Since the war had ended, he'd hired his gun out on numerous occasions. Killing people was Cash's gift, and he embraced his talent the way other people embraced their own chosen professions. Between jobs he stopped in Rock Creek for the closest thing to real rest he knew. In the past couple of years he'd often found himself talking and thinking about staying there, making his saloon, Rogue's Palace, home for good. Putting down roots of a sort. But he always got restless and changed his mind after a few weeks or a few months. Sometimes he didn't last more than a couple of days. There had been a time when Nate was always there to watch his back, and he'd returned the favor. For the past year, though, Cash had been on his own more often than not.
Some days a real anger boiled up inside him, when he thought of the way Nate had let Jo reform him. But when he realized that his old friend would probably be dead by now without that wife's interference, the anger receded. That didn't mean Cash had forgiven Nate for turning his back on the life the two of them had led for so long, though. Who would have thought he'd actually miss the companionship of a drunk who was given to passing out at the most inopportune moments, and who quoted Scripture and occasionally spouted incoherent words of wisdom when he was awake?
Cash dropped to his haunches and lifted a mass of stringy hair away from the gunman's face. It might have been a relief to see an enemy, a face he recognized... but this man was a stranger. A stranger who had tracked Daniel Cash down and tried to ambush him. For revenge or to make a name for himself? No one would ever know. This man's secrets would be buried with him in a Webberville grave.
He no longer had any desire to sleep in this bed, to lie with this woman. Rock Creek was calling him. Calling him home. He didn't know how long he'd stay this time, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn't safe or welcome anywhere else.
He wasn't even sure he'd be safe or welcomed there.
Chapter 1
Two months later
"Marry me, dammit."
Cash grinned as he watched Jed chase after his very pregnant wife. Hannah had no reservations about bursting into Rogue's Palace with her husband on her trail.
"We're already married," she said with strained patience. "We have been for more than two years."
Jed let loose a long string of profanity. Her back to her husband, Hannah just smiled. Cash had never seen the quarrelsome woman so unnaturally serene. No one loved an argument as much as Hannah, and she normally had a most direct way of sharing her opinion. Jed swore his wife had been the very picture of gentleness since becoming pregnant. Cash found it downright unnatural.
"We were married in Italian," Jed argued. "I don't even know if that's legal in Texas or not!"
"Of course it is, darling."
Cash pulled out a chair at his table, bowed in a gentlemanly fashion, and offered Hannah a seat. Good Lord, she really was huge. It wasn't like he hadn't seen expectant mothers before, but Hannah apparently did pregnancy the same way she did everything else: to excess.
Jed sat down beside Hannah and took her hand. After all this time, they remained a most unlikely couple. Jed's wavy blond hair was getting long again, and while he managed to shave now and then, he didn't get around to the chore every day. He was still given to leather and buckskins, though denim and cotton ran a close second. He was rough, he was crude... and he was accustomed to getting what he asked for. Hannah always looked like a lady, proper and refined. Regal and well bred. Her dark red hair was normally perfectly fashioned, and her clothes were always expensive, a fact Cash noticed and appreciated. You didn't usually see the toughness in her until she opened her mouth.
"Nate can just marry us again," Jed all but pleaded. "We'll have our family and friends with us this time. And the ceremony can be performed in a language I understand so I'm absolutely sure it's legal and our baby is legitimate."
Hannah leaned over and planted a kiss on Jed's roughly bearded cheek. "You are so incredibly sweet."
Cash lifted his eyebrows. Sweet? No one had ever dared to call Jed Rourke sweet.
It was distressing to see how marriage had ruined five perfectly capable men. Amusing, at times, but also depressing. There were babies everywhere, children, families, and at the center of it were those interfering good women. Sex was one thing. Complete surrender was another.
Cash had always felt like he lived on the outside looking in. As an orphaned boy in Marianna, Texas, making his way however he could. As a soldier who had the ability to separate himself from everything and everyone else. As a gunman who could kill without compunction.
These days he really was the odd man out. His friends, former soldiers who'd always been better at war than at peace, were all married. Tamed and comfortable. Five of the desperadoes once known as the Rock Creek Six reproduced regularly or took in orphans or did both. They and their wives tolerated Cash and his ways, for old time's sake he was certain, but he no longer felt like one of them.
Nor did he want to. No woman would lead him around by his nose or his pecker, and he had no desire to reproduce.
There had been a time when Jed would have picked Hannah up, carried her to the church, and held her still while the ceremony he desired was performed. Hannah was enormous at the moment, but if any man could carry her, it would be Jed. Instead, the big man sat beside her, all but begging her to do as he wished.
Cash had a feeling Jed would get his second wedding, but only after Hannah had strung him along for a while. Women. At times like this, Cash was doubly grateful that he'd sidestepped the seemingly sweet trap his friends had fallen into.
"Tell me," Cash said, sitting down at Hannah's other side to join the conversation. "Why not just agree to the ceremony Jed wants and be done with it? Unless, of course, you're sorry you ever married..."
"No!" Hannah said sharply, lifting her head to pin her strong gray eyes on him. She immediately turned to her husband and raised a soft hand to touch his cheek. "Oh, you don't think that's why... You know I love you, and marrying you was the best thing that ever happened to me. But... our wedding was so perfect." She turned back to Cash and smiled, but tears sprouted in her eyes. "You should have seen the cathedral where we were married. It was ancient and majestic, the most gorgeous building I have ever seen in my life. The sun slanted through the stained-glass windows in a way that was certainly heavenly, and Jed looked so beautiful."
Jed Rourke, beautiful and sweet. Cash shook his head.
"The words were lovely—" she whispered.
"And in a language I couldn't understand," Jed interrupted.
"The day was magical," Hannah finished. "I don't need another wedding. I am already married in every possible way."
Jed sighed in what might have been capitulation. Cash suspected this surrender was nothing more than a temporary truce.
Cash laid his eyes on redheaded Hannah. "You have no idea how it distresses me to watch you ruin a perfectly good man this way."
Hannah pursed her lips. "Jed is not ruined, you imbecile."
"Imbecile?" Cash repeated with a lift of his eyebrows.
"Now, you two..." Jed began.
Hannah silenced her husband with a lift of a single finger, and Cash stifled a grin as she stated her case. "You remain in this dark, cheerless saloon all day and all night, leaving only because Eden won't deliver your meals."
"Rogue's Palace is quite cheery," Cash argued.
"You should be able to find yourself a woman somewhere," she said, the tone of her voice suggesting that Cash had tried to find one who would have him but could not. "You're relatively good-looking when the light hits you just so, and you can be charming when you set your mind to it." She made every word sound like a very friendly insult. "If you could just get a handle on that mouth of yours—"
"My mouth?" Cash interrupted with a bark of a laugh. "Oh, this is definitely the pot calling the kettle black."
"You two, cut it out," Jed said, his voice low and threatening.
Hannah turned a softening gaze to her husband. "Sorry, da
rling. It's just that Cash can be so exasperating. He needs a good woman—"
"I'd rather be shot," Cash interrupted. "I'd rather be hanged. I'd rather be drawn and quartered. God save me from the good women of this world."
"If divine intervention is called for," Hannah countered, "it would be on behalf of the women you try so diligently to avoid."
"Enough," Jed said softly. "Can we talk about the wedding some more?"
Hannah's smile brightened. "What wedding?" She turned sparkling eyes to Cash. Good heavens, the woman loved a good argument more than he did. "Can I have a small whiskey, please?"
"No," Jed and Cash answered at the same time.
She tried to pout. "Some saloon this is."
Jed assisted Hannah to her feet and led her toward the bat-wing doors. "We'll head back to the hotel and I'll have Eden fix you some tea."
"Tea is a poor substitute for a small shot of whiskey," Hannah complained. "Just a teensy-weensy—"
"No," Jed said as he held the swinging door open. "Eden said it's not good for the baby. You'll just have to wait another couple of months or so."
"You're right, of course," Hannah said demurely. "I want only what's best for the baby."
"I'm just trying to take good care of you both."
Hannah sighed. "Yes, dear."
Cash leaned back in his chair and shook his head. Yes, dear?
The saloon was empty, a condition that did not bother Cash at the moment. It was early afternoon, and besides, he never exactly did a rousing business. Most people looking for entertainment went to Lily's place, down the road. Three Queens. She had music in her fancy entertainment house, singing and dancing every night of the week. The last man who had tried to sing and dance in Rogue's Palace had been tossed out on his ear, the drunken, tone-deaf bastard.
Cash's saloon offered whiskey and the occasional game of poker. It catered to men who were looking for the simple things. Booze and a way to lose their hard-earned money. Most days it was quite late before business picked up.
So he was surprised when, just minutes after Jed and Hannah left, the doors swung open again. With the sunlight bright behind the newcomer, it was impossible to tell who it was. A small man or a boy in baggy trousers and an ill-fitting shirt, boots that clipped on the wooden floor, a wide-brimmed hat, and no gun belt. There was no sign of a weapon at all, and still a shiver of warning crept up Cash's spine. Strangers, no matter how small and innocent-looking they might be, were usually trouble.
"Can I help you?" Cash asked in a tone that was purposely unwelcoming.
He came to his feet and laid his hand over the six-shooter at his right hip as the stranger removed his—her hat, and a wealth of dark hair came tumbling down around her shoulders. She shook out that warm brown hair and clutched the hat in pale, small hands.
Cash's heart damn near burst through his chest.
"Danny?" she whispered in a voice he still recognized too well. That softly spoken single word cut right through him, sharp as any knife.
She was the only good woman he had ever cared for, the only woman he had ever loved. They'd been together a lifetime ago, so long ago that the man who'd known her was nothing at all like the man Daniel Cash was today.
Taking tiny, uncertain steps, she walked into the saloon, her hat in her hand, her eyes wide with fear. And her face... her face was as beautiful as ever. Creamy pale, every feature delicately carved. The lips temptingly full, the cheeks a little leaner than he remembered, the green eyes... sadder. The years had been kind to her; she looked almost exactly like she did in his dreams. Her lips parted, as if she tried to speak but could not.
He'd faced more guns than he could count, but his heart had never threatened to pound through his chest the way it did right now.
This was the woman who had created the Daniel Cash who existed today. The Cash who didn't care about anyone or anything. The Cash who could kill without blinking an eye. She was the one who had taught him about betrayal.
No matter what, he couldn't allow her to know that she was such an important part of his life. Only one thing mattered: getting her out of Rock Creek as soon as possible.
"Nadine," he finally said, his heartbeat steady once again, his voice calm and low. "What the hell are you doing here?"
* * *
Well, what had she expected? A warm welcome? A hearty hug and a friendly "How are you?"
"We need to talk."
She would have known Danny anywhere, and yet he was not the man she remembered. He was harder. Cold and distant in a way the boy she had loved could never be. Almost fifteen years had aged him, as those same years had aged her, but physically he carried the years well.
He was an unusually handsome man, just as he had once been an unusually beautiful boy.
But there was something within him that he did not carry well. She saw a quiet disturbance in his dark eyes, in the coiled tension that radiated from him. In his perfectly cut black suit and ruffled cuffs, with those six-shooters hanging so familiarly on his hips, he appeared sleek and polished. The mustache and well-trimmed beard hadn't been there fifteen years earlier, though she was not surprised to see them. In the drawings she saw in the newspapers, Daniel Cash always appeared the same. The dapper dress and perfectly trimmed facial hair. Black-eyed and unquestionably deadly.
Precisely cut black hair lay against skin too pale, as if he didn't leave this dark cave of a place and step into the sun often enough. And his hands... his hands were long-fingered and beautiful, a man's capable hands. Tension was coiled through his long, lean body, a tension she could sense more than she could see.
But she looked at him and saw more than the carefully crafted picture he presented for the world. She saw pain. Not a normal physical pain, but something so dark and deep, it made her shudder.
He took a step toward her, moving with a panther's grace. "What on earth could we possibly have to talk about?"
"I need your help," she whispered as he came closer, every step calculated, the gaze he shot her way intense and cutting.
Danny smiled, and a shiver ran through her. The man she had loved had been warm and kind. Young, but... good at heart and generous to a fault. But this smile was as cold as ice. It was not the smile of a kind man.
"Did you come all this way to hire me? How unexpected." He moved closer still, one step and then another, those dark eyes roving over her dusty, worn clothing and finally landing on her face. "I don't take many jobs these days, but for an old friend I might make an exception." He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, "Want me to kill someone for you? Is that why you're here?"
"No!" she said, stepping quickly back. She was tempted to lift a hand to her ear where his breath had touched her and started a tingle that rippled through her body, still. She refrained. "I most certainly do not want you to kill anyone for me."
"For Joseph, then." He circled around her, and she felt like nothing more than defenseless prey. A wounded rabbit to his panther. "A gift for the husband?" She couldn't help but hear the bitterness in his voice.
"I didn't know you even realized I had married." How could he know? Danny had never stepped foot in Marianna after he'd left for the war. He didn't even care enough to visit, to let her know he was alive and well.
"Oh, I realized," he said. "How is Ellington? Is he with you? Waiting outside, perhaps, while you beg for a favor?"
He moved in closer, leaned down, and whispered in her ear again, "What is he willing to let you do for that favor, Nadine? I usually charge cold, hard cash, but for you I might make an exception."
He broke her heart, what little bit wasn't already in shreds. She'd come looking for an old friend and found a stranger. A stranger who was, it seemed, determined to hurt her. It didn't matter.
"Joseph is dead," she said simply. Something in Nadine wanted to reach out and touch the man who moved restlessly around her. Just a brush of her fingers on his black coat. Perhaps a caress of the unexpected frill at the cuff of his fine shirt. Her Danny
had been wonderfully warm and alive, bright in every way. The Cash she confronted now seemed to have no fire at all. If she could touch him, however briefly, would she be relieved to discover the warmth she remembered? She kept her curious hands to herself.
"Am I supposed to avenge his death? Is that why you're here?" He continued to circle around her, staying too close, breathing on her, studying every inch until she wished she'd taken a bath and changed clothes before rushing to the saloon to see him. She'd been so eager to lay her eyes on him that she hadn't even bothered to shake off the road dust.
"Joseph died nine years ago," she said softly. "Pneumonia. There's no one to blame for his death. No need for revenge."
"Nine years," he breathed. "I imagine you have another husband by now. Maybe you've been through two or three. You were never much of one for... waiting."
Her heart leapt, but she ignored the response. "I never remarried, and this visit has nothing to do with revenge or killing. I need your help, Danny."
He grabbed her arms, too tight, and she lifted her face to look him in the eye. So dark a brown they appeared to be black, those eyes bored into her. "Danny is gone, sweetheart. He's been dead a long time. You can call me Cash, like everyone else."
She swallowed hard. "All right. Cash, I need your help."
He released her. "Sorry. I'm not in the rescuing business anymore."
She sighed. This was so much more difficult than she'd imagined it would be! And she had not imagined for a moment that this would be easy. "I don't need to be rescued, Da—Cash."
"No one needs to be rescued, no one needs to be shot," he said with a touch of biting humor. "Sorry, honey, that's all I do, unless you have an urgent need for a poker player."
He wasn't going to make this easy, so she'd just have to blurt it out. "My son has decided he wants to be a gunslinger. I need you to talk him out of it."
Ah, at least she managed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted, and he took a wary step back. His entire body stiffened. "Your son? And he wants to be a—" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How old is this kid?"
Nate (The Rock Creek Six) Page 24