The Renegades: Cole

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The Renegades: Cole Page 2

by Dellin, Genell


  Sighing, she turned away from the window of her hotel room, where she constantly found herself lurking behind the curtains, hoping to see Cole out on the street. She crossed to the bed, where she stood and gazed down at the new dress she had finally chosen. It was worth its price, with its short jacket that showed off her waist and the divided skirt in which she could ride into a town along the trail, if need be.

  But the deciding factor was its colors, the very blue of her eyes in the heavy twill of the jacket and skirt and, in the soft blouse, a honeyed fawn that matched her hair. She wasn’t trying to attract Cole McCord, though. Not at all.

  She was simply trying to look womanly and businesslike all at once, which was exactly how she needed to look to deal with Cole McCord. He had to realize that she was a woman who needed help so that his gallantry would demand that he hear her out. Plus he had to understand that she would pay him well and define his duties clearly. The fact that just looking at him made her want to grab his lapels and beg him to come with her was completely irrelevant. Any kind of personal relationship would weaken her authority on the trail.

  Her pulse quickened with excitement and fear at the thought of the drive, and she fluffed her damp hair again with both hands before she bent over and shook it to let the air to all its layers. If she was going to take her five loyal cowboys and twenty-two hundred cattle safely down the trail, she had to have someone extra hired to watch out for trouble. And she had to hire him soon—after noon tomorrow she’d be forced to go back to the Flying B and finish preparations for the drive. At this moment, she really ought to be considering how to find some other prospects for the job if Cole McCord turned her down again.

  But no one came to mind. She did try to think of someone, but her mind went blank.

  Before she’d come to town, it had been merely an idea to hire Cole, based on his reputation. Now hiring him, and only him, to be her bodyguard had become an obsession.

  It wasn’t because he had muscles like steel and an unexpected, crooked grin like sunshine on a cloudy day. Or that he had dark, dark eyes the color of melted chocolate. It certainly was not.

  It was because even the sheriff treated him with exaggerated courtesy, because people were afraid of his fast draw all around the country, and because everyone she had ever talked to who had had any dealings with him called him a square-dealer and a straight-talker who never went back on his word. God knew, she had to have someone she could trust.

  Plus, he would be an interesting companion on the long trail to Texas, even if he wasn’t quick to laugh and his smile was rare. There were mysteries in his eyes and a tension in him, and she wanted to know why. She was simply curious, that was all, and she was tired of having no one new to talk to for weeks at a time.

  Restlessly, she walked to the window again. A good many people were on the street, but Cole wasn’t among them, at least not that she could see from here. He seemed to have disappeared.

  A quick fear clutched at her heart. He couldn’t have left town. When she had checked into the hotel a little after noon, a friendly visit with the desk clerk about her morning’s adventure had elicited the information that Cole was, indeed, staying in Room 4 waiting to meet a man from Denver who, according to today’s telegram, would be arriving tomorrow. That clerk had better be right.

  Otherwise, she would’ve found Cole and followed him everywhere he went all day trying to convince him to take the job, even if her hair had been full of dust from rolling in the street and her dress dirty and torn. And the flirtatious old codger had better be right about Cole’s taking all his meals at Mattie’s Diner, too, because that was where she planned to waylay him at supper.

  Swiftly, she turned away from the window and went to the mirror to begin putting up her hair. It was still damp, but she couldn’t help that. The sun was starting down, and she wanted time to dress so she’d look her very best.

  Lloyd Gates went straight to the Golden Nugget Saloon as soon as he finished his business at the bank.

  “Bring me a whiskey, Nate, will you?” he called to the bartender in passing. And then, before he thought, he added, “No, make it two.”

  His usual table in the corner was empty, so he took his position there with his back to the wall. A man couldn’t be too careful when everybody in town was jealous of his success, never mind how they treated him to his face.

  Nate brought the drinks.

  “Expectin’ somebody?”

  “Nah. I’m just thirsty. Too tempting to get a bottle, though.”

  Too costly, too, but he didn’t say that. People thought he was a generous man, and he was when it suited some purpose, but there was no sense throwing money away on a whole bottle of whiskey for Skeeter. He could get him to agree to the plan without an unnecessary expense like that.

  He didn’t want to admit that he was waiting for Skeeter, either. Everyone would see them talking, but that would appear to be happenstance. He made a habit of visiting with everybody who came down the pike, and the whole town knew he discussed everything with everybody. No, if he didn’t mention Skeeter ahead of time, this little meeting wouldn’t draw any special attention, not nearly so much as if they’d been spotted alone in a more private place.

  Nate put both drinks in front of him.

  “Was you around for the near-gunfight this mornin’?” he asked.

  Damned if the man wasn’t as nosy as an old, gossipy woman. Ordinarily, Lloyd would enjoy picking his brain for news, but right now he needed some peace to think things out some more. However, he couldn’t be rude without that being grist for Nate’s mill, too.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Hard to believe there was that many rounds shot off and nobody killed.”

  “Or hurt,” Nate said. “ ‘Specially Miss Benton, her driving in between the two shooters right at the wrong time.”

  “Yeah,” Lloyd said. “She got there at the exact right … I mean wrong, time.”

  He managed to make his tone interested, yet impersonal, but the fire of frustration in his belly flared up again. He still couldn’t believe that particular piece of rotten luck—if she’d been hit, as by all rights she should’ve been, he wouldn’t have to be fooling with Skeeter at all.

  Nate hung around for a minute, wiping at the table with a towel, chatting about a dozen inconsequential topics, but finally he went away. As Nate stepped behind the bar again, Lloyd watched him greet the two new arrivals walking up to it and thought about the fact that Nate knew all the cowboys for miles around and who worked for what outfit. But Nate would not think one thing about him talking to Skeeter, no matter what happened later far away from here.

  He took another sip of whiskey and gave a big sigh of appreciation. It didn’t matter what Nate saw or didn’t see. Nobody still alive had a hint that he and Skeeter had known each other before.

  He leaned back in his chair and watched the door, taking tiny sips of his drink, so as to save it as long as possible.

  Aurora was still half a block from Mattie’s Diner when the door opened and Cole McCord stepped out onto the sidewalk. Sheer surprise stopped her for a minute. He was coming her way.

  The way he moved made her breath catch in her throat. He walked like no other man she’d ever seen, in a confident, unhurried manner that proclaimed he would go wherever he wanted and do as he pleased when he got there.

  She watched him, trying not to let him see that she was. She needn’t have bothered. He hadn’t even noticed her.

  His long, fluid strides covered the ground fast, but they looked lazy and slow, like a big cat’s prowl. The long saddle muscles flexed in his thighs beneath his tight black pants, and his feet, even in boots, seemed to stroke the earth softly with each step. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Without warning, she could feel his arms around her, could smell the starch of his shirt and the spicy scent of his skin through the dust of the street. Remembering sent an implacable desire pouring through her, the desire to be close to him again with her breasts pressed ag
ainst his hard chest. She felt her face flame at the thought. Shameless. Not only was she becoming prodigiously bold but she was becoming shameless, too.

  However, if bold and shameless were what it took to survive, then so be it. She’d already shouted at him on the street once today, so what would it matter if she initiated another public conversation with him? Living by society’s rules wasn’t going to get her a ranch in Texas or a safe passage to it.

  “Mr. McCord,” she said as he reached her, “how nice to see you again.”

  He tipped his hat. “Miss Benton.”

  But he intended to walk on past.

  She swallowed hard and spoke quickly.

  “May I have a moment of your time?”

  He stopped, looking down at her with a quick, impatient stare that cut right through her. His remoteness made her heart lurch. What if she couldn’t persuade him, after all?

  “I ask you to please reconsider my offer of employment. This morning I neglected to say that I can pay you well.”

  “I thought I made it clear that I’m not interested.”

  His tone was a level louder than necessary—from irritation, no doubt—and a couple passing behind him on the sidewalk turned to glance at him, then looked at Aurora. She gave them only a passing glance so they wouldn’t stop to talk, but they were Sid and Dolly Reichert, who owned the next ranch south of hers and who’d been kind to her when her father died. To her chagrin, instead of going on down the street, they strolled to the mercantile’s window and stood looking in, staying within earshot of her conversation.

  She stiffened her spine and concentrated on Cole McCord. It didn’t matter what the Reicherts thought of her because they weren’t helping her get her cattle to Texas.

  “You may have heard in town today that I’m losing my ranch and am short of funds,” she said, “but I can pay you. I can pay you very well.”

  She glanced at the Reicherts again, and he flicked the barest look in that direction, too. Understanding flashed in his eyes.

  “Well, now, that makes me feel downright special,” he drawled, just loud enough for them to hear. “If you’re short of funds, what kind of compensation do you have in mind for me, Miss Benton?”

  A lewd chuckle sounded behind her, and she whirled to see that they had an even bigger audience than she’d thought, for two old men sat on a bench placed against the wall of the mercantile, their beady eyes twinkling, their big ears straining for more. The Reicherts were still at the window, silently listening, too. Aurora turned her back on them all and gave Cole McCord a straight, hard look.

  “I’ll pay you money, of course.”

  “Money,” he said thoughtfully. “To go down the Loving Trail with you?”

  The way he said it, the name of the famous trail took on an entirely different meaning, one that had nothing to do with geography. Her face burned with heat, and the old men cackled gleefully.

  “Take ‘er up on it, son,” one of them said. “You’ll regret it if’n’ you don’t!”

  Cole McCord was looking her up and down, from head to toe, with open speculation in his eyes, as if he really believed that she had meant what he implied. Her temper flared. So he thought he could embarrass her enough to make her go away.

  “Yes,” she said briskly, in her most businesslike tone, “I’ll use the Loving Trail until we go through the Raton Pass and probably some farther—I’ll decide after that where we should turn east.”

  “You will? You don’t have a trail boss?”

  “I am the trail boss.”

  He smiled at her, shaking his head as if she were a precocious child playing games of pretend.

  “Then you must’ve bumped your head when we took our little tumble in the street,” he said. “Don’t you know it’s easier to go to Texas through Kansas than the New Mexico mountains?”

  One of the old men laughed out loud. Her blood went icy with anger.

  “Mr. McCord,” she said, “could we step into the diner there and perhaps talk about this over a cup of coffee? It’s my treat, of course. I’d like to make you a specific offer.”

  She turned to start toward the door.

  “No …”

  She faced him again. He leaned back against a post and crossed his muscular arms, flashing a wry grin as he looked her over again, his dark, dark eyes lingering on her mouth.

  “… thank you, anyway, Miss Benton.”

  Lord, but he was enjoying this. And he thought he was winning. He thought because she was a woman behaving in an unconventional way he could intimidate her into giving up.

  “Then we shall talk here,” she said, willing her voice to stay cool, although her lips were warm from the heat of his gaze and her cheeks were hot from anger. “But if you think you can embarrass me into giving up my pursuit of you by making salacious innuendos that others can hear and rudely perusing my person, you’re wrong, Mr. McCord.”

  He smiled.

  “Mercy! I’ll have to think on that a minute,” he drawled, with infuriating insolence. “The only thing I caught for sure is that you are pursuing me and, ma’am …” he paused to tip his hat, “… I want you to know I’m truly flattered to hear that.”

  She felt her cheeks grow red again, she heard the old men laugh, and she knew the Reicherts had taken in every word. But what was a little bit of chagrin compared to what she’d face on the trail? And in Texas? Drought, outlaws, hard traveling, and maybe even Comanches. This teasing was nothing. If she wanted a ranch of her own, she had to ignore these little irritations and remember that from now on she was living by her own set of rules.

  “My pursuit of you, as you well know, is purely business,” she said briskly. “The compensation I have in mind is fifty dollars a month, but I’m willing to deal a little on that. Your only responsibility will be the safety of my person.”

  “Will be?” Cole McCord drawled in a low, intimate tone that made her feel as if he’d touched her. “You sound mighty sure of yourself, Miss Benton.”

  She smiled.

  “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  He sighed and shook his head in mock sorrow. “You sound just like Kid Dolby.”

  The old men and the Reicherts waited, straining to hear her reply.

  She tilted her head, crossed her arms, and looked Cole McCord slowly up and down in the same suggestive way he had looked at her.

  “Why, Mr. McCord,” she drawled, “all the Kid and I are after is a little satisfaction.”

  He tried but couldn’t hide his surprise at her boldness, and that made her smile, even as she felt Mrs. Reichert’s horrified gaze on her back. She could hardly keep from laughing out loud in spite of the fact that she’d slightly embarrassed herself. He deserved a dose of his own medicine.

  “I’m not willing to satisfy the Kid by letting him shoot me,” he said with a wicked grin, “but to you, Miss Benton, I’d be happy to give a different kind of satisfaction … any time.”

  He let the words hang in the air between them for a long moment.

  “At your pleasure, Miss Aurora.”

  He touched the brim of his hat with exaggerated politeness, then turned his back on her, stepped off the sidewalk, and started across the street with his prowling panther walk. The slanting beams of the setting sun made his white shirt burn orange like the heart of a fire.

  Like the fearful anger inside her.

  Not once, in two encounters, had he considered what she had to say or discussed it with her sensibly. He had dismissed her as demented or silly or impossibly foolish, as everyone else had when they’d heard she was planning to trail the cattle.

  He stepped up onto the boarded walkway on the other side of the street, strolled across it, and pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon. Of course he would go there, where she couldn’t follow.

  Chapter 2

  Aurora marched directly across the street to the entrance of the Golden Nugget. Let the Reicherts and the rest of Pueblo City gossip, it’d make no difference—she’d s
oon be gone to Texas, and anyway, from now on polite society might as well be on the moon. Any woman who carved a ranch out of the Panhandle would be living far beyond anybody’s rules of behavior but her own.

  She pushed the swinging doors back with both hands and burst into the saloon without changing her unladylike pace. How could she slow down with her blood beating in her head like a marching drum?

  Cole McCord was leaning on the bar, his white shirt shining like a beacon in the dim, smoky room. As she started toward him, striding down the aisleway between tables with her skirts switching angrily back and forth about her ankles, conversation in the place began to lessen and then die. She didn’t look at anyone, but she felt dozens of eyes on her. Soon, the tinny piano’s lively version of “Buffalo Gals” became the only sound.

  She ignored everyone around her and didn’t miss a step on her direct path to the bar. The piano player started singing, then, and before she reached the place where Cole was standing, men’s voices began to rumble again. A respectable woman in a saloon might be a novelty but not enough of one to stop gambling games and serious drinking. Or to make Cole McCord look her way. He hadn’t glanced at her once.

  At last, she walked up beside him and leaned on the bar, which was almost too tall for her. Cole wheeled on her then, with a hard look that held anger but no surprise.

  “Good,” she said, “that means you’re alert at all times.”

  He stared at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language.

  “I wasn’t sure that you saw me come in,” she said briskly. “Now, from that irritated glare, I know that you did. Therefore, you’ll make a good bodyguard.”

  “It was my understanding that you already believed I’d make the most amazing bodyguard on the face of the earth and that was the reason you’re tormenting me.”

  “It was my understanding that you are enough of a gentleman to listen until I have finished talking with you. Instead, you ran away into this den of iniquity thinking it was the one place I couldn’t follow you.”

 

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