She stared at him, an intolerable cold spreading all through her.
“Now, if you’d said, ‘knowing what an ugly woman you are,’ or hateful or grouchy or irritating or whatever, then I might be able to make some sense out of what you just said.”
He grinned at her, his old devilish grin. Almost.
Then he sobered.
“I should’ve left you alone. I should’ve known I couldn’t resist you.”
Anger was beginning to fight hurt for her main reaction to this shock. And anger was winning. By a long haul.
“Let me see if I can puzzle this out,” she said tightly. “Now that you’ve learned that you ‘can’t resist me,’ you’re hot to leave me at the end of the trail? Before that you were thinking of maybe wintering with us?”
“Aurora,” he said.
Now he was his old self again, his old, arrogant self who had told her to get lost the moment she’d asked him to come with her, his old, obnoxious self who didn’t hesitate, didn’t equivocate. He cocked his head and gave her a look that she already ought to know whatever he was about to say.
“Aurora, if we wintered together you know damn good and well that we’d be nothing but crazy for more when spring rolled around. You have got to know that, after last night.”
She blinked.
“Well, yes, I suppose I do. However, if this is your usual morning-after attitude, that could slow things down some.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as if he might smile.
She, however, didn’t feel the least bit inclined to smile.
“What’s the matter, Cole, are you thinking that because we … spent one night together that I’m expecting you to stay all winter and marry me in the spring? Is that what’s galling you?”
All of a sudden, a sense of aloneness came down on her worse than she’d ever felt it before. It weighed a ton. Two tons. She sat up very straight in the saddle beneath it and called up her pride.
“Because if that’s it, you can give up your worries and rest easy—I’ll never marry anyone. I’m finally in control of my life, and I will never give up that freedom to any man.”
Her throat hurt hideously from the huge lump of pain that had formed there, but there was no trace of it in her voice, for which she was thankful.
“Good Lord, Cole,” she said. “Last night was one of my adventures. One experience. That’s all.”
What a lie. God help her. Cole had walked right into her heart.
“I know that’s what you think now,” he said, in his smoothest, deepest, surest voice. “Aurora, I know you aren’t expecting marriage, but it would come to that. It always does. Women think along those lines, and you’re an emotional woman.”
“And a stubborn one, as you’re so fond of pointing out,” she said coldly. “What’s the matter, afraid I’ll have you hog-tied and branded before you know what hit you?”
He did smile then, but only for an instant. A sadness passed over his face, a lonesomeness that reached out and touched her through all the other feelings exploding inside her.
“You’re a good woman,” he said, “and I’m a bad man for you in every way except what you hired me to do. We’d best stay away from each other.”
“Not an easy thing considering what I hired you to do.”
“You know what I mean. Except for the job.”
Her fury rose like a storm. He was saying that last night had meant nothing to him, nothing at all, and had meant the world to her, the emotional woman.
“Oh? Well, if you were a more emotional man you might get a little more out of life! What do you think, that I’ll sit around mooning over you for years and years, remembering what happened between us last night?”
She probably would. God help her, she would never forget it.
“I’m trying to tell you I’m bad for you, Aurora. It’s only fair that you know.”
“Bad in what way?” she cried. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m a renegade, always have been. I don’t play by any rules but my own. Until I got to be captain myself, I nearly got thrown out of the Rangers, for God’s sake.”
“So that makes you a big, bad one,” she said sarcastically. “Let me tell you, I am so impressed. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I make my own rules, too.”
“Aurora,” he said, in the coldest tone she could imagine, “I’m responsible for the death of a man.”
“You’re responsible for the deaths of many men. That’s why I hired you. That’s life on the frontier. It doesn’t mean you’re bad,” she said stubbornly.
Why, dear God, was she defending him, when what she wanted was to drag him off his horse and pummel him thoroughly?
He turned away and stared into the distance, and she opened her mouth to say something else. But he spoke.
“Riders coming.”
It took a moment, but then she saw them: three horses and riders, coming toward them from due east through the tall grass. Her stomach knotted even tighter than it already was.
“Who could they be?”
Cole shrugged.
“We’ll see. Stay back, keep me between you and them.”
“I can take care of myself.”
She reached back for the gun she carried in her saddlebag.
“Leave it,” he said, without even turning around. “I can take care of three. Look around and see if there’re any coming from another direction.”
She did as he said.
“No sign.”
“Good.”
It seemed forever, but the men finally reached them.
“Hello, the Slash A,” one of them called.
“Hello,” Cole answered.
Aurora noticed that he dropped his hand to the handle of his six-shooter and left it there. They looked pretty respectable, though, as they rode up and stopped their horses facing her and Cole. They all had an honest air about them.
“Milo Thomas of the Circle T,” said the oldest man, the one in the middle.
“Cole McCord.”
Milo Thomas introduced his men by name as two of his top hands and then fixed his direct, gray gaze on Aurora.
Cole deliberately did not introduce her.
“You know who we are,” he said. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m interested in buying your herd,” Milo said. “My information has it that the lady’s the owner.”
Aurora rode forward so her horse was even with Cole’s.
“I’m Aurora Benton. I am the owner. But I’m not interested in selling.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am,” Milo Thomas said, with a tip of his hat. “I’m looking for some stockers, and it’d sure be handy to find ‘em right here. I’d give top dollar.”
“I’m sorry I can’t accommodate you, Mr. Thomas, but it’s completely impossible.”
Her tone rang so strong and final that Thomas didn’t argue. He and his men stayed visiting just long enough to be polite, then turned and rode back the way they had come.
As soon as she saw their backs, Aurora started pushing the ten or so head that they’d gathered toward the big herd. She could see it in the distance, and the sooner they reached it, the sooner she could get away from this stupid conversation with Cole.
Then, to her complete shock, it became even more insane.
“You should’ve at least thought it over,” he said. “That was a good chance to save yourself a whole lot of miles chasing Old Snarly.”
She ignored him, wouldn’t even look at him. Damn him for patronizing her.
“I’ll be glad to ride after Milo Thomas and say that you’ll think it over until tomorrow.”
And damn him for knowing her so little that he took her silence for consent.
She turned on him viciously.
“Why don’t you mind your own business? And why don’t you come right out and say to my face that you don’t think I can get these cattle through to Texas? Why don’t you just admit that you are exactly like all the other men who think
women can’t do anything on their own?”
His face flushed with anger.
“That isn’t true! You’re such a stubborn-hearted she-wolf I know you can do whatever the hell you set out to do. I’m trying to save you a world of grief, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t bother yourself! And don’t lie. What you’re doing is trying to get this drive over with fast so you won’t have to deal with an emotional woman jumping into your bed every night because she can’t resist you and then begging you to marry her every morning after!”
The expression on his face would have made her laugh if she hadn’t been so completely furious.
“Well, dream on,” she said, “because it ain’t gonna happen. I wouldn’t touch you again with a ten-foot pole, Cole McCord!”
She held his gaze with a hot, sharp stare.
“You better not be laughing at me inside,” she said dangerously. “You could not have stopped that stampede without my help, you know that, don’t you? I did a man’s job and just as well, maybe better.”
“I know that. You may recall that I said as much.”
There was no laughter in his voice, so she finally, disdainfully, swept her gaze away from his and got back to her work.
“You’re my employee, for goodness sake,” she said, “and that’s all. You have no more loyalty to me than any other hired gun would have, and that’s fine. The only thing that matters in my life is that I’m going to have a ranch of my own or die trying.”
And she would hold last night as a precious memory for her old age, because it’d be that long before she could bear to think about it. She could never live with Cole McCord, and he was right about one thing: making love with him again would only make her want more, so from this moment on she’d be sticking tight to her promise never to go near him anymore.
Yep. From now on, Aurora Benton, owner of the Slash A Ranch, wherever in the Panhandle that ranch might be, would be all business.
All the time.
Chapter 12
Cole filled his lungs with the new, storm-washed morning air and set his gaze firmly on the plains stretching out ahead. During the endless time since they had made love—and war—he had made great progress. He could ride beside Aurora now without being so constantly aware of her that he couldn’t think about something else at the same time. Today he was going to prove that to himself beyond question: he was going to fix all his instincts on discovering the whereabouts of the disappearing cows. He wasn’t going to think of Aurora as a woman, not once.
Maybe that would ease the pain in his gut.
Hadn’t part of it gone away when he’d learned to bear the cross of her constant physical allure? That was now a given in his life, since she lived and breathed right beside him or within a stone’s throw of him night and day. No, the misery inside him wasn’t desire for her any more.
Now the powerful pain in his gut was himself.
That and the fact that some two-bit lowlifes were stealing cows out from under his nose. How embarrassing was that for the most dangerous man in Colorado?
With a wry shake of his head, he scanned the plains in every direction, searching for a glimpse of long horns shining in the sun or a white-spotted hide almost hidden in the tall, lush graze. Or a spiral of smoke rising from a branding fire. Or the crowns of the hats of men on horseback out to the side of the herd somewhere, riding the coulees so as not to throw their silhouettes on the horizon.
“Do you think I’ve gotten good enough with a gun to go up against them?”
The sound of her low, husky voice after a long silence affected him like her warm hand on his skin. But the words struck him with cold fear.
He whipped around in the saddle to look at her, fighting the quick, blunt answer that sprang to his lips. Three. Count to three and then speak. Don’t destroy her confidence, because she might need it bad.
“You’re a lot better,” he said, unable to resist a glance at her trim waist and rounded hips, both emphasized by the heavy gunbelt she’d insisted on wearing since the first loss of cows.
“But …? I can hear the ‘but’ in your voice.”
“But you shooting at empty airtights and men shooting back at you are two entirely different things.”
“I know that.”
“Not until you’ve been there.”
“I have been shot at!”
“But you haven’t shot back. And you felt sorry for the mewling, whining sidewinders when I shot them.”
“Anything is pathetic when it’s screaming in pain.”
“In a gunfight, forget pathetic. Think, ‘Him or me, who would I rather see dead?’ ”
She nodded, her eyes solemn and fixed on his.
“I can do that. Every time I remember waking up to another dozen head missing.”
He laughed.
“That gets your dander up more than remembering Gates trying to kill you when you walked in front of the fire in your own camp?”
She laughed, too. “Makes me sound as money-hungry as he is, doesn’t it?”
“Yep. And crazy enough to risk your life for the sake of greed. If you’re dead, it doesn’t matter who has your cows, Aurora. Let me take the lead if we scare ‘em up today.”
“Oh,” she said, “so you don’t think I can shoot well enough to …”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he interrupted irritably. “What I’m saying is that we might get the drop on them and not have to do any shooting at all.”
“So first you worry that I won’t shoot because I feel sorry for them and now you worry that I’d shoot them in the back.”
He turned on her.
“Aurora! Hush! You’re gonna have my spurs so tangled up I can’t even talk at all.”
She was grinning her most mischievous grin.
They both laughed, then, and things felt easier between them than they had at any time since the blowup.
“One small detail,” he said. “We have to find them before we can shoot or not shoot them.”
“I think it’s Gates,” she said, for the thousandth time.
“You never know,” he said, also for the thousandth time. “Thomas may have got his back up when you refused to sell and decided to take your cattle any old way he could get ‘em. Or it could be brand blotters from parts unknown.”
“It’s been a week exactly since the stampede,” she said thoughtfully.
“Seems like a year,” he muttered. “Matter of fact, seems like a lifetime.”
And that was the God’s truth. He had never lived through such a stretch of misery in all his life, and he had been through some hell in his time. What was she doing to him? All the damned soul-searching he’d been falling into was because of her somehow, and he didn’t even understand why.
He dragged his scattered thoughts together and forced them back to the problem at hand.
“Whoever it is, they didn’t cause the stampede, though,” he said.
She turned in the saddle to face him so suddenly that it nearly made him jump. “We’ve said all this so many times we’re getting as predictable as Cookie,” she cried, pounding her fist on her thigh. “We have to do something, and fast, or we’ll have no cattle at all by the time we cross the Texas line. What can we do to stop them?”
For a minute he didn’t even take in what she’d said. Her mouth was so sweet that all he wanted was to taste it again, reach across the narrow space between their horses and pull her into his arms.
But that was what had got him into this predicament in the first place, wasn’t it? This weird state of mind where his sins haunted him and he longed to bury them all forever? Where he wanted, dear Lord, to make things right somehow so he’d be good enough for her?
A protesting shiver ran down his spine. So that was it. For the first time in all these wild, wolf-howling years, he was regretting the truth of his old line that always saved him from a woman’s clutches and kept him moving on: “I’m bad for you, darlin’, someday you’ll know that. I’m not good enough f
or a woman like you.”
He gave a great sigh. Well, at least now he knew what it was that had been keeping him awake at night—besides the rustlers. Besides his body longing for Aurora in his bed, if he was going to tell the whole truth.
“Cole,” she said. “What are you thinking about?”
Her husky voice that never failed to surprise him somehow broke a little on the last word. He tried to steel himself against its magic.
“You,” he said.
He had not meant to say that out loud.
She straightened her back and leaned a little away from him. She was stronger than she looked, actually stronger than he was, because her startled gaze immediately got lost in his, and her blue eyes plainly said that she wanted him to reach for her as much as he did, but she made no move.
Every fiber of his body gathered to reach for her. He wanted her so much, she wanted him, too. They could forget all about shootings and cattle and rustlers and danger. They could spend all day in a wonderful world of their own, a world of sweet-smelling grasses and huge, blue skies and bright sunlight and hot kisses and dizzying caresses on their skins.
No, they couldn’t. Because her honest face had filled with yearning. With caring. For him.
He couldn’t let that happen to her. Or to him. She touched him in too many places—like his heart and his loins and his head.
She saw the exact moment that he recovered control, and she put her guard up right then.
“Don’t be thinking about me,” she said. “I need you to do the job I hired you for, Cole.”
“I’m guarding your body at this exact instant,” he said, but lightly, not seductively.
He was never going to seduce her again. He was bad enough for going ahead with making love to her, even if she was the one who had come to him, because she was far more inexperienced in every way—except managing cowhands and cattle—than he had thought that day in Pueblo City.
She laughed a little.
“My mind’s part of my body and you have to guard it, too, because it’s going crazy over this rustling.”
Her tone was as light as his, her wonderful voice only a little bit strained. It was best for both of them to keep the distance between them. It wouldn’t be too hard to do.
The Renegades: Cole Page 18