Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One)

by Rice, Patricia

  Perhaps Oda had been thinking ahead to the day when Cain's memory returned. There would be plenty to worry about then, for them all. But now? As far as Mariah was concerned, Cain was her man. She had, after all, gone out of her way to create him and make him into the kind of person he was today. She thought of the hours she'd worked with him, training him to meet her needs and the needs of her family. Of course he was hers, custom-made. He didn't need anyone else—or did he?

  As Mariah thought of her man in the arms of a saloon girl and the reasons he might find comfort there, the blood rushed to her temples, making her feel a little dizzy. In the scheme of things, she hadn't thought to consider his needs, but of course he had them. All men had needs. But just the thought of another woman's hands on Cain, or worse, his hands on her, turned Mariah's stomach and dredged up something primitive and savage inside of her. Savage, yes, she realized, feeling more like Princess Tanacoa than she'd have believed possible. She would have to find a way to stop whatever he was up to now, and figure out how to help him assuage his needs later.

  Her eyes glowing to their deep purple depths, Mariah glanced down at her clothing. She'd changed into a perfectly respectable two-piece dress of rust sateen trimmed with black lace and ribbon banding. Although her bonnet was oversized and outdated, it made her appearance more than suitable for public view—whether she chose to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant or out into the streets of Durango.

  Her plan taking shape, Mariah grabbed a small bag and stuffed a couple of bills inside it. Then she dashed out of her room.

  * * *

  Some thirty miles due west of the Strater Hotel, Billy Doolittle sat near the edge of a cliff overlooking the lush Mancos Valley. Just east of this rich expanse of bubbling creeks and verdant meadows lay the snow-capped La Plata Mountains. Beyond them, the town of Durango sat waiting like a ripe peach, one Billy could hardly wait to pluck.

  He turned to Tubbs, who'd joined him and Artemis on watch, and said, "Taking the dummy with you on this job is just about the stupidest idea you've ever come up with." To prove his point, he glanced down the hillside a few feet to where Artemis sat out of earshot. The youngest Doolittle was hunkered down near a family of squirrels, giggling and talking to them as he offered bits of a stale biscuit to those brave enough to come near. "You want that numskull covering you if there's a shoot-out?"

  Tubbs shrugged. "The kid likes animals. No harm there."

  "There'll be a heap more than harm coming at you—hell, at all of us if'n I let you take that dunderhead into Durango."

  "I don't happen to agree." Tubbs glanced down the hill and studied Artemis for a moment. "What if we just poke around a little to see if Slater's even showed up yet? Maybe he's already been and gone. If I can't take him out without drawing the law down on myself, then me and the kid'll head right back here so you can work up another plan."

  Billy grumbled to himself a moment and then spat into a juniper bush. It really wasn't a bad plan at all, but he just hated the idea of Artemis riding off with Tubbs. "I still can't say it sounds like such a good idea. There's something about it I don't like."

  "You don't have to like it. Just allow me to do it, and you know why? When the time comes to confront Slater, I want a fresh face with me, not someone who'll give him cause to draw those pistols."

  Still grumbling, Billy muttered, "Artie's face may not give you away, but you watch—he'll think of something to do that'll louse everything up."

  Tubbs chuckled softly. "It'll be all right. The kid listens to me." He might have added, "Even if he doesn't listen to you." But instead, he said, "Call him up here and tell him he's going with me. If we head out now, we can ride into Durango first thing in the morning."

  "You might be right, at that," Billy admitted grudgingly. "But one other thing. How can you be so sure you'll recognize Slater? I thought you only seen him the one time."

  "That's right. It was when I was playing poker at The Bucket in Denver. I watched him round up the Thorp Gang that night. I'll know him when I see him. There's something about those green eyes a man don't quickly forget."

  Billy nodded, and even though it was against his better judgment, he whistled and waved his brother toward them. As the kid scrambled up the hill, several of the squirrels scampered along behind him.

  "Yeah, Billy?" Artemis said as he reached the crest, his usual bright grin in place.

  "Got a job for you." Motioning for silence before his brother could begin an endless round of questions, Billy went on to explain. "I've decided to send you and Tubbs here into Durango on a—"

  "Durango? By myself, just me and Tubbs?"

  "Shut your stupid mouth and let me finish, or you won't be going nowheres but asshole over teakettle down the side of this here mountain."

  Artemis's head injury was at times a blessing. In his exuberance, all he really heard was that he was being sent on a job, a real job, and to Durango, of all places. His grin never faded as his brother sputtered and fumed. He just nodded rapidly, and said, "I'm all ears, Billy. Go on."

  "As I was trying to say, you and Tubbs are gonna ride into Durango and have a look-see around. We want to know what Marshal Slater has been up to.

  You and Tubbs might even have to take him out. Think you can handle a big job like that?"

  Something inside Artemis must have busted loose. He was sure of it. His head felt twice as big as normal, and the pressure of keeping a wild whoop of joy inside himself had his eyes bulging. But he had to keep that elation inside at all costs. If he didn't know another thing, he knew that much. Why, if Billy were to witness another of his frivolous fits of the giggles, he'd kick his butt down the mountain for sure, and take the job away to boot. To make certain that didn't happen, Artemis pinched his own upper arm, and twisted the tender flesh until the urge to celebrate subsided. "I can handle the job just fine, Billy. When are we supposed to leave?"

  From behind him, Tubbs supplied the answer. "Now, if your brother's done talking to you."

  Artemis pinched himself again as he said, "Then I guess I'd best get to packing my saddlebags."

  "Not so fast." Billy stepped up beside him. "Since I ain't riding along with you, I only got this one chance to make sure you understand what I expect, so listen up."

  "I'm a-listening." Boy, was he listening. His ears had to be sticking up as big as a jackrabbit's, maybe even a mule's.

  "This here's a dangerous job, one that affects the lot of us. You got to keep that thick head of yours on business and that big mouth of yours shut, understand?"

  A secret mission? Artemis couldn't dim his luminous grin a second longer. "I understand, Billy, I do."

  "Wipe that stupid grin off your face, boy. You know what'll happen if you don't keep a serious face about you and your mind on business, don't you?"

  Artemis saw the vicious look in his brother's eyes, the one he always dreaded because something awful usually went along with it. All the elation and excitement in his body turned to stone. "I know what you mean, Billy. I swear, this time, I do."

  Tubbs nudged Artemis in the back with his elbow, but kept his cold gaze on Billy as he said, "I'll make sure he understands from here on out. See you in a few days. Let's go, kid."

  After they'd walked several yards beyond the lookout point, Tubbs turned to Artemis and spoke low so only he could hear. "Say—you know that big sorrel I found a few weeks back?"

  Artemis brightened a little at the mention of the horse. "Yeah."

  "He seems to have taken a shine to you. How'd you like to ride him into Durango?"

  "Me?" He whipped his head around, his eyes almost back to their full radiance. "You mean ride him like he was my own?"

  "Just like you bought and paid for him."

  Artemis grinned and scratched his head right near the cowlick. "Could I name him Big Red? That's what I been calling him when no one's around."

  "Big Red sounds just fine, kid. Just fine."

  * * *

  Back at The Clipper, a "theater"
gambling hall on Durango's saloon block, Cain propped his elbows against the pitted bar counter and continued to observe the assortment of female entertainers amongst the poker and faro tables. A perky blonde with bosom enough for two women caught his eye almost immediately, but then he noticed the single pink feather poking up through her frothy pile of platinum curls. The adornment reminded him of Indians. And that reminded him of Princess Tanacoa.

  Shortly thereafter, every woman he glanced at seemed to feature some characteristic he could liken to one of Mariah's, which in turn made her an unsuitable choice as his companion for the evening. Hell, he could probably search all night and never find a woman in town he'd consider suitable.

  Why had he even bothered to come here? he wondered as he drained his beer mug. He should have taken the twenty dollars and spent it on a new hat—one that didn't make him look like a preacher without a flock. It would sure as hell be wasted if he were to spend it on a woman.

  Cain knew exactly who he wanted, and knew too that no substitute on earth would do. All the saloon girls in Durango rolled into one couldn't possibly satisfy the unholy craving that dogged him day and night. No one but his violet-eyed temptress of a cousin could do that, and she was completely off-limits. Maybe another beer would help ease the agony.

  "Hey, barkeep," he said, holding up his empty mug. "Send down another, will you?"

  As he waited for the only relief he supposed he'd get this night, Cain glanced around the saloon again.

  It was late afternoon, and a weekday at that, but The Clipper was damn near filled. Most of the customers were huddled around the gaming tables, but only a few of them were engaged in games of chance. Many simply appeared to be sharing a sip and talking politics, the focus of which was Grover Cleveland's chances of reelection in the race against the Republican, Benjamin Harrison.

  One of the town leaders voiced his concerns about the newly revamped Republican party. Couldn't it still be as corrupt as it had been during the '84 elections? How could an honest voting man know? And say, shouted another. That reminds me—have you heard the latest rumors? That pushy female lawyer, Belva Lockwood, is thinking of running for president as the nominee for the Natural Equal Rights party—again. Have you ever heard of anything so outrageous? Hoots and a round of guffaws followed this declaration, and Cain lost interest in the conversation just as his beer arrived.

  He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the glass mug, and then froze. The bartender's gaze was still on him, measuring him. Cain furrowed his brow as he said, "Is there some kind of problem, mister?"

  "Oh, ah... no, sir." The bartender wiped his hands on his apron. "You look a little familiar, is all. You from around here?"

  Of course, Cain didn't know. In fact, it struck him then that this stranger might know more than he did about his past. Careful not to reveal too much, he said, "I've passed through here a time or two. You remember me, do you?"

  The man shrugged. "Not really." He stared at him a little longer, and then shook off a sudden tremor. "Must be mistaken. Forget I mentioned it."

  A boy of about twelve pushed in through the doors and approached the bar then, scuffing his heels across the wood floor as he walked. Without glancing at the customer holding a beer, he stretched to his full five feet and said to the bartender, "Is there a man calls himself Brother Law in here?"

  "Hell, son, how am I supposed to know the name—"

  "I'm Cain Law. What is it?"

  The boy turned wide eyes on him. "Are you Brother Law?"

  "I am. What do you want?"

  The boy looked him up and down, frowning at Cain's jeans and dark blue shirt. Only the flat- brimmed hat with the dead-level crown suggested a man of the clergy. The young man cocked his head sideways, squinting as he said, "You don't look much like a preacher."

  "I never said I was a preacher. Now what do you want?"

  Duly impressed by the man's authoritative tone, the boy said, "A lady sent me to come find you."

  Assuming the lad was referring to Oda, Cain set his beer on the bar and gave the youngster his full attention. "Did she say why she wants me?"

  Looking from side to side, the boy lowered his voice. "I think something bad happened to her, but she didn't say what. Her eyes was real big and worried-like, but even then, them were the prettiest eyes I ever did see."

  Cain leaned down, took the lad by the shoulders, and dragged him forward until their noses were practically touching. "What did she say to you and where is she?"

  The boy's eyes widened further, and then he stuttered, "Sh-she's just up the s-street. Sh-she said to tell you to come help her out. Said she was having some kind of a emergency."

  Chapter 6

  Hiding in an alley just around the corner from Main Avenue, Mariah stole another peek down Tenth Street. There was still no sign of Cain or the boy.

  She kicked the edge of the boardwalk. "There goes my last two bucks." Sure she really had been robbed, Mariah slipped back between the buildings again. In the almost futile hope of finding Cain, she'd gone and paid a boy the outrageous sum of two whole dollars to go and look for her "cousin" by checking the twenty-some odd saloons in the "sporting" part of town. Although she had managed to catch sight of the boy popping in and out of a few of these establishments, it'd been a good long time since she'd last seen him. Had he taken her money and run? Mariah glanced around the corner again. This time she spotted both Cain and the kid as they burst through a pair of swinging doors not two blocks from where she stood.

  Mariah quickly ducked back into the alley. In order to make her claims more believable, she pulled a few strands of long dark hair loose from her tight chignon, leaving them to dangle down from her temple, and then loosened the ribbons on her bonnet and knocked it slightly askew. She was debating whether to tear a couple of buttons off the bodice of her dress as the boy came running past the alley. He pointed at her, shouting something over his shoulder as he went by, and disappeared up the street. A few short moments later, Cain reached her.

  "Mariah!" He stepped into the alley, his horrified gaze taking in her state of dishevelment. "My God—what happened?"

  She parted her lips to deliver her prepared tale, when Cain took her into his arms, surprising the words right out of her mouth.

  "Are you all right, honey?" he asked, pushing the oversized bonnet to the back of her head for a better look. He ran his fingers across her eyebrows and then down along her cheeks, checking for bruises. "What happened, princess? Did someone hurt you?"

  There was something in the way he spoke, and even more so in the way he was looking at her, that disturbed Mariah enough to raise goose pimples on her arms. This was no time for nerves. She had him right where she wanted him, didn't she? Mariah shook off the sensations and went ahead with her plan.

  "Oh, Cousin Cain," she said, her features carefully twisted with worry. "I'm afraid I've gone and lost the twenty dollars I was supposed to use to buy supplies." She held up her empty bag. "Zack will be so disappointed in me. Whatever will I do?"

  More concerned about her physical safety than anything so fleeting as currency, Cain's gaze scanned her again. "Who did this to you?"

  "Some youngsters, ruffians, you know the kind." Mariah sniffled against a linen handkerchief she'd brought along for just that purpose. "I guess I let them get the best of me, and well... how they did it really doesn't matter, does it? They made off with my money, and now there will be hell for me to pay. Oh, Cain." She squeezed out a tear. "What in all that's holy will I do?"

  Dragging his thumb up Mariah's cheek, he brushed the little teardrop away. "You can stop worrying about that money, for starters." Without hesitation, Cain reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew what was left of his loan. After stuffing the bills inside her velvet handbag, he pulled her into his arms again. "There's a little better than nineteen dollars there—plenty to pay for the supplies. Now tell me exactly what those boys did to you."

  Feeling a pinch of guilt, Mariah averted her eyes, looking in
stead at her velvet bag. She ought to have been happy, relieved at the least, to know that Cain hadn't yet bought himself a woman for the night. But another emotion seemed to be crowding those pleasurable sensations aside, one that felt a lot like remorse, or something close to it.

  "Come on, princess," Cain whispered, trying to coax the details of her ordeal out of her. "I can't go after those ruffians and make them pay for what they've done if I don't know who they are and what-all they're guilty of."

  Guilt. Now there was a word, perhaps the one which best described the way she was feeling at the moment. Good and guilty. Should she admit her hoax and beg for his mercy? What if he turned into the mean, hateful man he'd once been?

  Mariah glanced up into his eyes. Hard as she tried, she could find no hint of Morgan Slater there. All she saw was Cain Law looking concerned, worried, maybe even a little bit anguished.

  Lord, what had she been thinking of when she'd come up with this ruse? She'd prevented his buying a woman, that was for sure, but at what cost? When she had first sent for Cain, she'd expected his curiosity, certainly, perhaps even hoped he might be a little alarmed as well, but never had she imagined this response. His features were dark with outrage, those forest-green eyes reflecting something much deeper than concern. Had she not been passing herself off as his cousin, she might even have taken it for love. Was this reaction due in part to her #20 potion? He'd been taking it on a regular basis for over a month now, so that possibility certainly wasn't out of the question.

  "Mariah, are you listening to me?" Cain gently shook her shoulders. "It can't be as bad as all that. Tell me what happened so I can help you."

  Again there was deep concern in both his voice and his eyes. How could she have deceived this man, now or even in the beginning? Overwhelmed by a burgeoning sense of remorse, Mariah pushed out of his arms and turned away. "What's done is done," she said, eager to have the entire episode behind her. "I'd just as soon forget about it."