I'd surely appreciate it if you could bring me a drink of water. I'm feelin' real thirsty right now."

Lacey left the two men alone and went to the kitchen. When she came back with a cup of water, Jim was leaving. She walked with him out to the porch.

"I put the boss' horse in your barn there, Miss." Greer nodded toward the barn to the left of the house. "I hope that's okay."

"Fine, Mr. Greer."

"Take good care of him, Miss."

"He'll be fine." Lacey smiled at the lanky man with the slow speech. "By the time you come back on Saturday, he'll be fit as a fiddle."

She watched Greer ride away over the rise, delaying going back into the house. When he was out of sight, and she felt she could delay no longer, she took a deep breath and went inside.

ON TO PART 2

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