by Kris Norris
“Well, whatever it is you did, I approve.” Gilmore took a step closer. “Tell me, how did Dr. Chambers work out? With the amount of supplies you kept ordering, I half wondered if she was shootin’ the men in order to make more work for herself.”
Warmth spread through Cullen’s chest at the mention of her name. “She’s the only reason we had enough men still fit to push this railroad through. The woman deserves a medal—or at least a bonus.”
“That so?” Gilmore tapped his chin. “Does that mean you two don’t mind having a lady doctor in your ranks? Because I have another project I wanted to discuss with the both of you, but I hadn’t secured a doctor, yet. If you’d be willin’ to work with Dr. Chambers, again, that would solve my problem. If she was willin’ to sign back up.” He glanced around the platform. “Not sure she’ll want to work in these conditions, again.”
“I think you’ll discover that she’s far tougher than she appears. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s part of the team.”
Gilmore arched his brow. “I see. Then, I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with her. See where she was planning on heading to, next.”
Cullen hooked the man’s elbow when he went to turn. “Why don’t we discuss the logistics on the ride home? Then, we can ask Dr. Chambers if she’d be interested.”
“Very well.” He took a few steps toward the railcar then looked back. “Out of curiosity…if she’s not interested?”
“Then, you’ll have to find replacements for us, as well. Like I said, she’s part of the team.” Cullen moved in beside him, motioning to the train. “But let’s not jump the gun.”
Gilmore nodded, walking with them. They spent the ride discussing another line planned for the southeastern side of the state—one he thought they’d be perfect for. Cullen shook the man’s hand, again, once they’d pulled into Devil’s Gate, suggesting they meet for a drink in an hour.
Lucas fell in beside him as he headed for the clinic. “So…you sure you’re up for another line? This one damn near killed us.”
“Next one can’t nearly be as bad, not when we won’t have to spend half the time fightin’ our attraction, then the rest trying to convince Hollis she belongs with us.”
“True, but there’ll always be another Buford. Men like Joseph who don’t approve of our…pairing.”
Cullen paused at the bottom of the steps. “Not sure a place exists that’s free from both of those threats. But at least in a camp, we’ll have more control. Haven’t had any issues with where we all sleep since we sent the good reverend packin’. We’ll just have to be more vigilant. Encourage anyone like him to move on before it goes that far.” He grinned. “My bear has a way of convincin’ folks to listen to me.”
Lucas laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Cullen, but it’s not your bear people are afraid of.” He made his way up the steps. “You think Hollis will go for it?”
“Go for what?”
Cullen jumped at the sound of her voice, tripping to a halt on the landing outside the doorway. He sighed. “Do you make a habit of eavesdroppin’?”
“Do you make a habit of talking about me behind my back?”
He smiled. “It’s the only way Lucas and I ever win a discussion. We have to plan ahead.”
“Then, you should have your facts straight for this one. Go for what?”
He motioned her inside, scanning the room to ensure they were alone before looping his arm around her waist and tugging her against him. Lucas moved in behind her, effectively trapping her between them.
Hollis laughed. “Must be pretty important if you’re gangin’ up on me like this before you’ve said a word. Let me guess… Mr. Gilmore offered you another job, and you’re wonderin’ if I’m up for the challenge?”
Cullen gawked at her. “How…” He groaned. “Have you been using your connection to spy on our thoughts?”
Her smile was the only answer he needed.
He feigned annoyance. “Dangerous, mate. Not sure we can let that one go unchallenged.”
“Please, you two know damn well everything I’m thinkin’ before I think it. Besides, the not knowing was killin’ me.” She arched a brow. “So? Was I right?”
Lucas tsked her. “You already know you are. But the question is…do you want to spend another year in a camp like this one? I reckon the caliber of patients isn’t going to change.”
Hollis pursed her lips, slipping free of their embrace before pacing to the other side of the room. She looked out the window, staring at something in the street before sighing and turning to face them. “Do you know why I haven’t said much about where we go next?”
Lucas glanced at Cullen, then shook his head. “Not really.”
“When I walked into your office that first day, I hadn’t had a home in nearly twelve years. And I sure didn’t expect to find one here. But what I got—what you two gave me—was far more than that.”
She pushed off the wall, slowly moving toward them. “Saying I love you… It doesn’t begin to express how I feel. What you both mean to me. I don’t care where we live, or if my patients are an endless string of drunken cowboys fightin’ over a hidden ace of spades. As long as I get to have you—be a doctor—I’ll be happy anywhere. So, if building railroads is what makes you boys feel even half as good as what being a doctor does for me, I’ll spend the next fifty years following you around on these iron rails.”
She paused, holding up one finger. “We do get to be together, right? No more Josephs trying to save my soul.”
Cullen chuckled, pulling her into his arms, again, then tugging Lucas in behind. “We’ll do our best. And of course, we’ll be together. We’re mates. You’re stuck with us.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She motioned to the door. “Do you two have any more supervising to do?”
“Crew has the night off. We’ll start tearing everything down tomorrow. Though we are supposed to meet Mr. Gilmore in an hour.”
“An hour? Guess that’ll have to do.” She wiggled free, walking to the door then locking it behind her.
Lucas grinned, sidling up next to Cullen. “Do we want to know why you just locked the door?”
Her smile dimmed the room. “I just figured if we were all going to get naked, might be best if no one could walk in on us. Not with what I plan to do to the two of you. Now, do me a favor, and give each other a kiss.”
EXCERPT ~ MARSHAL LAW
McKenna Buchanan stood in the middle of the street, buckskin hat tilted low over her face, oilskin jacket billowing in the strong breeze blowing eddies of dirt along the barren road. Sweat beaded her skin, the unrelenting sun glaring overhead. She blinked back the salty drops that stung her eyes, hands poised by her hips, fingers grazing the handles of her revolvers. The long shadow from the clock tower stretched out across the parched surface, the pointed roofline nearly reaching her boots. The bell rang, the mournful tone shattering the silence as people gathered along the covered walkways, gazes focused on the man who moved out from the crowd, each step kicking up more dust. He stopped several yards away from her, his mouth lifting into an arrogant smile. He glanced back at the clock then turned to her as he dragged the cigarette from between his lips, a smoky trail lingering in the air.
Noon.
He nodded at her, brushing one side of his coat back, exposing the white handle of his gun. It gleamed in the light, the polished surface bright against the black fabric of his pants. He tossed the cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his boot as he readied his stance, his gaze centering on her.
He openly assessed her, shaking his head as he arched his brow. “You sure you’re up for this, darlin’? Seems a shame to have to kill you, especially when I’m sure we could come to some other kind of…agreement.”
“Your inability to keep your hands to yourself and your pants buckled is why we’re here. All we need is someone to count to three for us.”
“Have it your way, though, I’m not the kind of man who kills a defenseless woman.”
“No. You’d much rather rape them and leave them for dead.” She lowered one hand, palming her gun. “And I’m not defenseless.”
The cowboy glared at her. “Fine. The West doesn’t have room for bitches like you, anyway.” He pointed to one of the men in the crowd. “Mayor. You do the honors.”
The gray-haired gentleman shuffled onto the edge of the street, hat clenched between his fingers as he held it at his waist. He looked at each of them, the white in his eyes more prominent than before. “You know Ralston doesn’t condone gunfights—”
“Just count to three, old man, or I’ll shoot you, first.”
The mayor pursed his lips, glancing at McKenna. She gave him a curt nod, shifting her focus completely to her opponent. The murmur of the crowd faded away, the bastard’s presence occupying her attention. The oily hair poking out from under his hat. The shadow of stubble shading his jaw. The way his hand twitched against his gun as he snarled at her, crooked teeth beneath thin lips.
“Very well.” The mayor’s voice strained against the sudden howl of the wind. “One. Two. Three.”
She drew, the smooth glide of the wooden handle along her palm grounding her. The weapon slipped free of the holster, a puff of smoke following the pop of the round as she fired, her hand recoiling slightly from the force. The man jolted backwards, his eyes widening in surprise as he managed to fire once before crumpling in a billow of dust. Pain flared along her arm as his bullet grazed her skin, tearing a path through her clothes. She clenched her jaw, biting back the scream that welled in her throat as she paced over to his limp body, kicking his torso—judging his response.
The mayor scurried across the road, kneeling down beside the man before turning him over. Blood darkened the caked ground, the gunman’s shirt stained red. McKenna sighed, then turned, heading for her horse.
The mayor yelled after her, his footsteps sounding behind her before he fell into step with her. “That was some piece of shootin’. Never thought I’d see Will Tanner go down like that. Man must have killed a dozen or more cowboys in gunfights just like that one.” He snagged her wrist, pulling her to a halt. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
She glanced at her arm, waiting until the man let go before striking off again. “The West is a dangerous place—”
“Taylor. John Taylor.”
She sighed. “No names, Mayor. And it only makes sense to learn how to protect yourself.” She stopped at the side of her horse, checking the saddle before reaching into her pocket and handing the man some coins. “That should clean up the mess I made. I’d appreciate it if you’d see to it that Mr. Tanner gets a proper burial.”
“The man was an outlaw. Might be a nice reward for killin’ him if you’d be willin’ to stick around.”
She looked at the older man over her shoulder. “Not interested. In being a sheriff, either. I just settled a score. Besides, I thought your fine town was getting itself a Marshal.”
“There’s been talk, but we’re still waitin’. The Marshal over in Bisbee drops in every week or so, but we could use someone like you. To keep the peace.”
“Not much peace to be had these days. Men like Tanner own these parts. Think they can take whatever they want because no one’s willin’ to stand up to them. I suggest you use that reward money to secure yourself a sheriff worth having.”
She wedged her boot into the stirrup, levering her other leg over her horse. The mare whinnied, shaking her head as McKenna eased back on the reins, moving the animal around in a circle.
The mayor motioned to her arm. “At least let our doctor take a look at that wound.”
“Nothin’ more than a scratch.” She tipped her hat. “Thanks for the hospitality. Don’t suppose there’s a way of keepin’ this from getting back to that Marshal you mentioned?”
“If you were willin’ to stay…”
“Thought as much. Nice meetin’ ya.”
She nudged the animal’s flank, coaxing it into a fast trot. Another town. Another one of Bret Wilson’s gang eliminated. Just the brothers left, though, the bastards had surely acquired new men by now, not that it mattered. They’d just be more bodies. More detours she’d have to make before ending this. She stared at the horizon, angling west, keeping the line of hills off to her left. With any luck, she’d make Tombstone by tomorrow night. Get an idea where Bret and Frank were holing up. Maybe treat herself to a bath.
McKenna glanced at her arm, hissing at the constant throb that robbed her breath. She’d been careless. Hadn’t reacted quickly enough when the bastard had moved before the mayor had reached three. Two traits guaranteed to get her killed. And there wasn’t a chance in hell the Wilson brothers would abide by the rules. Though, knowing she’d be dead before she hit the ground eased some of the tension fluttering her stomach. At least she wouldn’t have to endure having them touch her…or worse.
Images scratched at her consciousness, the fleeting memories dulling the pain, helping her focus. She’d stop and patch the wound once she’d put some distance between her and Ralston. Ensure none of the townsfolk suddenly had a change of heart. Then she’d ride until dusk. Find a place to make camp for the night.
A grim smile touched her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed more than a day or two in one place. Had stopped long enough to learn someone’s name—she didn’t like names. They carried weight. Gave others something to use against her. But more importantly, they meant she cared—had something other than her own life to lose.
She nudged her horse, letting the wind across her face soothe the raw ache in her chest. She just needed to make it to Tombstone. Clean the stench of death from her skin. Hell, clean her soul.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author, single mother, slave to chaos—she’s a jack-of-all-trades who’s constantly looking for her ever elusive clone.
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