Give Me A Texas Outlaw Bundle with Give Me A Cowboy

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  The man who’d awakened sensual longings and things better suited for dark privacy vaulted into the saddle of her beloved bay, Ace High.

  He barely shook the reins and the powerful animal sprang forward as though shot from a cannon. She watched until they vanished from sight before turning her full attention to Alaine. She ran her hand down each of her daughter’s arms, checking for broken bones.

  “Are you hurt, honey? Let’s get you over to Doc Mitchell.”

  Her daughter pulled her gaze from the handsome stranger and blushed, pushing Tempest away. “Mama, please. I’m fine.”

  “But maybe the doctor should determine that.”

  “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to get ready for the rodeo.” Alaine’s eyes narrowed as she crooked a dark eyebrow at her savior. “Besides, I need to repay this gentleman for his…daring gallantry.”

  Tempest watched her daughter sashay away from her just like she had done when she fell from a tree and skinned her knee sixteen years ago. Alaine had gotten up, brushed herself off and skipped off to play with the foreman’s son. Looked like she’d found someone her size to play with once again. Only what was this dandy-pandy’s idea of fun?

  The dandified Easterner seemed a tad too concerned with his appearance for her liking. He was a little too soft, too neat, too perfect, and he smelled of lilac water for God’s sake.

  Tempest scowled after the pair. For all she knew he might use Alaine for some nefarious means. Regardless of his intentions, she didn’t want her daughter getting involved with him. Not that she’d ever managed to have a voice in Alaine’s affairs. The girl was quick to tell her what she could do with her advice. But a grudging thought came. She had to thank the dandy for helping Alaine escape the clutches of that animal.

  She sighed in defeat and turned toward the Springs Hotel.

  No, Alaine danced to the beat of her own music.

  Too much like her mother most would say.

  Full of gloom, Tempest sank back into her chair in the dining room a few minutes later. She frowned at the mysterious saddlebags with which McKenna had entrusted her.

  No one listened to her. That was a sad fact.

  McKenna Smith was accustomed to danger. Nothing would happen she told herself. Her bad luck didn’t usually work this fast. But what if?

  Propped beside his empty chair, the saddlebags taunted her.

  With a tentative feel, she stroked the worn leather that must have a million tales to tell if only they could. Must hold something all-fired important, for McKenna hadn’t let them out of his sight for a moment. God forbid that he meet with misfortune.

  She undid the buckle of one and slowly eased up the flap with the tip of her fingernail. Just one little teensy glance. What would it hurt?

  After all, she reasoned, if she knew what was in them, she’d know what to do in the event it became necessary.

  But Jabberjaws Edwinna Dewey watched with her beady, little eagle eyes from the next table. The woman actually leaned forward in order to get a good eyeful.

  Heaven help her. Tempest couldn’t do a blasted thing without half the people in town taking her to task.

  She jerked back her hand, fastening her sweaty palms around her half-empty mug of sarsaparilla. Under Jabberbox Edwinna’s piercing gaze, she tried to forget that McKenna Smith made her feel she was all woman with certain needs.

  Tried to forget the ache that lodged in her chest right behind the wall of steel she’d erected from haunted memories.

  But she didn’t have enough voodoo magic to make that happen. She might as well face the reality that she’d lasso a herd of buffalo to have the one thing she’d longed for ever since she caught her mother and father wrapped in each other’s arms when she was eight years old. They hadn’t needed the rest of the world when they were together.

  Was having that too damn much to ask?

  Once, just once in her life, she’d like to love a man and have him love her back without worrying about how long he’d keep breathing. She dreamed of the kind of permanence other women spoke of, the security of having someone else to help solve her problems and to feel the early dawn on her face with the love of her life lying beside her. She’d be warm and thoroughly satisfied, both mentally and physically.

  And in her dream they’d be old and gray and happy as larks.

  Chapter 5

  McKenna clenched his teeth, letting the spirited animal that seemed to share a lot in common with its owner have full rein. At the speed with which they skimmed the ground, it wouldn’t take long until he had the robber in his sights.

  Then it’d be hell to pay.

  He didn’t cotton to thieves who stole hardworking folks’ money or tried to steal a pretty widow’s sole reason for living. He didn’t rightly have a plan, but he wouldn’t go back to Kasota Springs without the loot. That much he knew.

  How he got it would be up to the outlaw. If blood was spilled, then that would be the way of things he reckoned. The choice would be up to the lowbred skunk.

  McKenna wished it hadn’t befallen his lot to pursue the bastard who’d stolen other people’s life savings. But with the sheriff away, no one else had stepped up. They’d all looked to him to do the job. He’d discovered it almost always happened that way.

  That was the price of a reputation.

  Most days he wished for an ordinary life, one that didn’t require the use of a Colt or knowledge of the ways of bad men.

  He thundered down a little arroyo and skirted a rock wall. A cloud of dust up ahead gave him hope. He made out one horse and rider through the haze. No one besides a mangy thiever had reason to torture his horse this way.

  When he caught up to the man, he was liable to kill him just for mistreating the animal.

  Tracks led toward Palo Duro Canyon, a logical place for someone who didn’t want to be found. Given the miles of canyon littered with caves, dugouts and heavy undergrowth, McKenna would have a devil of a time tracking the bandit.

  At least McKenna had wounded him. Wasn’t sure how bad though. Evidently, not nearly bad enough.

  He let out a ragged breath and checked the position of the sun.

  Dark would fall in a few hours.

  On his side…there was only one easily accessible way in and out of the canyon.

  A wry smile formed.

  It’d take time and patience to wait at the entrance though since water was abundant and plenty of rabbits and small game would keep the outlaw fed.

  Regretfully, McKenna had never been a patient man. Especially since he had a deathbed promise to fulfill.

  Pushing the bay, McKenna reached the old Indian trail that led into the deeply creviced prairie a short while later. He eased down the steep grade, sweeping the rock ledges.

  Hair on his neck prickled like he was caught in a lightning storm.

  He pressed his knees to the horse’s side to stop.

  Gentle rustling of the short grass, the skittering of a mule deer through the brush and the feeling in his gut whispered a warning.

  Suddenly the wind stilled and a flock of blackbirds in a large cottonwood took flight.

  Every nerve ending raised, McKenna searched the branches of the cottonwood that obscured the trail. A mass of shimmering leaves and shadows made it impossible to spy anyone lurking in their midst. Saddle leather creaked as McKenna reached for his sidearm. Sliding the Colt from the holster, he nudged the horse slowly forward.

  The lush green canopy brought welcome relief from the sun’s heat. McKenna kept his feet rigid to prevent the rowels of his spurs from jingling. A hitch knot in his stomach cinched tighter.

  Good sense told him to turn around and ride back out.

  He started to do that when the sneaky bastard dropped from the branches onto him, knocking him from the saddle.

  His Colt flew from his hand in the scuffle, skittering to the rocky ground.

  With a sinking heart, he watched Tempest’s horse rear and gallop down the slope, farther into the canyon.


  And sitting on his chest with a pistol pressed to his forehead was the outlaw.

  Darkness descended over Kasota Springs and Tempest LeDoux continued to wait for McKenna in the Springs Hotel lobby with the saddlebags at her feet. She chewed her lip, keeping her attention riveted on the door.

  Her foreman, Teg Tegeler, eased his lanky figure onto the sofa beside her. “Reckon Mr. Smith ran into a passel of trouble.”

  “Appears that way.” She stared at the yammering group of men gathered in a knot in the hotel saloon. “Can’t believe those fools would lay odds on whether he’ll come back or keep riding. Makes me mad enough to swallow a horned toad backward. McKenna Smith is an honorable man.”

  Teg raised a craggy eyebrow. “Shoot, don’t take it personal. You know Murdoch’ll bet on which direction a bird will fly from a tree. So will a few of the others.”

  “Doesn’t excuse them.”

  A grin spread over the weather-beaten face. “Never thought I’d see you turn down a chance to gamble.”

  “See no sport in this. Something terrible’s happened.”

  Tempest said a silent prayer for the valiant keeper of justice. She grew cold as visions of him lying in a pool of blood on a lonely stretch of prairie drifted across her mind.

  Flying bullets were deadly. Ask husband number four.

  She swallowed hard and reached for the saddlebags, pulling them into her lap. The leather pouches might be all she had left to remember the tall Texan by. What would she do with them if he never returned? Again, she thought of looking inside when a shadow fell across the worn leather.

  “Mrs. LeDoux, I have it on good authority that you’re in possession of Mr. Smith’s belongings.”

  She raised her gaze to Phinneas Jenkins, the surly malcontent and owner of the survey and land office. “I do, not that it’s anything to you.”

  Phinneas puffed out his barrel chest, his mouth drawing in a tight line around a fat cigar. “I’m taking charge of those saddlebags in the sheriff’s stead.”

  Tempest clutched them tighter. “When the devil sprouts wings and beats the flames from his scrawny rear end!”

  Teg’s feet had already hit the floor. “Touch ’em and I’ll rip off your fingers. Smith left them in Tempest’s keeping and that’s where they’ll remain, by God.”

  “I happen to believe they may contain loot from other robberies,” Phinneas blustered. “No doubt he was in cahoots with the bank robber and they hightailed it out together.”

  A spewing sound leapt from Tempest’s mouth. “And you truly think he’d leave it behind! You’re a halfwit.”

  “Peddle your notions somewhere else.” Teg poked the man’s chest. “Or better yet, keep ’em to yourself.”

  “I ain’t the only one of that opinion.” Phinneas Jenkins swaggered off to join the betting frenzy in the hotel saloon.

  “Ma’am, why don’t you have the clerk lock the bags in the hotel safe for now?” Teg motioned toward Phinneas who’d captured the group’s attention. “Could get ugly. Not that I don’t think you can handle those blowhards. You’ve chopped off their heads before and served ’em to ’em on a silver platter. Just might save on bloodshed.”

  “Probably wise. These are awfully important to McKenna.”

  While Tempest stowed the saddlebags in the safe, the noisy crowd moved their bet-taking into the lobby, congesting it with sweaty bodies, schemes and stupidity. She scowled at the unholy mess.

  “If you don’t need me, I’m riding back to the ranch, ma’am,” Teg announced over the din.

  “Don’t see what else there is to do tonight. I’m going to take a room here. Want to be close.” When the tall lanky foreman turned to go, she grabbed his arm. “Teg, keep an eye on Alaine. So many strangers riding in for the rodeo.”

  “Always do, ma’am. Today ain’t no different from the rest.”

  Tempest made arrangements for a room and headed for the stairs. But her attempt to escape the crush ended in frustration. They swallowed her up in the madness.

  Angus Murdoch caught sight of her and waved a piece of paper. The sign-hanger would relish locking horns with her again. “Placed your wager, Mrs. LeDoux? A sure bet we won’t see hide nor hair of Mr. Smith or our life savings again.”

  Tempest favored him with a withering glare. The man never missed a chance to stir a boiling pot or poke her with a sharp stick.

  “Wasn’t going to, but I’ve changed my mind.” She opened her handbag and held up a coin. Raising her voice above the clamor, she announced, “This shiny ten dollar gold piece says McKenna Smith will bring back the outlaw and the loot.”

  Hoots of laughter followed Tempest’s bold prediction. Wasn’t the first time they’d jeered her.

  Angus pocketed the coin. “I’ll take your bet.”

  “Gives us a chance to get back some of what you took from us in your poker games,” growled Phinneas Jenkins.

  Turning on her heel, Tempest whirled to push through the rabble-rousers but found her way blocked by a quiet neighbor she’d not shared more than a half dozen words with in his six years in the Panhandle.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Tears glistened in the hardscrabble rancher’s blue eyes. “I know Mr. Smith’s gonna make these fools eat their words. I’d put my money on him, but I lost everything I had in the robbery. Nothing much between my family and starvation. I trust McKenna Smith. He’ll do us right.”

  Tempest patted his shoulder. “I believe that.”

  A man in overalls, a farmer by the looks, overheard and raised his voice. “The mangy outlaw stole mine too, but I have two hogs I’ll wager that we get it all back.”

  “I got two dollars to my name in a fruit jar at home that says Mrs. LeDoux is right,” yelled another.

  Amazed at the unaccustomed support, Tempest beamed. She had friends she didn’t know she had. Her chest swelled.

  A young man about Alaine’s age that she knew only as Pony Boy stepped forward, gripping his hat in his hand. “I watched my maw wash other people’s clothes on a rub board until her fingers bled. We ain’t never had more’n two cents to rub together.” His voice hitched with unshed tears. “But my maw, God rest her soul, saved up three dollars and thirty-two cents before she died. She opened up an account at the bank for me. That no account weasel took it. Mr. Smith is my only hope.”

  “Pony Boy, I’m truly sorry about your mother. If I recall, you lost your father too when a horse fell on him. If I can help in any way, will you let me?”

  The boy’s face tightened. “Ain’t asking for a handout, ma’am.”

  It was all Tempest could do to keep from wrapping her arms around him. But that’d make him draw further into his shell.

  Instead, she added a business tone to her gentle reply. “And I don’t give charity. I offer work for those who need it. You’ll get your money back. And if you want the job, come see me or my foreman. We’re always looking for willing hands.”

  “Appreciate it, ma’am.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Here and there.” Pony Boy swallowed hard. “House burned down a few months ago. Mostly I bed down under the porch of the church. Ain’t complaining. It’s okay and no one bothers me.”

  She choked back a lump in her throat. She’d been that poor once. She’d never forgotten the despair. Even when she crawled between the fancy sheets on her big four-poster bed, she remembered nights when she had nothing but a ragged blanket to ward off the chill and a rock for a pillow. Before tears spilled, she shoved through the gaggle of buffoons and stumbled into the street. Couldn’t go anywhere else since they’d blocked the hotel stairs.

  Damn! Why did life have to be so cruel sometimes? And why did McKenna Smith ride into the middle of her heart if he was just going to get himself killed?

  At daybreak, Tempest could stand the sound of her frantic heartbeat no longer. She smoothed her wrinkled clothes and hurried down to the hotel desk. The clerk was Joe, the same fellow who’d locked McKenna’s saddlebags in the s
afe.

  “Please tell me Mr. Smith rode in.”

  Through bleary eyes, Joe peered over the rim of his spectacles. “No, ma’am.”

  “Might you be mistaken? Maybe someone relieved you for a while? Or maybe you dozed?”

  Joe straightened and adjusted the red garters that held his shirtsleeves at the proper length. “I assure you, madam, I take my job very seriously. He didn’t enter this hotel.”

  Tempest sighed. “I didn’t mean to get your nose out of whack. I’ll be in the dining room having breakfast—”

  “Yes, I’ll come get you if he comes in.”

  She leaned to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good man, Joe.”

  Wasting an hour and a half dawdling over eggs and coffee, she still saw no sign of McKenna.

  If only Sheriff Barnett would get back. Maybe she should send Teg out to try to find McKenna.

  She finally took up residence on a velvet sofa, had lunch at noon in the dining room, and then wandered onto the sidewalk for a good breath of air. It seemed wise to get out of the hotel for a bit since everyone had grown tired of placing bets on when she’d give up on the gunslinger.

  Besides, she’d decided at last to send someone to the ranch for Teg. Pony Boy would, but he probably didn’t own a horse.

  That’s when she remembered McKenna’s dun over at the livery. She didn’t have to send for Teg; she could go herself. Her skirts whipped around her ankles as she made tracks for the gelding. Just before she reached the livery, the sheriff galloped into town in a swirl of dust.

  Breathing thanks, she sprinted toward the jail.

  “Sheriff, we have major problems,” she began.

  The hefty man dismounted and raised his hand to stop her. “Already heard about the bank robbery, Mrs. LeDoux.”

  “But I’m concerned for McKenna Smith. He lit out after the varmint yesterday afternoon and hasn’t returned.”

  “Yep, I know that too.” He opened the door to the jail and stepped inside.

  Tempest nipped at his heels. “If you’re not going to look for him, I’ll go myself. He could be hurt or in the clutches of that man.” She swallowed hard. “Or dead.”