Colorado Captive

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Clancy’s eyes shone with a greedy lust as he chuckled down at her. “You might be right about that, little—”

  “So why don’t we go upstairs, where it’s private?” she murmured. She forced herself to stroke his smoke-blackened cheek. “I could give you a nice hot bath, to get the kerosene smell off you, and then—”

  “That’ll be after I—”

  Emily kissed him, to give herself time to plan her strategy—which was difficult, with his fat, bearlike body rubbing against hers. Then she pulled away, pretending his kiss had excited her beyond reason. “Clancy, darlin’,” she moaned, “do you want to see my naked body, lyin’ on the bed waitin’ for you?”

  Donahue shuddered against her. “That’s exactly what I intend to—”

  “Then let me go upstairs and get out of all these clothes,” she insisted in a breathy voice. “I don’t want even my lacy little underthings to come between us, honey. And why not empty our guns and give ‘em to me, so we can…play with ‘em?”

  Her captor’s lips parted, but his expression was wary. “Not gonna do anything stupid, are you? If you’re thinkin’ to ambush me at your bedroom door—”

  “I’m gonna be spread-eagle on the bed, Clancy. Buck naked, and wantin’ you so bad I can’t hold still.” Emily sucked in her breath to make her breasts heave toward him, and then backed away from his grasp. “You told me in the cave how much fun you and Princess Cherry Blossom had with your pistol, darlin’. I’d like to try it. Really I would.”

  Clancy released her and reached for his weapon, his arousal apparent. He licked his lips, watching her breasts with utmost concentration as his bullets, and then hers, clattered onto the parquet floor.

  “Just think of it,” she teased as she took the guns and backed slowly toward the door. “You could plunge into me…I’d wrap my bare thighs around you, just like the Princess did. She taught me a few of her tricks, Clancy. You just wait here, darlin’, thinkin’ about what-all you’re gonna do to me, and I’ll call you when I’m stark naked. I can’t wait…”

  Donahue was staring fixedly at her, so she blew him a quick kiss and then hurried toward the staircase. With a last glance to see that he was staying behind, she coyly lifted her hem with a revolver to expose her legs, and then dashed up the steps.

  When she turned toward the bathroom, she was suddenly pulled into the shadows by a broad hand clamped over her mouth. Emily struggled against a man who was rock solid and smelled like smoke, until a voice she didn’t recognize said, “Goodness but you’ve grown, Miss Burnham. It was damn hard to stand still, listening to that line you were feeding Donahue, but let’s not ruin it for him, all right? When I’m sure you won’t scream, I’ll let you go.”

  She tried to rip his hand away, but the stranger tightened his grip.

  “Emily, it’s me—Sundance,” he whispered. “The guy who gave you that fine palomino?”

  Her eyes flew open and she collapsed against him nodding.

  “I heard about your pa getting shot,” he continued in a quiet voice. “And now that the law’s not combing this place, I came to offer my condolences. Noticed that fellow throwing fire bombs into your stables, so I thought I’d better help out.” Sundance cleared his throat as though it was a strain for him. “I can’t keep my hands under control much longer, with you hanging out of your dress this way, Emily. Don’t make a sound, all right? And for Chrissakes, don’t shoot!”

  She nodded emphatically, and when he released her, she quickly laid the guns on the floor so she could tug her bodice back up. The blond man in the shadows was trying to stifle his laughter and keep his pistols pointed away from her as he took in her shocked expression. “What about the horses?” she whispered. “Did they—”

  “I shooed them out before most of the straw caught. Saw the firebug’s mount tied to your porch, and figured you might need—”

  “But what about the man you saw—”

  “Shh!” Sundance clamped his hand over her face again, listening. “Our culprit’s getting restless. You’d better call him out, so he won’t suspect anything. Just say something real juicy, and then stay out of my way.”

  Hesitating, she wondered if a man as compactly built as Harry Longbaugh could withstand Donahue’s enraged, bullish charge if his first bullet missed.

  “Go on, sweetheart. Tell him those naked thighs are all a-tremble.”

  Emily tugged at the top of her dress again and leaned over the balcony railing, forcing the sweetness of a thousand magnolias into her voice. “Clancy?” she called out. “Darlin’, I’m waitin’. Come and get it!”

  They heard quick, heavy footsteps. “What took you so damn long?” came Donahue’s hoarse reply. “I was ready to come bustin’ up there—”

  The Sundance Kid vaulted neatly over the rail, his hat sailing off as he planted the heels of his boots in Clancy’s upturned face. Then the front door burst open, and McClanahan rushed inside, pointing his pistol at the undulating mass of arms and legs on the parlor floor. “Careful, Longbaugh,” he called out above their grunts. “He’s quicker than you think.”

  Emily stared at the scene below, too stunned to move. Sundance was pummeling Donahue with his fist and his gun butt, yet the oversized rustler was slowly rolling into a sitting position as though nothing were happening to him.

  “Jump back,” Matt hollered. “He’s not going anywhere with my gun in his face.”

  But before the agile blond could move, Clancy threw him against the doorway of the study with a swat of one huge paw. He glowered at McClanahan, wiping his blood-soaked mustache with his sleeve. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man.”

  “Why not?” Matt countered. “Elliott Burnham didn’t have a gun that night you killed him, and it didn’t matter then.” He stood poised to spring away, his arms extended as they clasped his revolver. “Put your hands on your head. Crabtree’s coming with a rope, and we’re taking you to the sheriff in Colorado Springs.”

  “Too chickenshit to shoot me?” Donahue taunted.

  “A bullet’s better than you deserve. Now get those hands up there.”

  Emily’s heart pounded up into her throat as Matt stepped close to Donahue. “Shoot him,” she pleaded. “He’ll trick you into—”

  Clancy’s hand darted out and when McClanahan’s pistol struck the wall, it fired. Matt jumped away, but not before the red-bearded rustler sprang to his feet and landed a solid right hook in McClanahan’s face.

  Unable to think or breathe, Emily rushed into the bathroom. Grunts and curses rang out below her as she desperately sorted through her riding clothes for Silas’s gun. Grasping its cool pearl handle, she hurried back to the balcony and then partway down the stairs. Longbaugh had joined the scuffle again, but he was suddenly caught by the collar in a chokehold. Clancy then lumbered after McClanahan, tripping Matt as he scrambled toward his gun; the burly outlaw started swinging Sundance as though he intended to bash the two men’s heads together.

  “Let them go, Donahue! You’re a dead man!” Emily yelled above their ruckus.

  Donahue looked up at her with a malicious laugh. “Hell, you don’t even know which hand to hold the gun in, little girl.”

  Emily saw blood running from Matt’s stitches—reminded herself that Clancy had killed Papa, maimed Idaho, attacked Zenia Collins and Grace, and sent Grath and probably countless others to their graves—and she squeezed the trigger. Clancy’s mouth dropped open, and when the bullet whistled past his ear he let go of McClanahan and Sundance, just as she’d planned.

  “You ungrateful little bitch, I’ll—”

  “You’ll be wearing a rope collar, if I have anything to say about it,” Emily badgered him. And just as she’d hoped, Donahue started toward the stairway, which gave Matt and Longbaugh a chance to prepare for another attack. The outlaw’s face was bruised and bloody, and his hideous grin left no doubt in her mind that if he caught hold of her again, she wouldn’t live to tell about it.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Longbaug
h scrambling for their pistols and McClanahan positioning himself in front of the fireplace. “Only an idiot would kill his victim before he got his money,” Matt taunted. “Come at me, Donahue! Get rid of me, and Emily’s yours for the taking.”

  “She’s mine anyway,” Donahue grunted. His breathing was labored, and Emily thought he might be seeing double, the way he was squinting at her, but he was only a few steps away from the staircase.

  “So fight me for her, man to man,” McClanahan sang out. “Any lout who threatens a woman’s a coward, in my book. A bigger damn coward than Grath was.”

  Emily was ready to bolt back up the stairs, but McClanahan’s words made lightning flash in Clancy’s eyes. The brute pivoted suddenly, like an angry bull.

  “Shut your damn mouth, McClanahan.”

  “Shut it for me, coward! Longbaugh’s out of it—it’s just you and me, like it should’ve been all along.”

  “You sonuvabitchin’—”

  With surprising speed, Donahue lowered his head and charged toward Matt, who was poised before the fireplace to pounce on him. The men suddenly seemed suspended in time, moving toward each other with the fatal finality of two locomotives meeting head-on, and it was more than Emily could bear to watch. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned away just before a fierce yell filled the room, followed by the sickening sound of the collision.

  For several moments the parlor rang with silence. Emily held her breath, not daring to look upon the grisly scene she imagined below her. Had McClanahan been crushed between the burly outlaw and the stone fireplace? Or were there two bodies on the floor?

  Then Sundance cleared this throat. “McClanahan, you damn near didn’t dodge him in time.”

  “Couldn’t have dived any sooner, or he would’ve figured me out.”

  As their voices penetrated her frantic thoughts, the pistol dropped from her quaking hand and she leaned heavily against the newel post. Cold sweat was popping out on her brow, and a rankling coppery taste flooded her mouth as she forced her eyes open. Clancy’s bearlike body lay sprawling across the hearth, his head cocked at an unnatural angle.

  Matt saw her face go white and sat her down on a step. “You were right, rosebud. I was a fool to think he’d stand for being delivered to the law alive. I should’ve put him away a long time ago, when I knew he killed your father.”

  Emily stared blankly into McClanahan’s face, still unable to fathom what had just happened. “I thought you were dead. Again,” she murmured weakly.

  “I would’ve been, had you not distracted him with that bullet,” he replied. He wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, trying to coax a smile out of her. “Lucky for me Donahue wasn’t such a hot shot. His bullet grazed my boot out there, but I played dead to catch my breath. A few minutes later Longbaugh dusted me off, and he slipped in through the kitchen while I covered him from the porch window. I knew you could entertain Clancy till we charged in on him—but it was a helluva shock to see you hurrying up the stairs with your clothes half off.”

  The hint of indignation in his voice brought Emily out of her stupor. “What’d you think we were doing—playing cards?” she demanded shrilly. “I thought I did damn well, convincing him to wait till I fetched Silas’s gun.”

  “Promised him naked thighs, and tricks some Cherry Princess taught her,” Sundance teased. He set the pistols aside, and then picked something up off the rug before he joined them on the stairway. “You better watch out for this woman, McClanahan. She talks dirty, and she plays for keeps.”

  “I know. I plan to marry her as soon as I can—so the rest of the men in these parts’ll be safe, you know.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Emily looked from McClanahan on her left to Longbaugh on her right, noting two sets of sparkling blue eyes in rugged, smudged faces that were creased with mirth. “I was scared spitless that Donahue’d rip this dress off me—a dress I didn’t even want,” she added in a bitter whisper. “And you two sit here making light of the way I—”

  “You saved my life, rosebud,” Matt murmured as he tightened his arms around her. “But rather than say gushy things that’ll embarrass you, in front of Sundance here, I’m trying to perk you up.”

  “You looked ready to keel over,” Longbaugh added gently. “Even though you saved our shiftless butts, it’s still a shock to think about what we just saw. Your Pa’d be mighty proud of the way you handled yourself.”

  “Yes, he would,” McClanahan chimed in. “So let’s see some sparkle in those eyes and a smile on that pretty face.”

  “Maybe this’ll help. I believe it’s yours?” Longbaugh grinned at her—a kind, boyish grin she didn’t expect from a notorious horse thief. He pressed something cool and hard into her hand.

  “My locket,” she said softly. “Damn bandit broke the chain when he yanked it off me.”

  McClanahan hugged her close and was about to kiss the single tear dribbling down her cheek when the door flew open. Richard Crabtree rushed in with a rope, followed by B.J. and three of the other hands.

  “What’re you doing—oh.” The foreman walked over to Donahue’s inert form and stared down at it. “Guess we’re too late. You all right, Emily?”

  “I—I’ll be fine. Thanks, Richard,” she replied quietly.

  He nodded and looked at the smoke-blackened faces of the hands who’d come in with him. “Haul him out to the yard. Let’s hope the sheriff comes in a wagon— he’ll need it.”

  B.J. and the others each took one of Donahue’s treelike limbs. As they strained to carry him toward the door, Richard followed them. Then he turned and smiled at Emily. “The horses are fine—spooky, but we got them herded into a corral for the night. Since we owe your friend here a favor, I won’t tell Sheriff Fredricks who chased them out of the stable.”

  Longbaugh stood, nodding his appreciation. “Thanks, Crabtree. I was just leaving.”

  Emily watched the men stumble outside, bearing the dead weight of Donahue’s body. When she looked up into the Sundance Kid’s keen blue eyes, she felt her smile returning. “We do owe you. It would have taken us weeks to train new mounts for the men, and I guess you know I couldn’t find another horse like my Sundance.”

  Longbaugh stooped to retrieve his hat from the corner, and then put it on. And with a perfectly straight face he replied, “Comes a time you need another one, though, I might be able to bring you a mount nearly as good. You folks take care now.”

  He slipped through the kitchen and closed the door so silently they didn’t hear anything, until quiet hoof-beats were galloping into the distance. Matt let out the breath he was holding. “Of all the nerve, to—you know damn well he means to steal that horse from me!”

  McClanahan’s smudged face grew ruddy as he continued to rail about outlaws’ thieving ways, and Emily couldn’t help chuckling. Their life would return to normal now: they could marry and have a family, and carry their Colorado empire into the next generation, without the threat of a ruthless, red-bearded killer hanging over them. Yet she knew life with Matt McClanahan would be anything but boring. “It’ll still be our horse, you know,” she interrupted quietly. “You should be flattered that Sundance recognizes your stock’s excellent blood lines and breeding.”

  Matt looked at her with something akin to wonder. She was really his now, this petite, golden rose whose tawny eyes saw through his schemes and dreams, yet still shone with love. He kissed her lightly on the lips, letting his fingers wander to the warm flesh beneath the scalloped edge of her dress. As always, he felt the stirring that would keep him clinging to her for the rest of his life. Then he chuckled and kissed her again. “I do have a good eye for horseflesh, don’t I?”

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 Charlotte Hubbard

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