by Ivy McAdams
“Where are you going?” he roared.
His spotted horse came to a stop with an agitated whinny, and Oscar leapt down.
She glared at him so hard her face hurt.
He glowered. “What the hell has gotten into you? He really did ruin you.”
The fire in her veins surged again. “You ruined me!” she shouted, lunging for him.
His eyes widened just before he caught her wrists. He easily wrestled her away from his body, but she didn’t stop. She pushed forward, reaching at his face with her fingers.
“You deserved it, you pathetic city walker,” he laughed, a sound she loathed.
If only she could reach his throat, she could shut him up.
“You ain’t got what it takes to survive out here.” He laughed again. “City folk don’t belong in the wild. Although I’ll say you seem to rightly enjoy living in the camp, being my woman. Cooking my dinners and sharing my bed.”
She gnashed her teeth at him, wrestling harder against his hold. Even the mention of their physical encounters made her stomach hurt. It flamed her rage even higher.
“I could feel it when I kissed you, every night. You never fought me. You loved it.”
She strained against him harder, ripping a hand free and bringing it across his face with enough force to make him stagger back.
“I never loved it,” she shouted. Even when he recovered and snatched her up by her throat, she fought him. “I gave up weeks ago. You never kissed a happy woman. You kissed a dead fish!”
He snarled, squeezing her, but she didn’t care. She kicked out with a foot, ramming her shoe into his shin. He danced around her, trying to maintain both his composure and his hold on her as he moved.
A gunshot in the air stopped them both.
She gasped, jerking back and looking around.
Jonas stood a few yards behind him, eyes wide and hand on the revolver on his hip. He hadn’t shot. She followed his gaze over her shoulder to find a group on horseback behind her.
One was Mason.
Her heart both leapt and shriveled. What was he doing there? She’d led the evil men away on purpose. Why was Mason always showing up?
As much as it made her heart sing to see him upright and his beautiful green eyes open, she wished he hadn’t come.
“What the hell do you want?” Oscar snarled, shifting her out of his way, his grip on her throat weakening.
“Let her go.” Mason’s voice was deep and dark. Strong and demanding. It sent a thrill through her bones.
Behind him Clay held a rifle, barrel pointed into the air. Jeremiah sat silently next to him, his rifle trained on the Croakers. After a heartbeat, all three of them climbed down and strode forward a few steps.
Oscar’s body tensed, but he didn’t move. Nor did he let her go.
Something shifted behind Oscar, and she realized Jonas must be going for his gun when Clay growled an order.
“Gun down!” His rifle was fit against his arm, trained over Oscar’s shoulder. “I won’t tell you a second time. Put it down and step away.”
The revolver hit the ground, and Jonas retreated.
Oscar pulled Bridget closer, shifting her from one hand to the other. He bumbled her a moment, trying to conceal his hands with her body. He was squirming. Reaching!
“Mason!” she called, then screamed when two pops filled the air.
Oscar’s hand fell from her neck, and she ducked, covering her head. The sound of the shots ricocheted in her ears, then died away.
An eerie calm followed.
She peered out from under her arm to glance around. Oscar lay at her feet, blood matting his shirt. She leapt away from him with a gasp. Her gaze jumped around her.
Jonas hadn’t moved, but he looked a little pale, eyes moving between Oscar and the group of men facing them.
Mason stood at the head of the group, a revolver in each hand. Clay still had his rifle trained on Jonas, though it hardly seemed necessary.
The reality of the situation was hard to grasp, but as she stared at Mason, it finally came crashing down on her.
He was alive. She was alive.
And she was free.
The squeal that escaped her lips was horridly unladylike, but she didn't care a bit as she raced for Mason and threw herself into his arms.
“Mason!” she cried, tears streaming once again. “I thought he’d―I thought you were dead at first.”
He chuckled, tucking his revolvers in their holsters and wrapping his arms around her. “I did too. But I couldn’t leave you here alone.”
His forehead lowered to hers, and she breathed in his intoxicating scent.
"Thank goodness," she said. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
“I’d be happy if you never had to. I love you too.”
She pulled back to blink into his eyes. “You heard me?”
He pressed a hand to her cheek with a warm smile. “I’ve never had a better reason to stick around.”
She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her into the air, spinning her around and rubbing his nose on hers. Her feet touched the ground, but she still felt like she was flying, a happy smile on her face.
Then she stopped to glance back at her previous captor, crumpled to the ground.
“You ended that quick,” she whispered.
Mason’s arm wrapped around her protectively. “Of course. I couldn’t let him draw on you. Or me.”
“But it was so fast.”
Jeremiah chuckled, deep and amused. “Of course it was. Mason is the fastest gun around these parts.”
She frowned, turning surprised but impressed eyes on her rescuer. He smiled, making no move to deny it.
“You stayed the night in the safest tent in all of Absaroka County, miss,” Clay said with a lopsided grin.
Her lips parted with a muffled sound, both in awe and exasperation that she’d caused so many undue problems by running off. As it turned out, she should have been more worried about Oscar meeting up with Mason.
Her eyes welled with a fresh wave of elated tears as she leaned into Mason, tucking her arms around his waist. That lean, hard body and eyes like a hawk.
She’d never have to worry about her safety again.
That was if he planned on keeping her around.
The thought twisted her up inside. A rush of excitement pinging off every inch of her and bringing a blooming heat to her cheeks. But also a stab of dread, pulling at the edge of her happiness.
He’d been charming and gentlemanly in his rescue. He’d saved her, for sure. He was a hero with a sweet mouth, but had he intended on letting her stay?
She was almost too anxious to ask.
“Turn around,” Clay growled over her thoughts, and her breath caught at the power in his voice.
She followed his dark eyes to Jonas, who stood stock-still where he'd been when Oscar fell. The man who'd always seemed so brave and rough out there in the wilderness lifted his hands in the air and turned to face the opposite direction.
It was astonishing to see. These outlaws who’d been so fearless weren’t as tough as they’d seemed. Perhaps they knew about Mason’s men too. Both gangs knew of each other, and Jonas didn’t seem to be the least bit interested in testing Clay.
Thank goodness.
Clay and Jeremiah marched toward Jonas, and Clay growled again, “Move. That way. Let me tell you what’s going to happen now. I need you to go back to Ethan and tell him…”
His voice faded as his voice lowered, and Bridget turned all her attention on Mason once more. She tugged at his arm, pulling him farther from her rescue scene.
“Thank you,” she whispered when they came to a stop. “For saving my life.”
His chuckle was deep, but his eyes held even more amusement. “You? Angel, I can’t begin to describe the darkness you pulled me from.” The heel of his hand caressed over her cheek as his fingers slid into her hair. “You brought me back. I can’t even recall the person I was before I met you. But
he was different. Unhappy. Unfulfilled. So thank you.”
She smiled, a tickle of shyness wiggling through her. But she pushed it away to lean into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Does this mean you'll want to keep me around awhile more?"
This time he laughed aloud, his eyes dancing at her in a way that warmed every inch of her insides. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now. We might not be much of an upgrade out here.” He waved a hand to encompass the trees and sky above him. “But I can promise that I’ll love you forever in here.” He trailed a pair of fingers down her chest over her heart.
Her pulse skipped and thrummed so hard she was sure he could feel it.
She pressed her palm flat against his hand, pinning it to her chest. “This is where I have you. This is where I want you to stay,” she whispered.
The smile that spread over his face was warm, inviting, and sent her insides spinning in cartwheels. He pulled her in close and brushed his lips over hers, his breath a warm tickle as he whispered in turn, “Forever.”
Epilogue
“You can call them whatever you want,” Clara laughed.
“Well, they have names. I want to call them by their names,” Bridget said as she stitched the collar of Mason’s shirt.
The women sat near the fire pit in the center of the campsite. Clara stirred a pot of stew over the fire, motioning toward the horses grazing just beyond the far tents.
“Right, well that spotted one there is Paco,” Clara said, and the chestnut appaloosa gelding lifted its head to regard her with moving ears. “That one is Marx, Clover, Georgene.”
“Georgene?” Bridget giggled.
Mason sat in front of her in the grass, his back pressed against one of her legs. His grin was as bright as his eyes, and he put a finger to his lips.
“That’s Clay’s girl. Don’t let him hear you make fun of her name.”
Bridget shook her head with an amused smirk. “Sounds like he needs to find himself a real girl.”
Mason tilted his brows and gave a relenting shrug, and she grinned wider.
“You’ll get to know them all,” Clara said. “I’m sure they’ll love the extra attention.”
Bridget stared at the animals with a growing sense of excitement.
It’d been two days since she’d come back with Mason to stay forever, and she’d been welcomed. Especially by Clara. She liked Clara.
The blonde was in charge around the campsite, and she’d given Bridget a job that made her quite happy.
She was to care for the horses. The men didn’t have time to linger with the animals and groom them properly, so the task would fall to Bridget.
The very thought filled her with warmth.
“Just don’t give away all my love,” Mason muttered.
She laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. She was careful not to disturb the bandage on the thick muscle covering his shoulder blade.
He’d been lucky Oscar had only nicked him. The bullet had grazed his flesh enough to splatter blood and leave a wound that needed quick attention, but it hadn’t been lodged in his body. She’d been so thankful the night they returned to camp, and they’d fixed him up. It could have been so much worse.
She held up his shirt, clean and newly patched. Then she draped it over his shoulder.
“Good as new.”
He smiled back at her.
Clara chuckled. “He sure is.”
Bridget’s cheeks warmed at the implication, but his grin only grew more wicked, and he pulled her down to press a kiss to her lips.
Living with a bunch of outlaws may not have been the wild adventure on the frontier she’d planned when she’d left Boston, but it was the life that had found her, and she had a feeling it contained far more love than some arranged marriage.
Bridget smiled against his lips, wrapping her arms around his chest and folding into him as close as she could manage. Things may have gone by the wayside for a while, but she’d ended up right where she belonged in the end.
Ready for some more?
Mason’s friend Clay returns in Book One of the Emerald Falls series!
Turn the page to read a sample now!
Chapter 1
A wave of tan-backed pronghorn swarmed over the green hillside beside the moving train. Sadie Tanner gazed out the glass window at the bobbing black horns and the spry deer-like bodies as they bounded and sprang in unison like a flock of birds on the ground. The excitement of the endless prairie before them, ultimate freedom, had to be the best feeling.
Sadie propped her chin in her hand with a sigh, wishing she could trade the hours-long ride in a stuffy train car to run in the grass with them. Wind in her hair and sunshine on her face.
“I should have picked up that coat I saw in the window,” a gruff voice mumbled as it approached. “A fella back there said he heard the winter was gone be a cold one.”
An older man with long legs clad in black trousers and a blue button-up shirt sat in the seat next to her. His dark hair streaked with lines of gray was swept back over his crown, held back by a few licks of pomade. She’d never in her life seen Papa so fancied up.
“The coat you have now is fine,” she said, shifting away from the window to address him. “We’ll need that extra money for our rations. Especially now.”
Jed Tanner was a careful planner. They’d been living on the outskirts of the small town of Emerald Falls for over a decade, surviving off the land and only going into town for extra supplies. He’d been trapping, tanning, and living the merchant life for as long as she could remember. He knew how to be frivolous with their money.
Until he was faced with the bitter truth that the little money they had might not save them.
“The elk could still come in,” she murmured as she rested a hand on his arm.
He rubbed his fingers over the shadow of hair on his chin as he nodded. “They could. I’ve never known them not to come, but things ain’t lookin’ good.”
She gnawed at her inner cheek as she forced a reassuring smile.
“They’ll get here.”
He nodded slowly as he leaned back in his seat and fished a dark felt hat out of his pocket to drape over his face. He didn’t like train rides, but more than that, she knew he didn’t want to talk about it.
He’d shocked her the night before by announcing his plan to scout St. Aspen for a job. Never in her life had he held a job in town. The elk herd that usually flooded the valley in the shadow of the Absaroka Mountains that time of year was an entire month late, leaving Papa in a fret that their biggest money-maker for the autumn season wouldn’t show.
They wouldn’t survive the winter without the money and food the herd brought.
So that morning she’d dressed in one of her mother’s soft yellow lace dresses and accompanied Papa beyond their small town to the bigger city of St. Aspen so he could beg for work.
It hadn’t gone well.
Sadie stared out the window once more, wishing she hadn’t offered to come on the trip at all. It was exhausting, and she felt dirty from traveling. She’d have to wash up that night, as she had a noon tea the next day to look forward to.
Robert Murphy, whose father was one of the most well-known cattle ranchers in all of Wyoming, would accompany her. The thought tugged a smile to her lips.
Some days she felt Papa didn’t have his head on quite straight, making them live out in the woods instead of Emerald Falls proper, but he’d made a fine match when he’d picked Robert Murphy for her. The man was handsome, well-groomed, and quite the gentleman. She’d been courting him for nearly a month, and she couldn’t wait to become a rancher’s wife and return to life in Emerald Falls, to be reunited with the other women she’d went to school with as a child.
She pressed a finger to the cool glass as a pair of coyotes darted in and out of the underbrush in the wake of the pronghorn herd. Soon she’d be free and happy, just like the animals on the hills.
“I’m going to get
some air, maybe a bite,” Papa said suddenly as he sat up. “You need anything?”
“I’m fine, Papa. Thank you.”
His small frame moved down the aisle between the rows of seats and disappeared out the door at the front of the car. A burst of chilly air swept in and ruffled the hem of Sadie’s dress. She crossed her ankles with a shiver.
With Papa gone, the soft hum of voices rolled up and down the car. Most of the passengers were men in suits. A few wives dotted the seats toward the back, and they leaned in to talk and titter to one another. Across the aisle and a few seats back, two young ladies, a couple years her junior by the looks of them, paged through a catalog and whispered.
Sadie'd just turned to glance out the window again when a door slammed. The scream from the back of the car made Sadie jump. She twisted in her seat as another woman at the rear of the unit shrieked and leapt up.
Two men dressed in black stood at the end of the aisle. One pressed a hand on the hysterical woman’s shoulder and shoved her back into her seat.
The men were the same height and wore identical black handkerchiefs over their faces. The eyes over the masks were hard and bore into each of the car’s occupants. When one pair found her, Sadie’s breath stopped.
The man pulled a revolver from the gun belt slung around his hips and pointed it to the nearest man, the husband of the woman he’d pushed. The gentleman had gotten to his feet with a stern look etched into his brow as if he meant to reprimand the stranger, but once the gun barrel was pointed at his forehead, the fellow took his seat again.
“Nobody move,” the man in black spoke. “I’m here for your valuables. Hand them over and no one has to get hurt.”
Sadie clutched her hands against her chest and lowered into her seat.
Train robbers!
A woman screamed again, and a man with a wide white mustache just a few seats back from Sadie growled obscenities.
The dark eyes of the armed man shot toward them and narrowed.