First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  He urged Star to an even faster pace. With at least a twenty-hour headstart, she could be anywhere and in any danger…Lynx recognized he had several advantages over Calinda: he and Star were fresh and anxious after their train ride; and they could make better time than she could since she would be compelled to ride cautiously to appease her disabled body. He was around thirty miles from the Jacksboro road; considering where Reynolds had seen her, she had to be around forty miles to the south. If Cal made fifteen to twenty miles tomorrow, he should intercept her at least that many miles below that turbulent settlement, if she held true to course and didn’t collapse. If Fort Richardson hadn’t been abandoned in May, he could have telegraphed there for assistance. He glanced at the moon, assessing the time as ten o’clock. If he travelled all night, he could make up for her lead.

  Lynx tried to focus his attention on another subject to distract his troubled mind. He recalled his last talk with Jones when he had refused to continue with the Rangers. Someone else could battle the aggressive Apaches who were stirring up again in the Pecos area, and someone else could struggle against the forces of Mexican banditos and American desperadoes.

  Calinda had slept restlessly for several hours last night, then urged herself to halt this murderous pace and yield to short naps. Her fatigue was increasing, as were her morning bouts with nausea. Preoccupied, her symptoms failed to register accurately in her muddled thoughts. She continued to believe the squeamish feeling was connected to her injured condition and physical distress. The mixture of blazing sun, hard riding, and painful agony took its toll as the day passed from ice blue skies, to a brilliant sunset, to deepening shadows of impending night. Planned as the moment to switch from day riding to night riding, she was coerced by inflexible and merciless nature to suspend her trek until morning or until sufficiently rested.

  Just before eleven, Cal walked the animal into a dry gulch and gingerly dismounted. She tied his reins to a small mesquite bush, then denied her fatigue and anguish to remove his saddle. She drank from the canteen and sighed listlessly. Too lacking in spirit and strength to consume the unappealing nourishment, Cal spread a blanket on the sandy ground and was quickly devoured by sleep.

  Lynx journeyed all night, halting as streaks of pinkish gray dawn filtered across the landscape. While Star caught his wind, grazed, and watered, Lynx quickly prepared a small fire for enlivening coffee. He tossed down three cups of the black liquid and some dried beef with biscuits. He rinsed the dishes and pot in the river, then stripped and dove in. He splashed himself and ducked many times to refresh his lagging spirits and depleted energy. If he came upon trouble, he must be revived and alert. He packed up his gear and headed off again.

  When Calinda awoke around eight she felt terrible, she wanted to cry like a baby. She was sore and miserable. After sleeping so long, she was still drained. She choked and heaved several times, but her stomach was too empty to eject anything. She felt dizzy and wobbly. She wondered how she could saddle the horse or ride in this weak state. But she realized Lynx must be aware of her escape by now. Was he tracing her flight this very moment? Did she even care?

  She reclined on her back to settle her whirling head and agitated stomach. She sipped water, dabbing at the fluid which dribbled down her chin from her shaky hands on the canteen. She poured some into her cupped hand and rubbed it over her ashen face. She lay down again. Nothing seemed to help. How she longed for a bath and soft bed.

  Cal had to lie there in misery until mid-morning before nature showed her any sympathy and assuaged the unfamiliar harassment. She forced one biscuit down with water, but feared it wouldn’t remain inside very long. Placing most of the weight of the saddle on her right arm, she tossed it over the horse and fastened the girth beneath his belly. She tied the blanket behind the saddle and pulled herself up on his back. She wanted to sob hysterically when she realized she hadn’t untied the reins from the bush and they were refusing to be yanked free. Was everything and everyone against her?

  Cal dismounted and untangled the leather strip, gritting her teeth in vexation. She leaned forward as the horse climbed out of the coulee and follow her command. Ignorant of what menacing threats lay ahead, the quest for unwanted freedom was underway again…

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The first two hours were hellish for Calinda. Her stomach was still churning feebly. Her head was aching; her shoulder was screaming for relief. How she craved some of Doc’s magical elixir. Two fiery patches flamed on her cheeks against her milky complexion. She was colorless around her pale lips, which were dry from her erratic respiration. Dark smudges lingered beneath her somber green eyes.

  Calinda swayed precariously in the saddle, leaning forward countless times and gripping the horn to keep from tumbling to the hard ground. Her appetite had vanished; all she desired was soothing water, liquid which her tummy battled to accept. At that moment, she would have given all of her money for a sip of medication and a soft bed. By now, she didn’t care if Lynx overtook her; in fact, she found herself praying he would, reflecting on his tender and loving care after her injury. Never had she felt worse in her life, not even during or after the shooting. Oddly, his supposed betrayal didn’t pain her as much as her own body did at this time.

  Calinda feared she was going to faint soon. She weaved to and fro on the horse, struggling to retain her senses and balance. Her jumbled thoughts told her Lynx had had a logical explanation for his actions. She shouldn’t have fled so recklessly. No matter what she assumed Lynx had done, he had always rescued her from peril and taken care of her. Why had she run away before giving him the chance to explain?

  Cal felt so alone and wretched. She was afraid, afraid of life without Lynx, afraid of her worsening illness, afraid of the path ahead. She even feared she might die out here alone. She was swiftly becoming too hazy and weak to fend for herself. A hysterical sob came forth as she realized the seriousness of her predicament.

  What was her love thinking and feeling? Was Lynx glad to be rid of her? Would he honor her request not to pursue her? Or was he alarmed and worried about her? Had her desertion cut him deeply? Was he furious with her? What if he did come after her? How would he know where to look? She cursed herself and the burdensome past, hoping she hadn’t been too cunning for his tracking skills.

  Her dazed vision noticed a thick cluster of trees ahead. Knowing she couldn’t stay alert or in the saddle much longer, Cal headed the horse in that direction. To conceal them from dangerous eyes, she guided him into the center of the leafy copse.

  Suddenly a man bolted forward and seized her reins. She wavered dizzily. She vaguely took in a tousled blond head and steely eyes. Between rapid blinks, her blurry vision momentarily settled on the pistol in his grip. Her stupefied mind couldn’t analyze her danger. She could hear his voice, but couldn’t make out his words as her ears buzzed precariously. Her eyes closed and she fell over into the arms of the astonished outlaw.

  He stared at the beautiful bundle in his grasp, then smiled. He deposited her on the spot which he had hastily deserted. He holstered his sixgun and secured the reins of her horse to a tree beside his stallion. He swaggered over to kneel beside her, taking in her unique beauty and sorry condition. He removed her hat, allowing the fiery curls to spread around her head, dabbing her face with his handkerchief.

  He shoved one eye open, enchanted by the rich greenness of it. He ran his rough fingers over flesh which was creamy and smooth. Clearly she was real sick. He removed her light jacket to allow her body to cool. Unfastening the top three buttons on her shirt to assist her breathing, he tingled as his fingers made contact with silky skin. She certainly was a looker. Probably around his age.

  Why was she out here alone? He removed her gunbelt and put it out of reach, should she awake soon. He slipped off her boots, knowing how refreshing that was to a warm body. When the money fell to the ground, he chuckled and stuffed it into his pocket. He searched her, finding the other two hidden sums. He grinned; she was a bright gal.<
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  Where was she heading? What was wrong with her? She was ravishing, but in sore shape. Running away from some vicious father or a horrible husband? How vulnerable and childish she looked. Yet, her face and body declared her very much a woman. His loins flamed, tugging against the restraint of his jeans. He threw back his yellowy blond hair and laughed coldly; what Billy Bounet wanted, Billy took. Billy lazed against his saddle, observing her as she slept. The famed outlaw glanced at the sun and smiled salaciously; it was early, around two. This fragile filly was no match for him…

  Even at eighteen, Billy was fearless and deadly, with a string of murders and robberies to his credit. He was a dreaded legend who terrorized the areas of Santa Fe, Brazos Forks, the Panhandle, and Plains. Some knew him as William Bonnet, Henry McCarthy, or Kid Antrim. Most knew him as Billy the Kid. With his Winchester rifle, Smith & Wesson pistol, Mexican blade, and his steely eyes Billy could frighten most men into backing down. This girl would be no trouble at all.

  Lynx had connected with the southern road from Jacksboro, but he still had at least twenty miles to ride before catching up to his wife. He halted everyone he passed to question them. When he could find no one who had seen Calinda along the trail, Lynx prayed it was her bright mind which allowed her to elude discovery and not some other force which had taken her off the trail: illness or peril.

  As Lynx rounded a bend in the road, he came face to face with no other than Salina Mendoza and Clint Deavers! His heart lurched to find these two on the same trail as his missing wife. Clint reined up instantly, glaring at the golden image clad in black. Salina whitened and had difficulty controlling her horse.

  “Well, well, who do we have here, Salina?” Clint muttered, his gaze lethal and frosty. Clint hadn’t forgotten how this man had tricked him and called his bluff, acts which still riled the gunslinger.

  “Lynx, why do you ride this way?” Salina asked weakly.

  “I might ask the same of you, Salina,” Lynx snarled. “That’s bad company you’re keeping. I wondered where you’d flown to.”

  “Were you looking for me?” she asked wishfully, her eyes and face brightening, much to Clint’s annoyance.

  Lynx laughed sarcastically and shook his head slowly. Lynx appeared utterly relaxed and unruffled, but he was tense and alert. “Did you notice Callie along the trail?” he casually inquired, observing their reactions for clues he dreaded. “Seems your malicious trick worked after you left. Any idea where she went?”

  “You mean Cal ran off again?” Salina asked in amusement.

  “You’ve been scheming to run her off ever since her arrival. What did you expect after she caught you naked in my bed?” Lynx ventured, pleased with the effect of his enlightening words on Clint. “If I hadn’t been so busy trying to calm her down the other night, I would have beaten the daylights out of you for that malicious prank,” he sneered scornfully.

  Salina flustered. She glanced over at the nettled man beside her. “He lies, Clint. I have never slept with you,” she charged hotly.

  “Only because I kicked you out on your lustful ass. I’ve been telling you for over two years that I’m not interested in a slut like you. And don’t go looking insulted! Only a cheap puta would sneak into a married man’s room while he’s sleeping! It takes a daring, heartless bitch to crawl naked into his bed with his injured wife in the next room. Ask Deavers, who would look at you even once with Cal around?” Lynx added harshly, noticing the gleam of agreement in Clint’s eyes.

  “If Cal had not been wounded and an invalid for weeks, you would not have needed a woman so badly,” she shot back at him.

  “Wounded?” Clint echoed in surprise. “That pretty little thing got shot? Who did it?” he demanded as if he deserved to know the identity of anyone who would dare such an outrage. He hadn’t been able to forget her since their meeting in Lampasas.

  “I’d bet my boots Salina knows. I learned how cruel and devious she is when she tried to pin an adultery charge on me,” Lynx announced.

  Stressed, Salina exposed a look of guilt before she could control her expression. She stammered, “Don’t be…absurd! Why would…I shoot Calinda? She is a pain in the rump, but that’s loco.”

  Clint stared at Salina. Lynx drilled his intimidating glare into her frightened face. “You little bitch!” Clint thundered at her. So much for their plans of kidnapping that spicy redhead for her revenge and his pleasure! Salina had promised him money and Calinda if he aided her plot. All along, she had wanted to kill the sweet lady!

  “He just tries to anger you, mi amanta. Do not listen to him,” she pleaded, her nerves jittery between two powerful males.

  “Where is she, Salina?” Lynx demanded suspiciously, capturing a curious interaction between them. “What have you done to her now?”

  “Que se yo, diablo!” she screamed at Lynx in rising panic.

  “The hell you don’t know!” he stormed back, eyes blazing in fury.

  “We haven’t seen her, Cardone, but I’ll gladly help you search. This ain’t no safe area for a lady like that,” Clint merrily offered.

  “Caramba!” Salina cursed at the grinning outlaw.

  “Shut up, Salina,” Clint warned in mounting repulsion.

  “You two were behind those mysterious notes, weren’t you?” Lynx questioned, but didn’t expect any answer. He was astonished when Clint responded almost immediately.

  “This chica planned the whole thing. I should have known she was up to no good. If you’ll recall, she wasn’t your wife at the time. I knew you were lying, but I had a soft spot for her. Can’t blame me for falling under her spell. Must be powerful to snare you. If she’s run off from home, I take it she’s available again?” he baited Lynx.

  “Vete al infierno!” Salina heatedly damned them to hades.

  Lynx was too aware of the passage of time. But before he rode off, he had to make certain these two weren’t involved in Calinda’s disappearance. What if they forced her to write those notes and leave? What if Cal assumed he would pull clues from the letter? What had it said? Lynx tried to envision it, but he was distracted by Clint’s cold blue gaze and palm resting on the butt of his pistol. It was rash to think of other things in the face of death…

  Stalling for time, Lynx exposed Salina’s plot the other night. He icily added, “No Deavers, she ain’t available and never will be.”

  “Well?” Clint hinted guilefully. “Need my help? If Calinda’s finished with you, I’m ready and willing to marry her.”

  “Damn you, bastard!” Salina screamed at Lynx, watching him thwart her final plan. Once Clint had taken his fill of Calinda and she had driven her small dagger into that witch’s heart, Salina had planned to return to the ranch and offer herself to the grieving Lynx. “I wish Manuel’s aim had been accurate; she would be dead! Too bad that horse did not trample her! I should have told Clint to rape her that first night in Lampasas! You are a fool, diablo! Manuel should have killed you that day on the range! She is a puta! A feo gata! A sucio bruja!” she shouted rashly, going for the gun at her waist. If she couldn’t have this irresistible devil who haunted her, no woman would!

  Lynx was about to lurch forward to slap her vulgar mouth, pushed beyond reason and control as that bitch spouted crude insults about his beloved. But Clint viciously slapped Salina’s face three times as he growled satanically, “No, you don’t, you slut! He’s mine! Trick me, will you!”

  Salina couldn’t recoil swiftly enough to avoid those bruising blows. Tears rolled down her face. Her dark eyes were wide with terror and disbelief. She begged for Lynx’s protection. Deavers clearly wasn’t done with her yet.

  Clint laughed wickedly. “Let me see you use that ugly face to fool any more men! Get out of here before I break your arms!”

  Again the Mexican girl appealed for Lynx’s help. “Sorry, Salina, but I have to be going.” Right now, Cal could be in more trouble than Salina was. Lynx despised such brutality, but he didn’t have the time to help this girl who had maliciously played
havoc with his life and his wife’s. He chilled his heart and conscience to her sufferings. Salina had chosen this path and must ride it to the end. Besides, Deavers was too edgy to suit him.

  “Not so fast, Cardone. It’s time you and I settle our differences, here and now.”

  The puissant Texan leveled his potent gaze on Clint. “We have no quarrel, Deavers. Don’t force me to kill you,” he stated clearly, unshaken by the outlaw’s threat. But it was his way to avoid death if possible. He would reason first, bluff second, and shoot last.

  “You’re wrong, Cardone. You made a fool of me in Lampasas; I don’t take that insult lying down. Let’s dismount and see who’s the fastest,” Clint suggested stubbornly, wishing he hadn’t shot off his mouth so quickly. Now, he couldn’t back down.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you, Deavers. Cal’s out there lost somewhere, maybe in danger. Let it pass for today,” he entreated.

  “How long does it take to die, Cardone?” Clint scoffed. “If you survive, you go after her. If I survive, then I’ll take your place. It’s very quick and simple, the winner gets her.”

  “I’d kill you before I let you near her again,” Lynx snarled.

  “You’ll have to,” Deavers replied, grinning at his rigid foe.

  “No, I won’t,” Lynx said lightly. “I’m a Texas Ranger; you’re under arrest.” He gingerly withdrew the badge from his pocket and flashed it before Clint’s infuriated eyes.

  Abruptly Clint burst into taunting laughter. “You’re a Ranger about as much as you were Calinda’s husband in Lampasas. No more sneaky tricks, Cardone. Get off your horse,” he demanded.

  “I’m a Ranger, Deavers, and you’re a bloody fool.”