Once a Maverick

by Raine Cantrell

  “Open up, Dixie.”

  She felt the soft press of crumbly, still-warm biscuit against her lips. Now that her eyes were adjusted to the bright spill of light in the stable, she lifted her arm over her head and took a bite of the food he offered.

  “That’s a real fresh egg I fried and put in there.”

  Dixie licked her lips and wiggled backward before she tried to sit up. “Next you’ll be telling me you went out to the henhouse and collected the egg just for me.”

  Shooting her a wounded expression, Ty offered the cup to her. “Why do you find that so hard to believe? I can be nice. More than nice. I can be—”

  “Spare me.” She wrapped her hands around the cup and sipped repeatedly. He was still holding out the egg-filled biscuit, but when she reached for it, he pulled his hand back.

  “I’ll feed you.”

  Her mouth watered. She set her teeth together and reluctantly shook her head.

  “That’s not being dependent on someone,” he reasoned. The glaring look in her eyes spoke volumes, unfortunately it wasn’t what Ty wanted to hear.

  “Here,” he said, handing the biscuit over, “eat up. You’ll need your strength for the busy hours ahead.”

  Ignoring him, she enjoyed her breakfast, even licking her fingers before she drained the cup. “That was good. Thank you, Ty.” She shoved aside the blanket and rose before he did. “You were right about it being late. I’ll get saddled up, then say goodbye—”

  He came after her so suddenly that Dixie dropped the cup to the hay and found herself crowded against the back of the stall.

  “You didn’t hear me last night? You’re not running off. You think you can hunt a man that doesn’t want to be found? Think you have the guts to pull a gun on him, face-to-face and then shoot him cold? Think about it, Dixie. Really think about it hard and long. You’re a woman—”

  “Stop yelling at me! There’s no one else to do it. I owe my father that much. I owe it to myself. The man can’t go free. There’s no law to help and I’ll never rest easy until he’s paid for what he did.”

  She took and released a shuddering breath, shaken by this sudden turn. “Back off, Kincaid.” Her hand reached for her gun but came up empty. She didn’t waste a breath but wrenched open the buckle and whipped the holster off.

  “Now, Dixie—”

  “You dirty, lying, no good polecat. You snake in the grass.” She snapped the leather as he backed away from her. “You give me back my gun.” It suddenly dawned on her that he could only have taken it while she was sleeping. “You sneakin’, thievin’, no-account lowlife. Just who the devil do you think you are, trying to tell me what to do?”

  “I’m the man who’s gonna stay clear of that wicked strap you’re swinging, that’s who.”

  “You snuck up on me while I slept! You stole my gun! You’re just no good.”

  “Don’t get me riled, Dixie.”

  “Don’t ‘Dixie’ me!” She went after him, but he managed to dodge every swing of the leather. “You’re a conniver. You planned this to keep me here. Only heaven knows why. I don’t care. Stay still, damn you!” she screamed when he once more twisted his lean body out of her reach. She had to shove her hair back, for it blinded her. She stood in the middle of the stall, breathing hard and glared at him.

  And Ty Kincaid laughed.

  She held out as long as she could. He looked utterly ridiculous with his arms splayed against the back wall, as if he were cowering from her. If only it were true. His laughter was contagious and she felt her own bubble up, then free. The more he clowned with terror-struck expressions, the harder she laughed. The hiccup came as a surprise. Ty was moving by the time the second one erupted.

  “Now—hic—look what you—hic—did,” she accused.

  “I’ve got the cure. You need to hold your breath. I’ll even help.” And with that little warning, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  Dixie could have pushed him away. She spared a thought toward doing it. But the kiss was too short to stop her hiccups, and too long for her peace of mind. Like a flash flood, it brought back the long, sensuous kisses they had exchanged, but he had already moved aside and picked up the cup.

  “Livia’s doing the wash. She’s got the tub set out for you if you want a bath.”

  “Ty?” He kept on walking. One more burning-all-the-way hiccup escaped and Dixie thought she was done with them.

  She followed him, then ran to catch up with him before they reached the house. Grabbing hold of his arm, she made him stop.

  “I meant what I said back there. I have to go after him. You have to understand that. I made a vow on my father’s grave, and one to myself, as well. I can’t go back on that.”

  There was a plea in her eyes that he wanted to ignore but couldn’t. She wasn’t asking for his help. He should be glad of that. For there was the other trap he had avoided thinking about. The one he swore he would never fall into. His skill with a gun came from the necessity to survive. He had never hired out to do someone else’s killing for them. He was forced to listen to his warning this time. And while he thought about it, Dixie walked away from him.

  And this time he had to let her go.

  Livia looked up from her washing as Dixie rounded the corner of the house. “Finished that ruckus with Ty?”

  “That man is—”

  “More than most women can handle,” she finished for her. Livia dropped the shirt she was washing back into the water and wiped her hands on her apron. “Did he give you a chance to eat?”

  “Yes. And I’m sorry. I should thank you. I do.”

  “There’s still some biscuits left if you’re hungry. Plenty of coffee, too. Don’t know if Ty got around to telling you that I fixed the small tub near my bed so’s you can have privacy. Water’s all heated and waiting on the stove.”

  Damn, but her eyes were ready to spill tears. What was wrong with her that the least bit of kindness had her set to cry? Dixie glanced away for a moment, the sun a warm blanket over the late morning’s quiet. There was peace to be had in this place, she felt it soaking into her. Someday, she promised herself, I’ll have a place of my own, too.

  “Livia—” She broke off as movement near the corral caught her attention. Ty was mounted and riding out without a backward look. Dixie turned away, too, forcing him from her thoughts. But without him here, she could make good her intent to leave.

  “I’m sorry, Livia. You’ve been very kind to me, and I have not been gracious about your hospitality. My only excuse is that I haven’t had the company of another woman in a long time.” She paused, unsure of how to ask where her gun was. Livia, standing with a waiting air, didn’t help her.

  “Do you, that is—”

  “Why not try just coming out and saying whatever it is that’s got your tongue twisted?”

  “Ty stole my gun. I’ve got to ride out now while he’s not around, Livia. I can’t tell you everything, just that I must leave without him.”

  “Oh, dear. I wish I could help. Didn’t know he took your gun. I haven’t seen it. And if you run off, well, I believe he’ll just come riding after you.”

  Dixie briefly closed her eyes and gave a little shake of her head. “I wish I could argue with you about that, but I’m afraid that you’re probably right about him. My manners may be rusty, but I can help you with chores. I haven’t—”

  She broke off and ran back to the stable, ignoring Livia’s excited questions. Dropping to her knees the second she entered the stall, Dixie tossed hay aside, searching for her saddlebags.

  Gone! She sat back on her heels, her hands clenched into fists. She could buy another gun. Not easily, but it could be done. But with her saddlebags gone, so was her gold.

  Fury rose inside her and Dixie fought to tamp it down. It was useless to allow that emotion to interfere with the clear thinking she needed to do. There was no doubt that Ty’s motive had in part been to protect her. Not that she had asked him outright for protection. Though she admitted to he
rself now that she had been sorely tempted to. Just as Livia called her from the doorway, she stood up and brushed off the bits of hay clinging to her clothes.

  “Dixie? What’s wrong? You ran off like—”

  “Ty Kincaid stole my gun and my gold.” Walking out of the stall, Dixie kicked a clump of hay out of her path and straightened her shoulders.

  Joining Livia, she apologized for running off. “You must think I have the manners of a green bronc on a cold morning.”

  Issuing a shrewd look at her guest, Livia shook her head. “Stop putting yourself down. Land’s sakes, woman,” she protested with an airy wave of her hand, “look around. This ain’t no grand place, and Ty’s friends are ours. No need to excuse yourself.”

  “Guess there’s no need to excuse Ty’s thievery, either?”

  Livia started to walk away, thought better and turned. “He’s a bit high-handed at times, but a body couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

  “That’s the whole point, Livia, I never asked to be his friend.” Knowing there was no sense in berating the woman for something she had nothing to do with, Dixie walked back toward the house with her.

  To cover the awkwardness, Livia said, “Whatever the reason, I can’t say with truth that I’m sorry you’re here. I’ve not had the company of another woman since Jessie left us almost two years ago. I’ve been alone more times than I’ve had company, but I love our home. There’s something about this land that gets into a body’s blood so that they never want to leave it.” Hesitating, Livia glanced at Dixie’s set expression.

  “You can tell me to butt out, but I’ll tell you that you should forgive Ty. He’s never done anything that could bring someone harm. Oh, I know all about his reputation. But the truth is that he’s never killed anyone lessen he had good reason.”

  Temptation loomed to question Livia about Ty. Dixie bit back, then swallowed every single question. The less she knew about him, the easier it would be for her to part company from him. She had a vow to keep. Ty had already proven that he would stand in her way.

  She knew this was the right decision to make, even an easy one. But she didn’t understand the little nagging voice that whispered she was passing up a good chance to find out more about him.

  Dixie glanced at the graduated sizes of the union suits hanging on the line. The playful breeze sent the varying lengths of legs fluttering. Overhead the sky was an intense blue, filled with thick, white clouds that reminded her of lamb’s wool. Shading her eyes, she tilted her head back, her gaze picking out what appeared to be an owl’s head shape in one of the clouds that seemed to vanish in seconds. It was a child’s game she had never tired of playing.

  Lowering her hand, she looked again at the clothing on the line and realized it was one more thing that had been stolen from her. From little Julia’s flowered print gown hanging next to Livia’s longer one, to the boys’ and Greg’s many shirts, she saw a family’s life before her. The hollow feeling in her stomach forced her to look away.

  “It’s a chore to keep my family clean. But it sure grants me pleasure to do for them.”

  “I envy you.”

  There was a wealth of pain in those three words, and Livia was not insensitive to them, or to the young woman standing beside her. Impulsively she caught hold of Dixie’s hand and squeezed it.

  “I know you’ve got your reasons for being alone. I ain’t prying, but I want you to know that you’ve got more than Ty for a friend. If there’s any way I can help, you just ask me.”

  “You’re a good woman, Livia.” Dixie returned the woman’s handhold, then looked away. Emotions churned inside her, softer, gentler ones that had no place in the life she led now.

  “You go on inside. No one’ll be back to disturb your bath. Greg took the little ones with him while the boys move the horses in the upper valley. My man’s one who understands that a woman needs a day to herself now and again.”

  Heaping kindness upon her offer of friendship only sharpened the loss Dixie felt. She didn’t deny the appeal of a hot bath. Any bath where she didn’t have the worry that someone might come upon her and catch her unaware was a gift she couldn’t refuse. There was nothing to be done now about Ty. She started for the kitchen door, then stopped.

  Without looking at Livia, Dixie said, “If there was a spare rifle or handgun that I could have, Ty would pay you for it.”

  Bent over her washtub, Livia shook her head. “That’s putting me in the middle atwixt you two. What Ty did ain’t right. You have your bath an’ I’ll promise to talk to him. Truth to tell, Dixie, I don’t have one. Never could learn to shoot.”

  Truth or lie, Dixie had no choice but to accept what Livia told her. Perhaps she could soak away her frustration with the high-handed Ty Kincaid.

  “You been watchin’ that place for nigh onto an hour now, Thorne,” Peel Hickman whined. “You can see for yourself them women are alone. So what all are you waitin’ on? You know I ain’t had me a woman for near three weeks.”

  “Shut up, Peel. We’ll move when I say so.”

  Appealing to Cobie, Peel tried the same tack about his not having had a women in weeks. When that brought a shrug from the younger man, who went back to cleaning his gun, Peel started in about the food.

  “Bet she’s got grub to fill and coat a man’s belly down there. I’s sick of hardtack. You coulda waited till we had supplies ’fore you lit out after Kincaid.”

  “Never said you had to come, Peel,” Cobie lifted his gun and sighted it on Peel’s face. “Bang. You’re dead.”

  “Boy, one day you’re gonna try trickin’ me an’ I’m gonna shoot back.” Pacing back and forth, Peel doggedly started with Thorne again. “You said our horses are in the corral. Don’t make no sense to me nohow to keep waitin’ up here when what we all want is down there.”

  After a few minutes of letting Peel stew, Thorne lowered the small brass telescope he used to spy on the homestead. Tucking the telescope into his saddlebag, he took time to tuck the flap over the initials burned into the leather. The outfit was an extra he had taken from his last job and luckily had taken with him in the saloon. He hadn’t gotten paid for that job since he had left a witness alive. But Dixie Rawlins would be found and silenced. Thorne had to make sure of that. His reputation depended upon doing a thorough job. No one left alive to point the finger at him, or the man who paid him.

  Peel’s whining continued, interrupting his thoughts, and Thorne eyed him with distaste. “You keep on, Peel, an’ I’ll be thinking to decorate a cottonwood with you.”

  “Hang me? What for? I was only askin’—”

  “That’s your problem. Only asking stupid questions. I had to make sure that no one else was around. I had to,” he explained with exaggerated care, “make sure that Kincaid did ride off and intended to stay gone. Now—”

  “You ain’t afraid of Kincaid, Thorne. What the hell did it matter if he was there?”

  “You could learn from Cobie, Peel. He don’t ask six questions to Sunday. That boy figures things out for himself. I waited until he was gone ’cause I don’t want gunfire. I don’t want anyone to know where we are. Understand?” He nudged his horse back from the edge of the hill. “You coming? I’m ready to pay a social call.”

  Whooping, Peel made a beeline for his horse. Cobie, however, still sat on the flat slab of rock and made his refusal heard.

  “Thorne, I ain’t got no likin for rapin’ no women. I came along ’cause I want another chance at Kincaid an’ you just said he ain’t there.”

  “But he’ll be back. And we’ll be there waiting for him. Be a pity if Peel an’ me were occupied and you missed your chance at him. Your call, Cobie. Ride with us or stay on your own.”

  “Com’on boy,” Peel urged, barely able to keep his prancing horse still as it caught its rider’s growing excitement. “You could get lucky. Kincaid might show up real soon. Catch him unawares an’ the man’s yours. Bet you’d like that little spitfire that was with him, too.”

  Cobie f
lexed his wounded hand. He couldn’t outdraw a kid with a peashooter right now, and he knew it. But he didn’t want to stay up here alone and wait for Thorne and Peel to get done.

  “I’ll come, but I won’t touch the women. I take down Kincaid an’ women’ll come after me.” He freed the reins and stepped into his saddle. “Still think we should take our horses and ride on. Plenty of places to find Kincaid alone.”

  “Now you sound like Peel, boy,” Thorne noted, riding ahead of the other two men. “Whining about Kincaid? Man might think you’re afraid of him.”

  “I know him, Thorne. Well,” Cobie amended, “I been studying his ways. He’ll come hunting us for sure.”

  “Let him. Pity I didn’t know you were gunning for him when I hired you on to help me finish a piece of business. Didn’t need to lose this time. But I ain’t letting him get away with stealing what’s mine.” Thorne kicked his horse’s sides. “We ride.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dixie had lingered overlong at her bath. In her borrowed chemise and drawers, she stood drying her hair with a length of linen toweling. The bath had been a gift of heaven, and even softened her resentment against Ty for keeping her here.

  Livia had not only left underwear and a petticoat for her, but a gown, as well. Quickly braiding her hair into a single thick braid, Dixie slipped on the gown and fumbled with the unfamiliar cloth-covered wooden buttons that she had not had to deal with for some time.

  The feel of soft, well-worn cotton against her calves and ankles brought back memories of long summer days when she reveled in being barefoot. Leaving her boots, she scooped up her soiled clothing. The sound of drumming hoofbeats didn’t alarm her. Not at first. Then Livia’s shout alerted her that something was wrong.

  She heard someone yelling, and all she could make out was a man’s voice. The sounds grew louder. Livia’s scream suddenly shattered the peaceful day.