Never Let You Down: The Connaghers, Book 4

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  She sat up in bed, so disoriented she didn’t know where she was.

  “Ginny? Are you all right?”

  At Jeb’s voice, it all came streaming back to her. No wonder nothing looked familiar. “I’m fine.” She looked about the darkened room, a haunted, hollowed feeling still echoing in her head. “Just had a strange dream.”

  He leaned up on his elbow, his big palm lightly settling on her arm in a soft, gentle stroke. “Nightmare?”

  “No. Not bad. Just…” The feel of his fingers made her lose track of what she was saying. It just felt so damned incredible. Touch. Warmth. Living skin and muscle pressed against her. “Get my sling.”

  She loved that he didn’t ask why—he simply swung up out of bed and went to find where he’d tossed it along with her dress. Even better, he picked up the dress her daughter had made and laid it over a chair so it wouldn’t look as rumpled tomorrow. It’d be awkward enough facing Miss Belle after spending the night out with a new man.

  “Ginny?” His voice was reverent, shaking as he came back to bed. “Did you bring this with you tonight?”

  He laid a thin stick in her hand. No, not a stick. Her fingers trembled and she lifted it up to her nose, smelling the old familiar tobacco. “He always carried one in his hat, ready to smoke. Did he give you one?”

  “No, never.” He knelt down beside her. “Was your dream about him?”

  She nodded, tracing the fragile paper lightly. Ty had never smoked a store-bought cigarette. There was no mistaking it as anything but his. “He’s giving his blessing, so to speak. I guess he felt the need to make sure I believed it really was him and not just a dream. Miss Belle would call this a message from beyond.”

  “So he’s okay with…this. With me.”

  Blinking back tears, she smiled and took the sling. With his help, she got her broken arm safely stashed against her. “I think that’s a safe bet. Now I want you up here flat on your back, Jebadiah.”

  He shot her a narrowed, considering look but did exactly as she ordered. “You think I’m up for another round?”

  She carefully set the cigarette on the nightstand and then crawled up on the bed. Giving a pointed stare down at his stirring cock, she swung a leg across him to straddle his hips. “I think that’s a safe bet too.”

  Spreading out on top of him, she simply rubbed her body against him. Her breasts against his chest, her hands sliding along his arms, rib cage, and hips. In a matter of moments, she was wet enough to start working him inside her. Leaning down, she brushed her mouth against his. “In fact, I think I could get three rounds out of you.”

  His chest rumbled against hers in a laugh that was half growl. “I don’t think so, Ginny. I haven’t climaxed three times in one night since…”

  She shoved her body downward, driving him mercilessly inside her without pause.

  He let out a deep, shaking groan. “Never. Shit, Ginny, how can you do that?”

  “Hold on, cowboy. You’re in for the ride of your life.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Lady Always Gets Her Man by Chris Waters

  Ransom Savage strolled into the Halltown General Store dressed in his finest gentleman gambler’s duds. He’d even slicked back the wild mane of his hair into a queue that almost made him look respectable. By the look on the proprietress’s face, he shouldn’t have bothered with the finery. She still looked like she wanted to kill him.

  In his experience, the back of the store was usually reserved for men to come in and smoke by the fire while trading stories about the crops, the weather and whatever other bullshit they wanted to shoot into the breeze. In typical rebellious fashion, Victorious Raynes had set up a ladies’ tea shop. The best and snootiest members of Halltown were encamped in her store and she watched him as carefully as she would a rattler.

  “This has to be the nicest general store I’ve ever seen. Ladies.” He swept off his hat and gave them a grand bow. They twittered like birds, much more appreciative of his fine coat and tight breeches than his target. “Miss…?”

  He was mighty careful, in case she was using one of her other names for the shop, though evidently the sheriff knew her real name.

  “Raynes,” she said sharply. “How can I help you?”

  Evidently her illustrious past had not yet caught up to Halltown, Texas. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Raynes. What tobacco do you keep on hand?”

  She grimaced but led him toward a counter on the opposite wall. “You can buy cigars and tobacco at the Halltown Saloon, Mr…”

  What the hell. If she could use her real name, so could he. “Ransom Savage at your service, ma’am.” He kept his hat off and inclined his head respectfully, though he didn’t give her the full bow. With his luck, she’d probably pick up the shotgun she no doubt had behind the bar and blow him into next week. “I’m headed to the saloon shortly to see how good the cards are, but I couldn’t resist such a fine store. Why, it must have taken quite a pretty penny to set up. I’m guessing thirty thousand.”

  That’s how much she’d stolen from him when she’d hightailed it out of Denver.

  The lady didn’t wince, stiffen or react in any way. “More, sir, not that it’s any of your business. I carry the finest tobaccos for the gentlemen in town, not the common riffraff.” Her icy tone conveyed exactly into which category he fell. “Are you sure you can afford it?”

  He reached into an inner pocket in his coat and pulled out a roll of bills. “That won’t be a concern, Miss Raynes.”

  “So I see, Mr. Savage. My, I’ve never seen so much money at once, except maybe at the bank. Or in someone’s personal safe.”

  He gave her his widest, most genuine smile. “I’m really good at cards. And other games.”

  She narrowed her gaze, no doubt tapping her toe impatiently beneath that long formal gown. “Hmmm, so I hear.”

  “Tobacco, ma’am?” he said hopefully. “Cherry, preferably.”

  She sniffed and pulled down a wooden chest. “So predictable.”

  “It’s popular in Halltown?” He knew very well it wasn’t, but if the old biddies were listening…

  “It was my father’s favorite, so I always keep some on hand.”

  If they hadn’t had such an audience, he would have retorted, That old son of a bitch? Her slimebag of a father had abandoned his family when she was only six years old, but not before he’d blackened her eye a dozen times and broken her arm. The man had always been as drunk as a skunk, but Ransom hadn’t ever heard that he smoked. No, they both knew very well she’d been holding that tobacco for him in case he finally managed to catch up with her. Though she’d never admit it.

  “Your father…” He started to ask her what story she’d passed around town, but the look on her face wiped the words right out of his head. Dread, dismay, and then a quick look of guilt when her gaze flickered briefly to his face.

  Ransom turned, not surprised to see the sheriff pushing the door open to her shop. Did she think so little of him, then? Could she honestly be afraid he’d betray her in front of her new “friends”?

  “Heard there was a stranger in town,” Sheriff Brazen drawled. Every step jingled the spurs on his boots and rustled the leather chaps he wore over his plain brown trousers. His loose shirt was brown too, and made from the same heavy-duty canvas the cowboys preferred. It protected against everything from thorns to sunburn, wore well and hid most cow and horse shit. But it sure did hurt when it rubbed a wound raw.

  “Sheriff,” Ransom replied in his most agreeable voice and offered his hand. “I’m Ransom Savage.”

  Sheriff Brazen hesitated a moment before taking his hand, just long enough to signal the man had some idea of who he was dealing with. “I’m John Brazen.”

  They didn’t shake hands, exactly, but rather squeezed slowly and took full measure of each other. Brazen was a few inches taller, but lean, where Ransom
was broader and more solid. From hand strength alone, they were nearly equal. Brazen’s cold, blue-eyed stare didn’t flicker. Nor did he reach for his gun, even though he had to know Ransom would be armed to the teeth himself. If even half of the legends were true—and Ransom knew they were—he could drop the sheriff before he had any hope of clearing a holster.

  “What are you doing in Halltown, Mr. Savage?”

  “I heard there’s a decent poker table at the saloon.”

  Brazen chuckled. “Sure, we’ve got a moth-eaten table and even a few cowpokes might plop down a penny or two on payday, but there’s no game of your caliber going on in Halltown, Mr. Savage.”

  “So you’ve heard of me.” Ransom smiled wider, rocking back slightly on his heels as he pulled out his pipe.

  With a scowl, Victorious shoved a small packet of tobacco across the counter to him. Taking his time, he tamped the fragrant leaves into the bowl.

  “You’re not going to smoke in here, are you? In front of the ladies?” He might have said plural, but the only lady he was looking at was Victorious.

  Ransom arched his brows with surprise. “There’s no smoking in Halltown?”

  “Well, no, there’s no law against it. But Miss Raynes doesn’t like tobacco smoke.”

  Ransom started to laugh but somehow managed to smother it into a cough. Once upon a time, they’d lain in bed together in tangled sheets and shared a pipe between them. Drowsy and sated, she’d let it slip that she’d come to love the scent of his cherry pipe so much that she was sure the scent alone would arouse her. “Oh, I see. Though perhaps it’s just cigar smoke she doesn’t like. Surely a lady wouldn’t have such a delightful array of quality pipe tobaccos for sale if she truly disliked all smoking.”

  Brazen turned a searching gaze on her. “The man has a point, darlin’.”

  Muttering beneath her breath, she slammed the chest shut and shoved it on the top shelf. “Cigar smoke is vile and disgusting. Plus it gets in my hair and clothes and makes me smell vile and disgusting.”

  Ransom couldn’t gloat at the small victory of revealing her in a minor fib, not with darlin’ still echoing in his skull. Plus, for her hair and clothes to have smelled like the sheriff’s cigar smoke, she had to be up close and personal with him. Real cozy. For hours. When he was off duty and relaxed enough to indulge in a smoke. Say, after a tumble with one wildly passionate auburn-haired lady.

  Victorious gave the sheriff a very sweet smile that turned into daggers as she shifted her gaze to Ransom. “Our visitor has a nice roll of cash on him, Sheriff. He says he’s real good at cards, but I’ve certainly never seen such a fantastic pile of bills on a single person before.”

  “Indeed.” Brazen pushed his beat-up plain hat back further on his head. “I’ll have to come over to the table and watch the play, then. Sounds like we’re in for a real treat. Mrs. Townsend, do you recall what kind of money the mayor had in his safe?”

  One of the ladies stood and gracefully moved to join them. Her hair shone like rich, deep gold. “I believe Mr. Townsend had mostly gold in his safe, Sheriff. Not minted coins, just bullion.”

  Victorious turned the smile on harder, meaner, a cobra ready to strike. “I didn’t see any gold. Yet. Maybe you ought to check his prime blooded gelding’s saddlebags. I bet they’re bulging with goodies.”

  Lord Almighty, that look made him go rock hard in his fancy britches. Oh yeah, that horse had been hers and she was good and pissed. If he was lucky—and he always was—maybe she’d take out some of that anger on him real soon. Ransom smiled widely. “You must be mistaken, Miss Raynes. I rode into town on a big black that’s pissed as hell I took him away from his mares.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she marched around the counter toward the shop windows so she could see what manner of beast he’d parked out front. A black horse stood tied up outside. Well, stood wasn’t quite the right word. The horse shifted and pawed, practically shooting fire out its nostrils and giving everyone who passed a fierce rattling snort. “Oh my.”

  Victorious’s tongue wasn’t often tied, but she definitely liked what she saw. Which was exactly why Ransom had paid handsomely for the vicious beast, even though her horse was still eating his weight in hay on his dime. Nothing turned her on more than a half-wild horse between her knees. Though she’d have a rough time stepping up on the black in those skirts. Maybe she can use that ridiculous parasol to club the beast over the head a few times. “And as you can see, ma’am, my saddlebags certainly aren’t bulging. The sheriff’s more than welcome to risk the grumpy stud’s teeth and hooves, but all he’ll find is a few changes of clothes and my lucky dice.”

  “I thought you said you were into cards,” Sheriff Brazen drawled, coming up to the window behind Ransom.

  His senses went on high alert, but he kept himself loose and smiling. “I don’t need a lucky deck of cards, Sheriff.”

  The man’s hands shot out and gripped both of Ransom’s shoulders in a fierce grip, those big, strong hands kneading and punching at his back. Searching for a wound.

  Ransom didn’t flinch or move away. In fact, he held his hands up, well away from his guns, and let the sheriff search for whatever he wanted. Of course, if he were hard pressed and needed to kill the man, he wouldn’t go for the six-shooter anyway, not when the stiletto blade waited tucked underneath his hair.

  The sheriff was wasting his time. No wound would ever make him flinch. Though when those punishing fingers passed over the still-healing blaster marks, he felt his nostrils flare. No doubt his pupils widened too, dark and hungry. Victorious refused to meet his gaze, though. She knew exactly what pain did to him and she wouldn’t risk betraying herself in front of her new beau.

  Finished with his search, the sheriff slapped him on the shoulder like they’d known each other for years. “Let me walk you on down to the saloon, Mr. Savage. I’m anxious to see how good you really are.”

  Since there were witnesses—and Victorious wouldn’t want them to see her in all her glorious fury—Ransom took the opportunity to give her the deepest, most regal bow he could manage. “It was my great pleasure to meet you, Miss Raynes.”

  She stomped past him toward the counter, passing so close her skirts tumbled over his thigh. “Bastard,” she whispered furiously beneath her breath.

  “Join me for supper later, Miss Raynes?” the sheriff called after her.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart,” she replied back sweetly.

  Another shot straight to the heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Waving at Jeb, Virginia watched him drive off before she headed inside. To his credit, he’d offered to walk her in and share whatever fallout she’d have from Miss Belle, but she’d sent him on his way. For one thing, her mother wasn’t going to give her what for. Rather, she was going to be in her most annoying full-blown gloating mode. She’d rather take gloating any day than Miss Belle’s secret meddling.

  Virginia stepped inside and shut the door behind her. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just breathed, feeling the house around her.

  She’d lived in this house her entire adult life. Raised three children here. Loved and lost her husband. She closed her eyes and his voice echoed in her mind. What’s for dinner, Princess? The children’s laughter and their endless squabbles as they grew up, first fighting over toys and then over who got to borrow the truck. Turning, she opened her eyes and made herself look at everything. It was like a time capsule, everything stuck in the past more than ten years.

  Ty’s moth-eaten chair that only the dog would lie on. If another spring poked through, even Daisy would abandon it. A pair of his boots were still waiting by the back door, as if she expected him to come in any moment. She’d picked them up and swept underneath them for twelve years instead of donating them to someone who could use them. Although now the leather was dry and so rotted that they needed to just go into the trash.r />
  Their bedroom was even worse. His clothes were still in his dresser. Well, in the dresser wasn’t exactly right. The man couldn’t be bothered to open a drawer, when he could just stack up his favorite jeans and socks on top. Every year the kids would get him a new, beautiful long-sleeved Western shirt, and he’d hang it up in the closet to admire it. But he’d never wear it. He even wore Carhartt work shirts to church. She picked up the last shirt he’d tossed on the dresser and lifted it to her nose, even though she knew it didn’t smell like him any longer. His beat-up old hat fell off the dresser, so she bent down and picked it up. The band was slightly stretched out where he always stashed his spare cigarette, empty and waiting. As she’d been empty and waiting all these years.

  She heard a light step approach but didn’t turn around. She pulled the cigarette she’d found at Jeb’s house out of her clutch and slipped it into place. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  “You know better than that,” Miss Belle replied. Her solemn tone made Virginia turn to see her face. “I don’t joke or mess around when it comes to the dead.”

  She sat down on the edge of her bed, holding the hat in her hands. “He came to see me again.”

  Miss Belle came over to sit beside her. “I’m glad.”

  Virginia looked about the room, but her eyes were blurred. “Why did you let me mope so long?”

  “Oh honey.” Miss Belle wrapped an arm around her and tipped her head to lay hers against Virginia’s. “I have the ability to sense things that most people never see or understand. Sometimes it’s a gift, but other times it’s a curse. I could see that you were suffering and I knew the cause, but there wasn’t anything I could do to help you through it. All I could do was pray and wait for you to call if you needed me. I knew you were strong enough to make it through, even though your days were black and grim for so long. I knew Jebadiah was in the wings just waiting for the chance to step out on stage and join you, but nothing I could say or do would help you find your way to him any quicker. It had to be you and him, working your way there. I just never thought it would take quite so many years.”