by Bobbi Smith
Renegade's Lady
Women Ahead of Their Time 03
Bobbi Smith
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
PROOF OF PASSION
"Have you forgotten that I'm a half-breed?" he asked in a low, almost threatening voice as his expression hardened.
"But you're not like them," she denied.
"How can you be so sure?"
A sudden sense of unease came over Sheri as Brand took a step toward her. "I just know it."
Driven by demons he didn't understand, Brand moved even closer until he towered over her.
Sheri stood her ground, though. She did not flinch before his obvious anger or cower before him. She bravely looked up at him with innocent, trusting eyes.
"You're living in a fantasy world, little girl. You think you know me, but you don't. Maybe I should show you just how much Indian blood I really have. . . ."
As he reached for her, he seemed to change before her very eyes. He was no longer the scout, but was now the fierce warrior Charles had mentioned. Still, Sheri did not back down. As he pulled her close and sought her lips with his, she did not resist.
Brand did not know why he felt compelled to kiss her. It was almost as if he sought to punish her or convince her that the Brand of her fantasies didn't exist. His mouth slanted across hers as he crushed her to his chest. His kiss was savagehard and hungry.
Other Leisure books by Bobbi Smith:
THE LADY'S HAND
LADY DECEPTION
To the loving memory of Margaret Walton
and Walter Knop
A LEISURE BOOK®
May 1999
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
276 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10001
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
Copyright© 1997 by Bobbi Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
ISBN 0-8439-4600-8
The name "Leisure Book" and the stylized "L" with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Acknowledgments
I'd like to thank Vernon Clemans and Nick Ursino of Anderson Austin News for their help with Renegade's Lady. They were true inspirations!
Thanks, also, to four of the world's greatest romance fansRose Wendt of Wisconsin, Darlene Hays of Missouri, Lesley Guerney of Texas and Dwylah Carpenter of Iowa, and three terrific real-life heroesKevin Berra, Dan Lesseg and Andrew Mitchell.
Jack Grothe of Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis, Missouri, and Odette Fuller of Fort Apache, Arizona, provided great help with research. I appreciate all their efforts on my behalf.
Prologue
Arizona Territory1872
Brand saw the smoke coming up over the rise, and he was filled with stark terror. He urged his horse to a gallop, desperate to get home. He'd left Becky there alone. . . .
His heart was in his throat as he charged forward. It seemed his mount couldn't run fast enough. He spurred it again and again. He hadn't meant to be away so long, but he'd had to take care of some extra business at the fort, and it had taken longer than he'd expected to finish up. Becky usually went with him on these trips, but heavy with their child as she was, she'd decided to remain behind on their small homestead.
As he reached the top of the hill, the carnage below was revealed to him. Brand jerked back on the reins.
Devastation lay before him. Smoldering ruins were all that was left of the small cabin he and Becky had called home. Rage filled Brand, and he charged forward again, clinging to the one glimmer of hope that maybe, somehow, Becky had escaped to hide in the brush until the raid was over.
"Becky!" Her name escaped him, a wrenching cry from the depths of his soul.
There came no answer. There was only silence.
He reined in before the ruins of the cabin. Dismounting quickly, he began to search for some trace of the woman he loved. He covered the area, his desperation growing with each passing minute.
And then he found her.
Brand knew he would never again in all the days of his life see anything as horrible as what had been done to his pregnant wife.
He had always considered himself a strong man, but the sight of her raped and mutilated body struck him more powerfully than a physical blow. Dropping to his knees beside Becky's still form, he gathered her to his heart. It was long minutes before he was able to move. He laid her gently back upon the ground, unmindful that her blood covered him.
Becky had always loved the view from the back of the cabin, and it was there that he scraped out her grave. With great care, he buried her. When he'd placed the last stone upon the site, he collapsed on the ground beside it. Brand remained sitting beside the grave in silence, unaware of anything save the agony in his heart. His wife and his unborn child were dead.
Hours passed. Darkness came and covered the land, yet Brand did not leave Becky's side. He remained unmoving through the long, black hours of the night.
As dawn neared, Brand rose and stared out across the land that was stained red now by the coming of the new day. The look in his eyes was deadly. He knew what he had to do.
With slow deliberation, he retrieved his horse. He tended to its needs as best he could, then mounted up. He would find the raiding party that had murdered his wife and child. They had destroyed his life. There would be no escape for them.
Brand found their trail easily. He had been trained well in tracking.
His blue-eyed gaze was filled with hatred and determination as he studied the raiding party's tracks. They had been brazen in their attack and had not worried that they would be followed. That had been their fatal mistake. Brand was not going to stop until every one of them was dead. They would pay.
Chapter One
Six Years Later
New York City
BUCK MCCADE or BADMAN OF THE BADLANDS
by
Sheridan St. John
Epilogue
Bang!
Bang!
Buck McCade's aim was deadly. The two desperadoes screamed as his hot head found its mark. The outlaws pitched forward and lay still, sprawled in the dust.
Buck moved to stand over his prey and prodded one of them with the toe of his boot. When neither man moved, he nodded to himself, satisfied that the Darwin brothers had met a suitable end for their dastardly deeds. No longer would they be raping, robbing, and killing. The territory would now be safe from their evil ways.
The townspeople turned out in force when word spread that Buck McCade was back.
Lydia Whitney, the schoolmarm, heard the shouts outside in the street and told the children in the classroom to stay at their desks as she went to see what all the excitement was about.
''What is it? What's happening?"
Buck McCade's riding into town! It looks like he caught up with them Darwin brothers!" one man called out to her as he rushed past.
Lydia's heart skipped a beat. Could it be true? Could Buck really be here?
Hurrying back inside the schoolhouse, she stayed just long enough to tell Danny Martin, the oldest boy in the class, to keep an eye on things for a minute. Then, without another thought to the lesson she'd been teaching, she ran blindly toward the sheriff's office to see if Buck really was back in town. Her pulse was racing. She'd been waiting and praying for so long. . . .
Lydia stopped, trembling, as she caught sight of him. Her beloved was back! She watched from afar as the man she had thought she'd never see again reined in before the sheriff's office.
"Sheriff Wayne!" Buck called out. "I've got the Darwin brothers, and I've come to collect the rewards on these two blackguards."
The lawman emerged from his office to get a look at the two dead men McCade had brought in, covered by blankets on the backs of their horses. "Good work, McCade. The townspeople can sleep sounder at night now, thanks to you."
"Yep," Buck answered.
"Somebody send for the undertaker," Wayne ordered as he went back inside.
Buck dismounted and followed him.
Sheriff Wayne eyed Buck with respect and a little envy as they faced each other across his office. It wasn't every man who could turn his life around so completely.
"You've come a long way, McCade. Ten years ago, the law was hunting you. Now, you're working with us, instead of against us."
"I believe in righting wrongs, sheriff."
"Buck? Is it really you? Are you really back at last?" The sound of Lydia's breathless cry interrupted them as she appeared in the doorway. Hope shone in her tear-filled eyes as she gazed at the one and only man she'd ever loved.
"Lydia . . . ?" Buck turned to stare at the woman he'd thought he'd lost so long ago.
Not another word was spoken as he opened his arms to her and she ran to him. Ecstasy was theirs as she was enfolded in his embrace.
Buck couldn't believe his good fortune. For so many years, he'd been on the run. Then, after squaring things with the law, he'd decided to live right, but in all this time, he'd never had any hope that he'd see his sweet Lydia again.
"I love you, Buck McCade! And I've been waiting for you all this time!"
"You have?" He lifted his head to gaze down at her.
She nodded, smiling. "There's no other man for me."
"Will you marry me, Lydia?"
"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!"
And then, not caring that Sheriff Wayne was standing right there watching them, Buck McCade kissed the woman of his dreams, the woman who would soon be his wife.
"Congratulations," Wayne offered when the couple had finally moved apart. "If you're thinking about staying in these parts, I could use a good deputy."
Buck looked from Lydia to the sheriff. "Thanks, sheriff, but no thanks. With this reward money, I'm buying me a small spread and I'm looking to start raising cows and kids."
The sheriff smiled as he watched Buck and Lydia walk from the office, arm in arm.
Outside, the townspeople were waiting, and they cheered Buck McCade as he emerged into the sunlight, his lady love on his arm. McCade had saved them from the terrible Darwin brothers and brought peace to the territory!
As Buck and Lydia made their way through the crowd, they knew the future would be bright and happy for them all.
The End
Maureen Cleaver sighed as she finished proofreading the last page of the manuscript by her cousin, dime-novel writer Sheridan St. John. She had been working with Sheri since Sheri had sold her first novel to Carroll and Condon Publishers over three years before. This book was her sixth in the series and was by far the best, in Maureen's opinion.
Maureen looked up at Sheri to find her fair-haired cousin watching her, her expression intense, her green-eyed gaze clouded with what looked like worry. She thought it strange that Sheri seemed so worried. Her cousin knew she always liked her work and that she rarely found anything wrong with it.
"You can relax now. I think this story is beautiful. It's your best Buck McCade book yet!"
"You really liked it?" she asked, her gaze locking with Maureen's as she searched for the truth.
"I loved it."
She saw no deception in Maureen's eyes and, with her answer, felt relief. "Thank you. Now, I just hope the rest of the reading public does, too."
"What are you talking about? Of course they'll like it. Buck McCade is the perfect hero, and now that he's found Lydia again . . . Speaking of which, how are you going to handle their reunion in the next book? Are they really, finally, going to get married?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there aren't going to be any more Buck McCade books."
"What?" Maureen was shocked.
"I got a note from my editor last month."
"Mr. DeYoung? What about?"
"It seems the Buck McCade series isn't selling that well, so this will be the last one."
"You can't be serious . . ." Maureen looked troubled. "I thought Buck had a huge following."
"I did, too, but here's Mr. DeYoung's note." Sheri handed her the one-page missive.
"This is terrible!" she sputtered in outrage after reading the letter. "What does he mean 'your work sometimes lacks authenticity?"
"I guess he thinks I don't know what I'm writing about. I had no idea he felt that way."
"What are you going to do? Writing is your life!"
"I don't know yet, but I will by this afternoon."
"Why?"
"I'm due at Carroll and Condon at three to turn in the new manuscript." Sheri fell silent as she mulled over her situation.
"Well, Mr. DeYoung didn't say in the note that they wouldn't buy another book from you." Maureen tried to sound encouraging.
"That's true." Even though she was agreeing, her tone was terse and troubled.
"It's going to be all right, you'll see."
Sheri managed a small smile. "I'm not going to give up my writing without a fight."
"Now that sounds more like my Sheri." Maureen saw the determination in her cousin's regard and admired her strength of will.
"I've worked hard to get this far, and I have no intention of quitting. If I have to write about something new and different, then I will."
Maureen had no doubt that her cousin would do just what she said. Sheri was a wonder. Having lost her parents to a devastating illness when she was eighteen, she'd been forced to grow up in a hurry. Now in her twenties and comfortably provided for by her father's considerable estate, she'd become an independent woman. There were whispers that she was going to end up an old maid, but Maureen knew if Sheri stayed unmarried, it was by choice.
"And you'll do a fine job, too."
"I can always count on you for moral support." She gave Maureen a quick hug.
"You don't need my support. You'd do it even without me. But will you stop by my house after you talk to Mr. DeYoung and let me know what happens?" Maureen stood to go, knowing her cousin had to have time to get ready for her meeting.
"I will, and if everything goes well, well celebrate." Sheri walked her to the front door.
"I'll see you then, and I'll plan on that celebration."
After seeing Maureen out, Sheri returned to her desk to straighten the manuscript. She stared down at the final page, studying the last two words she'd writtenThe End.
The emotion she'd been struggling to control finally won out, and tears traced paths down her cheeks. It was over. Finished. Buck would marry the woman he'd left two books ago and then they'd live happily ever after. No longer would he chase outlaws and bring them to justice. His days as a hero were at an end. She wondered
how she was going to go on writing without him. Buck had been her one and only hero from the start.
Anger took over as Sheri realized the direction of her thoughts. In irritation, she dashed away her tears. Buck McCade was a fictional character. He didn't exist, and from what she'd learned of men so far in real life, she doubted that there was anyone like him. He was a fantasyher fantasy. Granted, he was her idea of what the perfect male should be, but she would just have to come up with someone bettersomeone handsomer, someone more exciting, someone who could captivate every female as well as every male reader across the county.
And she was going to do it.
Sheridan St. John wasn't some easily defeated, mealy-mouthed little miss. She was the published author of six novels in the last four years, and she was going to keep writing no matter what. True, she wouldn't be writing about Buck anymore, but that didn't matter. Buck McCade might be literally dead, but she would create a whole new charactersomeone who would catch the public's attention and capture its heart, too. Then she'd show her publisher just how good she really was!
After wrapping the manuscript in brown paper and tying it with string, Sheri left the room. It was time to pay Carroll and Condon Publishing House a visit.
When Sheri's carriage pulled to a stop before the four-story brick building that housed Carroll and Condon, she descended with her usual grace and confidence. She was more than prepared for her meeting with Mr. DeYoung.
"Good morning, Miss St. John," Joanna Cagan, the cheerful young receptionist, greeted her with a smile.
"Hello, Joanna. Mr. DeYoung is expecting me."
Sheri started toward his closed office door, expecting to go right in. She was surprised when Joanna quickly spoke up.
"I'm sorry, Miss St. John, but you can't go in there right now. He's with someone. Can you wait?"