Once a Maverick

by Raine Cantrell

  “Yes, I want that, too.” Then, with an effort for a lighter note, Dixie added, “But there’s tomorrow, cowboy. Did I ever tell you about this poker game I heard was played at the Queen Lily saloon?”

  “Only heard about?” he teased, lifting her up onto his saddle and handing over the reins so she could lead her horse.

  “’Fraid so.” Her smile hinted of feminine secrets. She waited until Ty had swung himself up behind her, then settled back against his chest. “If you’re nice to me I’ll play poker with you where the stakes are ten times better than gold.”

  Ty ducked his head for a quick kiss. “Sounds risky.”

  “Could be,” Dixie returned as he urged the horse into an easy canter. “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

  “Until tomorrow,” he repeated, tasting the bitterness of the lie.

  Chapter Twenty

  It took every ounce of willpower that Conner possessed to turn away from Dixie’s stricken expression. With one breath, he cursed Ty for leaving it to him to tell her that Ty was gone. With the other breath he damned himself for allowing his brother to ride off alone.

  Not that Ty had offered him the choice. It was hard to admit that his little brother was a man. It was harder still to admit that his brother might not live to see the sun rise.

  “Conner?”

  He winced at the pleading tone of her voice. Schooling his features took a few seconds before he turned around to face Dixie.

  “I know what you’re gonna ask,” he said in an effort to forestall her. “I don’t know where he went. I don’t know when he’ll be back. And no, he didn’t bother to ask what I thought of him going off without telling you.” The lies tripped easily off his tongue, but then, he reminded himself, he’d been getting better and better at lying since Logan had left the ranch.

  “I see.” Dixie didn’t think anything of the way his gaze cut off to the side of her. Impatience marked Conner, even standing still. She knew he wanted to get back to work, for she had stopped him when he rode in with a gather of culled cows. Two of his men would join with the three sent down by the Indian agent of the San Carlos Reservation to take the herd back.

  Dixie spared a glance to where the cows milled in a close-packed sea of hides in the corral while the tally was made. She felt sorry for the animals that were cut from the herd simply because they could no longer bear calves, or never had. Pity for herself rose and she tamped it down with one ruthless thrust.

  “Thank you, Conner. I’ll let you get back to work. But I’d appreciate it if you have someone saddle that Indian pony. I can’t pay you now but I will.”

  “Pay me? There’s no need…” Conner’s voice trailed off. “No. Forget leaving here. You’re not well enough.”

  All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and rid herself of the pain brought by Ty’s abandonment. She did not want to argue with Conner. She did not want to stand there a moment more as an object of his pity.

  Why? Why had Ty ridden off without a word? The oft-repeated question sent a fierce pounding beat in her temples.

  Last night…Dixie wrapped her arms around her waist. Pain lanced her. She closed her eyes, seeing Ty as he had stood in the doorway of her room. He had lifted her hand and one by one kissed each of her fingers, then pressed her hand against her heart. “Keep my love safe, Angel.”

  She had thought he would kiss her once more, had even swayed toward him in invitation, but he merely grinned and teased her about giving him dreams enough for a lifetime. She had let him go then. The remembrance made her stifle a cry as tears burned her eyes.

  “Hey, Conner, you gonna stand jawin’ all day?”

  “Keep your chaps on, Henley,” Conner yelled back at the cowhand. “Dixie, go back up to the house. As soon as I finish up, I’ll come by and we’ll talk.”

  She nodded because it was what he expected. She even turned toward the house, but the sunlit adobe held no real welcome for her now that Ty was gone. She didn’t belong here. No matter what Ty wanted. No matter what Ty said. She was not a Kincaid. She had no right to impose on them any longer.

  But when she asked Santo to saddle a horse for her, she found out that Conner’s word was law on the Rocking K. There would be no rides unless she asked for an escort. Her appealing to Macaria netted her the knowledge of where Conner and Ty got their steel core. Regal as any queen, Macaria was seated behind the massive desk in the study, calmly listening until Dixie was finished.

  “My dear, you are our guest, not a prisoner. Conner only gave such orders for your protection.”

  “And Ty? What orders did he leave for me?”

  “Only to keep you safe and to see that you had all you wanted.” Shuffling the correspondence allowed Macaria to avoid Dixie’s pain-filled eyes. As with Conner, Ty had given her no choice.

  “And if I want my freedom?”

  “Freedom?” Macaria’s head jerked up, and her dark eyes pinned Dixie in place. “You want freedom to kill a man? Do not be shocked. Ty told me of your need to avenge your father’s death. A most admirable desire, but have you ever thought that it is a woman who is given the gift to bring forth life? That a woman is the one who nurtures the children to grow straight and strong?

  “She is the one who creates the civilized home, teaching those who grow within her care to live with a code of honor, to have beliefs that are fair for all. Without her, our lives are tainted by those who live without honor, without love. If you leave here now, you will risk losing Ty’s love. Is that what you want with your demand of freedom?”

  “No. I want to keep his love, but not at the price you believe.”

  “What I believe is that my son has misplaced his trust and love with a woman who cares nothing for his simple request that she remain where she would be cared for and safe.” She forced herself to stand, bracing her hands on the desk as she leaned forward and met Dixie’s stricken gaze.

  “I am sorry if my truth has hurt you. Ty is my son, and you are the woman he loves. Remain with us until he returns. I promise you, it will not be too long.”

  “Why won’t you tell me where he’s gone?”

  “Because he has asked me not to.” Macaria, seated once more, lowered her head in dismissal.

  She heard the sharp hiss of Dixie’s breath, and without looking at the young woman whose fury was now turned upon her, Macaria added, “Stay with us, please.”

  Unwilling to be cowed, Dixie nodded, then said, “I will consider it. At least for today.”

  A grudging smile curved Macaria’s lips. “By all means, take today to consider it.” She was a strong woman, a fitting mate for her youngest son. If only…she banished the wish, for it was not her way and listened as Dixie closed the door behind her.

  Ty felt as if a door had closed behind him once he crossed the Sand Tank Mountains. He blocked Dixie from his thoughts, not an easy chore, as he stayed north of the desert and found a dry ravine to camp in. He would be in Ajo by late afternoon.

  He made his fire down the ravine a ways, dousing it once he’d made coffee. This was not a night when he could welcome a stranger to share his fire.

  Settling himself to sleep, his gaze followed the dusting of clouds that trailed slowly across the quarter moon. He’d never set out deliberately to kill someone.

  Time and circumstances made him react to the action at hand. But he had never hunted any man with murder on his mind. He wasn’t a coward, had never been afraid of a fight, nor its outcome.

  But he was afraid now. And the fear came from the insidious thought that he might not live to tell his woman she could have peace of mind and heart. That her father’s killer had paid a just debt for the taking of another man’s life.

  There had been times in the past when he had lied to himself. This was not the night for lies. He faced his regrets as the hours slipped by, wishing for sleep, being denied that solace.

  Against his will, he thought of Dixie. And he knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, he had made the right
decision. The only decision. He couldn’t have his woman tainted with the blood of any man on her hands. He loved her too much to let her ever live with the haunting ghosts that drifted through his nights.

  As the stars began their retreat from the night’s darkness, Ty once more built a fire. There was no hurry, only a deep calm as he sat cleaning his gun. When a gray dawn streaked the sky, he saddled up and rode for Ajo.

  It was easy to detach himself from his intent. Emotions were wrapped as securely as the cinch belt around his horse’s belly. He had left them behind, as he had left Dixie behind, and rode steadily through the morning’s drizzle.

  Ajo was a one-street town with hitching rails before most of the buildings. Ty was aware that he and his horse were being subjected to careful examination. He walked the stallion up the street heading for the livery stable. The blacksmith shop was conveniently across the street. The bank faced the mercantile, two saloons occupied opposite ends of the buildings. He noted the scattering of small houses beyond them, most of the yards bare, two fenced with the showings of gardens. Mud was already drying under the late afternoon sun as he stepped down and tossed the reins to the young boy who came forth from the stable.

  The towheaded youngster stood calm, sizing Ty up, even as one hand was held flat out for the horse to lip. There was a world of knowledge in the washed-out blue eyes that met Ty’s gaze with steady regard.

  “There’s an extra two bits for you to rub him down real good and grain him,” Ty said. “An’ another two for a little information.”

  A curt nod, and more quiet, patient acceptance from the boy. “Gonna be stayin’ long, mister?”

  “Not if I can help it.” Ty snapped down the brim of his flat-crowned hat and slipped the rawhide thong off his holster. He slid his gun up and down a few times, satisfied with the smooth clearing of leather, then turned to look at the watchful boy once again.

  “This the only livery?”

  “Sure is, mister.”

  “Stranger ride in ’bout two, maybe three days ago?”

  “Lots of strangers ride in, an’ ride out again. Folks that ain’t got business here tend to head down to Nogales.”

  With surprising directness the boy looked the man over. He appeared a cut above the usual drifter. It was a judgment he made based on the man’s horse, whose sleek hide spoke of care and being grain fed.

  “This man you’re lookin’ for, what’s he look like?”

  “Ugly as sin, ’bout twice as mean, with a heart so black the devil would have trouble welcoming him to hell.”

  A grin cracked the boy’s thin lips. “Sounds like a lotta folks that pass through here.”

  “But this one has a scar,” Ty noted softly. “Shaped just like a lightning bolt.” It was only because he was watching the boy for a reaction that Ty caught the second’s fear that appeared in the boy’s eyes. It was gone in less time than it took for Ty to release his breath.

  “Maybe I seen him. Then again, maybe I ain’t.”

  Ty lifted a twenty-dollar gold piece from his shirt pocket. He held it high between his thumb and forefinger, angling it to catch the last dying rays of the sun.

  “Now, boy, I’ve got a message to deliver to this man with the scar. But it’s sort of a surprise. I’d be mighty grateful to know his whereabouts.”

  “He’s an ornery son of a bitch,” the boy announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “That he is. The territory would be a safer place if his boots got planted somewhere. Here, catch.”

  The boy caught the coin and made it disappear into his pocket. “He’s holed up at Nat Stargo’s place.” Stepping forward, he pointed to the saloon on the far side of the street. “Over there.”

  “Much obliged, boy.” But Ty’s thanks fell unheeded, the boy already having disappeared with his horse into the stable.

  Ty walked diagonally across the street as if he had all the time in the world, as if murder weren’t on his mind. Down the street a few hens cackled as they scattered to make way for a farm wagon rounding the end building. The wheels screamed for want of grease and the mules appeared in need of water. A scraggly group of children hung over the sides, staring at him with the same blank eyes as the man who drove them. Ty stood aside to let them pass, then made his way to the uneven wooden boards in front of the saloon.

  If there was a sign, it was faded to the same weathered gray as the building. Slats were missing from the bat-wing doors. Ty peered in, noting the barkeep, who leaned against the far end of the bar reading a newspaper. Although the man hadn’t moved, Ty sensed that he was aware that he stood outside, looking in.

  In the corner near the stairs was a full table. Call it instinct, or lady luck, Ty knew Thorne was numbered among the men seated there.

  Ty shoved open the bat wing and stepped inside. “Thorne.”

  One by one the men rose and backed away from the table. All but one. Ty said nothing. Nor did he move from where he stood. Thorne wasn’t going anywhere.

  As the men walked by Ty, he nodded to each of the Rocking K hands. There would be a bonus come payday for them.

  “Barkeep,” Ty called out, “this town got a preacher?”

  “Ain’t had a call for one,” the man answered without looking up. “Appreciate you taking your business outside, mister. Glasses are hard to come by in these parts.”

  “Be glad to. Just waiting on the man there. Pity about the preacher. Man should have someone around to say a few words over him when he dies. Even for the likes of you, Thorne.”

  Thorne moved then. He fell to the side, taking the chair with him, firing and trying to scramble backward as he flipped over the table.

  Ty made a diving roll that brought him around the far corner of the bar. Wood splintered off its edge as Thorne fired at him.

  “That’s two, Thorne.” And to the barkeep, Ty yelled, “Any damages come out of his pocket. After his burying costs, of course.”

  The taunt had him duck low as three shots were fired in rapid order, punctuated by shattered glass and the fumes of rotgut whiskey. Ty had yet to draw his gun.

  “Are your hands shaking, Thorne? It’s time for you to ante up. Pity it wasn’t you the lightning found on the mountain.”

  “Go to hell, Kincaid!”

  “I’ve already been there. I watched Dixie battle death after you ordered Peel to shoot her. You’re worthless scum, Thorne. Even hangin’ you would be a waste of rope.”

  “You ain’t the law, Kincaid. You’ll hang if you shoot me. Those men’ll be witness—”

  “Those men work for the Rocking K,” Ty announced in a cold, deadly voice. “And, Thorne, I’m all the law you’re gonna get.” Ty crouched down and slipped off his hat. He flicked the brim, then held it up and inched it over the top of the bar. He didn’t believe that Thorne would fall for the old trick, but the second the hat cleared the bar top, the crown was decorated with a bullet hole dead center.

  “I was right fond of this here hat, Thorne.”

  “You’ll wear the next one to your grave.”

  Ty counted off the seconds, his muscles tense, a cold void filling him.

  “But that was your sixth shot.” It was all the warning Ty gave as he came up and out of his crouch to tear across the room to where Thorne cowered behind the overturned table.

  With a vicious shove, Ty sent the table flying. His leap flattened Thorne beneath him, and the gun he’d been in the process of reloading went off. Ty knew he had only a few seconds while Thorne lay stunned from his fall. He clamped both his hands on Thorne’s gun hand. He forced the barrel up against Thorne’s head. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blinding him for a few moments as he strained to keep his grip.

  “I want the name of the man who hired you to kill Dixie’s father.”

  Thorne tried to buck him off, but Ty jammed his elbow into Thorne’s throat.

  “You can make your dying slow or fast if you give me the name, Thorne.”

  Once again Thorne tried to throw him off. Ty pressed harder
with his elbow, cutting off his air.

  “I gave you a choice. Now you and me are gonna play a little game I learned south of the border. I figure you managed to get two, maybe three bullets reloaded. What are the odds, Thorne, that if you pull the trigger you’ll come up with an empty chamber?”

  Ty knew he was squeezing the bastard’s throat and chest so tight that the man could hardly draw a breath much less answer him. His only regret was that Dixie couldn’t see the fear that gleamed in Thorne’s eyes. The same fear of dying that she had known the night of Thorne’s attack. But it was better this way. Better that it was just between him and Thorne. If Dixie was here, Ty wouldn’t keep the calm edge he needed to finish this.

  The fear that had sweat beading all over Thorne’s face and body until the reek made Ty want to gag told Ty that he had guessed right. Thorne had reloaded at least two bullets into his gun before Ty had jumped him. If he hadn’t the man would be spitting laughter at him.

  “Blink your eyes if you wanna talk, Thorne. Like I said, fast or slow. But I’m gonna have the name.” Ty wanted to taunt him, wanted to see terror in his face. He wanted payment for what Dixie had been through. He needed to know that Thorne faced the fact that he was going to die.

  But Ty was no man’s fool. He knew Thorne outweighed him and every moment’s delay allowed Thorne to regroup his strength. Ty eased his elbow up from the man’s throat.

  “Chicken, Kincaid?” Thorne goaded, his voice reduced to a croaking sound. “Takes guts to pull the trigger when you’re staring into a man’s eyes.”

  “You wouldn’t know. Back-shooting’s more your style. Just like going after a woman earned your death.” Ty’s memory dragged up the sound of Dixie’s voice recounting for him the pain and the terror this man had cold heartedly delivered. He fought the urge to pull the trigger himself and kill him. First, he had to have the man’s name.

  Ty moved then, removing one of his hands from Thorne’s wrist to draw his own gun. He snagged the barrel under Thorne’s quivering chin.

  “I’m gonna let you have a choice, Thorne. That’s more than you gave Dixie’s father. More than you gave her and God knows how many others.”