The Cowboy Who Came Calling

by Linda Broday

  Under different circumstances, he’d have kissed her until he softened that iron will, turning that stonewashed glare into the midnight blue of a stormy sea. He wished he could’ve quenched the longing in his belly that called out to a certain sharp-tongued woman.

  Such things made it hard for a man to remember his purpose—and that he had more in the end to lose than gain.

  A tumbleweed rolled end over end, lodging finally in a thorny agarita bush. It called attention to the trampled broom weed beside it. He pushed aside the broken stems. A clear hoofprint. The brush had protected it. Closer examination of the hardened imprint revealed a broken horseshoe. Couldn’t go far without turning lame.

  Perkins’s horse? His best guess. Not Soldier and certainly not the Days’ mule.

  He straightened, picking cockleburs from his pant leg. The denims attracted the dadburned things worse than a widow woman to a perfectly contented bachelor. With the last of them off, he squinted into the sun.

  North, south, east, or west?

  “Which way did you go, Perkins?”

  He sniffed the breeze. It seemed to him that a man as rotten as Mad Dog should leave a stench in the air.

  The Colorado lay south, Post Oak Springs north. His gut pointed him northeast toward the city of Coleman and the abandoned military fort—Camp Colorado.

  Before he yielded to that hunch, he’d first make a wide circle to see if he could locate any more clues to Perkins’s whereabouts.

  Soldier whinnied when he reached for the reins. “Come on, boy. We got us a coyote hunt.”

  * * *

  Glory adjusted herself in the saddle, glad she’d exchanged the cumbersome dress for britches. She gazed in all directions from atop Bead Mountain. Separated by eight miles as the crow flies from the Santa Anna twin peaks, the height afforded an unhindered view for miles. Little wonder both elevations provided the Comanche with an excellent communication system. Smoke signals may have proved invaluable against army troopers and unsuspecting settlers.

  Now she hoped the height would aid her as well in outsmarting a tricky cheat. When she caught him, she’d ask about his involvement in those stage robberies. His quick disappearance threw more than a little suspicion on him.

  A speck to the northeast aroused her curiosity. She pulled her father’s spyglass from a knapsack.

  Before she got it to her face, the sun disappeared into a black void. In an effort to force panic back into its lair, she shut her eyes and pictured pleasant things. A cool, clear creek on a hot day. A blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. The teasing lips of a renegade…

  Her lids popped open.

  How did McClain get into her daydreams? Wasn’t it enough that he filled her nights with tossing and turning?

  She blinked several times, rubbing away the cobwebs.

  Then as quickly as the blindness came, it left.

  Raising the spyglass once more, she held it steady.

  A paint all right. Couldn’t make out the rider from this distance, but she recognized Soldier. None in the county bore a speck of resemblance to that horse.

  They were at best a good mile away. She should catch him by nightfall—the perfect time to waylay someone.

  A grim smile stole over her face and she patted the Winchester that stuck from the scabbard.

  The sidewinder would learn a valuable lesson before the morning.

  * * *

  Luke ate the last of the cold beans and hardtack that Punkin had insisted he take. He took a swig of water from his canteen and leaned against the smooth leather of the saddle he’d propped against a big rock. He assessed the rope with which he’d carefully encircled the camp. He sure hoped it blocked the path of cold-blooded, slithery creatures.

  A family of warblers chirped loudly from a nearby live oak as they settled around their young.

  The sounds reminded him of a similar night when he had camped with Jessie. Arresting his brother’s wife had tested every belief in upholding his duty as a Texas Ranger. Escorting her back to El Paso to stand trial for the murder of her former husband had made him question the commitment to his job.

  In those moonlit nights, when the silvery rays shimmered off her auburn hair, he fell in love with Jessie Foltry. Perhaps it had been the possibility of the hangman’s noose that created the strong bond between them. He didn’t stop to ask.

  Her quiet spirit and determination to face what she had done and right the wrong of it, regardless of the outcome, taught him the meaning of courage. But her unwavering love for his big brother, Duel, should have nipped his desire in the bud.

  Except it hadn’t. Not after the jury acquitted her and she returned home with her husband and little Marley Rose. Instead, Luke’s love burned brighter, if that was possible.

  The ache of hiding his feelings from the world became as much a part of him as the wart on his right elbow.

  Both he’d carry to his grave.

  Off in the distance, a single coyote howled. Luke’s heavy sigh blended with the mournful sound. For a second, he pondered the wherefores of the wild animal. Did he call to his ladylove, waiting night after night, and she never came? Or like his case, had Miss Coyote chosen another?

  “I know your pain, boy.”

  He tucked his secret feelings back into the niche he’d built for them.

  Eleven months ago, his conscience had warred with family obligation. Now guilt for the mess he’d created riddled the part of him he’d always considered decent and moral. He was no longer a lawman, but he still strove to be a good, honest man.

  Partly because of his hasty actions, the Days stood to lose everything. They needed him. And whether or not they admitted it didn’t relieve him of his duty, he reasoned. He would do whatever he could to help them.

  The wind shifted to a more southerly tack and hand-carried the scent of wild honeysuckle to him. It brought to mind the fresh smell of Glory’s hair. Did she miss him? Or did she breathe a sigh of relief to finally be rid of the bother? More likely the latter.

  It surprised him to realize Glory Day had the power to make him forget Jessie. Or at least dull the memory.

  Suddenly, a covey of quail took flight from a cluster of sumac and wild thistle. Soldier pricked his ears, stomping the ground nervously. The hair bristled on the nape of his neck.

  Someone lurked out there. He’d faced danger too many times to ignore the warning. The Colt slid easily into the palm of his hand. Quickly, he rolled, stealing into the thick brush.

  The fingernail sliver of moonlight suited his purpose fine. Hidden by dark shadows, he waited for the skulking varmint.

  A needle jab in the fleshy part of his arm turned his blood ice cold. The roar of panic filled his ears as he listened for the distinctive rattle of a venomous variety. Nothing came.

  He peered behind and saw he’d settled in a mess of juniper and prickly poppy. Thank God!

  A slight rustle of coarse fabrics rubbing together slid the bloodsucking plants to the back of his mind. Luke pivoted his attention back to the campsite in time to see a black figure creep into view. It was too dark to see the face. The extra light of a fire would have helped him. But he hadn’t wanted to announce his position with Perkins in the vicinity.

  The intruder poked at the vacant bedroll with the tip of a rifle.

  Luke crouched, biding his time.

  At the right moment, when the culprit turned away, he jumped. They went down in a heap, jarred by the unforgiving ground. Off flew the intruder’s hat and a cloud of sweet-smelling hair blocked his view. No hard muscles—just soft, womanly curves.

  “McClain!”

  “Glory?” He blew away the tendrils of hair that swarmed up his nose. The fresh fragrance attacked his jangled nerves.

  “What are you doing? Get off me.”

  “Me? You’re the one who skulked in here like a common thief.”r />
  No, he took that back. There was nothing common about Glory Day. Stretched out firmly atop her, he felt her racing heart. His toes curled from the sizzling current. Her heaving breasts cozied up against the hardness of his chest like a saloon girl looking to make a bit of change. Have mercy!

  “Get off me, you lousy double-crosser!” She beat against his chest.

  Christmas could’ve come and gone in the length of time it took to pry his fingers loose and lift himself. He battled with the need to hold her close. The bold way her body fit against his made him long for her.

  With the deepest regret, he rose, letting her up.

  She brushed off her clothes in a huff. Her withering glare might’ve killed a less hardy soul. For him, it would take more than that. Nothing short of death could wipe the grin off his face.

  The evil eye she shot him when he didn’t cower under the glare assured him she’d most certainly oblige if given half a chance.

  He quickly plucked her Winchester from the dirt where it’d fallen in the scuffle. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Miss me, huh? Couldn’t stand not having me around?”

  “You’re a cheat and a low-down liar.”

  “Whoa, there. I’m wounded.” He’d reckoned she’d be mad enough to swallow a horned toad backward, but to come chasing surprised the hell out of him. Didn’t she possess any sense to keep out of harm’s way?

  “I don’t suppose you remember we had a deal? It simply slipped your mind that you agreed I’d come with you?”

  The rise and fall of her shirt set his imagination ablaze. All that velvety skin lay beneath there. Soft swells he ached to touch. Nipples that begged for attention.

  Damn! The honeysuckle still swimming up his nose must’ve pickled his brain.

  How could a man fight against something he so desperately wanted? He struggled to pull his stare from her beckoning mouth and lost.

  “If I recall, you promised you’d do anything I wanted if I brought you along.” He meant his softly spoken reminder as a warning. The lady trod on his territory now.

  She crossed her arms, gifting him with more of those looks that could hard-boil an egg in nothing flat.

  “Foolish drivel. Doesn’t matter now. You broke your word.”

  He edged closer. He wanted to bother her as much as she did him. And fire and damnation, did she ever!

  “Are you quite certain?”

  “I’m not bound—”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken.” Luke’s words came out smooth as velvet. The attraction between them was far more binding than any hastily spoken agreement.

  Panic colored her stonewashed gaze.

  “I declare our agreement null and void.” She stepped back.

  The rifle dropped from Luke’s hand. He barely heard the thump of it hitting the ground over the racket inside his head.

  “Too late.”

  A soft gasp came when he brushed her arm with light fingertips. It didn’t take tugging or cajoling, she melted into his arms. Her surrender spoke of a need that equaled his.

  Anything to oblige a pretty lady.

  Tenderly, he caressed her lips with his tongue before he allowed himself to partake of all she gave. He paid no heed to the fact that however much that was, it would never be enough. He’d learned a long time ago to collect each drop of rain. Sooner or later, it’d fill your bucket.

  Ten

  “Have mercy,” Luke groaned.

  He’d released his hold, yet his touch lingered, binding her more securely than the strongest steel.

  Glory gasped. It hurt to breathe; it hurt worse to think. In one fell swoop, the cheat had managed to turn the tables on her again. He’d reduced her right and proper anger to nothing more than milk-soaked bread.

  Dear Mother Mary!

  The toe of her boot connected with his shin.

  “That’s for breaking our agreement, you double-crosser!”

  “Ow. Let me explain, will you?” He rubbed his shin, giving her a wary glance. “And I’m not sorry for kissing you either.”

  “Conniver. Cheat.” She jabbed a finger into his chest.

  She seethed. Pure stupidity to think she could out-manipulate him. He’d shown exactly how unschooled she’d been in the art of deal making.

  “My, my, such language,” he chided.

  Bless the clouds that drifted across the thin moon, blocking what little light it shed. It wouldn’t do for him to see how his kiss had affected her, to witness the silly smile that insisted on covering her face no matter how hard she tried to wipe it off. Damn her lips anyway for their stubborn streak.

  “Come here and sit down before you beat me half senseless.”

  The wounded sniff she borrowed from her sister. The song in her heart was all hers. Ducking her head, she didn’t object when he took her elbow.

  “I don’t want the reward. My involvement with Perkins pertains to another matter.”

  He plopped on the ground beside the rock onto which she’d lowered.

  A dull ache snuffed out the ecstasy of her first kiss. Hearing Luke admit what she’d suspected all along brought more anguish than she could stand.

  “Why? Because you have enough with the stage robbery loot?” She hadn’t wanted him to be anything but honest and good. And still, a part of her yearned to hold on to hope, however fragile. His hardened stare made it difficult.

  “Robbery?”

  “Masked gunmen robbed another stage today. Riders brought the news while I was in town.”

  “Are you accusing me?”

  “I’m asking. You owe me.”

  “I swear I had nothing to do with those.”

  Was his sincerity simply another ploy in his arsenal?

  “Then, why did you sneak off earlier today? Explain why you left me behind—if you dare.”

  “I can’t.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not budging until you do.”

  Not a wise move on her part. She eyed the Winchester he’d placed out of reach. Then she faced harsh reality.

  She’d been woefully unprepared from the minute she first met him.

  “You don’t know what you’re opening.”

  “Are you or are you not part of the stage robbers?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Damn you…no.”

  “Then why?” A weakness shook her.

  If he didn’t run out on her because he wanted to hog the reward, and wasn’t one of the outlaws, there was only one other explanation. Jagged pain shredded her heart.

  “For the reason of what just happened, that’s why.”

  Why couldn’t he have lied? She should’ve known he couldn’t have any interest in someone like her. But darn it, he could’ve spared her feelings. For all her tough skin, she bled when pricked.

  The moon’s thin light cast shadows about the cowboy who had come calling, bringing promise into her lonely world. His features hardened. The dark brown of his hair blackened in the blending of the night with the mysterious gloom.

  She realized she knew little of this man who made her pulse quicken with a mere thought. And even when she feared him dangerous, she trusted him with her life. Didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t explain it.

  He hadn’t apologized for kissing her. He said he wouldn’t. Indeed, she’d ignored the warning he tried to send. The fault was hers. From the outset, she knew he’d take what he wanted without a second thought.

  Stepping further into that pit of hell, she realized he’d made do with what was available—

  A lesser choice…a discard.

  Shame flooded her face. She’d brazenly flung herself on him in desperation to have one moment of passion, to know what transpired between a man and woman. And she’d pushe
d him into something he clearly hadn’t wanted…because having his lips on hers was the only way to stop the raging inferno. But strangely, it had made the fire more hot, her body more achy.

  “Damnation!”

  The oath exploding from Luke made her jump. Lost in her own private misery, she’d grown accustomed to the quiet and the sound of his breathing.

  “The true reason I didn’t wait for you… I knew what would happen if you came. Didn’t trust myself.” Luke ran his hand wearily across his eyes. His voice lowered several notches. “I had to taste you or go crazy with want.”

  Agony cloaked the barely audible words. For a second, Glory thought she’d imagined them. Only she hadn’t. She had tempted him. He just confirmed it.

  She’d dangled the fruit in his face…a rotten, worm-eaten apple, and forced him to eat it.

  No one had need of a woman who traipsed about in men’s clothing, cursed at the drop of a hat, and when her vision was good, could shoot the ears off a wild pig at fifty yards. His words more than verified that.

  “I’m sorry.” The flint in her tone came from her damnable, wretched pride. Facing facts did that to a person. “Believe me, I came solely because we had a deal. I didn’t mean…”

  Lying came easy when a heart broke. But he didn’t need to know that either. Or that she welcomed his touch in the way a daisy welcomed sunshine.

  Or that he filled her world with color—and the musky scent of shaving soap.

  “Reckon a piece of me hoped. So it was the money?”

  “Yes.” The lie was necessary. She’d not open herself further.

  “Patience told me about the bank. No time to waste.”

  “You left because you felt sorry for us? Because we’re losing our home?”

  “Criminy cricket! Regardless of my own problems, I’m going after Perkins for the five hundred dollars so you can pay the damn note. Isn’t that what you want?” His voice held bitterness she didn’t understand.

  “Yes…no.” Her body stiffened. He could stuff his everlasting charity back into his meddling heart.

  “Which is it?”

  “I won’t take a cent more than what we agreed. Another thing, if I can’t earn it, you can keep the whole blessed reward.”