He grinned down at her.
“I’m only trying to surprise you now and then, help you learn to keep your guard up at all times.”
His calm, superior, authoritative tone enraged her. She started beating at his chest in spite of all her good intentions.
He grabbed both her wrists.
“Uh-uh,” he said, in that same infuriating way, “careful, careful. You don’t want to let the men see you’re a sore loser. That’s a bad rep to get.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that they were coming closer to the whole laughing crew.
“Especially when you’re the challenger,” he said, low, into her ear. “This horse and the dunking was your idea.”
Aurora smoothed her face into blankness and let her hands fall.
“I know,” she said, using a chastened tone.
His grip loosened a little.
She grabbed him around the neck, threw herself suddenly to one side, and as he staggered in surprise, twisted in his arms to slam her leg across the back of his knee just as he took another step.
“Whoa!”
The crew laughed and cheered as he sat down in the water, hard. But he didn’t even come close to losing his grip on her, and when she struggled to push him over backwards, he let her do it, taking her with him full-length into the shallow water, rolling over instantly to wet her again from head to toe. But this time both of them were laughing.
“That’s our other lesson for the day,” she said, gasping from the cold between every word. “We both have to learn to be good losers.”
“We could both be winners.”
Staring into each other’s eyes, they stopped laughing. Aurora realized that her arms were still wound tightly around his neck, but she couldn’t move. His were around her body, feeling like iron ropes under his skin, pressing her breasts against his hard chest until the heat from his flesh poured into hers in spite of the freezing water.
We can’t keep from touching each other, no matter how hard we try. We couldn’t even keep from talking to each other this morning, even when we were so angry we were all rattles and horns.
He knew it, too. She could see the knowledge in his eyes.
It scared her senseless.
“Turn me loose,” she said, through lips nearly paralyzed from wanting his kiss.
He knew that, too.
“No chance,” he said, and took her mouth with his.
Desire, pure, crushing desire for his body, for all of him, ate her alive in an instant. She reached deep inside for her fear, for her anger, for some other feeling to save her.
Making herself struggle against him took nearly all her strength, but she did it, while her treacherous mouth kissed him back. Then, his mouth was gone and he was scooping her up out of the water, carrying her to the bank.
And all the hands were gathering closer to try to see exactly what was going on.
That made her fear full and real, made it roll in waves over her. The attraction between them actually was real, too, enough for other people to see it.
“You only kissed me because everyone was watching,” she said tightly. “Don’t you dare ever do that again. And don’t you dare kiss me in private, either.”
He gave her a look that set the desire to pounding harder in her blood.
“Don’t challenge me, Aurora. Haven’t you learned that yet?”
She narrowed her eyes and looked daggers at him while he laughed.
He set her down onto her own feet the minute he stepped up the bank and onto the grass, but he did it so slowly, so deliberately that she had to restrain herself from slapping his lingering hands before she turned to face the others. She fought not to show it, so she wouldn’t seem a sore loser.
“Pick another finish line, boys, if you’re going to race,” she said, wringing water from her riding skirt. “This one’s got a deep hole you might fall into.”
That made them all laugh, except for Cookie.
“Well, it’s about time you got outta that river,” he called. “When you two come down with the pneumony in both lungs don’t expect me to haul you down the trail in my wagon.”
Cole stepped back into the water to bring the horses out. Trained to ground-tie wherever their reins were dropped, they stood where they’d been left.
“And don’t expect me to be loanin’ you my extry pair o’ boots!” Cookie yelled at him angrily. “Nobody held a gun on you and forced you into that river.”
Cole ignored him.
Cookie was worried about the attraction between them, too, that was why he was suddenly so cranky. Aurora turned and smiled at him, straight into his blistering glare. If he only knew, he wasn’t half as worried as she was. She had to get a grip on herself and stay away from Cole.
The men were busily collecting their bets and paying their debts, but as she walked to her wagon for dry clothes, they called to her.
“You did give him a run for his money, Boss.”
“His hoss stands a full hand taller with a lot longer stride. Yours ain’t no slouch.”
“Fine ride, Miss Aurora. You was burnin’ the breeze.”
“Thanks, men,” she called, and climbed up into the hoodlum wagon, as thankful for the privacy it offered as for the dry clothes it held.
The holiday afternoon became more and more of a success, with several horse races, a few wrestling matches, lots of mumblety-peg, and some much-needed baths in the bend of the river. Skeeter came back with a deer across his saddle as the sun was sliding down toward the top of the mountain.
Cookie sliced steaks to fry while the other men teased Skeeter about needing nearly a year to get one little deer.
All afternoon Aurora had avoided, as much as possible, talking to Cole, but as she was helping Cookie roll out the dough for the fried pies he made out of dried fruit on special occasions, Cole strolled over and sat on an upturned bucket by the chuck wagon’s tailboard to sip a cup of coffee.
After he’d changed into dry clothes, he had taken a fresh horse from his mount and scouted around the valley for a little while, then he had spent a long time cleaning and oiling both his guns. He had seemingly been as determined to stay away from her as she was from him.
But now he spoke to her and settled down to be cozy.
“You’ll have to move in a minute,” she said testily. “When I start frying these and bringing them back to the platter you’ll be in the way.”
“Sure wouldn’t want that,” he said in his most infuriating drawl.
He wasn’t trying to stay away from her at all. He would be no help to her in that pursuit.
“ ‘Course, as your bodyguard, I’ll have to stay pretty close whether I’m in the way or not.”
She gave an unladylike snort of derision.
“That is so like you—always using some feeble excuse to help you get your way, no matter if you do know you’re in the wrong.”
He laughed.
“Now, now, no need to cast aspersions on my honor,” he drawled. “First you try your best to drown me and when that doesn’t work you assassinate my character. I think I’m the one needs a bodyguard.”
“Who tried to drown whom? You’re not guarding me, you’re aggravating me, and you know it. Go away.”
“Aurora, I just have a feeling …”
That brought her around to glance at him sharply. He met the look with a knowing grin that brought heat to her cheeks.
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about—we can discuss that later if you want.”
She tossed her head and went back to her work.
“What are you talking about, Cole?”
“Just be extra careful and let me escort you whenever you go to the bushes.”
She felt her blush deepen.
“Can’t we just have one nice day, one afternoon of fun, without worrying about an attack? This is a secluded little valley. We’re a ways off the trail.”
“As if a rank greenhorn couldn’t track two thousand head of cattle,” h
e said sarcastically.
He tossed out the rest of his coffee, got up, and walked away.
She and Cookie finished preparing the meal, and the men ate mostly in silence, as always, then two of them rode out for first guard and the others began a card game. Aurora sat in the shadow of the chuck wagon, idly watching and listening to them.
And wondering where Cole had gone.
They finished one hand. While Frank was shuffling and dealing, Skeeter looked around for Aurora.
“Miss Aurora,” he called, “if I was to let down that tailgate to the hoodlum wagon and offer you a hand up, would you be inclined to give us a tune or two? I reckon if I’d dance with ol’ Frank I might save him from losin’ all his money.”
Frank looked up from the saddle blanket, where he was dealing out the cards.
“I’d not dance with you if you was the last partner on earth,” he said in his rough tenor voice. “But I would admire to hear some music, Boss. It’s been a right nice day.”
“That it has, Frank,” Aurora said. “I think I’d like some music, too.”
She stood up and started to walk toward the wagon where the piano waited, but when she’d gone as far as the fire, the whole world seemed to explode into a dozen things happening at once. The ominous cracks of several shots rang out, the shocked men ripped out oaths, and something hit her in the back, sending her reeling out of the circle of firelight and into the shadows.
For the barest instant, she thought she’d been shot, but miraculously she felt no pain, and she kept her feet under her. Then, a man was bumping into her, a gun blasted from an arm’s length away, and she was falling, shoved from behind.
“Get down,” Cole said, in a stranger’s voice, a voice so dangerous it sent cool goose bumps springing to life all up and down her arms, “and stay in the dark, no matter what happens.”
He fired three rounds so rapidly that it seemed almost like one. Those were from his handgun; she recognized the sound, but she didn’t think of that until his rifle spoke. All of it happened so fast that it was a blur of noise in her ears. She couldn’t see a thing.
Out in the dark, somebody let out a high, sickening scream that made her stomach turn.
Then she could see. Shots split the night with flame, coming fast, one after the other, and either Cole was everywhere at once or the other Slash As were shooting, too. But they couldn’t be because none of them had been wearing their guns and they hadn’t had time to get to them.
Or had they? Already, this madness had lasted a lifetime.
Another yell of pain echoed against the mountain, an awful, impotent, lonesome sound, and then a hate-filled call.
“Damn you, McCord, I’m hit.”
Even though the voice was shaking from pain, she knew it. Gates. Lloyd Gates himself, not just his flunkies, was following her now.
What an honor. Usually he hired people to do his dirty work, but he had come in person to try to kill her.
Gates hated her that much. She had damaged his pride that much by hanging onto the cattle and the horses. He was determined to have his revenge, and Gates was an implacable man. What he had done to her father had proved that.
Fear numbed her whole body, but she dragged herself deeper into the shadows and crunched up at the foot of a juniper tree. Its sweet, tart scent floated past her, but her senses were too full of fear to take it in.
“Don’t you know you’re working for a cattle thief?” he yelled, his voice shrill and trembly. “Whaddya think that’s gonna do for your precious rep, McCord? What’ll all the Texans think about that?”
Cole didn’t answer. She could barely see him now, he was in shadow so deep, but he fired again, and the next instant he was two yards away from where he had just stood, lifting his rifle, firing toward the sound of Gates’s voice.
Another agonized yell, but the voice didn’t belong to Gates. At least she didn’t think so.
“Now you’ve hit my best shooter, so we’ll ride,” came Gates’s shout, as much anger as pain in the words this time. “But we’ll be back, and we’ll bring the law next time. You Slash A outfit, you! Every man jack of you will hang for a cattle thief!”
Cole took one more shot, but hoofbeats were already pounding away.
“Forget them, boys, and get to the herd,” he called in his new, cool voice of implacable authority. “They may try a stampede.”
Only then did she become aware that some of the Slash A crew were running for the night horses, already saddled and tied to the wheels of the chuck wagon. She should’ve noticed that before and given the order herself.
Yet she couldn’t imagine getting even one sound past her lips.
One of Gates’s men fired again, and Cole answered with his rifle. A muffled yell floated through the dark; he cocked his head and listened to the retreating horses.
“Five of ‘em,” he said briskly. “But there may be more surrounding us. Don’t go anywhere near the fire, and don’t leave my side.”
He turned and walked straight to her, although she would’ve sworn he hadn’t seen where she had gone to ground.
“I hate it when I miss like that,” he said nonchalantly, reaching to help her to her feet.
Aurora could barely move. The numbness had left her, but she was shaking with fear from finally realizing how close she had come to being killed. She had made the perfect target in front of the fire.
She felt fear instead of relief, fear largely fueled by the horrible noises still ringing in her ears. The pain-filled cries of the men who’d been shot still turned her stomach and made her skin crawl, even if they had come from her enemies.
“You didn’t miss,” she said, and was appalled at the thin, weak sound that was supposed to be her voice.
“I should’ve killed ‘em all,” he said flatly.
He would have killed them, too, without the faintest glimmer of remorse. That certain truth showed in every line of his stance, every nuance of his voice.
She hadn’t known this about him. She had known he’d been a Texas Ranger with a rare talent for using a gun, she had known he’d been given many a perilous job during the few months he’d grown famous in Colorado for giving bad men no quarter, but, in spite of all that, she hadn’t known he could wish he had killed someone with no more emotion than he might wish it would rain.
She shivered uncontrollably as he lifted her to her feet.
What kind of man was this who held her life in his hands?
“Cole,” she said, when he had led her to the shadows in front of the chuck wagon and seated her on the bucket. “Stay here for a while.”
She had to know, had to find out as much as she could about him tonight, had to see whether she could still see into his heart from time to time. Hadn’t he himself told her he was bad? No good for Mary, the girl he had once loved. Maybe if she tried, she could see a badness in him that would make her stop thinking about him and remembering his kiss.
But was it bad to defend himself … and her?
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, taking a cup from the tailgate of the wagon. “Gates may have more men around here someplace. I’d bet no on it, though.”
That brought her up short, reminding her of her job, and she stood up.
“If there are some more, they may be waiting to stampede the herd,” she said, starting for the remuda, since the men had taken all the saddled horses. “Come on, we need to help.”
When he didn’t answer, she stopped and turned. He was calmly pouring coffee—he wasn’t even looking at her. And he wasn’t even shaken by the battle they’d just been through.
She watched him, as if looking at him long enough could actually let her see into his mind. He had told her, that night in the saloon, that she didn’t know whether he had honor or not. Did he?
“The crew can handle the herd,” he said. “You don’t hear any ruckus, now, do you?”
She listened. Somebody was starting to sing a slow, sad song. Bits jingled, and hoofbeats, moving at a walk,
made a steady rhythm against the earth as their sound floated to her through the night. There were a few men’s voices, too, low and calm, so as not to spook the herd, but with an edge of excitement, still.
“No,” she said.
“They’d already be yelling and popping slickers at your cattle if Gates had left anybody for that. They wouldn’t want to get left too far behind their buddies, in case we mounted a pursuit.”
Slowly, she walked toward him, her nerves relaxing a little as she realized they probably wouldn’t be dealing with another attack. But tension still strummed along her spine.
She blurted out a question before she even knew she was going to speak.
“Why were the Federales chasing you? I thought you used to be a lawman, not an outlaw.”
He turned and walked toward her, handed her the cup.
“Sometimes along the border, there’s not a dime’s worth of difference.”
The careless way he said it brought the danger in him to all her senses again. She saw the shifting of shadows in his eyes. What all had he done? What would he do?
The cool breeze freshened. She shivered. Hard.
He reached for her hands, wrapped them around the hot cup. His rough palms felt hotter.
“Drink it,” he said.
She didn’t care if he was a cold-blooded killer. All she wanted was for him never to take his hands away.
“I … I don’t know what’s the matter with me.
“You’re shaken up because you’ve just been shot at.”
“And you’re calm because you’re used to it.”
He shrugged.
“You might say that.”
He dropped his hands, turned away, and went to get another cup.
“Cole,” she said, “I can’t be like this—all upset in a crisis. I have to be able to protect myself and my new ranch.”
“You will be.” He poured his coffee, then walked toward her with that panther’s stride of his.
“You, on the other hand,” she continued, “were as cool then as you are right now.”
He kicked the short log into the shadows and sat down astraddle of it, facing her.
“Think of it as having to grow up fast one more time,” he said. “You did what you had to do then, you can do what you have to do now.”
The Renegades: Cole Page 14