Marietta stopped. Peered up at the man bearing down on her. Then tilted her head to assess him. Her heart gave a hopeful little leap.
“We’re not talking about books, are we?”
Chapter Eight
Hat pulled low and coat collar flipped up to hide his distinctive red hair, Dead-Eye Dan casually strolled among the outlaws as if he were one of them. As he moved deeper within the cave-like hideaway, a silver concha hatband caught his eye. Dan ducked into a side corridor. He recognized that band. He’d seen it through his rifle scope. His gut tightened as he peered around the corner.
“Take the woman and get outta my canyon, Boyd,” a large man with a wicked-looking scar on his cheek demanded. “Your fool stunt brought the Rangers down on us.”
“Are you sure?” Boyd’s oily tone slid like liquid fire down Dan’s back, igniting his fury. “I sent my boys out to search and they saw no evidence of any Rangers. Only tracks from a single rider.”
“Yeah. Dead-Eye Dan,” the other man hissed. “You can’t take Dead-Eye’s woman and expect to get away with it.”
“He’s only one man.” Boyd turned his head and spat on the ground.
“One man who’s already put bullets in two of my guards and five other hombres. I want you gone.”
Boyd tipped his head, a salacious gleam in his eye. “Let us stay the night, and I’ll give you first crack at her. You can’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about getting back at the man who put your brother behind bars. What better way than to violate his woman?”
The outlaw hesitated, considering. “Where is she?”
Boyd nodded to his left. “Just around that corner. You’ll have—”
Boyd didn’t finish his sentence. Hard to talk with a knife buried in your throat.
Dead-Eye Dan released a second blade. It flew toward the big man’s chest, but having been alerted to the danger, the man twisted at the last second and took the knife in the shoulder instead.
The outlaw grabbed for his gun with his left hand and hollered for his men, but Dan was already on the move. He kicked the gun out of the outlaw’s hand, smashed a fist into his jaw, and retrieved the blade from his shoulder in a seamless series of movements that slowed him only a moment on his way to Mary Ellen.
—from Dead-Eye Dan and the Outlaws of Devil’s Canyon
Daniel halted a few inches from Marietta and slowly shook his head. “No.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I reckon we’re not talking about the books.”
A stampede of butterflies rampaged through her stomach. “Then what are we talking about, exactly?”
She’d been more than clear about her feelings. If he had something to share in a similar vein, and she prayed he did, he needed to tell her straight out. Yet he said nothing. Just grabbed the back of his neck and stared off to the side as if the answer floated somewhere in the air.
“Can we . . . go sit in the parlor or something?” He shifted his weight back and forth, his gaze skittering briefly along her face before shifting back to the empty space on her left. “This ain’t exactly a kitchen conversation.”
Marietta’s brows drew together. She had no idea what a kitchen conversation was or why this one failed to qualify, but if sitting in the parlor would help him say the words she longed to hear, she had no objection to a change of venue.
“All right.”
She turned and led the way down the short hall to the front parlor. Once inside, she took a seat on the brocade sofa and arranged her skirts, using the frivolous exercise to buy her a few moments to calm her racing pulse. She was a mature woman of twenty-one years, not a giddy schoolgirl. Whatever Daniel had to say to her, she’d listen intently and objectively.
He seated himself in the armchair across from her. Shifting from one side of the cushion to the other, he hemmed and hawed before finally planting his boots on the rug. He frowned, ran his palms along his trouser legs a few times, then muttered something beneath his breath that she couldn’t make out and pushed to his feet. That’s when the pacing started. First along the length of the rug that stretched from the sofa to the hearth. Then around the outer edges of the room, past the piano, and on toward the boarded-up window. And last, he worked his way over to the chair he’d just vacated. Halting behind it, he clasped the upholstered back with both hands and slowly met her gaze.
“Do you know why I purchased the Thompkins spread?”
That’s what he wanted to talk about? The Thompkins spread?
Marietta bit the inside of her cheek. She would not let him see her disappointment. He was her friend. Something was on his mind, and it was her duty to listen, no matter the cost.
Forcing her chin not to wobble, she drew upon her deportment instructor’s counsel on how a hostess should handle unpleasant news—with a smile and a gracious attitude, never allowing her guests to feel uncomfortable because of her own ill-timed distress—and pasted on a polite smile as she nodded.
“You wish to establish your own place,” she said, thankful her voice sounded relatively normal. “Your own business. An admirable ambition, of course.” Her smile warmed a bit as she thought of his accomplishments, his capabilities. He had every right to pursue his dreams. He was so talented. So able. No one, not even she, should stand in his way. “You’ll do so well, Daniel. I just know it. Daddy has told me that people all over the county talk about how fine your mules are, how well-trained. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are the top supplier in the state in a few years.”
His face reddened slightly at her praise, but something in his eyes arrested her attention. “That’s only part of my reason. The smaller part.”
Marietta stared up at him, not sure what he was trying to say and wishing he would just come out and say whatever it was without making her work so hard to figure it out.
“I need to leave the Double H, Etta, because I can’t pay court to you until I do.”
She went very still. “Are . . . are you saying that you want to pay court to me? That you have . . .” She swallowed. “Feelings for me?”
A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. “I can’t say.”
Marietta jumped up from the sofa. “What do you mean, you can’t say?” Good grief. The man was standing right there. He had all the necessary parts—tongue, lips, voice. Why was he torturing her like this? “No one’s holding a gun to your head, Daniel. You’re free to say whatever you like.”
He shook his head, his own face taking on a tortured cast. “No. I’m not.”
Dan nearly groaned when Etta crossed her arms and glared at him. This was a bad idea. He was making things worse. For both of them.
He released the chair back and strode toward the door, only to have Etta cut off his escape. She planted herself in front of him and pressed one palm to his chest.
“Not so fast, Daniel Barrett. You’re not leaving until you explain yourself.”
Explain himself? He couldn’t even think straight. Not when the warmth of her hand was passing through the thin cotton of his shirt to heat his blood. The only thought making itself known was the desire to clutch her hand tightly and pull her into his embrace. To kiss her ’til neither of them could catch their breath.
Then she pulled her hand away, and sanity returned.
“Why can’t you tell me if you have feelings for me or not?” Etta peered up at him. Expecting answers, reasons. “I know you’re no coward. So what’s stopping you?”
His pride pricked at the word coward, but he didn’t let her goad him into breaking his vow. He chose his words carefully.
“I made a promise to your father, Etta. A promise I will not break, no matter how much it tears me up inside. I will not make advances toward Jonah Hawkins’s daughter so long as I am in his employ. I will not engage in flirtation or courtship or any other action that could violate that oath. I respect your father and all that he has done for me too much. That’s what’s stopping me.”
She looked at him without saying a word for a long minute. Then she tilted her head, her bro
w furrowed in thought. “So you won’t say anything further on the matter until you’re no longer on the Double H payroll?”
Dan raised his hand to stroke her cheek, to touch her hair, anything to show her what his words couldn’t say. But that would violate his vow, too. He dropped his hand back to his side.
“It’s only a few more days, Etta,” he said, reminding himself more than her. He could wait. He’d gone three years. What was three more days? “As soon as your father returns from the cattle drive and my work on this ranch is done, I’ll answer every question you can throw at me.”
Etta just kept studying him, an odd look on her face. “Will I be happy with your answers?”
“Etta,” he said in a warning tone. The woman was killing him. Begging for hints. Pleading with those big brown eyes of hers. He understood her need to know. Shoot, he needed to tell her so badly his throat ached from holding the words back. But a vow was a vow. He’d not break it.
“All right.” She exhaled a long sigh. “I’ll wait for Daddy to get back. But I just have to do one thing first.”
Without warning, she placed her palm back on his chest, directly over his thumping heart, then lifted up on her tiptoes. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek in what should have been a quick, friendly kiss. But time seemed to slow the instant her body brushed against his. Her lips lingered, her warm breath heated his skin. Dan shivered. His eyes slid closed. And, heaven help him, his pulse took off at a dead run.
He grabbed her hand and tried to gently push her away, but he couldn’t summon much strength.
Not until the parlor door flew open and crashed against the wall. Dan spun around, shoving Etta behind him.
Jonah Hawkins stood in the doorway, his dark eyes shooting dagger after dagger into Dan’s chest. “Daniel Barrett.” Hawkins’s deep voice echoed through the room like a death knell. “You’re fired.”
Chapter Nine
Dead-Eye Dan rounded the cavern corner, bloodied knife in one hand, six-shooter in the other. He went in low, diving and rolling into the alcove to avoid the bullet that had his name on it. When Mary Ellen’s guard fired, the shot missed high. When Dan fired, the shot hit dead center. The guard crumpled.
Dan sprang up from his crouch, kicked the fallen man’s gun away, and immediately looked for the lavender dress he’d been trailing for so long.
“Dan.” The breathy sound of his name on her lips speared him with relief.
He turned and found her struggling to get to her feet, her arms bound in front, her ankles beneath. Rushing to her aid, he cut through her ropes with two powerful swipes of his blade then crushed his lips to hers in a fierce, possessive kiss that had to end before it could truly begin.
Dan sheathed his knife and pulled his spare revolver from the waistband of his trousers. He gave Mary Ellen an encouraging nod, instructed her to stick to his back like paint to a wall, then moved into the outer corridor.
Outlaws swarmed them from both sides. Dan turned sideways, keeping Mary Ellen between him and the cavern wall as he edged back the way he had come. “I’m not here for any of you,” he shouted. “I just want the girl. Let us pass and no one dies.”
“You’re the one outnumbered, Dead-Eye,” one of the outlaws sneered.
“But I’m sober,” he answered in a low voice that made more than few chuckle nervously. “And I never miss.”
No one chuckled after that.
The bluff might have worked if the leader hadn’t shown up, bloody bandanna wrapped around his upper arm. “No lawman leaves Devil’s Canyon alive, Dead-Eye. Not even you.”
He fired through the crowd. Dan jerked backward. The bullet grazed his chin even as his own shot left his gun and buried itself in the man’s forehead.
Chaos erupted then. Gunfire echoed off the walls. Shots flew wildly. Except for Dan’s. He alternated between right and left, never wasting a bullet. Men screamed. Fell. Dan took lead in his left thigh. His right arm. Another shot grazed his ribs. But he didn’t go down. He carved the path he needed to get Mary Ellen out. When one six-shooter emptied, he tossed it aside and picked up another from a fallen outlaw. When the second emptied, he grabbed his knife.
—from Dead-Eye Dan and the Outlaws of Devil’s Canyon
Dan stared at his boss, his mentor, the man who’d been like a father to him, and something withered inside him.
“No, Daddy!” Etta jumped out from behind him and ran to her father. “Daniel did nothing wrong. Everything is my fault. He told me to wait, but I was too impatient. Please, Daddy.” She grabbed her father’s arm, trying to get him to turn his attention on her, but Jonah only had eyes for Dan. Eyes that promised retribution.
Then she started crying, and both men couldn’t help but look at her.
“Go upstairs, girl.” Jonah softened his voice as he regarded his daughter, but his face remained resolved. “We’ll talk about your part in this later.”
“But, Daddy—”
His eyes narrowed. “Now, Marietta.”
After a quick, heartsick glance back at Dan, she hung her head and fled the room, tearing his heart out of his chest and taking it with her.
Her father would never give him Etta’s hand now.
Standing upright by sheer force of will, Dan faced Jonah Hawkins squarely. “I’ll be packed and gone within the hour, sir.”
Hawkins raised a brow. “Not even gonna fight for her? Doesn’t sound like the Dan Barrett I know.”
“I—I don’t understand.” Fight for her? He’d give his life for her. If there was an enemy he could battle. But he couldn’t battle Jonah. Couldn’t force Etta to choose between them.
Jonah’s lips twitched and, for a second, Dan could have sworn he’d seen him smile. “Have a seat, son.” He strode into the room and gestured Dan toward the upholstered chair.
Son? Dan’s head started to throb, but he obeyed and sat in the chair he’d vacated earlier.
Hawkins let out a weary moan as he lowered himself onto the sofa. “After the storm hit, I left the herd and rushed back to check on Marietta, expecting to find her at my sister’s place. Ada told me she’d come here. To exert her feminine independence or some such nonsense.”
Dan was tempted to exonerate himself by explaining that he’d tried to convince her to return to her aunt’s home when she’d first arrived, but he held his tongue. A lady’s honor was at stake here, and he’d not be casting blame in her direction.
Jonah stared hard at him, and when Dan didn’t answer, his frown returned in full force. “I know my daughter can be a bit . . . impetuous . . . so I was willing to assume that it was just some innocent stretching of her wings. But now I can’t help but interpret your desire to stay behind from the cattle drive in a more devious light.” He leaned forward, piercing Dan with a pointed glare. “Did you conspire to stay behind in order to seduce my daughter, encouraging her to meet you back here at the ranch after everyone had left?”
Dan shot to his feet. “No, sir! I would never dishonor Etta in such a way. And she would never agree to such an assignation. That you even think her capable of such . . . such . . . immorality is a gross injustice.” He fisted his hands to control his outrage but refused to back down when Jonah stood. “Your daughter is the finest woman I’ve ever known, and I’ll not abide such slander. Even from you.”
Jonah grinned and clapped Dan on the shoulder. “Good. ’Cause I don’t cotton to the idea of handing my little girl over to a man who ain’t willin’ to stand up for her. Even against her old man.”
Dan stumbled back a step.
“Oh, come on, Dan. Don’t look so shocked.” Jonah actually chuckled. “You and Etta have been pining for each other for years. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”
He’d noticed? Dan felt a bit queasy at the thought.
“I ain’t as blind as I pretend to be, boy.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Dan finally managed.
“Wasn’t my place. Figured you two would work things out eventually. C
an’t tell you how happy I was when you finally told me about buyin’ the Thompkins spread. I could see your plans in your eyes as soon as you started talkin’ about fixin’ up the cabin. About time, too. I was starting to worry you might not be the marryin’ kind.” He held out his hand.
Dan took it warily, still not sure how this conversation had veered so drastically.
Jonah yanked his arm, pulling Dan in close. “You are the marryin’ kind. Right, Barrett?”
Starting to regain his equilibrium, Dan squeezed his boss’s—no, his ex-boss’s—hand and smiled. “Only where Etta is concerned.”
“Well, then.” The man’s eyes actually twinkled. “Get on after it, boy. It’ll take me at least twenty minutes to see to my horse.”
Dan wasn’t about to waste a one of them. He released Jonah’s hand and bounded out of the room, the sound of Jonah’s laughter echoing behind him.
Chapter Ten
Dan could see the end of the passage. He threw his knife at the largest man standing between him and freedom. The knife sank into the fella’s chest. He toppled, bringing down the two desperados beside him.
Dan bent and retrieved the blade from his boot even as he yelled for Mary Ellen to run. His thigh burned like fire. Blood ran down his arm, weakening him, making the gun in his hand too heavy to hold aloft. He dropped the weapon and grabbed his last blade from his second boot instead.
Mary Ellen knelt beside him, helped him to his feet.
“Go!” he urged. “Get Ranger and ride.”
“Not without you!” She ducked around him, the gun he’d dropped in her hand.
Dan glanced up in time to see her shot take down the man who’d snuck through a side corridor, one Dan had mistakenly judged too narrow for a man to penetrate. The rail-thin fellow howled in pain as he grabbed his stomach and lurched backward.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Dan shoved Mary Ellen in front of him and covered her back as they ran out of the cavern. He whistled to Ranger, stood guard while Mary Ellen mounted, then sheathed his only two remaining weapons and heaved himself up behind her.
With This Ring? Page 6