Jodi Thomas

by When a Texan Gambles

Hesitantly he moved his palm over her breast. When his thumb crossed, she arched her back, begging for more. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hand moving over her tender skin. He explored every curve, returning again and again to cross her peak, then chuckled softly as she moaned in pleasure.

  He was like an artist, warming clay as he molded it in his hand.

  When she opened her eyes, she found him studying her. He shoved away part of her gown that had lingered as if he could not stand anything to touch her except his hand.

  When he noticed she watched him, he asked, “Are you cold?”

  “No,” she answered, wanting to thank him for asking.

  “Does this embarrass you?” He gazed into her eyes as his hand tightened over her breast.

  Her eyelids closed and her lips parted as a sigh of pure joy escaped. “No,” she answered again, marveling that she didn’t feel the least embarrassed. “Would you mind if I ask you to do it again sometime?” she whispered when the pleasure allowed her to talk once more.

  A smile lifted the comer of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Then, like warm water trickling down her throat, his mouth moved down, only this time he didn’t stay at the valley between her breasts, but claimed her with his mouth.

  Sarah bolted upward with a bliss that coursed through her every pore. By the time he’d finished tasting first one and then the other, desire drugged her completely. He returned to her mouth and drew her very soul out with the depth of his kiss.

  His fingers moved across her, touching her boldly now as he kissed her. She drifted in heaven. When he covered one breast with his mouth and the other firmly within his hand, she thought she’d die of pleasure. She arched her back and cried his name.

  Sam stopped and buried his face in her tangled hair. “Are you all right?” he whispered, out of breath. “Did I hurt you?” He sounded unsure, as though he’d never done this before. “I’m afraid I got carried away.”

  She moved her cheek against his. “No, you didn’t hurt me.” Low in his ear, she whispered, “Get carried away again, please.”

  Sam raised hungry eyes to meet hers. Without breaking the stare, his hand moved to her bare skin once more.

  She smiled as he memorized her with his touch. Desire fired in his gaze, warming her, telling her she’d not have to beg for his touch. She silently said his name, leaving her lips parted as he lowered his mouth to grant her unspoken request.

  She didn’t respond when a light tapping sounded at the door, but Sam swept her into his arms and carried her to her bed. By the time he’d reached the bedroom, the man holding her had turned to stone. He dropped her onto the bed in haste.

  “It’s too early for them to be bringing breakfast.” His words were cold, factual.

  She caught a glimpse of Sam’s eyes, now hard as the steel of the Colts he strapped around his waist.

  He pulled the door so that anyone in the hallway could not see her, then lifted his rifle before answering the tapping sound.

  “Who is it!” All tenderness had vanished from his voice.

  The tapping came again. More urgent this time.

  Sam moved beside the door.

  Sarah forgot to breathe. Her first thought was to hide under the covers, but if Sam thought bullets might permeate the door, they’d surely reach her.

  “Step away,” Sam ordered through the door.

  Sarah could no longer stay still. She clutched the covers around her and hurried to stand behind the opening to her bedroom. From there, through the sliver in the crack, she could see Sam. Something he’d said to the Ranger days ago flashed through her mind. “They’ll have to get through me to harm Sarah. ”

  She wanted to scream, “No! Don’t kill Sam! Not because of me!” But fear held her, packing ice water around her senses until she knew she could do nothing but wait.

  “I said step away from the door!” Sam’s voice rattled through the two rooms.

  He raised his rifle to his shoulder and slid his foot a few inches in front of the door. With lightning movements he turned the knob and raised his fingers to the trigger as the wood tapped against the barrier of his boot.

  He looked into the hallway through the sight on his rifle.

  Sarah forced herself to watch. Slow, endless seconds ticked by.

  Sam didn’t lower the rifle as four bloody fingers twisted their way around the door and brushed his white shirt.

  EIGHTEEN

  SAM STEPPED AWAY FROM THE DOOR, HIS SHIRT streaked with blood as a woman stumbled across the threshold and into his drawing room. Her gray wool cape slipped off her rounded shoulders, and he recognized the barmaid who’d told him a few nights ago that her name was Norma.

  She staggered forward, revealing long crimson lines sliced along her throat.

  “Help me!” she cried with the terror of a death cry. “Please, help me!”

  Sam caught her as she fainted, a bloody mass of rags and wool.

  “Sarah!” His shout bore the order of a general in battle. There was no time for discussion. “Sarah, I need you.”

  His wife rushed to his side before her name died in the air. She didn’t say a word, just stood ready. If he’d had the time, Sam would have complimented her. But there was work to do, and fast. Trouble had come to call.

  He shoved the rifle into Sarah’s hands and heaved the barmaid off the rug. “Bolt the door.”

  She followed his command as Sam tried to find a place to put the woman. She was easily twice as heavy as Sarah, maybe more. And unlike his wife, Norma knew no silence. She mumbled and cried, still fighting demons.

  With no help from the barmaid, Sam made it to the settee, where only moments before he had been loving Sarah. He deposited the woman on the upholstery, struggling to free himself from her fleshy arms. In her hour of need he seemed to be the shore she clung to as she regained a measure of strength.

  “Help me,” she begged, holding his shirt in a vise grip. “Please, help me, mister. I’m a dead woman if you don’t.”

  Sam stared down at her as she fought to catch her breath. He wasn’t sure what he could do. She very likely put both his and Sarah’s life in danger by coming here.

  “Of course we’ll help you,” came Sarah’s voice from somewhere behind him. She shoved Sam out of the way as if he weren’t a mountain standing in her path. “Now lie back and relax, dear.”

  Sam stared as Sarah knelt between him and the woman bleeding on the couch. She carried a basin of water and several towels draped over her arm. It crossed his mind that she never called him dear when he was wounded. She was usually too busy calling him other names.

  “Just lie still and let me have a look at those cuts.” Sarah dropped a small towel into the water. “We’ll deal with the one on your arm as soon as we clean the ones at your throat.”

  The woman stared at the angel before her in total fright. She stopped crying, or begging, or screaming. She just lay there while Sarah worked, as though sensing she was somehow in good hands.

  Slowly the snow of the towel spotted with blood, and the basin of water turned crimson.

  Sam hadn’t even noticed the cut running atop her forearm, but he knew how the barmaid felt. He’d reacted the same way when Sarah doctored him. Like heaven had let one of its angels free for a moment. His wife hadn’t lied when she said she knew how to handle the wounded. She worked with skill and speed.

  “Now, this is a little cold,” Sarah whispered as though talking to a child. “It will help stop the blood’s flow along your throat.”

  Sarah wet a clean towel and pressed it over the woman’s throat. As she lifted the barmaid’s hand to hold the cloth in place, she asked as calmly as if she’d been at tea. “Now, what did you say your name was, dear?”

  “Norma,” she answered. “Just Norma, ma‘am. If I had a last name once, I’ve forgotten it.”

  “Well, don’t you worry, Norma. You’re going to be just fine.” Sarah wrapped the wound ac
ross the woman’s arm as she spoke. “I’ve tended many a cut, and the first thing we have to do is stop the bleeding. As far as I know, two things will help do that. One is cold water and the other one is a good tight bandage.”

  To Sam’s surprise the barmaid leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing Sarah to tend to her wounds. He couldn’t move as Sarah worked her magic, talking all the while of how much better she would feel in a few minutes.

  Finally, when all but a thin line of blood was gone from the woman’s throat, Sarah glanced up at Sam. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “Whoever did this may have meant to frighten, not kill. Another quarter inch and she would have died.”

  Sam frowned at the barmaid. If it was Reed’s work, he’d gotten sloppy or careless. With two slashes he had probably meant to kill. One slash would have frightened her plenty.

  Sam wished she’d never found his door, but curiosity got the better of him. “How’d you know where to find me?” he snapped with more anger than he’d meant to show.

  Norma looked frightened as she glanced past Sarah to him. “When you left the other night, I ran across the street to my place and got my boy to follow you. For all I knew, you was one of Reed’s men come to make sure none of us ever talked about the man or what he did to Ellie.”

  “I didn’t come back here to the hotel that night.” Sam shot the words at her in rapid fire.

  “I know,” she answered. “But my boy’s smart. He said you circled the place a couple of times, and with each passing, you stared up at a window on the second floor like you was searching for gold.”

  Sam swore to himself. He’d always been so careful about covering his tracks, but the old hag was right. He might not have returned to the hotel room, but he couldn’t resist looking up at the windows in hopes of seeing Sarah pass. He’d let his fascination with his wife put her in danger. He should slit his own throat.

  With Sarah’s help, the woman sat up. “I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important, mister. I would have told the Irishman I was looking for you and waited like you told me to do.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “But Ellie ain’t got the time. I had to find you.”

  “Ellie?”

  “The girl you saw in the bar that night you came in to ask me to look for Reed,” Norma whispered as if someone might overhear them. “The one with the scar running across her face.”

  “I remember,” Sam answered. “What about her?”

  Norma closed her eyes and forced words out. “The man you were looking for—Reed—came back late last night. I didn’t notice him until well after time for the bar to close. Me and Ellie was cleaning up when I saw him standing in the shadows. He was twirling a thin silver knife between his fingers like it was no more than a toy.”

  She made no effort to block the tears running down her face and dripping off her chin. “I told Ellie to hide in the back, and I turned to face Reed.” She smiled. “But I ain’t no fool, I keep a big old bowie knife handy just in case there’s trouble. I pulled it out from behind the comer of the bar before I walks toward the thin snake of a man.”

  Sam glanced at Sarah. Her eyes were huge with both interest and fright. He fought the urge to pull her beneath his arm.

  Norma straightened, remembering. “ ‘What’a you want, Mr. Reed?‘ I yelled before I got so near him that he could reach out and tickle me with that silver blade. ’We’re closed for the night,‘ I says real official. He looked at me like I was spilled whiskey, then pointed toward the door where Ellie Girl had gone with his hand, like I wouldn’t notice he was missing a finger.”

  The barmaid’s eyes grew wild as she continued. “ ‘You ain’t the one I want, woman,’ he says and moves toward me like he planned to walk right through me if he had to. ‘The one I want already has my mark on her,’ he says. ‘She knows the game I like to play.’

  “Well, I starts yelling and show him my big knife. I was the one who held Ellie after he left her bleeding, and I didn’t plan on doing it again.”

  Norma looked up at Sarah. “I don’t know much about doctoring. I was real worried I would do the wrong thing. We couldn’t pay no doctor, but I put the soot from the fire on the openings so they’d stop bleeding and not swell up. I don’t know if I done right. It left a bad scar.”

  Sam watched Sarah. His wife’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. If he thought she’d leave, he’d order her from the room. There was no need for her to hear this. Reed wasn’t after Sarah. The man was gunning for him. But Sam didn’t bother even to ask; he figured Sarah would never leave.

  “What happened?” He knew the rest of the story would be no better than the first.

  The barmaid touched her throat gingerly. “He came at me all of a sudden, like a changing in the wind that takes your breath away. I fought him, swinging my knife. But he was too fast. Before I could cut him once, he hit me up the side of my head so hard the room started to whirl. Next thing I know I’m lying in the grime of the floor. He had his knee pressed so hard against my chest I couldn’t get no air. I heard him laugh just a moment before I felt the knife slice along my throat.”

  Norma reached for Sam’s hand, but he pulled away. He needed to be ready if trouble broke into the room. A part of him strained to hear footsteps coming toward the door. Reed may have known nothing about Sam being in town. The outlaw may have only stepped into the bar to find the girl. But if Reed saw the old woman run to tell someone, it was a sure bet that he’d follow.

  “What happened next?” Sam noticed Sarah took the woman’s outstretched hand.

  “Reed grabbed my hair and started slamming my head against the floor. I guess I wasn’t dying quick enough for him.” She blew her nose on the comer of one of the towels. “I don’t know how many times he did it. After a few hits I could hear the thuds more than feel them. I must have blacked out, ‘cause the next thing I knew I was staring at the ceiling and feeling something warm trickling down my neck. I got up and looked around, but Ellie and Reed were gone.”

  Norma wiped her nose on the bandage Sarah had just tied around her arm. “He got her, mister. I just know he got her, and this time he’ll kill her for sure.”

  Sam reached for his rifle.

  Norma cried, “You got to go after them, Mr. Sam! You got the look of a man who wears a gun easy. Like a real gunfighter. I don’t know of nobody else who might have a chance with a killer like Reed. I’ll pay you. I got twenty dollars saved this month. It’s yours if you can find Ellie and bring her back.”

  Sam knelt on one knee beside the sobbing barmaid. He finally understood. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

  Norma nodded. “I don’t tell folks. Don’t want them to think I’m that old. But I’m her ma and I love her more than I love my own life. I done the best I could for her and my boy. They ain’t had much, but we never went hungry. Most women in my line of work give their youn guns up, but I couldn’t.”

  Sarah put her arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Sam will help,” she whispered. “He’ll find Ellie and bring her back.”

  Sam looked from the barmaid to Sarah. “I can’t.” How could Sarah make such a promise?

  “You have to,” she answered, as though her request were a simple one.

  “I can’t leave you here!” Sam stormed. The idea that he might leave Sarah to face Reed frightened Sam more than any gun pointed in his direction ever had. “Half the town might have followed her to the hotel. I have to think of your safety, Sarah. I can’t go after Ellie and leave you in harm’s way.”

  Sarah stood and placed both fists on her hips. “You have to go, Sam. You have to try to save her daughter while there may still be time.”

  “Why?” Couldn’t she see that risking her life wouldn’t be worth trying to save some young saloon girl who was probably dead already? Reed usually took his time with the women he tortured. He liked to frighten them with talk before he made terrified believers out of them with his knife. But tonight Reed might figure someone would come after him for taking the gir
l a second time. He might hurry or decide to leave no witnesses to complain. Sam had to make Sarah understand. He needed to be here with her. To protect her.

  Sarah looked at him with sadness in her beautiful pale blue eyes and whispered, “Because her daughter could have been me.”

  NINETEEN

  IT TOOK A WHILE BEFORE SARAH CONVINCED SAM that she and Norma would be safe in the hotel room. After all, if someone had followed Norma from the back alley saloon, he would have burst the door down by now. If Reed took Ellie, he couldn’t have followed Norma, and the old barmaid was certain there was no one else in the place after closing time.

  Norma finally ended the argument by swearing she could handle a rifle better than she could a knife. Sam made her promise to keep the gun across her lap and plant at least three bullets in anyone who entered.

  When a tap sounded at the door, they jumped, but with the call of a breakfast delivery, they all let out a breath at once. The women hurried into the bedroom while Sam answered the door. He questioned the two delivery men in red jackets, and they both claimed that the lobby had been quiet since long before dawn. One said he noticed a woman wearing a cape run up the stairs, and another said he’d seen two businessmen leaving earlier. Other than that, one man swore, no one had entered the hotel. They both claimed it would be another hour, maybe more, before most folks ventured from their rooms.

  Sam didn’t like his choices, but he grabbed his jacket and checked his Colts.

  “We’ll be all right, Sam,” Sarah whispered from just behind him. “You have to at least try and save the girl.”

  Sam closed his eyes. Seeing Sarah’s beauty would only make it harder to leave. The memory of her leaning back with her gown open still lingered thick in his mind.

  Her fingers moved along his back as if she had every right to touch him. As if he belonged to her. “I’ll be waiting when you get back,” she promised.

  He wouldn’t turn around, he told himself. How could he leave her if he looked into her eyes?

  “Come back safe,” she whispered.