Hell for Leather

by Beth Williamson

  “Okay.” Frenchie looked like a reluctant child rather than a sixty-year-old man. “But I ain’t gonna like it.”

  “I already knew that.” Sabrina laughed as he dragged his feet leaving the store.

  “Who was that?” Ellen appeared in the doorway to the stairs, hovering in the shadows as usual.

  “Frenchie.” Sabrina shook her head. “Hopefully some lye soap will do some good.”

  “No, not him. The other man.” Ellen watched the comings and goings of the store from a second-story window. After being scarred five years earlier, she spent her time hiding from anyone who might look at her. She had taken care of their invalid mother until she’d passed away the previous year. No matter what Sabrina tried, Ellen adamantly refused to come out of hiding.

  “His name is Cade Brody, says he bought Harmon’s place.” His name even tasted intriguing.

  “He’s dangerous and dark.” Ellen cradled her stomach. “I don’t like him.”

  Sabrina frowned. “You could tell that from behind a window one story up? Ellen, if you’re not willing to actually talk to people, don’t judge them.”

  “I’m not judging him. It’s just a…feeling I had. I don’t think he can be trusted.” Ellen sounded hurt.

  “I’m sorry, El, I didn’t mean to snap.” She walked over and gave her younger sister a quick hug, the petite blonde’s head barely brushing Sabrina’s chin. “I don’t know if Mr. Brody can be trusted either, but I doubt he’ll be in town very often. I think he’s here to hide, from what I don’t know.”

  Ellen touched Sabrina’s cheek with her hand. “Be careful, Brina.”

  Sabrina shook off her sister’s concern. They survived their father’s death, their mother’s sickness, more shysters than they could count, and the groping hands of thousands of miners and lumberjacks, not to mention betrayal and murder as well. One dark-eyed man wasn’t going to pose much of a threat.

  Cade stared at the Eustace saloon, aptly named Last Gate. He clenched his horse’s reins in his fist, the bite of the leather keeping him cognizant of his surroundings. The thirst roared like a monster within him, pulsing a beat in tune with his heart.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  Deep inside, he knew that one drink would push him back into the blackness he’d fought against for so long. A blackness that had nearly destroyed him. He licked his lips, almost tasting the amber liquid. As he turned away from the saloon, a sound burst from his throat, a cry of desperation or a howl of hunger, he wasn’t sure which.

  It took every inch of restraint to not turn back to the saloon.

  “It’s not that bad, amigo.”

  Cade turned and again reached for the gun that didn’t sit at his hip anymore. Son of a bitch. A dark-haired man stood before him, hands raised in surrender, but his gaze flickered to Cade’s hand as it grasped air. Surely of Mexican descent, the stranger was at least ten years younger than Cade, and sported an amused grin.

  After taking a deep breath, he slid his iron self-control into place. He didn’t like the fact the stranger had seen him at a low point, when his control had almost shattered. After straightening his hat, he finally met the stranger’s gaze.

  “You startled me.” The words were forced out through his teeth. Cade realized the man could be a threat if he wanted since he was big enough, but he had no weapon and didn’t do anything other than smile.

  “I can see that.” The man held out his hand. “Antonio Rodriguez. I own the Last Gate.”

  Cade shook hands with the man, feeling hard-won calluses and a firm grip. “Cade Brody, new town idiot.”

  Antonio laughed. “You were looking at the saloon like it was gonna bite you.”

  “Nah, just keeping the demons away.” Cade let out a shaky breath. The trip to Eustace was turning out to be mistake after mistake.

  “Suit yourself.” Antonio gestured to the building behind him. “I’ve got some coffee on and at this time of day, there’s nobody else inside.”

  Cade knew he shouldn’t, really shouldn’t, but he also knew the rest of the day held nothing but work at the new cabin. A good cup of coffee would be a welcome change from his own brew that resembled sludge.

  “Sounds good.” Before he could change his mind, Cade stepped toward the saloon and secured his horse to the hitching post.

  Antonio walked inside, leaving Cade alone. The hum of the saws in the mill, a horse’s whinny and his own heartbeat were the only sounds around him. He licked his lips again and swallowed. Time to test his limits and perhaps make a new acquaintance in town.

  The inside of the saloon was nothing unusual. Tables, chairs, a pinewood bar with some rickety stools in front of it. The floor was littered with peanut shells but at least his boots didn’t stick. Although Antonio was nowhere to be seen, the atmosphere wasn’t threatening and it didn’t smell like stale whiskey.

  Cade always trusted his first judgment. Last Gate was a safe place, even though it held the one thing that could easily send Cade back into a black pit. Antonio came back carrying two tin cups and a coffeepot with a towel. He poured the steaming brew and set the pot on the towel. Cade took a sip of the black liquid, and his entire body sighed. He hadn’t had good coffee like that in months, not since he left Wyoming.

  “Good coffee.” He almost burned his mouth on the next gulp.

  “Thanks. I had to learn how to make it when the only woman that worked here refused to do it anymore.” Antonio laughed. “Mi madre can be tough.”

  Cade looked around and noted the polished wood, the neat bottles behind the bar and the clean glasses. There was definitely a female here. If it was Antonio’s mother, then she was a very particular woman. Antonio didn’t strike Cade as a man under his mother’s thumb, but it was possible.

  “We came from Mexico when I was ten. Mamá and I worked here for twelve years until the owner died. He had always loved her so he left the saloon to her.” Antonio shrugged. “Now I run it for her and offer strangers hot coffee.”

  It surprised Cade that Antonio didn’t ask any questions about him. Smart man.

  “Appears you’re doing a good job at it.” Cade let the hot coffee warm him, calm him as he sat in companionable silence with Antonio.

  “Thanks, amigo. I’ve got some cornbread in the back too. Interested?”

  Cade’s stomach growled. “I’d pay for good cornbread.”

  “Good. If I don’t charge you, Mamá won’t be happy.” Antonio disappeared in the back again, leaving Cade alone.

  As he glanced around, Cade realized he finally felt comfortable in his surroundings, at least for two minutes. It was a two hour ride back to the cabin, and he needed to be on the way within the next hour, but for now, he wanted to drink coffee and eat cornbread. He pulled four bits from his pocket and put it on the bar.

  Relaxing at the saloon with Antonio was a pleasant way to spend an hour. By the time Cade left the Last Gate, he decided that while Antonio might not be a friend, he was a good contact in Eustace. Cade would do well to remember that.

  His last stop in town was the lumbermill. He wanted to build a corral for his horse instead of housing him in the lean-to. The thing had seen at least two or three decades and it leaned more than it should. He’d had plenty of practice mending fences in Wyoming and could swing a hammer with confidence.

  Or at least enough to put in some nails and make a corral his horse would be secure in. Cade didn’t have many skills that most men had, but he could call himself a cowboy. Perhaps one day he might even get a few cattle on his property.

  “Like hell.” Cade laughed at his own joke, earning a suspicious glance from the two men loading lumber into a wagon.

  “Afternoon, gentlemen.” He dismounted and secured his horse, very aware of the stares around him. Previously, people wouldn’t have stared at him, but since he’d shed his guns, he was just a tall skinny man with a bad attitude.

  He’d never amounted to much more than that anyway.

  “Can I help ya?”

  Cad
e turned to find a red-haired man in a flannel shirt and denims standing in front of the mill. The expression on the stranger’s face was as bland as oatmeal.

  “I need to buy some lumber for a corral, about twenty feet square.” Cade had an idea of what it should look like but to be safe, he ordered a bit more than he needed. He was bound to make a few mistakes, although he’d cut out his own tongue before admitting that to anyone.

  The redheaded man glanced at the horse and raised a brow. “You got a wagon?”

  “No, but I can rent one, I think. There a livery in town?” Cade hadn’t considered how to get the wood back to the ranch. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Made him look like the village idiot again.

  “Nope, there ain’t. Where you live?”

  “Livingston Valley.” Cade still felt odd saying he had a place to call home, much less one with such a fancy name.

  “For an extra five dollars, we can deliver the lumber out there for ya.” With a throat clearing to rival any sailor, the redhead spat a nice wad of snot on the cold, dark dirt between them.

  Five dollars was goddamn robbery. Cade forced a small smile while he swallowed the urge to show the fool exactly who he was fucking with. “That’d work just fine.”

  After stepping inside to finalize the order, Cade left the lumbermill with all his good feelings about Eustace gone. Antonio had been a welcome surprise, the rest of town hadn’t been.

  Except Sabrina of course. She hadn’t been a surprise, more like a dangerous distraction he’d do best to avoid.

  Chapter Two

  Cade headed back to the cabin with his supplies strapped to the horse in sacks. The warmth of the day and a full belly improved his disposition, after he’d forced himself to forget the fool at the lumbermill. His gaze scanned the trail around him as he rode along, never once relaxing his guard. He didn’t know the New Mexico territory very well and didn’t trust even a flea on a dog’s ass.

  By the time he reached home, the midday heat had started to wane. The sun was setting, and the evening bite of cold began to nibble at him. Cade ignored the discomfort as he always did. He’d spent too many nights in mud, on rocks or knee-deep in snow.

  The closer he got to the cabin, the more the back of his neck itched. Someone was watching him. He cursed the fact that his only weapon was a rifle in its scabbard. If he still had his pistols…but no, he wasn’t that person anymore. He was Cade Brody.

  By the time his new home was in sight, the itch had turned into an all-out rash.

  “Fucking squatter.” He finally scratched, only to have the itch slide down his back too.

  The damn thing was, he could not spot whoever was out there. The watcher had to be in the trees to the right, but the man was good, too good. More than likely had been living in the woods for years and knew it like the back of his hand. Nobody else would be so stealthy. Of course, it didn’t bode well for Cade’s plan to find out whoever the son of a bitch was if he couldn’t find him.

  He dismounted in front of the cabin, deliberately taking his time unloading the horse, letting his unwanted visitor see how many supplies he’d purchased. Cade was there for good, not just for a week. When the new lumber got delivered next week, he’d have enough to build the corral and hopefully patch up a few holes he’d seen in the walls and floor.

  It took Cade ten minutes to see the unwelcome surprise. Lying in front of the fireplace was a rabbit, gutted and ready to be cooked, laid out like a Christmas feast. He spun around, expecting to see the last two seconds of his life with a gun pointed at him, but there was nothing there. He closed the door and approached the offering. A careful scrutiny of the carcass and fireplace revealed no trap. Cade snorted at the empty room around him.

  “Think I’m going to believe we’re friends now? I don’t fucking think so. Must take me for a fool.”

  He picked up the carcass by its foot and carried it outside. As he walked toward the trees, he shouted to the leaves above.

  “I ain’t eating nothing you leave behind, squatter. Probably put some poison on it so I’ll keel over and leave the nice, warm cabin for you.” He threw the rabbit to the foot of the tallest pine. “Eat it yourself.”

  Expecting an attack, his muscles tensed like iron as he made his way back to the cabin. In another lifetime, he never would have turned his back on an enemy, ever. However, now that he’d been reborn, he found himself doing things, stupid things, like showing his vulnerable, unarmed back to a stranger.

  He shook with the urge to tear the trees apart leaf by leaf until he found the bastard. Cade needed to fight, to feel some pain to feel alive. He swallowed the dryness in his mouth as need almost overwhelmed him. God, in a second he’d be running back to the spot he’d buried the damn guns just to feel the cold metal on his skin.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be normal enough to exist each day without death around him?

  He’d had a brief taste of what actual life was while he’d lived in Cheshire, Wyoming. It had scared the hell out of him.

  Morning brought bright sunshine and the reminder that Cade was completely alone, again. Only this time, he’d chosen the place deliberately, somewhere he could live in peace. Or at least try to.

  He rose from the floor and scratched at the union suit that covered him. Dang thing felt odd but it had kept him warm the night before. The fire had gone out and there was no more wood inside the house, of course.

  “Remember to stock up on the wood each night, fool.” He opened the door and was struck by the beauty of the valley as it sparkled in the sunlight, covered with frost. For just a moment, he simply stood and looked his fill. It was a perfect way to start the day.

  However, the rabbit bones on his front step were not. Cade was speechless as he stared down at the gnawed remains of the rabbit, more than likely the same one he’d thrown back to the squatter. The man had a set of brass balls leaving this on Cade’s step. Did he think somehow he’d be miraculously trusted by showing he’d eaten the damn rabbit?

  Cade kicked the bones aside with one bare foot and grimaced as the cold pieces of gristle slid between his toes. The frost he walked through had him forgetting about the nasty rabbit after his feet turned blue. Next time, he’d not only remember the wood, but boots.

  Living without creature comforts sucked.

  ———

  Sabrina dreamed of the stranger. When she opened her eyes in the gray light of dawn, she gasped as the remnants of sleep slipped away. It had been an unusual night fraught with strange images and erotic thoughts. She’d been widowed for more than five years, five long years without a man in her bed. Apparently her body craved what she couldn’t have—Cade Brody.

  Even now her pussy pulsed with the memory of what the dream-Cade had done to her, with her. Even her nipples were still rock hard beneath her flannel nightdress. Although she’d probably be late and hear about it all day from Ellen, Sabrina couldn’t stop her hand from sliding beneath the cotton to the hungry flesh that needed a release.

  The other hand crept to her aching nipples, tweaking and pinching in rhythm with the pleasure she gave herself in the moist folds between her legs. She spread them wider, giving access to her fingers to slide in and out. She closed her eyes and imagined it wasn’t her hand pressing against her and into her.

  It was him.

  A dark man with the darkest eyes who seemed to see beyond her storekeeper’s façade to the woman who lurked beneath. His lips were full and even, framing a shining set of teeth that could nibble on her even as his hands pleasured her below.

  “Yessss.”

  Tingles raced up and down her skin as her hands moved faster, pleasure ricocheting through her. She forgot about getting up and making breakfast, or opening the store. Everything slipped from her mind except for the need sinking its claws into her skin. Cade should be here in her bed with his long-fingered hands and lean hips, plunging into her even as she thrust up to meet him.

  Her orgasm started at her center and radiated out throug
h her body as she bucked beneath the covers. Sabrina bit her lip to keep the cry of bliss from escaping into the cold, empty room. This moment was hers and hers alone.

  As the pulses faded, she opened her eyes again and saw a widow’s room. A small photograph from her wedding day mocked her from its position on the dresser. Eric had been a good man, a solid, steady man who wanted nothing more than to be a good husband. Too bad death had other ideas for him, losing his life at the tender age of twenty-one.

  Sabrina sighed. Real life didn’t include fantasies about the newest resident in the area, even if he inspired hot, melting dreams.

  Ellen entered the room without knocking, thankfully after the self-pleasuring had concluded. “Sabrina, why are you still in bed? I heard a customer rattling the door already.”

  “It’s cold out there.” Sabrina forced a smile to her lips. “I was hoping you’d already have the coffee on.”

  “Please, Brina, you know I don’t work in the store while it’s open.” Ellen glanced out the window. “It’s past dawn already.”

  With that, her sister left the room, and Sabrina bit her tongue. She tried to be patient, but sometimes, like that morning, it was exceptionally hard. Every single day of their lives for the last five years, Sabrina had opened the store. Ellen hid upstairs working on the books and rarely entered the store when it was open. For once, she’d appreciate Ellen opening the store and giving Sabrina time to wake up before she had to be a shopkeeper.

  Some days, she wanted to shake her younger sister, then kick her into the bright light of the main street of Eustace. Of course, Sabrina would never be that cruel. Although life had not turned out rosy for Ellen, she’d chosen to be a hermit who watched the world through glass.

  Her morning pleasure forgotten, Sabrina climbed out of bed with a frown and a humph at the cold floor that assaulted her feet. No matter what she wanted to be doing, it was time to start the day in earnest.

  A few hours later, Sabrina’s mood had not improved much. Two miners had refused to pay their bills, half the eggs were broken by a clumsy fool, and someone stole a tin of her best pipe tobacco. Her patience had worn thin, and the last thing she needed was Ellen complaining about the cost of supplies from Santa Fe.