Wanted

by Potter, Patricia;

  “I do,” Beth said suddenly, and Lori was surprised. Beth had been very careful about not taking sides. “I think he can accomplish anything he sets out to do, and I don’t think he would promise something he can’t.”

  “But he hasn’t promised anything,” Lori said. “Just that he will try to help.”

  Beth was silent, thinking. “And that’s not good enough?”

  “Is it for you?” Lori asked Beth. “I think you care about Nick. Would you risk his life?”

  Beth looked up, her heart in her eyes. “Oh, I care. I didn’t think I ever would again, not after Joshua, but Nick …” She stopped. “I loved Joshua, he was such a good man, but with Nick I feel as if my heart’s been turned inside out. And I know that as long as he’s wanted, there will never be any peace for him. Mr. Davis is right about that.”

  “It’s his job,” Lori said, trying not to agree. “That’s what he cares about.”

  “He cares about you, and I think he cares very much about what happens to Nick. There’s more between them than their faces, Lori. I don’t know exactly what, but something binds them together, which is why they get so angry with each other.”

  Lori swallowed. Maybe Beth was right. She’d thought the same thing several times, and Beth had a more objective view. But then she saw Morgan approaching with the sack of supplies and his saddlebags, the ever-present saddlebags with Nick’s gun and the extra ammunition and the leg irons. The tools of his trade. The rifles, she knew—his and the one he’d picked up from the dead bounty hunter—were still in the saddle scabbards, unloaded now, a precaution that he took when Nick wasn’t bound both hand and foot.

  He looked toward Beth and Maggie, his grim mouth gentling just a little. “Why don’t you ladies take a bath? We can eat the last of that antelope. I’ll make some coffee.”

  Beth accepted gratefully. Water had been freezing every place they’d stopped. She’d heated some and washed herself and Maggie, but not to the extent she would have liked. Washing her hair in a warm spring sounded wonderful.

  Lori hesitated. She wanted to talk to him, but she had to do it privately. Later, then. She started to turn.

  “Lori.”

  She turned back to him.

  “I still have your word, don’t I?”

  He did at the moment. She nodded.

  He reached into the saddlebags and drew out the pistol she had used to shoot him weeks ago. “I think you know how to use this,” he said dryly.

  Lori didn’t smile. All those conflicting emotions warred again. She appreciated his trust. But it made the next step so very difficult. She hesitated.

  “Take it,” he said. “I don’t want you out there alone … after the other day. I think it’s safe, but …”

  She reached out and took it, her fingers touching his, like lightning hitting a tree and running through its length. Her heart beat faster, harder. She swallowed and turned away, reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his.

  She waited while Beth retrieved some soap from her saddlebags, then caught up Maggie in her arms. “We’re going to wash our hair,” Beth said happily, and ignored Maggie’s wail of protest.

  Lori looked around the clearing. Nick was sitting on a log, his gaze on the pistol in her hand—the gun she’d stolen from the sheriff’s office, the one she’d aimed at the man she now knew she loved. The one she’d thought to free Nick with, and still could, if she had the will. It felt heavy now, heavier than before. Weighted with responsibility and guilt.

  Morgan had not moved, his own gaze on her. Challenging? Watchful? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was real and what was wishful thinking any longer. He kept surprising her, and this most of all. He cared enough about her, about her safety, to risk putting this gun back in her hands.

  She turned abruptly and followed Beth and Maggie.

  Morgan finished preparing the coffee. The sun was going down, and it would be dark within another hour. He too wished for a bath, but he would probably delay that, for both himself and Braden, until the morning. He didn’t relish trying to keep track of his prisoner during a dark night, and it promised to be exactly that. Clouds were skimming across the sky, and he said a brief prayer that bad weather would hold off until they reached Pueblo.

  Braden was also looking toward the sky. He looked tired, his face still drawn, the face that looked so much like Morgan’s—more so, it seemed, every day. His wrists were still manacled, but Morgan had stopped using the leg irons except when they settled down for sleep, and then he removed the handcuffs. The new arrangements provided some relief for his prisoner, he knew, but it still rankled him that he had to use anything at all. Every time, locking the bands became more distasteful to Morgan.

  “We should reach Pueblo in two days,” he said. “Those damn bounty hunters will probably pick up our trail there, but I want the women and child safe.”

  “And then what?” Nick asked.

  “El Paso,” Morgan said flatly. “My company headquarters. You’ll stay there until we can get evidence in Harmony to clear you.”

  “A jail?”

  Morgan nodded reluctantly. “You’ll be safer there.”

  “I can’t stand small spaces. I thought I would go crazy in Laramie.”

  Morgan couldn’t tolerate them, either. He used to think the fear went back to when he’d been a newborn in that fruit cellar where Callum had said he found him. It had been the only thing that had ever made sense to him, that sense of choking whenever he was in a small room. Callum had said the cabin had burned, that some smoke must have filtered into the room below.

  “It shouldn’t be long,” Morgan said instead. “A few weeks, no more. I’ll need witnesses to the shooting.”

  “You won’t get them there. Not honest ones.”

  Morgan threw some more wood into the fire, watching the flames dance into the air, concentrating on that rather than on the man several feet away. He didn’t want to spook him, not now that he was finally listening. “Now that I have a damn good idea what happened, I can get people to talk.”

  Nick was silent, his face emotionless. Morgan didn’t know whether he believed or not. Nick finally stood. “Mind if I walk around a little?”

  “Just keep in sight and away from the horses.”

  “Of course,” Nick said dryly. “I wouldn’t consider anything else.”

  Morgan nearly chuckled openly at the obvious falsehood. He choked it off, but he found himself liking Nick Braden more and more. He knew, though, that the feeling wasn’t mutual, probably never would be. He regretted that, but friends didn’t go with his occupation. Rangers came and went. died, wounded, transferred, retired. He’d not been close to anyone since Callum died, and even then Callum had been more mentor than friend, more guardian than father.

  He shrugged off the unsettling thoughts. They had never bothered him until lately. He’d never realized something was missing.

  Or maybe he just hadn’t been willing to admit it.

  The five of them ate quietly. Maggie crawled into Nick’s lap, wanting him to brush her wet hair dry. Beth sensed that Nick had an honest liking for children, an easiness with them, combined with the intelligence to treat Maggie as a small adult. And he had a quick, natural smile that warmed. It came rarely now, usually only for Maggie, and a few more hesitant times for Beth, but it was always worth the wait.

  Beth combed out her own hair as she watched Nick brush Maggie’s in easy, gentle strokes despite his handcuffs. She hurt every time she saw those cuffs, every time the Ranger used the leg irons to restrain him at night. Nick Braden was a man meant to be free, and she had watched him withdraw from her more and more over the succeeding days as they moved closer to Texas. Only Maggie seemed able to lure that smile from him, that confidence that Beth had glimpsed the day he and Mr. Davis had rescued the two of them. It showed itself only rarely now, hidden in his obvious frustration.

  Nick Braden was the last man Beth should want. Maggie had already lost one father. She swallowed deeply. She
couldn’t bear the thought of Maggie losing someone else she was growing to love.

  Nor could Beth. Her feelings for Nick grew stronger each day, despite—or perhaps because of—the way he tried to protect her through gruffness, avoiding her as much as he could, given his limited movement. But his eyes told her what he would not, the sudden deepening of that incredible deep blue, the pleasure so quickly shielded by caution.

  Which was why Beth, unlike Lori, was placing so many hopes on Ranger Davis. She had watched him change during the last ten days, had seen his eyes soften when they rested on Lori, had seen the muscles strain in his cheek when he’d locked the leg irons on Nick. She noticed the frustration when he’d tried to persuade both Bradens to trust him, the pain in his eyes when Maggie rebuffed him or Lori avoided him.

  There was a strength in him that Beth trusted, just as there was strength in Nick. Although Nick wouldn’t accept it, she knew it had taken more courage for him not to kill the Ranger than to fire. And it was taking Morgan Davis more strength to try to vindicate Nick than it would just to release him. The Ranger was risking everything to do that, including Lori.

  She wondered why neither Nick nor Lori saw that.

  She looked up. The Ranger was gathering the cups and utensils they’d used. He was always moving, a constant restlessness seeming to drive him. He never appeared to rest, to be at ease.

  Lori moved next to her. She had been unusually quiet, even at the spring when she had helped wash Maggie’s hair. Maggie had begged for a song, and Lori had complied but without her usual zest. She had kept her eyes on the pistol, instead, and Beth had felt the tension in her, and shivers of apprehension in herself. But her new friend had surrendered the gun easily on their return, and Beth had felt a certain relief. She was already caught in the vicious pull of all the eddies of emotion and strained loyalties swirling among them. She didn’t know what she would do if a direct confrontation developed. She believed that Morgan Davis was Nick’s one hope, but she knew that the two Bradens did not.

  Lori stood and walked over to the Ranger. Beth couldn’t hear the words between them, but she saw the Ranger nod curtly, then move over to Nick.

  “Braden.” He didn’t have to say more. They’d been through this every night. Nick whispered something to Maggie, and she stirred unhappily but rose and returned to Beth, who held her tightly, averting her gaze while the Ranger used the leg iron to chain Nick to the tree. In the firelight Beth saw Nick’s lips tighten, a muscle grind against his throat, and she wondered how long it would be before he exploded with rage. He was so much stronger now, though he couldn’t yet match the Ranger’s strength. The Ranger hesitated, as if he sensed the sudden menace, then leaned down and unlocked the handcuffs, tucking them into his belt.

  Nick’s lips tightened even more as Morgan looked at Lori, then walked off in the direction of the spring. Lori hesitated a moment, glanced briefly at Nick, then followed Morgan, disappearing through the woods. Beth could almost hear Nick’s indrawn breath, the curse just smothered as he became aware of Maggie nearby.

  Beth gave Maggie some grain to feed Caroline before settling her daughter down for the night, singing a small lullaby until Maggie’s eyes closed. When she was sure Maggie was asleep, Beth went over to sit with Nick. His eyes didn’t leave the place where his sister had disappeared. And then he buried his head in his hands.

  “Nick,” Beth whispered.

  “I almost believed him,” he said bitterly. “Damn him.”

  “I think you can,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand, playing with it.

  He looked up at her. She couldn’t see what was in his eyes, not in the dark, but she felt his desperation. “You’ll be safe in Pueblo,” he said, “you and Maggie.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  His hand suddenly wrapped around hers, tightened for a moment. “That’s not possible.”

  “I’ll stay with you. I’ll make sure he keeps his promise,” she said.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I want you to stay in Pueblo, head back up to Denver if that’s what you want.” He let go of her hand and tried to smile. “Make a new life for yourself, for Maggie. Forget about me.”

  “I … don’t think I can.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too late for me, Beth. My life isn’t worth a plugged nickel. I won’t put you and Maggie in danger.”

  “If you go back …?”

  “There are no guarantees, even then,” he said. “My face will still be on posters all over the west. And that’s if Davis can prevent my immediate hanging, which I doubt. I won’t take that chance.”

  “You’re going to try to escape.” She said it softly.

  His jaw set. “When we get to Pueblo, go to a hotel. Don’t try to … see me again. Please. For me, if not for Maggie.”

  “That’s why Lori …” Beth said the words almost to herself.

  “Lori what?”

  “She was … very quiet, sad.” She hesitated. “She’s in love with Mr. Davis.”

  “She can’t be.”

  “Just like I can’t … love you? It doesn’t happen that way, Nick. Love is something you can’t control.”

  He stared at her, his mouth opening slightly, and Beth suddenly leaned over, her lips touching his, trying to convince him of her words, trying to dissuade him from something that would take him away from her forever.

  He didn’t move for a moment, and then his mouth closed over hers and his arms went around her, bringing her close to him. She felt him tremble; then his tongue entered her mouth greedily, and his hands pulled her tightly against him.

  Beth thought the world was exploding. She’d enjoyed lovemaking with her husband, but it had never been like this, never so painfully wanting.

  His mouth moved from hers, traveled down her neck. “Ah Beth, sweet Beth, you taste so good, so sweet, and I …” He stopped. “Dear God, Beth, I want …” His words were broken, full of denial and pain, and Beth thought her heart would break. Her hand went up to his cheek, stubbled again with new beard, and her fingers ran along it, memorizing the feel of his face, the fine, handsome sculpted lines, the new crevices around his eyes.

  She felt his mouth do the same with her, explore. He left fire in his wake, fire and storm and sunrise. The sunrise was the beauty, the tenderness of his mouth, his arms, his hands. An awakening, a bringing to life something she’d thought dead. She glanced over toward Maggie. She appeared to be asleep on her bedroll, Caroline breathing noisily next to her. She swallowed deeply as she remembered the sight of Maggie in Nick’s arms, the trust that the child instinctively had for him, the trust she herself instinctively had.

  She wouldn’t let it go. She turned her head to him again, and his lips came back upon hers, seeking at first, then desperately imploring, and she knew then that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, that he felt the same terrible desperation at losing something just found.

  Just found, but so very magnificent she knew it was incredibly rare.

  He moved slightly, and she heard his low curse as the chain on his ankle stopped him. His hands dropped from her.

  “Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

  “I have no right, dammit.”

  “You have every right,” she said. “I gave you that right.” Her hand touched his chest, and even through his shirt she felt him shudder, felt the thump of his heart. Her own breathing quickened as familiar yet newly exciting sensations flowed through her. Exciting and poignant and sensual. So very, very sensual. So very yearning. His hands stroked her sides, fondling, caressing as if he were memorizing every detail. Pleasure soared through her. Physical pleasure. But something more. A fine sense of belonging, of rightness.

  Nick groaned, both with need and dismay. Dear God, how he had waited a lifetime for this. And now it came too late. He ran his hands through her hair. It was still damp, but it felt like silk against his fingers. Desire pooled in him, stronger than he’d ever felt before, and he knew the reason: he
’d never felt anything but physical desire before, and now he felt so much more.

  His hands left her hair and cupped her breasts, felt them tightening under his touch, and he knew that Beth’s surface tranquility hid a depth of feeling and passion he’d never experienced before. “Beth … Beth,” he whispered. He had never known there could be so much sweetness with a woman. He was torn between touching her like fragile glass and clutching her to him so tightly he’d never lose her.

  And then their lips touched again, and he tasted a tear that had rolled down her cheek. He hurt as he’d never hurt before, and he tasted as he’d never tasted before. This moment, this golden splendor, would have to last him forever, through days and weeks and months in jail, or of running.

  Images rushed through his mind. Beth smiling at the door of the ranch in Wyoming, Maggie crawling up on his lap, a small boy who was half Beth, half himself, grinning at his first pony. Too late. Too late for any of it.

  “Don’t run away,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me to go.”

  He felt the breath being squeezed out of him. His hand went to her chin, and he lifted it until her gaze met his. “I can’t stand jail, Beth. I can’t. And I won’t risk hanging for something I didn’t do.”

  She bit the corner of her lip, and he saw something dark well there—blood. “I’ll always be waiting for you,” she finally said.

  He crushed her to him, and she melted against his body, every curve fitting into his, moving so he did not have to. He felt wetness against his cheek. Another tear. And then he wondered whether it had been hers, or his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lori was so aware of Morgan’s disturbing presence that she found it nearly impossible to walk. Her legs didn’t work right, and she stumbled; only his hand kept her from falling. She had almost blindly led the way through the thicket of pine and wild raspberries. His very touch made her legs even weaker, her blood quicken, creating an ache in the core of her.