“We’re a lot alike, Mr. Smith. When I give my word to someone you can take it to the bank, no matter what it costs me. A person who can’t keep their promises isn’t worth a plug nickel.”
Just then the waiter rushed over, bumping into the table and dropping his pad and pencil. He seemed to have a case of the nerves like everyone else in town except Tempest. McKenna’s gaze traveled the room. Each person who had been staring suddenly discovered a speck of dirt on their clothes, a missing button or swatted at a fly that had landed on their table.
“What’ll you have, ma’am?” The waiter looked at Tempest.
“Do you still have some sarsaparilla left, Oscar? I need something more exhilarating than coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am. And you, sir?” The man kept his focus anchored on the furniture when he addressed McKenna.
“I’ll have a bowl of stew and a piece of pie to go with coffee. I seem to have a hollow spot.”
“Very good choice, sir. Right away.” The Nervous Nelly retrieved his writing utensils and scurried away.
“I tell you one thing, Mr. Smith. You certainly put the fear of God into the people of this town and I don’t think it’s all due to your reputation either.” Tempest twisted a gold band on her finger. “I do declare, you’re one of the tallest men I think I’ve ever seen. And most forceful.”
“I haven’t done anything, yet, that’d scare folks.”
“It’s what you haven’t done that has them in a tizzy.”
“Then I’ll try to hurry up my stay so things can return to normal.” McKenna met Tempest LeDoux’s gaze. She appeared so fragile, yet had the strength of fifteen men. “You’ve had more than your share of hard times. I saw the graves on the hill.”
“Jacks Bluff and my daughter, Alaine, are all I have in this world and I’ll scratch and claw to keep them. Nothing is going to take them from me. Nothing.”
“You have some mighty fierce determination.” His voice softened more than he’d planned. “But sometimes that’s not enough to protect the ones you love.” He cleared his throat. “I take it Jacks Bluff is the name of your ranch?”
“I came by it right after husband number two passed on. Phillip LeDoux was a hell of a man. There wasn’t a horse he couldn’t ride or a woman he couldn’t tame. My heart broke right in two when he died after Alaine was born. If it hadn’t been for my daughter, I’d have climbed into that pine box with him.” Tempest dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the handkerchief McKenna handed her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“And I didn’t mean to drip all over the place.”
Sadness leaked from the angles of her face like a cistern that had sat empty too long and was suddenly deluged with rain. She’d apparently borne enough sorrow and despair that would’ve killed a lesser woman. “It’s the first time I’ve talked about him in a good long while.”
McKenna reckoned he wasn’t the only one who’d had way too many pickles. It appeared Mrs. LeDoux hadn’t seen a primrose path either.
Chapter 3
Tempest admired the rugged Texan across from her. His unshaven jaw sported what appeared a week of growth. Some men had a dark shadow even when they were clean shaven. She had no proof of it yet, but she fit McKenna in that department.
Warmth stole into her face under his steady regard. She studied the menu on the chalkboard, all the while casting fleeting glances at him.
The man whose energy and power charged into a room like a herd of wild mustangs on locoweed stirred old longings.
This day that began so ordinary had taken quite a turn.
She tried to put her finger on what exactly about McKenna Smith drew everyone’s eye. Sure he had the widest shoulders she’d ever seen, wider than husband number five who had been a large man. And McKenna’s easy, but deliberate, stride put her in mind of flowing water that knew where it was going but was in no hurry to get there. That was an attention-getter.
With this Texan it seemed more than that though.
Maybe part of the fascination was due to the black leather britches that tapered along muscular legs and disappeared inside tall boots hugging his calves. Or it could be the leather vest studded with silver conchas and a denim shirt the color of sin that gave the famous paladin the aura of a man to reckon with.
Sweet mercy! Her breath snagged on the flutters in her throat. Perspiration marched down her spine like a bunch of army ants storing food for the winter.
He was by far the most electrifying man she’d ever crossed.
“Mr. Smith, it’s quite an honor to have your presence in Kasota Springs. Sure gave these twitter-patted fools a whole new set of speculations to flap their gums over.”
“It wasn’t intentional I assure you.” His mouth quirked in an almost smile.
That was another thing she’d noticed. He doled out smiles with the care of a watchdog guarding a henhouse. Spending so much time among bad people likely didn’t give him much to be happy about.
“All the same, I’m glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many thrilling stories of your exploits.”
For years, rumor ran rampant of his quick dispersal of outlaws, his dogged persistence in the pursuit of justice and about the line he wouldn’t cross. Wild talk was generally what made legends so she’d always chalked down the reputation of the black-clothed figure to nothing but scuttlebutt. Until now.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Mrs. LeDoux.”
“That sounds so…old.” She wrinkled her nose. “Call me Tempest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Quiet conviction loomed about this man. She found it in the vibration of his deep voice, felt it in the strength of his touch. McKenna Smith wasn’t someone looking for vainglory.
Her gaze dropped to a rawhide pouch dangling around his neck. The Indian medicine bag seemed out of place with the black leather apparel of a gunslinger.
Shifting to his hat lying on the table, she took in the beaded hatband rimming his Stetson.
Hats spoke a language of their own about the wearer. The shape and style told where a man came from and where he might be going.
McKenna’s whispered more than a few secrets. A bullet hole had put an extra dent in the crown. The sweat around the band told of hard work and long hours in the sun. The felt headgear had provided shade, protection from the elements and a drinking cup to scoop up river water.
And the white owl feather sticking from the beaded band mentioned a reverence for the earliest Americans.
Curiosity nibbled. But they were things a person didn’t ask a stranger right off.
“I didn’t know your services were required as far away as Colorado.” Tempest toyed with the sugar bowl. “Is it customary to travel that far to help someone out?”
“Not generally. I made an exception in this case.”
She had to bite her tongue to keep more questions from spilling out. Quizzing him would be ticklish at best with the potential to land her in a hot skillet. She frowned when he didn’t volunteer more.
“All the same, I wish you’d stick around for the rodeo. Lots of roping, riding and dancing. Maybe you’ll reconsider?”
“Don’t hold your breath, ma’am.” He rubbed his eyes as though to rid them of seeing the things they must.
The waiter hurried back with their order, catching the bowl of stew before it slid off the round tray. Again, he retreated very quickly as if he feared staying too long in McKenna’s sights would buy him a six-foot hole on the hill.
Hiding behind the glass of sarsaparilla, Tempest imagined how the famed cowboy’s sun-streaked hair the color of sorrel would look all tousled and mussed from lovemaking.
Wicked tingles shimmied the length of her as her mind leaped to the picture of him shirtless. Better yet, lying in bed with a sheet draped over the important parts and a bare leg curling from one side of the cover.
And kissing. She didn’t have to close her eyes to envision his mouth, his tongue tracing the curve of her lips.
Oh, saints in heaven!
She sighed, reining in that stampeding horse, reminding herself she’d sworn off men. Besides, a black cloud hung over her head. She’d buried more companions than God allowed. She couldn’t bear for anything to happen to McKenna and that it’d be her fault.
Men met with a hurried end when they got too close to her.
And old proverb spoke about when two pecan branches touch one of them dies. It was definitely true; she’d witnessed it.
Tempest trembled.
A long gulp of her refreshing drink cooled desire pumping through her blood like hot liquid metal.
Well, almost. At least it tamped it down to a sizzle.
Lowering the thick mug, she found herself caught in the golden depths of his dusky gaze. And she had no strength to resist the attraction, no matter what she’d sworn.
Damn her Louisiana Cajun roots and the curse put on her!
“Jacks Bluff the name of your ranch did you say, Mrs. LeDoux? Sense a story in that. Takes a lot of stamina to carve out a successful cattle operation here in the Panhandle.” His words came out all rough and husky as if his throat had closed up and sound got all bruised struggling to get through. “Few women know how to run a herd or have the gritty spirit to sustain a ranching enterprise. My hat’s off to you.”
“When my back’s against a wall, I have only one way to go and that’s forward. I’m a survivor, Mr. Smith. And I was fortunate to hire good help. My foreman, Teg Tegeler, is one of the finest cowmen this side of the Brazos.”
“All I can say is that you’re mighty tough to have weathered the loss of so many husbands. Takes some godawful fortitude.”
“Are you prone to disease or accidents, Mr. Smith?”
Sudden gunfire fractured the dining room conversation and the quiet clink of silverware but few people blinked.
“What in the hell?” Hardness stole across McKenna’s eyes, turning the golden hues into colorful shards of glass. He started to his feet.
“Don’t pay that any mind.” Tempest attempted to contain embarrassment that rose to her face. Truth be known she was mortified. She tried to cover with a short laugh. “I’m sure it’s only my fool daughter. Alaine’s probably practicing.”
He settled back into his chair. “Doing what? Shooting up the town? Or giving people a heart attack?”
“Nothing that child does surprises me. Over my strenuous objections, Alaine works herself to a frazzle these days trying to get ready for the rodeo shooting competition. She dreams of joining a Wild West show. If not Buffalo Bill’s, then another. Her behavior is certainly unladylike. I’ve impressed upon her my severe displeasure.”
“Kinda dangerous for a girl. Could get her in trouble.”
Tempest sighed, feeling the weight of single parenthood. “I’ve done everything a mother can. If I forbid it, she just sneaks around my back. Figured it’s best to be able to see her so I can go for the doctor. Don’t know who she takes this rebellious streak after.”
McKenna murmured, “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but a wild goose never raised a tame gosling.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Smith?” she asked sharply.
Before he could reply, a frantic man burst through the door. “Bank robbery! Someone is robbing Cattleman’s Bank.”
Some diners crawled under their tables and others sat speechless, their forks frozen halfway to their mouths.
McKenna leaped to his feet, grabbing his hat. Tempest was right behind him, thankful that Alaine hadn’t caused the commotion after all.
They almost reached the door to the street when a bullet shattered a window, zipping past her head.
“Get down!” McKenna pulled her behind a bronze planter. Impatiently pushing the tangle of fern from her eyes, she noticed he’d drawn the heavy Colt. The steel in his hand looked as natural as the fluid way he walked.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “You’ll be safe.”
He edged to the door and slowly opened it. Tempest peered around his broad form and froze. Across the street from the hotel in front of the bank, a masked robber was struggling with a kicking, clawing, red-blooded female in an attempt to get her on a horse.
She’d recognize that flying black cloud of hair anywhere.
“No!” Fear settled in Tempest’s bones like a frigid winter ice storm. The picture of cradling Alaine, holding her baby girl’s lifeless body out on the dusty street, swam circles in her mind. “Stop him. He’s trying to steal my daughter. Please, don’t let him hurt her.”
Chapter 4
Not that the outlaw had overpowered Alaine yet by any means. Nor did the possibility appear particularly rosy either, judging by the way the girl clawed, bit and screeched like a cat that had her tail caught in a meat grinder.
Pride briefly calmed Tempest’s heart that pounded worse than a wild yearling herded into the branding chute. Some of her spunk had rubbed off on her daughter after all.
McKenna grabbed Tempest’s shoulders and shook her. “Get the sheriff. I’ll stop him.”
Clutching the hotel door frame for support, Tempest’s knees sagged. “Sheriff Barnett’s visiting his sick mother in Mobeetie.” Her dry mouth worked to keep panic from rising in her throat. “Won’t be back until tomorrow. Dear God, Alaine!”
Her cry evidently spurred McKenna to action. He charged for the ruthless outlaw who had one arm clamped around Alaine LeDoux’s waist, attempting to throw her on the horse with no regard for the pain he inflicted.
Polished sunlight glinted off McKenna’s silver spurs, their measured clink delivering their own dire warning as the tall figure cut through a billowing cloud of dust. Even the birds appeared to stop fluttering about, lining up on the banner stretched across the street to watch the spectacle.
Without a second thought, Tempest lifted her skirts and dashed behind the man who righted wrongs and restored justice.
Saving her daughter might require both of them.
Cold fear strangled her. She’d had everyone she loved ripped from her life. Alaine had to survive. She wouldn’t bury her daughter too. The fates couldn’t ask that much of her.
And then, just when Tempest thought the odds were about to turn, the mangy robber spied McKenna striding straight for him.
The rotten scoundrel swung. Using Alaine’s wriggling body as a shield, the man fired his pistol, heedless that innocent people might be struck.
Tempest ducked behind McKenna.
“Get on this horse, little missy, or you’ll wish you had,” the outlaw snarled, raising his pistol as if to strike Alaine.
“I wouldn’t do that.” McKenna’s warning sliced the air with steely calm. The warrior in buckskin and black leather planted his feet in the middle of the street with his Colt leveled. “I promise you, you don’t wanna harm her. You just think you have problems with the girl.”
Tempest covered her mouth with her hand. This was insane. Why this town and why Alaine?
“Who are you?” The man squinted, likely to better see who spoke with such bold conviction. “Don’t look like the sheriff.”
“Let’s just say I’m someone who’s gonna stop you.”
“That so?” The man licked his lips and cast a furtive glance. “Ain’t no two-bit cowpoke gonna do that.”
Two-bit cowpoke? Just wait until the dumb fool found out who McKenna was.
“Turn the girl loose and we’ll discuss things.” McKenna edged toward the outlaw. Tempest followed suit.
“I ain’t no fool. Discussing won’t lead me anywhere except to the end of a hangman’s noose.”
Tempest would surely arrange that had she but a length of rope. How dare the piece of scum ride into their town, steal their security, their money and their children!
“Takes a mighty brave man to hide behind a girl’s skirts. Let her go.” A muscle bunched in the hard line of McKenna’s jaw.
The thieving desperado seemed in an awful big hurry to get to hell. If anyone could send him there, McKenna Smith could.
&
nbsp; Alaine’s thrashing abruptly stopped and she went limp. The sudden dead weight caught her captor off guard. A blood-curdling scream escaped Tempest’s mouth. Her heart hammered in her chest. No, this couldn’t happen! The outlaw couldn’t have killed her precious baby girl.
For a split second, the famed Guardian of Justice had a clear shot.
McKenna squeezed the trigger.
But at that very instant, an impeccably dressed stranger in a dark suit and derby hat dashed into the fracas, coming from behind the bandit to help Alaine. Tempest watched in horror, expecting another poor soul to succumb to violence.
Thankfully, McKenna’s bullet grazed the Good Samaritan and struck the intended target.
Cursing, the masked desperado stared at the blood staining his shirtsleeve.
With the man’s attention on his wound, the dapper stranger grabbed Alaine who had sprung to life, tugging her free of the assailant.
“Alaine!” Tempest sprinted from behind McKenna’s dark shadow. The monster had better not have injured her girl. She didn’t care that she might have to go through, around, or over the top of the desperate criminal to get to Alaine.
“Damn you!” With a flying leap, she flung herself onto the outlaw’s back and clung to his neck.
“Get the hell off me.” The man shook until he finally dislodged her and jerked loose from McKenna’s grasp, then seizing the last chance for escape he jumped on his horse and galloped from town.
A hail of gunfire followed as McKenna took aim through the thick acrid smoke that filled the street.
Out of breath from fear and worry, Tempest reached her daughter’s side. “Alaine, honey, are you all right?”
McKenna turned. “Need to borrow your horse, ma’am. Mine’s at the—”
“Take him.”
“Guard my saddlebags with your life. I’ll be back.”
“Just be careful.” She reached out to him, but he was halfway to the hitching rail. “Don’t get…” Her caution trailed, the word hurt or injured or dead left unspoken in the air as the tall gunslinger with his holster slung low on his hip bolted toward death, destruction and duty.
Give Me A Texas Outlaw Bundle with Give Me A Cowboy Page 52