To Marry a Texas Outlaw

by Linda Broday

  But a very tall woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Ross was waiting outside the door. “I’m taking you upstairs for a hot bath and some food.”

  “I appreciate the care, but can’t it wait, Mrs. Ross?”

  The kindly woman took her arm. “I promise this won’t take long.”

  Josie smiled. “How about if I come find you later?”

  “You’ll get lost in this monstrous place.”

  How true. Josie sighed and followed Mrs. Ross, fretting the whole way. She needed to find Luke and sink into the comfort of his arms.

  Breathe the special scent that was Luke Weston, the man with kisses like fire.

  Nothing would be right again until she did.

  Twelve

  After a quick meal and a bath, Luke accepted a heavy crystal glass from Stoker and sank into a leather chair in his father’s spacious office. He pressed the glass to his cheek and glanced around. What he saw froze the air in his lungs. There on the wall hung an oil painting of Elena Montoya when she was young and full of life. The artist had captured his mother’s rare beauty. She looked as though she could open her mouth and speak.

  “Your mother had my heart from the first time I laid eyes on her, son.” Stoker filled the chair beside Luke’s.

  Luke pointed to the wall. “When? How did you accomplish this?”

  “I commissioned the painting right after your return from the cattle drive to Dodge City six months ago. As for how…I gave Elena’s likeness from her locket to the famous artist, Harvey Creed.” Stoker released a gratified sigh. “This room is my favorite in the entire house. I sit for hours in here, staring at her, wishing I could turn back time. Dear God, I loved that woman. She lit a fire in me that still hasn’t gone out. Did she find someone else, someone who’d take care of her?”

  “No. There was no one else. Men came with offers of marriage, but she sent them all away.” Each time Luke had begged her to at least consider one, but she’d just smiled and shaken her head.

  A cry tore from Stoker’s lips and his shoulders sagged as though he were an old man.

  “What do Sam and Houston have to say about this being in here?” Luke imagined they didn’t like it any.

  “They were the ones who told me to hang the portrait. Their mother’s pictures are all over the house. They wanted me to put up yours too.”

  Surprise shot through him that his brothers showed no jealousy. But then, they were unusual men. Luke’s gaze flickered to the huge, mahogany desk and memories spiraled like a rampaging tornado, gobbling up everything in its path.

  His mind flew back two years, to a time in this room under very different circumstances. He’d been worried about his brother Sam then. Rustlers had strung him up from an oak tree, and Sam would’ve died if Luke hadn’t cut him down in time. The trauma of the event messed with Sam’s head and his captain sent him home to straighten himself out. Afraid Sam couldn’t make the trip, Luke hadn’t rested until he’d made sure his brother made it safely.

  Unaware that Luke was his brother back then, Sam had chased him for over a year for stage robberies. But there was never a moment, even when he thought he hated them, that Luke didn’t watch over Sam and Houston from afar. His brothers were as innocent in this as he was. Still, they were Stoker’s heirs. And Luke was a bastard child, a wanted man. All the secrets had come to light in this very room.

  Stoker, Sam, and Houston had been less than thrilled at first. In fact, they’d been downright bull-snorting mad.

  For certain, Luke’s notoriety had caused problems for them, especially with the reward jumping higher and higher. The last poster he’d come across, tacked in the train depot in Austin, had set the reward at two thousand dollars. Dead or alive.

  He muttered a curse and tossed back the whiskey, feeling the liquid fire burn a path down to his stomach.

  “Still chased by demons, I see.” Stoker rose to refill their glasses and returned to his chair. “I don’t suppose you’re any closer to clearing yourself?”

  “Thanks for the whiskey. I needed it. To answer your question—not by a long shot.” Luke stared into his mother’s eyes, shining down on him from the portrait on the wall. “I almost had Ned Sweeney.”

  He told his father about coming upon Josie bound and gagged on the open prairie. “I couldn’t leave her.”

  “Of course not. Who would’ve done such a thing? She’s a sweet young lady and needed help.”

  “The two men I found with her claimed the outlaw Reno Kidd bears the blame.” Hardness filled Luke. “I’ll ask before I kill him.”

  “The bastard deserves it. I’d like to help.” Stoker took a big gulp of liquor from his full glass. He gripped the bottle in his other hand, keeping it near for refills. His father seemed as much in need of the bracing liquid as Luke.

  “I’ve paid back some of the money already.” Why he’d said that, he didn’t know. Possibly in hopes that his father would say he was proud of him?

  Hell hadn’t quite frozen over enough yet.

  Stoker leaned forward in surprise. “It’s a start, son. I could pay those off for you in a matter of days but for your god-awful stubborn pride.”

  “Sometimes money can’t solve everything.” He met Stoker’s piercing eyes with his own steady gaze. His mother had loved Stoker Legend to the day she died. Luke suspected she’d be happy to see them sitting here like this, together at last.

  He shifted his gaze to the desk, remembering how Sam had caught him in the early dawn. He’d hoped to put his mother’s locket in Stoker’s desk before anyone saw him. But it hadn’t worked out that way; instead, he’d faced down a brother convinced that he’d been stealing. Luke still recalled the shock and how the color had drained from Stoker’s face when he opened that locket and saw Elena Montoya’s face staring back.

  That morning, Luke had fulfilled the promise he’d made to his mother on her deathbed. Now, two years later, things still weren’t resolved on his side. Would they ever reach a point where he could let go of the past?

  “Luke,” Stoker said, “my respect for you grows each time you come. You’ve never taken the easy road—you shoulder responsibility for everything you’ve done like few men I’ve ever seen. I wish I could take your burden. I’ve spent sleepless nights worrying if you’re dead or alive—or in jail somewhere.”

  “I don’t want you losing sleep, not over me.”

  Stoker drained his glass and a mist filled his eyes. “When Sam rode with the Texas Rangers, he was the reason I installed a telegraph here. He was the one I watched for at each sunrise and sunset. Now it’s you. That’s why I rode down to the crossbar this evening. That’s why I want you to sleep in the house. Just once, I want to know you’re near.” His voice broke. “You’re my son. I love you, Luke.”

  Everything stilled inside of Luke. He wasn’t ready to hear this. It wasn’t time. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away? He couldn’t accept what his father hungered to give. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “I know.” The raspy words squeezed from Luke’s tightened throat, barely louder than a whisper. He rose, set his glass on a small table, and strode out the door.

  Moments later, he found himself outside, gulping the fragrant night air as if none remained in all of Texas.

  It was a mistake to come. He didn’t fit here.

  He’d made so many mistakes.

  Maybe he was a mistake. He’d brought his mother nothing but pain.

  Luke hurried past the row of sleeping businesses. The place was more like a small town, houses and stores all put in so Stoker’s ranch hands and their families wouldn’t have to travel days by wagon to shop or see a doctor. The latest was a telegraph. He vaguely recalled Stoker telling someone to take care of their horses, so he headed to the corral.

  Why there, he didn’t exactly know. He wanted to saddle Major John and ride back out, but he couldn’t just dump No
ah and Josie on Stoker this way.

  Hell!

  Still, he kept walking. Maybe he sought comfort that the horse could give. Or maybe because Major John was the only thing in the world that he owned outright.

  Stoker’s words kept rumbling inside his head. Luke shouldn’t have let him speak of love. His father didn’t realize how deeply Luke would hurt him. Not by choice. But he would.

  A shot rang out and the dirt kicked up around his boots.

  “Stop it right there, Luke Weston, or I’ll drop you. Don’t think I won’t.”

  The familiar voice kept him from reaching for his Colt. He whirled to see Josie racing toward him, smoke curling from the end of her weapon. The crazy lady had her gun drawn and appeared ready to kill him on the spot. What had happened? Something the doctor said? Or was it Noah?

  Cowboys poured from everywhere, some in nothing but their long johns, all clutching weapons.

  “Where’s the trouble?” one asked.

  “It was just an accident,” Luke hollered. “No cause for alarm.” Or at least he hoped not.

  The men grumbled, holstered their guns, and retreated into the various dwellings.

  Josie arrived out of breath.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” He took the gun from her cold fingers before she fired again and waited for some answer that would make sense. The racing pulse in the hollow of her throat alarmed him. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re a lowdown, double-crossing sidewinder if I ever saw one.” She spat the words like they were snake venom. “I’m not going to let you leave, even if I have to shoot you. Not tonight. Not like this. Hell, you’re exhausted and so am I.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “You’re heading straight for the stables, aren’t you? I’m guessing you and your father had words. Saw it coming. I knew something would send you running.”

  “I’m going to check on Major, but to clear my head, not to leave.” He tried to keep the anger from his voice but it sneaked in anyway. “I’m not riding out. Yet. I needed some fresh air.”

  Josie leaned back to stare up at him. “I thought you were leaving me. Mister, when you head out, I’m going with you.” Her chin stuck out at an obstinate angle. “This is a fine place to rest—in fact, there’s none nicer—but if you’re thinking to dump me here, you’d best think again.”

  The fragrance that belonged only to her filled his senses. She stood before him bathed in the silvery moonlight. Her nearness messed with his mind. Her lips were too perfectly curved, too tempting, too close.

  “You’re one crazy, mixed-up woman, Josie.” He put his hands gently around her neck, lowered his head, and claimed her mouth.

  The kiss was hot and needy, and he didn’t apologize for the sudden roughness.

  Hunger for her consumed him with all the fierceness of a summer storm. He stood unmoving in its path, facing the furor. Not since Angelina had he felt this way about any woman.

  Josie was imperfect, like him. She knew exactly who she was and made no excuses for any lack. The lady never pretended to be more than she was—not even when she played a role. But she didn’t have to. She could do whatever the situation called for, whether it be a tender touch or a bullet from her gun. Luke had never seen another like her, even in all his wandering. Maybe she’d come into his life to make him see that his life had purpose.

  When he broke the kiss, he nibbled slowly across her lips, teasing, wanting to make her yearn for more as he did. As her breathing became ragged, he gently tugged her plump bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

  He pulled her against his chest with a low curse, and gave himself over to the passion or lust or whatever the hell it was. He slid his hands into her hair and wrapped the silk around his fingers.

  She thrust her arms around his neck and melted into him, her breasts pressed flat against his chest.

  What they had seemed right. Yet if it turned out to be all wrong, he couldn’t stop. Not this time.

  This time the hunger was too raw and consuming.

  He couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move away as he should. All he could do was feel, and the need to banish the constant loneliness for a little while drove him past the line he’d drawn. He wanted to feel whole again and only Josie could make that happen.

  Luke deepened the kiss and slid his hands down the sides of her breasts, following the line of her body to her hips. Josie Morgan was made for loving, her curves designed for a lonely outlaw to hold in his dreams.

  The way Josie clung to him told of the desperate desire she, too, felt. She melted against him and made little mewling sounds in her throat. She tightened her grip on his vest as though he were fighting to get away.

  She didn’t know he’d move heaven and earth to spend just one night in her arms. Better for her that she didn’t. Better for everyone. That way, no one would get hurt when he said goodbye.

  Even though he knew it to be a lie, he told himself that this meant nothing, just slaking a thirst for both of them. But he wasn’t a good enough liar to convince himself of that.

  Truth be told, she’d wiggled her way past every one of his defenses and planted herself in his heart. Maybe admitting that would buy him some favors when someone’s bullet sent him to the fiery pits of hell.

  He ended the kiss when he realized she needed air. With a final brush across those swollen lips, the closeness driving him insane, he rested his forehead on hers.

  “Dios mío.”

  “Luke.” Her breath came unevenly.

  “Lady, someday when I get all this mess straightened out and I know for sure you’re free, I’ll take you somewhere private.” His voice was hoarse and raw. He rested his hands at her small waist above the low-slung gun belt and vowed, “I’ll light a fire inside you and make slow, steamy love until the stars fall right out of the sky and the world disappears.”

  “So maybe there’s hope for us?”

  “Who knows?” It depended upon a lot of things—her past for one. His past for another. “Don’t get too accustomed to this.”

  “I swear, Luke. I’ve probably never met a man with so many don’ts.” Josie twisted the silver button of his black vest. “You’re far too serious. It doesn’t hurt to be a little bit more positive, you know. Try putting a few more dos somewhere in your vocabulary. You’ll love how it improves your outlook.” She glanced up. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “Help me how?” he growled.

  “To smile more. To laugh. To appreciate what you have instead of seeing everything you don’t.”

  Damn if she didn’t make a good point. He already knew how much lighter he felt being with her.

  Sliding his arm around her, he changed the subject. “What did you learn from the doc?”

  “My back is fine. It’ll take a while for the soreness to leave.”

  “And your memory?” he prodded.

  “Jenkins thinks it’ll all come flooding back any second.” She waved her arm wide in exaggeration. “It could take a day, a week, a month, or a year. He said the right thing will have to trigger it.”

  “That’s encouraging, Josie.”

  “I suppose, but I’m tired of waiting. I want it now. I need to know things.” She lowered her tone. “That face I saw as I left Noah’s room bothers me. I think he’s going to try to kill me and I don’t even know why.”

  “Let’s go where we can talk.” He put an arm around her waist and they strolled to the huge barn. They sat on some hay bales. “Now describe what you saw.”

  “I’ll never forget that face, not if I live to be a hundred. He had this long, dirty-yellow hair that looked like straw. Brown, rotted teeth. Light-colored stubble along his jaw. But the most frightening thing was his smile.” She shivered. “His smile was evil, like he just wanted to reach into my chest and rip my h
eart out.”

  Luke put his arm around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’ve seen men like that. Anything else?”

  “I noticed a scar on his cheek.”

  “What kind? Straight, wide, jagged?”

  “No. It was a small circle.”

  Everything inside Luke stilled. “A circle?”

  “Yes. I know that sounds crazy but that’s what I saw.”

  “That’s Reno Kidd, Josie. I put that scar on him during a fight, and not that long ago. I had on this ring that had a sharp, raised center. My fist cut a circle. Reno has yellow hair like you described and rotten teeth. No question. He’s the one you saw.”

  Josie shivered. “How did I survive him? How?”

  “Being unconscious must’ve saved you.”

  “No,” she objected. “You saved me. You came along before they had time to…do whatever they planned.”

  Luke tightened his arm around her. “Try not to think about could’ves and would’ves. It didn’t happen. You’re here, safe where their evil can’t touch you.”

  “Reno wants me dead,” she whispered. “He’ll hunt until he finds me.”

  Thirteen

  Josie’s anguished cry tore at the fabric of Luke’s heart. The sounds of horses nickering close by, the barn cats’ meows, talk between cowboys outside the doors faded until all he could hear was her frantic heartbeat.

  “I won’t let him near you.” Luke mentally kicked himself. Why had he let Reno’s men just ride off like that? If he’d known the whole story, he’d have made them lead him to Reno.

  Except Josie had been in bad shape and he couldn’t have left her.

  She nestled against him. “I’d hate to go through this alone—without you. You give me hope and courage.”