First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  “I can’t sleep like this,” she argued his ridiculous solution. He was a smug and beguiling devil! Was he crazy as well as daring!

  The flustered man assumed she meant sleep naked as he watched her clutch the cover to her bare body, as if fearing it would dislodge during the night or their bodies would make perilous contact. He reached for the nightgown, then changed his mind. “You might as well wear nothing as that see-through garb,” he stated, looking about anxiously. If he was going to keep his vow, he couldn’t be overly tempted! Then again, just looking at her accomplished that feat. Never had his control been so sorely strained!

  He flung her his shirt and laughingly said, “This should protect you from my lecherous eyes, my wild vixen.” Their gazes locked on the black shirt, both knowing how easily it could yield to his strength.

  “You make this sound like some kind of mischievous game,” she sneered at him, taking it and slipping it on. “If you lack the decency to let me stay here tonight, I insist you give me privacy to change,” she ordered, chafed by his playful manner.

  “I know it isn’t a game, Callie. I’ve asked you to stay.” He softened his words and gaze. How could he leave her so soon?

  “To stay here with you! I’m not some whore, Tex! One of us has to leave,” she persisted, a note of pleading edging her voice.

  The Ranger suspected she might visit the sheriffs office if he forced her out tonight. He couldn’t afford trouble. Besides, he was riding out early in the morning. He might as well sleep in the stable loft. Who knew what his generosity could earn him on a future day…

  “All right, Callie, have it your way,” he yielded. “Do you want to turn your back or wait outside while I dress?” he teased.

  “You’ll leave?” She couldn’t believe she’d won.

  “I can’t have you traipsing around looking for a place to sleep. I will need my shirt,” he hinted, laughing at her skeptical expression. “If you want that modesty to remain intact, best turn around, love.”

  Calinda slipped off his shirt and tossed it on the rumpled bed, then turned away. She waited anxiously as she heard the bed squeak. She closed her eyes tightly and leaned against the bedpost, praying he was being honest.

  As he dressed to depart, the puzzled man was trapped in pensive reflections. Clearly he had misjudged her and this situation, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was almost annoyed Callie hadn’t laid a trap for him. At least he wouldn’t feel so strange and remorseful if it had been a pre-planned deed. Her fiery passion couldn’t be forgotten. Question was, had it been spontaneous or involuntary, a result of drugged senses? Would he ever see her again? These emotions were new and potent and he didn’t know how to resist or accept them. Why did this slip of a girl offer such an alarming threat? What made her so different from other women? He didn’t even know her! Yet he was actually giving up his comfortable room and bed for a stranger, one who viewed him the blackguard of all time! Caramba! He must be bored and fatigued to be thinking and feeling such contradictory emotions!

  He pulled on his snug ebony pants and boots, then reached for the shirt she had been wearing. He strapped on his holsters and dropped the two Colts into place, ignoring the tightening in his pants as he viewed her slender back and inhaled her fragrance on his shirt. He berated his crazy indecision, this impulse to refuse to leave, this impulse to storm her with passionate kisses and stirring caresses. He flexed his strong hands as they itched to wander over her stimulating territory, upon which he had mentally staked a claim.

  “Sure you want me to leave you alone in this dangerous place?” he inquired so close to her face she could feel the warmth of his breath.

  She jumped, her eyes opening. “I’ll be fine after you’re gone,” she sassily informed him before their gazes met to fluster her.

  His eyes roved her face, the simple action pleasing to him. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Callie, under better circumstances.”

  “I pray I never set eyes on you again,” she panted, her anger curiously returning as he made ready to leave.

  The Ranger studied her flushed face and guilt-riddled look for a time. He was tempted to sweep her into his arms and prove her words a desperate lie. “If a certain gunslinger has his way, you might get your prayer answered before this week’s out,” he stated, watching for a reaction.

  Calinda briefly fell for his ruse, but quickly controlled herself. She watched him place the dark hat on his tawny head before swaggering to the door. Tossing his saddlebags over his shoulder, he grinned and winked. “Nite, Callie, See you around,” he murmured, then left. Calinda rushed forward to lock the door, forgetting he had a key.

  She paced the floor for a lengthy time. It was hard to believe such things had taken place in one short day. She had another demanding day tomorrow; her head was throbbing and she needed sleep. She noticed the bottle left behind; she poured a drink and forced it down. This time, she removed the cover from her body and slipped nude between the mussed sheets. She sighed loudly and relaxed into the softness of the bed, inhaling his lingering fragrance on the pillow. Incredibly, she was soon sleeping peacefully. Maybe it was the dangers and violence she had witnessed and endured this day that made her feel safe in this particular room. Or perhaps it was the incredible nature of this day’s events and emotions that made what happened this night seem unreal. Suddenly, it all seemed only a dream again…

  The Ranger made his way toward the stable just as a heavy rain began. Before he could reach the entrance, he was soaked. As he stepped inside the enclosure, he cursed this strange day. The air was crisp at this late hour. He shivered and chided his sacrifice. He was tired, chilly, and miserable: all for a stubborn female! What did it matter if he had endured worse conditions? Tonight, his discomfort was self-imposed. He paced the dirt floor, berating himself and the girl sleeping warm and secure in his bed.

  His whiskey should warm him. But he had left it behind. She would be panicked by his return, but what the hell! He could suffer only so much for an innocent mistake. He headed for the saloon, not bothering to run since he was already thoroughly saturated.

  He quietly unlocked the door and peeked inside. She appeared to be sleeping. As if for a frightened child, the lantern had been left burning. As Calinda rolled to her side, the sheet slipped away to reveal most of her slender back. His white teeth gleamed as he grimaced, his arms aching to ease around her. Calinda sighed tranquilly and curled into a tight ball, fiery curls spreading over the white pillow.

  The Ranger couldn’t find the willpower to move, remembering how it had felt with the girl nestled against him. He irrationally cursed himself for giving his word not to. touch her again; his loins ached for her. He yearned to feel those soft hands wandering over his body again, to bury his nose in that fragrant hair, to ride over the stirring hills and peaceful plains with a first love, a wild love. He had never broken his word, and he wouldn’t start with this tempting treat. But watching her was as painful as falling into a thistle of bull nettles. He fretted over the novel emotions he was experiencing. The instinctive hair on the back of his neck seemed to bristle in warning. It was past time to get the hell out of this room!

  Feeling slightly ridiculous, but trained to be wary and careful, the lawman soundlessly searched the room and under the edge of the mattress for a weapon or concealed clue to this delightful creature. Finding none, he sighed gratefully for that good luck. After all, some women were known to be vengeful and selfish…

  Calinda stirred again, as if restless. Before she turned to her stomach and snuggled into his deserted place, he studied her intently, as if he could ever forget a line or curve on her ravishing face and body. He went to the corner table. He took a piece of paper and scribbled a note, then placed it and some money on her pillow. If Nelle was up before he rode off, he would question her about this mysterious girl. If not, then he would do so the next time he came to Fort Worth. He glanced at her a final time, wondering why he was having such a difficult time breathing, and departing. It wasn�
��t like him to allow any distractions to his duty. Having never before avoided a threat or a challenge, he scurried from both in her.

  He returned to the stable and stripped off the wet clothes, pulling on a pair of lightweight longjohns to ward off a chill. He took several large gulps of whiskey and snuggled into the wiry hay and scratchy blanket. As the Ranger continued to lie there awake and restless, defensive doubts badgered his keen mind. Was it possible two redheads would show up at the same saloon, the same day, with the same first name? Would Nelle loan his private room to a total stranger? If Nelle had been swayed by this girl’s troubles, why didn’t she loan her two dollars for a hotel room? If Callie was playing some game, she had selected the wrong man to dupe. It didn’t seem logical for a “lady” to be travelling alone in the wild West. Surely this girl wasn’t a female detective, out to use him for information? Several cattle barons, one in particular, was under investigation; but would they hire a beautiful vixen to waylay him? Perhaps his undercover job made him too leery, but there was one powerful haciendado he couldn’t ignore…

  The wily Texan had slain many men, some in the line of duty and some from challenges that couldn’t be handled any other way. Could she be a vengeful sweetheart, daughter, or sister? Improbable, he concluded, but not impossible. Her prior innocence ruled out vindictive widow. He was relieved that Nelle had been warned never to reveal his name or location to any curious person. It was a difficult search, but the persistent drifter finally located dreamland and entered its enticing gates. It was only a few hours before he was up and dressed, riding off to Dallas to meet with Major Jones, not daring to check on Callie again.

  Hours later, Calinda stirred. Slowly her hazy mind. and heavy eyes cleared. She bolted up in the bed and looked around; something was different. The window was closed; the lantern was out; the bottle was gone. Staring at her naked body, she fumed at his unforgivable action. He had returned while she was sleeping! She hurried to make certain the door was locked, sighing when it was though she knew he had a key. Her gaze touched on the money on the pillow, bringing a flush to her face and anger to her mind. Was he paying her like some harlot? She stalked to the bed and seized the unsigned note. Stunned, she read it a second time:

  Callie,

  Sorry about our delightful mistake last night. Buy some clothes and a gun. Get to the hotel and stay put until you can get on your way home. Next time we meet, my flame-haired beauty, my chivalrous promise will be worthless. Rest assured, we will meet again. Keep a sharp eye over your lovely shoulder. One day I’ll ride up behind you when you least expect it.

  Calinda was addled, but annoyingly warmed. How dare that arrogant rebel order her around! “Our mistake,” she scoffed. But he had kept his word, and he had left her some money. “No doubt you’ll expect payment for it if we do ever meet again,” she whispered apprehensively, then scolded herself for the surge of eager suspense that followed. Even if it had been a misunderstanding, she had a right to this money in view of what he had taken from her. As soon as her dress was repaired, she would take his suggestions. She would shop for clothes and buy a gun, then register at the hotel and wait for the sheriff to assist her. If Tex came around again before her departure, he would find himself on the barrel end of the gun he had generously purchased!

  Yet as Calinda waited for Nelle to appear, she found herself thinking about the trespasser who had abruptly invaded her world and selfishly changed it, then just as mysteriously departed. Was his note a promise, a threat, or a joke? As she reflected on his touch and kisses, she trembled. How could a beguiling stranger cause her body to sing such forbidden and romantic songs and entice her traitorous heart to dream of meeting him again. She must be going daft!

  When Nelle came to bring her garments and breakfast, Calinda didn’t mention Tex’s noctural visit. Nelle appeared flustered and rushed this morning, quickly leaving with the promise to return later. Recalling the stranger’s words about Nelle’s sweetheart, Calinda decided Nelle was either spending every available minute with him or was bidding him a sad farewell. Calinda ate slowly, then dressed, After which, she impatiently sat waiting for Nelle’s return.

  Just before noon, the hefty and genial woman returned. When Calinda casually inquired about the owner of her room, Nelle told her not to worry, that he wouldn’t mind her staying here one night. When Calinda pressed for more information about him, Nelle reluctantly told Calinda he was Cody Richards, a wealthy rancher’s son from down Laredo way. When Calinda asked how often he came to town, Nelle said he only showed up about every six weeks to relax and have some fun.

  It would be dusk, when Jake Tarply the bartender came to work, before Nelle would learn of the cowboy’s unexpected visit. A new mystery would be added to Nelle’s immense collection. She would wonder why Calinda had kept silent. And again today, Nelle had her guileful cousin to fret over, for the audacious Callie had stolen money and vanished at dawn, After having been seen in the company of a notorious gunslinger!

  Calinda was shown to the sheriff’s office, then Nelle went about her flurry of business. Calinda related her story to the sympathetic man, who promptly informed her there was little chance of getting back her possessions. Calinda was distraught. She told the sheriff he could keep everything as a reward if he only recovered the locket. After promising to do all he could, Calinda went to the hotel to register. The owner was surprised to see her again this morning. If she had any other choice, she wouldn’t stay in his hotel.

  Later, she went to the telegraph office to hire a messenger to deliver two letters to the Cardone Ranch, one to her father and one to Rankin Cardone in case her father was absent. When that task was finished, she headed for the mercantile store to purchase the needed garments. There was little to choose from in her size, so Calinda purchased two simple dresses, cotton underwear, toiletries, and a plain nightgown. Having nothing to occupy her time until her father or Mister Cardone appeared, she purchased another book to while away the hours and to distract her from thoughts of Cody.

  Knowing Nelle deserved a brief explanation, Calinda went to see her later that afternoon. Nelle sensed her embarrassment, tension, and reluctance as Calinda told her false story. Calinda said the banker had loaned her money until her father or Mister Cardone arrived. She tried to pay Nelle for her kindness, but Nelle refused. When Calinda asked about Callie, Nelle dropped several enlightening clues to the event of last night. Nelle was surprised when the young woman hugged her fondly and thanked her before leaving.

  As Calinda returned to the hotel, she realized how the beguiling stranger had made such a tormenting error; he had been told about the arrival of Callie and had mistaken Calinda for the new girl. In light of the crazy set of coincidences, the outcome was logical. Yet, he had made love to the wrong woman, if only she hadn’t been dazed! Had Cody learned of his error? Was that why he had returned to leave the money and note? Or did he still think she was Callie O’Hara…

  Calinda slept fitfully that night, but dreamed about the bronzed stranger with tawny eyes. For two days, she paced the wooden floor of her room, waiting and praying. The tall stranger didn’t return to town; or if he did, Calinda never saw him from her window which faced the main street. The sheriff called once, to tell Calinda there was no news on the robbery. In the raw cowtown, Calinda dared not go out alone, especially not after her initial experiences here in Texas. After each meal, she would return to her room to wait.

  By the third day, she was growing anxious. If she didn’t hear something today, she would send another message and speak bluntly with the sheriff. Surely it couldn’t take much longer for her message to arrive and to get a response. Calinda dreaded to think about her future if her father was gone. Her only friend was a tender-hearted saloon madam. If only Cody…he had probably dismissed her from his mind the instant the door closed behind his towering and virile frame. She cursed Cody for his hold over her mind and body.

  To her dismay, she suddenly wondered how to deal with another problem—what if Rankin
Cardone didn’t live around here anymore? He was the only clue to her father! She hastily dismissed that fear, for the messenger had taken her money and agreed to deliver her letters.

  Mid-morning, a loud knock sounded on her door. When she asked who was there, a masculine voice replied, “Rankin Cardone, Senorita. May I come in and speak with you?”

  Relieved and excited, Calinda unlocked the door and opened it. Her smile froze in place when she saw he was alone. She dreaded to hear the meaning behind her father’s absence.

  “You wanted to see me?” Rankin asked crisply, eyeing her intently. He obviously held an inner strength which matched his supple frame.

  “Yes. Please come in,” she offered politely, then stepped aside.

  Chapter Three

  The formidable haciendado entered her room and sat down in a chair, his movements fluid and controlled. It was impossible to miss his aura of wealth, power, and self-assurance. As if a man at ease anywhere, he crossed his right ankle over his left thigh. Rankin Cardone presented a most distinguished figure, tall and muscular. Though he must have been nearly fifty, he certainly did not look his age. Impeccably dressed, he wore garments that suggested a Spanish flair. Except for a white shirt, he was clad in black. A narrow length of black silk was tied around his collar, its tails dangling down the front of his ruffled shirt. He casually removed his hat and placed it on his lap, his fingers caressing the braided band as a child would stroke a furry kitten. His boots were highly polished; for a moment Calinda wondered if she could see her face reflected there.

  His sable hair was peppered lightly with silver at the temples. He wore a thin mustache which curled slightly on both ends and a neatly trimmed Vandyke beard. His features bore an aristocratic mien. Suddenly his last name struck a note, Spanish or Mexican? His forceful gaze seemed to penetrate Calinda’s flesh, making her uneasy. The expression on Rankin’s face was resolute, his thoughts and feelings unreadable. He gazed at her as if assessing a new breed of stock. Although Calinda was accustomed to meeting people of wealth and prestige, this man tampered with her poise and confidence.