The Halsey Brothers Series

by Paty Jager

  Her low moan as she pushed her breast into his hand hardened him. He never thought the woman who remained so distant would be fulfilling and lusty in bed. Her round bottom snuggled against his hardness. Heat and need shot through him like a flash of lightning.

  “You sure you want a go at it again?” he questioned unable to keep the desire out of his voice.

  She raised her leg up, bending it back over his hip. He ran his hardness back and forth across her moist center and nearly came when she shuddered and moaned. He thrust into her body and clutched her breasts as he moved inside of her. She gasped and took his full length, rocking back and forth with him.

  “Mercy!” she hissed when her body convulsed around him. He thrust deep and hard before spilling. Clinging to her shuddering body, he kissed her neck and continued to play with her hard nipples.

  “Marry me. We can do this every day.” He let her go when she rolled away.

  “Just because I spent the day in your arms doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about marrying you or anyone.”

  There it was. That cold, uncaring tone. How could she be a hellcat in bed one minute and cold as an ice flow the next?

  A knock on the door stopped their conversation.

  “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Mrs. Langley called and moved down the hall. At the woman’s voice, Maeve bolted from under the covers.

  He watched her as she stood next to the bed. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He scanned her naked body. The rosy nipples puckered, her flat stomach fluttered as she breathed. The flare of her hips and long, white legs brought back the thrill of moments before.

  He rolled and sat on the opposite edge of the bed, his back to her. “Get dressed. We’ll eat and head out after Marsh.” He stood and scooped up his clothes from the floor where he’d dropped them.

  A breeze whispered past him as she moved to the wash stand. He dressed listening to the splash of water as she cleaned up.

  “I’ll meet you down in the kitchen.” He turned and found her bent over gathering her clothes. The round bottom that had enticed him earlier graced his sight. He swat it playfully. She came up sputtering, and he pulled her naked length against him, planting a long, slow kiss on her enchanting mouth. Her body relaxed, and he set her away from him, exiting the room.

  Maeve stood in the middle of the room staring at the closed door. Lightheadedness made her sway on wobbly legs. She collapsed on the chair and wondered at how vulnerable her body became with his touch.

  As they made love, she could have sworn her body floated on clouds. The sensations had taken over, and she’d hugged them to her. To experience that elation the rest of her life almost made her say yes, but she knew better. No one stayed in her life. If she leaned on him, Zeke would be gone.

  She was better off depending on only herself. Slipping into the lacy undergarments, she smiled. It had only been right Zeke peeled her out of the fancy clothes he bought for her. She scowled. Was that his plan? Show her how he could please her body and then sway her to marry him?

  No. He wasn’t sneaky. He was the most straight forward man she’d ever met. And if she’d said no, he would have stopped. Her face heated. She’d been wanton. She nearly laughed out loud at the shock, and then admiration on Zeke’s face when she initiated their tryst.

  Dressed, she buckled her holster and stepped out the door. The smell of roasted meat sent her stomach rumbling. Descending the stairs she heard voices. Did Mrs. Langley have other boarders?

  Her boot heels clunked on the wood floor as she made her way to the kitchen. Zeke sat at the table with another man as Mrs. Langley hovered between the stove and table putting dishes before them.

  “Here’s my wife.”

  Zeke’s emphasis on wife made Maeve blush. What had taken place upstairs could be grounds for a marriage and in some areas made them married.

  He stood, extending a hand to draw her near him. “Maeve, this is Jonathan Smalley. He’s a friend of Barton.”

  She stepped up to the stranger, bypassing Zeke. She still tingled in places and didn’t want to touch him for fear of craving him.

  “Mr. Smalley. How is it you know Mr. Barton?” She took the chair Zeke held for her, but leaned forward, avoiding his hands.

  The man flicked a glance at Mrs. Langley. “We worked together a few years back.”

  She couldn’t shake the feeling this man wasn’t telling everything. “How come you’re here? Barton lives in The Dalles.”

  Zeke winked at her. Obviously, he liked her questions.

  Mr. Smalley cleared his throat, and again, eyed Mrs. Langley. “I’m on an errand for Barton.” The man swallowed and avoided her gaze. Either he lied or he wasn’t comfortable talking with Mrs. Langley present.

  “Would you like to ride out to the Marsh place with us?” Zeke bristled beside her. This man wasn’t going to give them any answers until they were alone. And she wanted answers whether Zeke liked it or not.

  Mr. Smalley glanced at Zeke. When he didn’t show any objection the man smiled. “I wouldn’t mind keeping you two company.”

  Mrs. Langley placed the food on the table. Even though her stomach growled, Maeve took small bites and watched the man shovel food in like he hadn’t eaten in days. She glanced at Zeke. He ,too, had one eye on the man, but still managed to clean his plate long before she finished.

  “I’ll get the horses.” Zeke gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Smalley, you better come show me which horse is yours.” The tone of his voice gave the man no choice.

  She dug into her food with more gusto, knowing Zeke would keep an eye on their lead to Barton.

  ****

  Zeke scanned the country in front of them. It was too open. He didn’t like the fact there wasn’t any cover. The only good thing, by the time they arrived at the homestead the sun would have set. Maeve had been right. Once they’d traveled several miles from town, Mr. Smalley opened up some about Barton.

  “We met when Barton first come to Oregon.” Smalley’s face relaxed, and his eyes glazed over as he ventured into his memories.

  “Did you ever run across Brendan Loman?” Maeve asked before Zeke could cut her off. They rode with the man and horse between them.

  Smalley’s head jerked around, and he studied Maeve. The man knew the name. There was no denying this man knew her father. It was written on the etched lines of discontent on the man’s forehead.

  “How is Brendan?” Smalley asked, in a voice dripping with contempt.

  Zeke watched the emotions play across Maeve’s face. When it came to her father she could hide nothing. The eagerness in her voice when she asked the question had softened her features. At the man’s question, the anger flared in her eyes and her mouth compressed into a straight, hard line.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve not seen him for ten years,” she snapped.

  “Have you seen Loman in the last ten years, Smalley?” Zeke watched the man closely for signs he was either lying or knew a whole lot more than he let on. If he had seen the man, they would know Maeve’s father was hiding, if not—it left a whole lot of unanswered questions.

  The man didn’t meet his gaze. “No, I’ve not seen Brendan Loman in the last ten years.”

  “How did you come to know him?” Maeve’s voice shook as she asked the question. She hung on the man’s reply.

  “First through Samuel and Jack, then through Barton.” The words ground through the man’s teeth.

  Maeve gasped and Zeke maneuvered his horse between the two.

  “How do you know the Marsh brothers?” he asked, keeping between Maeve’s horse and Smalley’s horse.

  “There were several of us rode together.” Smalley’s eyes narrowed.

  “And Loman?”

  “He rode with us for a while. Till he killed Samuel.”

  Zeke’s hackles went up. This man was an enemy. Damn! Why hadn’t he noticed before he put Maeve in danger? And thinking on it, they’d been following Smalley’s directions—which trapped them in a small gull
y between two hills. The evening light grew dim as the horses carried them from the narrow passage into a larger gorge.

  Keeping an eye on the man glaring at Maeve, Zeke stopped his horse at the bank of a stream. He scanned the area cradling the river. Dogwood trees dotted the bank in each direction and sandy cliffs rose away from the water on both sides.

  “Water your horse,” he said, dismounting and moving toward Maeve. He grasped her about the waist when her feet touched the ground. “He’s up to something,” he whispered in her ear and backed away. Maeve needed room to use her gun, and he wanted access to his knife.

  She nodded and let her horse slurp the water as he watched the man do the same.

  Knowing what he knew now, this man showing up at the boarding house wasn’t a coincidence. His scalp prickled. They’d been led into a trap. He felt it as sure as his desire for Maeve. Jack Marsh didn’t seem smart enough to know they would follow him.

  His horse raised its head. Water drizzled out of its mouth before the gelding nickered, and a horse returned the call. He grabbed Maeve’s hand, pulling her and the two horses away from the water as he searched the area for their visitors.

  “Damn!” The first horse and rider to come into view set his gut twisting. It was Cutter and his bunch. He hadn’t liked the way the man eyed Maeve at their first meeting. Or the way she’d been distracted after that meeting.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Halsey. Look what we found, boys.” Cutter stopped his horse far enough back he could keep them in view.

  The men behind him snickered.

  “You bypassed Boyd.” Cutter turned to his men. “Isn’t that where they said they was goin’?”

  The men nodded and agreed vocally.

  “Now, what are you doing clear out here?” Cutter leaned on his saddle horn and stared at Maeve.

  Zeke stepped between the two. The sneaky bastard, Smalley, walked up to Cutter.

  “They’re headed to see Jack Marsh.” The humor in Smalley’s voice tightened Zeke’s gut. Maeve’s exasperated sigh feathered warm breath across his back.

  “Well then,” Cutter raised his arms and all of his men pointed guns at them, “why didn’t you say so. We’d be more than happy to escort you to Jack.”

  Smalley slapped his hat against his thigh. “And you know what? You was right. She’s Loman’s daughter!” The elation in the man’s voice sent shards of ice through Zeke’s limbs.

  Before he could register Maeve’s intentions, she stepped from behind him, her hands fisted on her hips.

  “How did you know I was Brendan Loman’s daughter?” Maeve wasn’t about to hide behind Zeke when the man with answers to her father sat not twenty feet away.

  “By that gun hanging so pretty from your hip.” Cutter’s gaze drifted from her face down her neck, lingered on her breasts, and over to her left hip where the pistol her pa gave her rested in the holster. His perusal didn’t arouse her like Zeke’s eyes devouring her. This man’s gaze soured her belly.

  “That’s absurd!” Her pa gave her this gun when she was ten, and she hadn’t let it out of her sight since. How could they know it had belonged to her father?

  “When I first met your pa he had a matched set. About a year later he started using only one pistol. Said he lost the other one in a poker match.” Cutter ran his gaze over her again. “I think he gave it to his pretty, little girl to keep big, bad men away.” The mob behind him roared with laughter. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather seeped to her bones.

  Zeke once again placed his body between her and the men. His chivalrous act had become annoying. She had to watch the men in order to help. Shielding her from them also shielded her from acting.

  She put a hand on his arm and stepped up beside him. “I can’t use my gun standing behind you,” she said in a low voice.

  “Is that why you followed us? You recognized the gun.” The control in Zeke’s voice didn’t surprise her. He’d proven on more than one occasion it took a lot to fluster him.

  “That and wanting to see how far from the tree that juicy apple standing next to you fell.” Cutter still sat hunched over the saddle horn where his arms rested.

  She wondered what her father had done while riding with these men. Her gut said it wasn’t honest. She shot a glance at Zeke. His gaze didn’t waver in intensity or direction, but his jaw clenched.

  “Round ‘em up boys,” Cutter growled and the mob surged forward, swarming around her and Zeke. Smalley snatched her gun from her grasp when Zeke pulled her against him with one hand and back-handed the first man who came close to them.

  “Zeke, no. We can’t fight all of them.” If they went along, there might be a chance of escape. His hand raised again and several guns clicked.

  “No! Don’t shoot!” she shrieked and grabbed at Zeke’s arm, drawing it back down to his side.

  “You got a wise woman there, Halsey.” Cutter rode up next to them. “Mount up. Jack’s waiting.”

  Chapter 15

  Rope bit into Zeke’s wrists as he watched Cutter lead Maeve’s horse while the large man, Mac, led his horse. There were three men on horseback in between he and Maeve. Anger at his stupidity for walking into the mess and not hanging onto Maeve ate at him like a crow picking at a carcass.

  If Marsh had Barton, they would get their chance to talk to the man. But chances were Barton was one of this band of outlaws. Smalley was part of this group, and he admitted to meeting Barton and Loman through this group. Zeke’s eyebrow twitched when trouble was coming and right now it fluttered like a goddamn hummingbird’s wing.

  Cutter stopped his horse at the top of a rise. All the riders urged their horses forward and peered down. The moon sat high in all its glory, illuminating a small valley below. Nearly fifty head of horses grazed in the moonlight. Three dark spots shaped like shacks lined a stream reflecting the moon’s rays in the middle of the valley.

  “Jack’s place,” Cutter said with a smirk. He laid a hand on Maeve’s knee.

  “Keep your filthy hands off her.” Zeke lunged at the man. A gun clicked, and a hard, round barrel jabbed in his ribs. He wouldn’t be any good to Maeve dead. He settled back on his horse. His eyebrow twitched like the wings of a wasp. It was going to be hell watching that pole cat put his hands on his woman.

  Maeve pushed the hand off her knee. She heard Zeke’s growl and worried he’d do something stupid. The click of a pistol cylinder jerked her head around. Zeke had settled back in the saddle, but the fury in his eyes said it was only a matter of time before he lost control.

  She had to find a way to stay in Cutter’s graces to learn all she could about her father, and yet, keep Zeke from getting killed.

  The horses started down the slope. She shoved her feet firmly in the stirrups and leaned back. Since she didn’t have to steer the horse, she scrutinized the valley, noting the buildings and the shortest distance to the trees. She and Zeke would get away.

  The group surrounding them counted six men. Smalley mentioned hurrying ahead to scout things out. But she noticed he went a different direction than the rest of them followed. She was pretty sure the two that followed Marsh would be with him. How many others might there be? She wished she had her gun. Without it they had a formidable number to fight.

  She smiled. They didn’t know about Zeke’s knife. That would be the only weapon they had when they made a run for it.

  A man to her right let out a string of shrill whistles. Three men stepped out of the largest of the shacks. Marsh and his cronies. No other heads popped out anywhere. That meant nine outlaws. Her chest squeezed. Not great odds, but better than she’d feared.

  She glanced back at Zeke. His gaze flicked to her. The rest of his face remained immobile as a boulder. She tried to smile, but couldn’t find a reason. They were prisoners.

  “What’cha bring them here for?” Marsh asked, stepping up to her horse.

  Cutter handed her pistol down to Marsh. “I thought you’d like the daughter of the man who killed Samuel.
”

  She sucked in air as Marsh jerked his head and glared at her. He took the gun and turned his attention on the smoothly-worn handle.

  “What’s your name?” Marsh asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her down from the horse.

  “Maeve Halsey and get your hands off her!” growled Zeke, urging his horse forward.

  The chorus of clicking hammers spiraled fear into her chest.

  “Zeke, he’s not hurting me.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man defending her. The torture in his eyes called to her heart. Whatever happened, he had to get out of this situation unscathed. She wasn’t sure if maintaining the charade of their marriage would save her, but it would help Zeke believe he’d done everything he could.

  She squared her shoulders and glared at the man a few inches shorter than herself. “I’m Brendan Loman’s daughter.” Zeke’s frustrated growl set her resolve up a notch.

  “We’re here seeking information about my father. It seems most of you knew him. I’d like to learn more about him.”

  All the men had dismounted, including Zeke. She backed up, pressing against his unyielding body. The strength she garnered from him didn’t surprise her.

  “I’d appreciate your cooperation. I’m here to find out why my father always left for long stretches of time.” The men sent furtive glances amongst themselves. She grasped Zeke’s hand. “And then we’ll leave.”

  Cutter stepped forward. A smirk twitched the corner of his mouth. “Telling you about your pa might not look too favorable on us.”

  Zeke squeezed her hand. She glanced up under his hat brim to his smoldering eyes. There had to be a way to learn the truth and get out of this alive.

  “What if we promise to leave here and never mention a word about you or whatever you tell us?” The pleading tone in her voice made her cringe.

  Cutter and Marsh both threw their heads back and laughed. She had to remember they weren’t dealing with law-abiding men. These men could possibly have murdered her father and Barton.

  “Put him in that shack,” Cutter waved away Zeke and clutched her arm.