Not waiting for the fearsome gunslinger, Kate made an about-face and stalked off determinedly in the direction of the gathered wagons. The dog followed her.
“Miss Chandler?”
She whirled around, causing the loping dog to run into her. He skittered back on his haunches and righted himself with only a slight loss of canine dignity. With one hand at her waist and the other one on the dog’s head, Kate faced her fears, her worst nightmare … and Cole Youngblood. “Yes?”
“Does this mean we have an agreement?” If he’d been anyone else, he would have looked ridiculous to her, standing there all big and tall and … clutching that silly box she’d been sitting on earlier. But he was who he was. And he didn’t look silly at all. Especially not when he pointed off to his left and said, “Because if we do, the wagon’s this way.”
Huffing out an agitated breath, she and the dog stalked back to him and turned with him to his left. Riding a wave of righteous indignation that the man would be so callous as to leave three small children alone at dark, no matter who was keeping an eye on them, she mentally harangued him while following a step behind him as he led the way. The dog came in a close third behind her.
“I will admit, Mr. Youngblood,” she said to his back when she could no longer hold her tongue, “that you definitely need help with those children. And I agree that they’d be better off with me while you roam Kansas. But I think I should have some sort of pledge, or commitment, on your part that will give our arrangement some standing with the law during your absence. Just in case. I mean, the land will be in your name, and there are three children involved. And I’m not their mother or even kin to them, like you are. So, if something did happen to you, then the law could take—”
He stopped abruptly. Kate ran into his back. The dog ran into her legs. Kate grabbed at the tall man in front of her for support, and garnered for herself a handful of cotton shirt covering warm, solid male. The unaccustomed feel of him, combined with the heady scent of his masculinity, brought a sharp stab of awareness to her, an awareness she had no interest in feeling. Mr. Talmidge had seen to that. She let go of Cole Youngblood as if he were a hot skillet.
When he pivoted around and stood staring down at her, looking like a hawk that had spotted its evening’s supper, she took a step back. So did the dog. And yet Kate still felt the heat of Cole Youngblood’s body.
“I hadn’t thought about what you just said. But I suppose you’re right. The law could take the land and the kids from you. So what do you have in mind?”
She had no idea. As a distraction, one that would give her time to think, she looked at the dog, who was furiously scratching at fleas and ignoring her. But Cole Youngblood wasn’t. With the man’s attention trained on her so keenly; she suddenly became aware of the feel of her toes in her stockings and boots. Became aware of the long pin that secured her straw hat to her hair. Became aware of the flushed heat of her blood coursing through her veins. She was desperate for an end to his intense scrutiny.
She also was desperate not to think about why she was accepting this man’s proposal, a man she knew only as a fabled gunslinger, when only a few weeks ago she’d escaped the evil man he worked for. When even now she carried that man’s baby in her womb. And wanted nothing to do with another man ever. But even so, with no other options open to her—as he’d just gone to great lengths to point out to her—she blurted out the first thing that came to her, the first thing that seemed to her to be binding. “We could get married.”
* * *
Cole stiffened, much as if he’d just felt the cold steel of a gun barrel poking into his back. Married? He wasn’t marrying anybody. Ever. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from looking her up and down. And being well pleased with what he saw, from her thick, silk-black hair … to her glittering green eyes … to her curvy woman’s body. And being even more pleased when he imagined her under him, naked and moaning out his name.
Incensed by his strong and unexpected attraction to the rumpled, defiant woman-child standing before him, he adopted a fierce tone. “Miss Chandler, this isn’t about getting married.”
Wide-eyed, her voice shaking, she nevertheless stood her ground. “I understand that,” she said. “And I only proposed it as a legal, in-name-only arrangement. Because, believe me, Mr. Youngblood, I have no taste for being tied to a man. Any man. Now or ever.”
Now that’s a mighty strange thing for such a young woman to say, was Cole’s distracting thought … when he blinked and realized that she’d picked up her skirts as if she meant to walk away. Even the hound dog stood up with her. “Well, if you can’t, you can’t,” she was saying. “But I would need something that binding if you expect me to take on three children not my own, and not knowing when or if you’d ever come back—”
Cole’s raised hand cut off her words. “Now, hold on a minute, Miss Chandler.” He couldn’t believe this opportunity was slipping away so quickly. “Give a man time to think. There might be another way.”
She tilted her head, as if considering his words, and finally relaxed her grip on her green skirt. The dog sat down on his haunches, his floppy ears perked up the slightest bit as he too stared at Cole. “Another way?” she repeated. “All right. I’m willing to listen.”
“Good.” Surprised at the depth of his relief, Cole found that all he could do was stand there and stare back at her. Because her marriage proposal was perfectly logical. And he had no other suggestions. All he knew was what he couldn’t tell her, that he couldn’t get married—to her or to anyone else. Not in his line of work. Not when it was too late, when killing for a living had taken from his heart everything good and fine. When hiring out his gun had tainted his soul with the blood of too many dead men … men he’d killed.
But the worst part was, all too soon his soul would be forfeit. Because all too soon, it would be tainted again … with the blood of a woman. Cole scowled at his thoughts, at the depths of the badness in him. He couldn’t forgive himself for taking on this job, despite knowing that he’d had no other practical choices left to him, since he needed the money to feed and house three little kids. But his reason didn’t matter, not even to himself. He’d still taken the work. He shook his head, knowing it would be too late for him to be saved once he carried out his mission.
“No? Your distaste for my idea is plain to see. Good evening to you, sir.”
Miss Chandler’s words snapped Cole back to the moment. She was grabbing up her skirts again. “While you’ve been standing there trying to think of a way around all this,” she went on, “I’ve been hoping you’d realized that if we were married, the land would be registered in my name as well as yours. I’m just thinking to protect myself, Mr. Youngblood. Because I sure don’t have any personal designs on you. But if you can’t see the benefit to you of marrying me, well then, I’ll just be on my way. So if you’ll give me my … box…”
She held out her hand, to take the wooden crate from him. Cole stared at her hand, then at her face. And sudden realization dawned. She was exactly right. There were benefits to him. Big, practical benefits. He ran a hand over his mouth to keep a triumphant grin off his face. Her own words had trapped her. And freed him to take advantage of them … and her. “All right,” he said, not handing over the box. “You’re right. I’ll marry you. I accept.”
She met his words with wide eyes and silence. Then, surprised, she said, “You do? You will?”
“I just said I will.” Before she could protest, he stalked over to her, took her arm, and turned her with him. “Now, come on with me back to the wagon, back to those kids you’re so all-fired worried about.”
Frowning at the unsettlingly pleasant tug he felt in his gut whenever he touched her, he wordlessly wove them through the maze of wagons in the gathering dark. And pretended he wasn’t adjusting his gait to allow for her smaller steps. And that he wasn’t thinking that if she was married to him, then not only was the land hers, but so were the kids. Permanently. Her marrying him, even in name on
ly, legally tied her to Joey, Willy, and Lydia. Hell, once he married her, the kids would have that home and the new mother they needed and he wanted for them.
Which meant he could go off and live his life the way he always had, the way it had to be. Not only that, if he were married to her, he needn’t go look for that cousin he didn’t know the first thing about. Which meant that right here in the coming week, after the run, he could get on the trail of that thieving maid of Mr. Talmidge’s. Because he’d still need the money for the kids. And for Miss Chandler. Cole glanced over at her, taking in her youth and innocence. And realized his chest had tightened. Married. Only a moment ago he’d told himself never. And now here he was, preparing to marry this innocent girl he didn’t even know. All so he could rush off and kill some other woman he didn’t know. For the money on her head.
All right, Cole fumed at his raging conscience, I committed to the job. And I’ll do it. But, dammit, he had to get to it quickly, before the guilt over killing a woman, no matter what she’d done, ate him alive. He just couldn’t spend any more time idly thinking about it. He needed to act, to do it—as soon as possible. That being so, he told himself now, he’d just find this Anne Candless, take care of … business, get the rest of the money from Mr. Talmidge, and bring it back to this young woman at his side. And then he’d move on. Life sure as hell hasn’t presented me too much in the way of good choices, was Cole’s next thought. Except maybe for this one, he conceded. Because marrying her was perfect.
It was also deceitful. He knew and understood that, so maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he thought himself to be. He glanced again at his … soon-to-be wife out of the corner of his eye. And exhaled sharply, guiltily. She was a pawn in his game. And appeared to be as innocent and trusting a little thing as Lydia was. The truth was, Cole knew, he sure as hell wouldn’t mind making Miss Kate Chandler his in more than name only. But he wouldn’t. Hell, she wasn’t that kind of woman. No, her kind would have to fancy herself in love with a man before she gave herself to him. And Cole didn’t need that … some clinging wife pining after him, wanting him to be a real husband to her. No. Not for him.
Still, the unsavory aftertaste of his intentions toward her nagged at Cole—until he remembered that this marriage idea was hers. All he was doing was giving her everything she wanted, everything she’d asked for … the land, a home, money. Everything she’d asked for, and more … meaning Willy, Joey, and Lydia. Another stab of guilt, this one for the kids, had Cole cursing himself and these trying circumstances. The more time he spent in the company of women and children, it seemed, the more he disliked himself, the more he questioned himself. And that wasn’t good. A hired gun who doubted himself, who thought twice, would soon be a dead gunslinger.
And then what good would he be to them all? Because he didn’t intend to abandon them, any of them, Kate Chandler included. Of course, he meant to bring money back to her and the kids on a regular basis, just as he had done for Charlotte. So nothing would change. Nothing in his life. Yet everything was already different, and Cole could no longer deny it. Because the silent girl at his side wasn’t his sister. Far from it.
Narrowing his eyes at the slender, black-haired woman next to him, and feeling her tug on his masculinity, Cole purposely tried to find fault with her. She was too skinny for his taste. He liked buxom blondes who knew how to use their womanhood. The last thing he needed was some frail, dark, little thing who possessed no earthly notion of how she affected a man. How she made him want to crush her to him and kiss her and keep her safe. Like now … when her brow knitted with worries he could only guess at.
Which only highlighted for him that Kate Chandler was a stranger to him. A stranger who would soon be his wife.
Chapter Four
What have I gotten myself into? Kate stared mutely back at the three rumpled and wary children who peered at her from inside the crowded confines of a large schooner. With its heavy canvas cover pulled up and tied back to make the most of the cool evening breeze, the wagon hunkered in the midst of the crowded boomer camp, close to the rushing rain-swollen waters of Walnut Creek.
A flatbed wagon, apparently also belonging to Mr. Youngblood, was parked at an angle to the tongue of the schooner, forming an intimate V-shaped enclosure. Several yards away, and downwind, a knot of mules and a big roan-colored horse stood tied, remuda-style, to a rope strung between two young sycamores. A cookfire had been stoked to crackling life between the two wagons, but no supper pot bubbled over it. And darkness was rapidly descending.
Kate watched as the gunslinger set down her wooden crate and then faced the children. “Now, mind your manners and say hello to Miss Kate Chandler. She—”
“Hey, that’s the lady our mules about killed.” A dark-haired boy of about five years pointed to her, his face alight with recognition.
At Kate’s side, Cole Youngblood stiffened. “They didn’t nearly kill her, Willy,” he said. “Now, listen to me, all of you. Miss Chandler is … joining us now. So, I want you to treat her nice and—”
“Is her our new mama?” A chubby-cheeked little waif of a girl with dark, tangled ringlets eyed Kate critically.
Kate’s heart beat fast at the child’s question. And even harder at Cole Youngblood’s answer. “No. It’s more like she’s your…” He turned to her, imploring her mutely to help.
“Just call me Kate,” she quickly said to the waiting children. “All my friends do.” And then she made a determined effort not to look at the man beside her, whose black eyes she felt boring into her. Maybe he was thinking that she’d extended no such friendly invitation to him. And here he was going to marry her.
“We ain’t your friends.”
Kate gasped at the older boy’s unfriendly bluntness. But Mr. Youngblood did more. Pointing a finger at the child, he warned, “You mind your manners, boy. Or I’ll remind the seat of your pants of them.”
Into the embarrassed silence, the younger boy, Willy, looked anxiously from his uncle to his older brother, telling him, “I want to be her friend, Joey.”
Joey rounded on him. “Well, you can’t, Willy. We don’t know her. And we don’t need her.”
As Willy frowned at his brother’s words, Kate wished she could crawl away somewhere, mortified and fearful that these children would never accept her. Just then, Willy brightened as another thought occurred to him. “Can we keep her dog, then, Joey? We need a dog.”
My dog? Kate looked down at her side. The skinny yellow dog sat by her and was returning her stare. His tongue lolled cheerfully out the side of his mouth. “He’s not my dog,” she felt compelled to announce.
“What do you mean he’s not your dog?”
Kate stared up at Cole and shook her head. “I mean he’s not mine. I thought he was your dog. He was following you.”
“That skinny, ugly thing?”
They stared at each other until the baby girl spoke, pouting. “I don’t like dogs. I want a cat.”
Cole opened his mouth to answer her, but it was Joey who replied. “You can’t have no cat—nor no dog, Lydia. It ain’t ours.”
Lydia rounded on him. “I can so have it, Joey. You’re not the papa. I can have it. And I can name it Kitty.” She turned Kate and Cole’s way. “I can so, huh, Uncle Cole?”
Again, Joey cut off his uncle’s response. “You can’t keep it. And you can’t name no big ole skinny yellow dog Kitty, Lydia.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you—”
“All right now, stop it. All of you!” And Cole Youngblood meant it, too, Kate knew. That was clear from the heightened color in his face … and the blood in his eye. “Not one more word from the lot of you. Especially you, Joey. Now here’s the way things are. I’m marrying Miss Chandler. And then I’m making the run for her. After that, I’m going to settle all of you on her claim. And after that, I’m”—he cut his eyes over to Kate—“going to go find my cousin here in Kansas for you
kids to live with.”
An intense silence followed his words, broken only by the gurgling, splashing water of the creek and the skinny dog’s whining yawn. Numbed by his bluntness with the children, Kate stared at Cole Youngblood.
“Any questions?” He put his large, square hands to his waist and stood with one knee bent. His fierce expression said any questions had better be on the subject at hand, too.
Willy had one. “Why can’t we live with you and Miss Kate, Uncle Cole … if you’ll be married and all?”
Kate’s heart wrenched dangerously. Poor, sweet babies. There was no way they could understand this grown-up arrangement between her and their uncle. She might be marrying Cole Youngblood, but they would not be living together as man and wife. But for all the kids knew, their uncle was settling down with her and didn’t want them with him.
Before Cole could answer, Lydia cut in plaintively. “I don’t want me an’ Kitty to live wif no cuzzin. I just want you an’ Kate for my papa an’ mama.”
Cole opened his mouth to speak, but was again cut off by Joey’s sharp words. “You don’t want us. Nobody wants us. I wish we was dead, like Ma and Pa.”
Willy looked shocked, as if he were afraid that just by Joey’s having wished it, it would be so. “I don’t want to die, Uncle Cole. I’m just a little kid.”
Kate, like Cole, had been busy looking from Willy to Lydia to Joey, and then back again to Willy, whose last outburst reduced him and his sister to tears. Their older brother fought the trembling of his chin and gathered his siblings to him. He stared accusingly at Cole and Kate.
Cole Youngblood muttered his cursing assessment of the situation. And Kate stood rooted to the spot for what seemed an eternity. Adding to this pickle of a situation were the many unanswered questions between herself and Mr. Youngblood that kept her from telling the whole truth to the children. But she knew that these children needed comforting and reassurance right now. And they also needed their supper. The devil take the future. Having decided all that, she looked up at the gunslinger, even dared to lay a hand on his arm … and capture his dark-eyed attention. “Let me. Please.”
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