Once a Maverick

by Raine Cantrell

  The land was unforgiving and Ty was just as hard on himself. He knew the mistake he had made. The fever she raised in him hadn’t been cooled. Once wouldn’t do it. Forever might. She had to know how he felt, but the words stuck in his throat. All he could do was whisper for her to open her eyes, to look at him, to tell him that he hadn’t hurt her.

  Shutting him out. Dixie repeated it over and over, knowing it was the only protection she had left. Ty made her wage a battle with herself, had from the first moment she understood how dangerous he was to her.

  In his arms she had become a woman for the first time. Yes, she had felt pain, but the fire of passion had swept it away. She tried to block out the soft murmur of his voice, tried repeatedly and knew she was failing. His gentle kisses, his touch, all awakened the desire that yet simmered within her.

  She could admit to herself that she wanted him still.

  But she couldn’t forgive him.

  She rolled to her side, breaking his hold on her.

  “Damn you, Dixie! Talk to me.”

  Words wouldn’t come. And even if they did, Dixie knew she couldn’t say them to him. He made her dream again. The one thing she had had to deny herself to have her revenge. That Ty could make her forget, make her want to forget it, was unforgivable. For herself, more than him. And it pained her to know that the beauty of what they had shared was tainted. To tell him would strip her to her soul. She would no longer have the power to be in control.

  But even as she struggled to push off his hand and rise, she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her.

  “You bitch.”

  She flinched at the very softness of his voice, absent of hot fury, filled with cold fire. She had to be strong. Strong as she had never been, to walk away from him. Ty must never know how much she cared.

  It was an effort to gather up her clothes and avoid looking at him. He hadn’t moved. He watched her though, watched her with eyes that burned with the same cold fire that had coated his words.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “To finish what I started,” she answered in a voice devoid of emotion. Her hands trembled and she swore when she couldn’t fasten her shirt. Dixie sent a quick, yearning look at the water. Her body wanted soothing. If a cold embrace was all she could have to ease the burning, she would take it.

  But a darting glance at Ty’s prone form killed the thought. She couldn’t stay here a moment more than she had to.

  Ty followed the direction of her gaze toward the water. The wind had freshened and ripples danced over the wash’s deep pool surface. He should be moving, doing something to stop her, but anger held him back.

  After what they shared—and he knew how good it had been, even if she didn’t—she still couldn’t trust him. No. It wasn’t that Dixie couldn’t—she wouldn’t. Damn her stubborn hide!

  The woman was a complication he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with. But even as he tamped down the anger and swore he’d let her go, he rose and grabbed his pants.

  “Hold on, Rawlins,” he snapped. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”

  Dixie refused to dignify that statement with protest. She fought hard to ignore him, and just as hard to ignore whatever he said.

  “Your stubborness has no place here. Take a look at what’s coming in over the mountains, Dixie. Shelter’s all we should be looking for. Thorne won’t be going anywhere.”

  She rounded on him, which he hadn’t expected, and Ty dropped his boot.

  “Why do you have to include yourself in my plans? I never asked you to. I want you gone, Ty Kincaid. You’ve taken enough from me.”

  “Maybe by your way of reckonin’ I have,” he drawled.

  She hadn’t wanted to look at him, but that compelling gaze of his forced her to meet it. She wished she could read what was there in his eyes, but the emotions were complex. Anger, yes. She saw that clearly. But there was hurt and betrayal staring out from his dark blue eyes, too. How could he feel the same emotions that she did? How could she get him to cut her loose so that she could lick her wounds without him around?

  Dixie took a deep, steadying breath and slowly released it. His spread-legged stance bore aggression, his features the stamp of arrogance. The rising wind ruffled his hair and snapped the loose tails of his shirt out from his lean, hard body. Her eyes closed for a brief moment, fighting the memory of having touched the body that even now, even through the anger she fought to cling to, had desire curling through her.

  “You’re right, Ty. By my way of reckoning I have lost. I—” She broke off when he stepped closer, fury coming off him in waves. And Dixie suddenly had her answer.

  Her chin rose and she leveled a biting stare at him.

  “I feel as if I’ve lost part of myself—”

  “Well, hell! You did!” Ty closed the short distance between them. He wanted her pliant and warm in his arms. He wanted her to let him whisper soft words and offer the tender wooing that should have been hers from the start. He wanted anything but the anger, betrayal and hurt that sheened her eyes.

  “Listen to me, Dixie.” He blocked her move to go around him, then grabbed hold of her upper arm and yanked her against him. “Stay right here. I’ll admit it pleased me something fierce to be the first—”

  “Bastard!” She tried jerking her arm free, but his grip tightened.

  He dragged the sultry air into his lungs, striving for calm. He might as well have asked to be in another part of the territory. How could he be calm when she stood so close that her breath mingled with his? There wasn’t anything calm about the storm in her eyes, or the way her body trembled against his, sending a fever flood of heat streaming through him.

  He fought through the desire swamping his senses. He had to. She mattered too much, and that was frightening.

  “You weren’t the only one to lose something here, lady. There’s a piece of me—”

  She slapped him and stunned him into silence.

  It dawned on Ty what he said and how he said it. Fury stained her cheeks. Murder blazed from her eyes. But a sob escaped her lips and he found himself caging her within his arms, ignoring her struggles.

  “Honesty, wildcat. Neither one of us can walk away from that now.”

  If Ty had hit her, Dixie couldn’t have been more stunned. Her stricken gaze rose to meet his. “No. No,” she repeated in disbelief. She had not thought, refused to think. “Please, if you have any mercy in you, let me go.”

  A rolling clap of thunder sounded, as if it made more of her demand. Ty looked up as the sun disappeared. Black clouds roiled, like the churning emotions seething inside him, warning of a storm’s coming violence that more than matched the one between them.

  “Get the horses saddled. We have to get out of here. I was wrong. Those clouds are piling up a granddaddy size gully washer.”

  He had to let her go. Snatching up his boots, he scooped up their gun belts, unconsciously not trusting her, and ran for the horses.

  Dixie had to follow him. The deep-sided wash wasn’t a place to get caught in a mountain rainstorm.

  Slinging a blanket over her mare’s back, she was glad of the work that forced her concentration away from Ty. And the reason for new fear.

  A piece of him…Her hand slid from adjusting the stirrup and came to rest on her belly. “Dear Lord, what have I done?”

  Kah neighed, its sound almost mournful, and Dixie shook her head, before she resumed tying her gear onto the saddle. The coming storm made the horses restless and she took a few moments to soothe not only her own mare but the one that Greg and Livia had given to her.

  Ty worked with silent efficiency. He heard the soft murmur of Dixie’s voice calming the mares and wished she had tried a little of that on him. He wouldn’t have minded feeling her hands petting him again, but as he turned to catch her eye, she ducked beneath the reins of both mares to keep distance between them.

  With a curse and a scowl, he walked back to kick the fire out, scanning for anyth
ing left behind. He almost stepped on the forgotten hairbrush. She had her back to him, so Ty picked it up. He caught a few long strands of her hair and curled them over one finger, then tucked it in his shirt pocket.

  Beyond the scattered ashes and the broken, crushed grass, there was no sign of their having been there.

  With a shrug, Ty thought it just as well. He joined Dixie and took her gun belt from his saddle horn, then handed it over along with her hairbrush. For a long moment he met her bleak gaze, and then abruptly he turned away.

  Trouble. The woman had been nothing but trouble from the moment he crossed trails with her and he would do himself a favor to remember it.

  “Mount up. We’ve no time to lose.”

  Clipped and sharp, his order stung. She didn’t argue with him. Ty knew this land, and she did not, but as she set her foot in the stirrup, she couldn’t stop a sharp cry of pain. Ty was behind in seconds, lifting her up into Kah’s saddle. He handed over the reins to the other mare, then mounted his own horse.

  Just as Dixie reached the top of the slope to the wash, she gave in to the impulse to look back. There was no sign they had been there. Regret filled her. Perhaps it was just as well. The wind whipped her loose hair across her face, blinding her for a moment, until she gathered what hair she could with one hand.

  She tensed the moment she felt Ty’s hands cover her own as he drew close and leaned over from his saddle.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped, for even the mere touch of his hand was more than she could bear right now.

  “Tying this back. You can’t ride if you can’t see.”

  She knew instantly that he had done his share of hog-tying. A quick slice of his knife freed one of the rawhide strings from his saddle. Within seconds a few half hitches had secured her hair at the back of her neck. She thought she felt the lightest brush of his knuckles at her nape, but he moved away too fast for her to be sure.

  “Let’s ride.”

  She stared at the rigid set of his features, at his most forbidding gaze and her thank-you died before she uttered the words. She had no one but herself to blame for his cold manner. Telling herself it was the best thing that could have happened, for he would surely cut loose of her now, didn’t help ease the terrible empty ache she felt.

  They rode on in silence for almost a quarter of a mile, beneath the ever-darkening sky and gusting wind. Dixie was deep in thought, her mind churning with regret and memories of her time spent with Ty. She tried to ignore the thought he had planted in her mind—that she carried his seed—and if she did, the child would be hers.

  Alone. The regret she felt strengthened as she gazed ahead at Ty. He was a man who could easily kindle a love both gentle and strong, one that would shelter those he embraced from all of life’s storms.

  Once she could have been a woman with dreams of a man like him. Now she hunted a murderer, seeking justice in a land where there wasn’t any. And she had a new worry to concern her.

  What would she do if there was a child?

  Because she was staring at Ty, she realized that he had slowed their pace. He leaned from his saddle as if studying the ground of the rough-cut path they were following.

  “What’s wrong?” she called out just as he drew rein. Greg’s mare crowded close to Kah, forcing Dixie closer to the edge of the deep wash. Her mare responded instantly to the light tug on her neck rein and Dixie managed to get both horses away from the crumbling edge.

  Instead of answering Dixie, Ty dismounted. He sent a searching gaze over the towering rocks ahead, scowling at the hiding places they could offer. He turned to study their back trail, too aware that Dixie watched his every move with growing alarm.

  Dixie felt as if cold fingers were walking up her spine. She couldn’t help but scan the trail ahead as far as she could see. She gave a quick look behind them and turned in time to see Ty clamber up the granite rocks for a better view.

  The horses snorted and pranced restlessly as the lightning lit up the underside of the clouds above them. Seconds later thunder rumbled across the sky. Afraid that the horses would bolt, she gripped the reins tight and urged her mare forward to take hold of Ty’s horse.

  The move saved her life. Gunfire erupted. She screamed a warning for Ty. The mares started to rear. Dixie controlled Kah with a hard press of her knees, but the other mare jerked the reins from her hand. She called out to Ty again, keeping her body low over the horse’s neck. She couldn’t tell where the shots were coming from.

  She heard Ty swearing as he slid and scrambled down to the path.

  “Ride!” he ordered, swinging onto his horse.

  A bullet creased the horse’s flank and he reared, hooves pawing the air. Ty was thrown back and came down hard on his shoulder. He couldn’t believe that Dixie was still there, trying to control her horse, calling out his name.

  “Get the hell outta here!” he shouted at her, drawing and firing to give her cover. But even as the order hung in the air, Ty knew she couldn’t ride ahead where someone—and he had determined it was a single shooter—waited, or ride back the way they had come, because she would be caught down in the wash when the storm broke.

  Dragging in the thick, sultry air in an effort to help control the pain of his throbbing shoulder, Ty knew they didn’t have much time before the rains began. He climbed a little higher, trying to give Dixie a chance to get away, wishing, not for the first time, that he had his Spencer repeater. The rifle’s range would give him an edge that he needed badly. A handgun wasn’t a match for their assailant’s rifle.

  He swore at seeing his horse take off down the path and disappear around the curve. The sudden pause in firing told Ty that the man was reloading. He took those few moments to find Dixie. There weren’t enough swears or curses in his vocabulary when he spotted her in the rocks below him, crouched down, her own gun sighted toward the shooter. There was no sign of her mare.

  “Damn you, Dixie!” His furious whisper was just loud enough to get her attention. She gazed up at him, and Ty felt fear like he had never known. “I told you to get away. The horses are gone and we’re pinned down for as long as that bastard wants to keep us here. Can’t you ever listen to me?”

  “I couldn’t leave you, Ty.”

  The softly spoken statement stole his fury. Honesty and courage—a damning and powerful combination in a woman. The realization distracted him. He couldn’t figure out why he should think of it now, or what he was going to do about it. The resuming gunfire left him no time to mull it over.

  “Keep your head down,” Ty called out to her, “but get your tail up here with me.”

  He was reloading by the time she reached his side. All Dixie could make out was disjointed muttering, most of it directed at her lack of understanding how dangerous it was that she remained behind with him.

  The first fat raindrops hit the back of her neck and the wind increased as the clouds opened up to release a solid wall of rain over them.

  “If we can’t see, it’s kittens to cows that he won’t be able to, either. Now’s our chance, Angel. And this time, for both our sakes, follow my orders.”

  Already shaking from the chilling rain, Dixie merely nodded. If the thickheaded Ty Kincaid couldn’t or wouldn’t understand why she had stayed with him, she wasn’t about to enlighten him.

  Ty’s lips against her ear sent a shiver of sensual awareness through her. She dropped the bullets she had pulled from her belt. Reaching for them before the torrent of rain washed them down the small gully, her fingers encountered Ty’s.

  “Let me do it. You’re shaking.” Self-directed anger sharpened his voice. If he hadn’t suggested that it was safe to stay behind they wouldn’t be facing an unknown shooter. But worry entered, too. Where were the other two men? Ty had no doubt that one of the three they were tracking had remained behind. But why?

  He handed Dixie’s reloaded gun to her, giving her hand a tight, quick squeeze. “We’re going to try to go up and around him. All right?”

  �
��I’ll be right behind you all the way.”

  He came up out of his crouch, turned to find the easiest going for her, and when he mapped the path out in his mind, he turned around to face her.

  “There’s something I need first.” He cupped the back of her head and drew her lips beneath his. This was the gentle, tender, cherishing kiss he had wanted to give her when passion’s aftermath had left him shaken to his soul.

  He eased his mouth away from hers, regret filling him. But he mustered a quick, wicked grin. “That was for luck. I’ll claim the promise I just tasted when we get out of this mess.”

  “You do that, Kincaid,” she whispered as he moved out. Dixie prayed that it would be true. There was a cold, hard knot of fear in her belly. She couldn’t get rid of the thought that her luck, and Ty’s, had just run out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ty tested his footing before he moved, conscious that he did it for Dixie and not himself. He had been in tight spots before this, too many times to recall now, but never had survival meant as much.

  He told himself that she would be fine, that he didn’t need to stop every few feet of the climb to see that she was right behind him as he had ordered.

  Dixie had proven herself capable of holding her own with him. Yet he needed the visual reassurance that she was indeed keeping up with him.

  Pain lanced him every time he had to use his arm to pull himself up over the slippery rocks. It was almost impossible to see more than a foot or two in front of him. The one thing he blessed the rain for was a lessening of the gunfire that had pinned them.

  He couldn’t stop himself from a mental tongue-lashing over the loss of his horse and his gear, especially the rope, water and a blanket. When they got clear—and he swore he’d made sure that they did—he’d need them. Ty knew his concentration should have been focused on finding safe hand- and footholds for Dixie to follow. But he kept thinking about the distraction that she presented to make him forget items needed for survival.

  Ty paused to slick back his hair and with it the water that dripped into his eyes. His fingers were chilled and molded to his gun. The only good thing he felt was the icy water cooling the fire burning in his shoulder.