by Tinnean
“I do. What do you say we file for it?” Steve took a hearty bite and chewed in obvious satisfaction.
“We? The two of us?” Sharps wanted to cringe. Talk about your stupid remark. Of course it was the two of them. There was no one else around.
Steve finished chewing. He swallowed and reached across to squeeze Sharps’s knee. “Yes, it would belong to both of us. Both our names would be on the deed.”
Sharps cleared his throat. Back after the War, in spite of hoping he’d one day run into the captain, he’d never really counted on it. Now, though…They actually had a future together. “In that case, I’ve got some money I can give you so we’ll be partners in that sense, too. And the land will be ours free and clear.”
“Where did you come up with cash money?”
“After…after Pa died, I sold off most of his tools. And while I was traveling west, hoping to meet up with you, I played some poker.” He wasn’t certain if he should say anything just yet about the money Colonel Sebring had given him for the work he’d done. Maybe it would be a good idea not to bring it up at all.
“Some poker?” The skin at the corners of Steve’s eyes crinkled, and he chuckled. “I seem to remember during the War, the men becoming reluctant to sit down with you to play cards.”
Sharps tapped the side of his nose. “Sometimes it’s good to look like a kid.” He was happy when Steve continued to chuckle.
“Well, I’m not so stiff-rumped I’d say no to a helping hand. Thank you, Zachary.”
Sharps ducked his head and grinned. “You’re welcome, Étienne.” He took a final bite of his own sandwich, enjoying the crunch of the bacon and the grainy texture of the bread. Mrs. Hall must have bought it at the general store—she hadn’t had time to do any baking. He gave a contented sigh. “What would we call our ranch?” He wiped his hands on the grass beside him, then went to the fire to see if the coffee was ready.
Steve answered immediately. “What would you think of the Double S, for Steve and Sharps?”
“You didn’t give that much thought.”
“It seems that way, doesn’t it? Actually, I’ve given it a good deal of thought.”
“You have?”
“I have.”
That had to mean he’d considered this for quite some time. Once again Sharps felt as if his chest would burst. “I…Thank you, Steve. I’d like that a lot.”
Steve crossed to where Sharps crouched by the fire, and when Sharps looked up, Steve stooped down, caught his boy’s chin between his fingers, and kissed him. “We’re gonna have a good life together.”
“We are.”
“I reckon when we go in to town to get Twilight’s hackamore in a few days, we can file for this land at the same time.”
“Yes.” They were going to own a parcel of land together. Maybe Sharps could stop worrying about how Steve would feel if he ever learned of the things Sharps had done.
“That coffee smells mighty good.”
He grinned broadly at his captain. “Then I reckon I’d better pour you a cup.” Sharps made sure the grounds were settled before he reached for a tin cup and filled it. He shivered at the feel of Steve’s fingers brushing against his as the cup changed hands.
“What do we have for dessert?”
Sharps bit his lip, and instead of mentioning the can of peaches he’d planned to share with his captain, he said, “Me?”
“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” Steve grinned, slow and languorous as he put his cup to the side.
“St-Steve?”
“Come ride me, soldier.”
For a long moment, Sharps struggled to catch his breath while his prick became so hard he thought it would burst through the buttons on his trousers. No one—no one—had ever sent a look like that in his direction. And then he set to work stripping off his clothes.
Chapter 30
Afterward, Steve had to grin. His boy had been so surprised when he’d realized what Steve had in mind. Steve had removed his clothes, laid his saddle blanket beside Sharps’s, and retrieved his saddlebag. With the bottle of cod liver oil in hand, he spread himself out on the blankets, exposed himself to his boy, and worked the oil into his back passage, his heated gaze on Sharps’s wide blue eyes.
“St-Steve?”
“Come ride me, soldier,” he’d said, deliberately making his voice husky. Just the thought of Sharps being in his body made Steve’s cock even harder, made him want—not some anonymous lover he’d never see again but this particular young man—as he never had in all his born days.
It hadn’t taken much more than that for Sharps to hop from one foot to the other as he first removed his boots and then tore off his clothes, tossing them to the four winds. He’d been gentle, though, cradling Steve’s face as he pushed into him and whispering the most charming words of love Steve had ever heard, words that flowed over Steve, assuring him how enamored Sharps was with everything about him—his eyes, his hair, his mouth, his body. And Steve lost himself in the amount of pleasure his young lover afforded him.
Another time he’d lower himself onto Sharps’s prick and ride his boy himself, but not that first time. That first time they’d kissed and made love and shattered the silence of their valley with their groans of fulfillment.
Sharps rested his cheek against Steve’s. “We can’t ride back to camp like this.”
“Like what?” Steve teased. And Sharps gave him the sweetest smile, refusing to let Steve tease him. He eased out of Steve’s body, rose gracefully to his feet, then leaned forward, reached for Steve’s hand, and pulled him up. Who would have thought a young man as…well…short as his lover could do something like that so easily?
Steve set aside that wonder and the memory of their actions once he was again on his feet. Hand in hand, they’d run down to the lake and flung themselves in, not anticipating the abrupt shock, and they’d both let out a howl. The water was cold.
Other than that…Yeah, it had been good, better than good. His ass ached a little—it had been a long time—but feeling Sharps explode inside him, filling him with his warmth had been more than worth it. And his boy’s dazed expression when Steve had climaxed and spilled his seed all over them both…
It had been an experience worth waiting all these years for.
* * * *
“I reckon we’d better get dressed,” Sharps murmured. They’d stretched out on their saddle blankets, letting the warm breeze dry them off. The angle of the sun had changed, though, and the shade had begun to slip away. The walls of the hills surrounding the valley protected it from the cooler air up top, funneling the warmth of the sunlight directly down on them in spite of the season. “We’ll wind up frying if we stay like this much longer.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” But they both remained there a while longer, continuing to drowse in each other’s arms.
Until Twilight tossed up his head, snorted, laid his ears back, and stamped his hoof. Even Bella became restive, dancing beside the stallion.
Steve bounded to his feet, all thoughts of enjoying a lazy afternoon vanished.
“Well, well, well. Looky what we got here.”
Steve recognized that damned voice, and a glance at the man sitting a bay roan gelding proved him right. It was McCloud, the sheriff of Willow Crick. “Stay put,” Steve hissed at Sharps. His boy hitched himself to the edge of his blanket—poor kid was probably scared spitless—but then Sharps went still and obeyed him. Steve reached for his holster, but before he could free his gun and cock it, the sound of another gun being cocked broke the afternoon’s stillness.
“Drop it.”
Shit. Steve forced himself to set down his gun, although having to do that while he was stark naked didn’t sit well with him.
“If it ain’t Captain Marriott. And it looks like you’ve got a nellie boy with you.”
That was right. McCloud had never seen Sharps; he’d been in the jail the entire time. “What are you doing here?” Steve demanded. “I thought we’
d seen the last of you in Willow Crick.”
“Not likely. I been tracking you for the past three weeks.” The sheriff curled his lips in a sneer, not an attractive expression. “Those were pretty cushy positions Ori and I held in that one-horse town, but it didn’t look good that the townsfolk had to send for a locksmith to get us out of that fucking jail cell. Ori was able to convince them what desperate hombres you all were, but when they came back with their tails tucked between their legs because even that bitch of a slut fired at them, things looked even worse, especially since Asa, Luke, and Cal were dead. We had no choice but to hightail it out of there, and that was thanks to you bastards. Ori and I decided to come after you and make you pay.”
Steve felt his mouth go dry. Had they already gone after his friends in Hummingbird Valley? “Where’s Weatherford?”
“He’s in Woody Draw talking to the town council. He figured it shouldn’t take long for him to convince them we’re just what they need to keep their town safe.”
Steve had the feeling the two men from Willow Crick had no idea what they were going to come up against. The sheriff of Woody Draw wasn’t a man to take lightly.
McCloud dragged his gaze over Steve’s body, and Steve felt soiled. But when the bastard turned to study Sharps. Steve’s emotions were like a volcano threatening to erupt. Be damned that he was naked as a jaybird. He wanted to jump in front of his boy and protect him from this son of a bitch, but McCloud’s gun was aimed directly at Sharps, and Steve didn’t dare move. “Is the boy any good?” The bastard’s lips parted in a lascivious smirk.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I reckon you do. I seen you getting all lovey-dovey with him a while back. Almost made me jet my juice.” McCloud ran his beady eyes over Sharps, and Steve had to fist his hands. Otherwise he’d have been tempted to slug the miserable so-and-so. “I don’t usually go for boys, but I’ve got me a hankering to try some of that.”
Steve wanted to tear the sheriff’s head off for looking at his boy with such loathsome intent. “I wouldn’t recommend that,” Steve said, unhappy his tension was obvious in his voice.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” McCloud turned his gaze back to Steve.
“Don’t I have a say in it?” Sharps asked.
“Stupid boy. Course you don’t. I’m gonna shoot the captain, and then I’m gonna take you next to his dead body,” McCloud gloated. “And then I’m gonna—”
“I don’t reckon I can allow that,” Sharps said, his words soft.
Steve tore his own gaze from McCloud. Sharps was sitting up on the blanket, one leg curled beneath him, for all the world as if he were on his own bed.
“What?” The onetime sheriff sounded annoyed.
“Want me to repeat myself?”
McCloud curled his lip. “You’re just a kid. Now just you shut up before I tan your hide, and maybe I’ll keep you around instead of killing you like your captain.”
“Men like you make me tired.”
The last thing Steve expected was the boredom in Sharps’s voice. Neither did McCloud, apparently. He snarled and started to swing his arm around to aim his gun at Sharps.
“No!” Steve thought he heard a strange sound, but he was too busy throwing himself at the man’s horse to pay it any mind. His action caused the horse to rear up and dump the former sheriff. Steve grabbed up his own gun and had it pointed at McCloud before the man hit the ground. “Get up, McCloud,” he snarled. “Get up. You’re a fucking dead man.”
“He’s already dead, Cap. We’d better get dressed. We have to figure out what we’re gonna do with the body.” Sharps reached for his clothes and began pulling them on.
“What are you talking about?” Steve stood above McCloud, who lay face down in the grass. Was the man playing possum? He toed him over.
McCloud stared sightlessly up at the sky. His temple was caved in, a mess of blood and shattered bone.
“How did this happen?”
“I hit him with a rock.”
Was that the sound I heard? He searched the ground nearby and finally spotted a blood-covered rock.
“Steve. Get dressed.”
“Were you always this good at pitching rocks?”
Sharps shrugged, picked up his holster, and buckled it around his waist. It emphasized his slight build, which caused his action to leave Steve flabbergasted. “We have to get moving.”
“Right.” Steve hurried to dress. “Where did that rock come from?”
“I cleared off the ground where I laid out my blanket.” Sharps tied down the holster, then hoisted his saddle and blanket and crossed to the stallion. “I would have shot the bastard, but that would have raised questions.”
How did his boy even think of that? Steve made sure his boots were empty, then stepped into them. “We can take his body to town, tell them we came across it on the land we plan to claim.”
Sharps seemed to consider that, but after a moment he shook his head. “Sheriff Cottyn might be willing to buy it, but Weatherford will raise a stink. I have an idea.” He left the gray ground tied by Steve’s mare and set about clearing up their camp.
“I’m listening.” He caught up his saddle and saddle blanket and strode to where the horses were calmly grazing.
“We’ll get him back up on his horse and take him as far from here as we can get him. Once we’re closer to town, I’ll have Twilight tear up the ground, make it look like something spooked McCloud’s horse, and it threw him.”
“No.” He held up a hand before his boy could protest. “I’ll have Bella do that. Tom Pettigrew—Georgie’s father—taught her some elegant moves.”
Sharps nodded. “All right, then. It would be better if we could find a snake, but the men of Woody Draw seem to have more savvy than those who live in Willow Crick. Even if they don’t see a snake, they’ll figure as much.”
“That’s a good plan.” The two of them managed to get McCloud onto his horse’s back and tied him in place.
“Thanks.” Sharps ran a sleeve over his forehead and settled his hat on his head. “We’re gonna need a big rock.”
“To make it seem he hit his head on it?” Steve nodded. “This is pretty rocky terrain. We should find something.”
“All right.” Sharps glanced around the area where they’d camped and gave a satisfied nod. “The fire’s out and everything is packed away.” He sent a sly grin Steve’s way. “Including the cod liver oil.”
“Yeah, I reckon.” He strode to where Sharps stood, looped his arm around his boy’s neck, and pulled him in for a voracious kiss. Steve had come so close to losing him. He never planned to let something like that happen again. “I love you,” he whispered. “Now, mount up. We’ve got to get going.”
Chapter 31
His captain loved him. Steve loved him. Sharps could have sent the gray stallion dancing across the valley. Instead he kept the pace sedate as they rode to the path that led up out of their valley so McCloud’s horse wouldn’t dump him. Then they dismounted and began the climb to the plateau.
He hugged the words to him. Oh, he wasn’t dumb enough to think what he had with Steve would last much longer. Sharps had seen how protective Steve had been, and he’d known his captain was willing to put himself between the danger McCloud represented and Sharps, but Sharps just couldn’t allow that, no more than he would have allowed the bastard to harm a hair on Steve’s head. But Steve was going to start wondering how Sharps could so casually kill a man.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind if we didn’t tell Mrs. Hall and everyone at camp that I killed McCloud?”
“Are you ashamed you killed him?”
“No, but I don’t want them to look at me differently.” Knowing someone you were friendly with could be the death of a human being tended to bother most people.
Steve stared at him, and Sharps made himself breathe easy as he waited for his captain to say something.
“If that’s the way yo
u want it,” Steve finally said. “We’ll stick with the story McCloud’s horse spooked and threw him.”
“Thank you.”
Steve grunted.
He’d hoped…But no, it was only a matter of time before the cap sent him away.
They came up out of the valley, mounted, and headed south. While he kept an eye out for unwanted visitors, Steve looked for the size rock they’d need.
* * * *
It took them about an hour to find a spot that seemed promising. Sharps flipped McCloud off his horse’s back and met Steve’s gaze.
“He doesn’t deserve better, Cap. Not after what he threatened to do to you.”
“I’ve got no objections. In fact, I’d do worse by him, for what he had planned for you.”
“Glad to see we’re in accord.” And his captain had been a soldier, Sharps reminded himself. Maybe Steve wouldn’t be too upset that he’d killed a man. He wound his fist in McCloud’s greasy hair and couldn’t prevent a sound of distaste. He’d have to wash his hands with lye. He slammed the dead man’s head against the rock, then left the shattered temple positioned on it as he arranged the body in a sprawl.
Meanwhile, Steve had his mare back and spin in a circle first to the left, then to the right, coming to an abrupt halt each time before he changed directions. Her elegant moves tore up the grass, adding credence to the story they wanted the ground to tell.
Sharps stepped back and observed their work, then gave a satisfied nod and slapped his hat against the rump of McCloud’s horse. The poor animal had been nervy, given the scent of blood, and that made him tear off at a flat gallop. They’d have to get out of there before anyone became curious and rode up to see what was going on.
“We’d better lead the horses,” he told Steve. “We don’t want to leave tracks.” He just hoped anyone who backtracked McCloud’s horse didn’t have the savvy to know the tracks were made by shoed horses.
Steve stared at him, and Sharps swallowed. Was he going to ask how Sharps knew that? Instead, he nodded, took his mare’s reins, and started back the way they had come.