One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Lori Wilde

  SAM HAD JUST FINISHED preparing breakfast when they heard an explosion.

  All of them rushed to the door, Mac being the last. Smoke was coming up from the pass.

  Dynamite. The posse had gotten it faster than they’d hoped.

  She met Jared’s eyes. She’d been avoiding him this morning, afraid that her godfathers would see something different in her. In them. If they did, they didn’t say anything.

  Minutes later, Ike came tearing down the road on his horse. “We have mebbe thirty minutes,” he said. “Someone knew how to use dynamite. Placed the charges just right. They’re clearing a path now. Jake’s started another rock slide but ain’t nothing like the first.”

  “Come inside the saloon,” Jared said. “Someone get Burley.” He led the way and Reese fell in beside him. Archie veered off toward the stable. Minutes later Jared had everyone in the saloon, including MacDonald and Sam.

  He wished like hell he could hide her away. His eyes met hers, and she shook her head. She knew exactly what he was thinking. When did that happen?

  He forced himself to focus on the battle ahead.

  “They expect a lone marshal and wounded outlaw,” he said. “They don’t expect an army, so we’re going to give them an army. They want easy money. I want to make it very hard. I want guns propped up in every window we have. I want dynamite going off in different places. I want confusion. They have to believe they’re outnumbered or, at least, that we have the defensive advantage.”

  He looked at Ike. “Ike, you take the stable across the street, and when Jake gets here, he should take the hayloft. You’re also in charge of setting off the second round of dynamite. MacDonald is responsible for the first. Once the dynamite goes off, move from opening to opening. Make every shot count.” He turned to Burley. “You watch the back. Once the first charges go off, you come get the plunger from MacDonald, take it to the back and rig the fuses. Archie will show you how.”

  Burley straightened. “Ain’t no need for that. I was a miner.” He looked at his hands. “They be steady now. I haven’t had a drink in weeks.”

  Jared nodded. He had to trust Burley, just like he had to trust the rest of his ragtail gang of outlaws and misfits. He looked around. “We’ll have to change positions. Reese, Sam and MacDonald at the saloon. MacDonald can use the rifle after he sets off the dynamite. Reese will move from window to window.” He looked at Sam. “Sam, you just keep the weapons loaded. Don’t get in the windows.” It was the best he could think of to keep her safe. Or safer. But he saw the rebellion in her eyes. He ignored it for a moment. “If they get too close, throw the sticks of dynamite. That will make them damn wary.”

  “What about you?” Reese asked.

  “I’ll try to talk to them again when they ride in,” he said. “I’ll give them a chance to leave. If they see enough rifles poking out of windows…”

  “No,” Samantha said. “They’ll gun you down.”

  “You gave them their chance,” Ike protested.

  MacDonald stood. He swayed slightly. “There isn’t going to be a gunfight. I’m going to ride out to meet them. There’s no sense in you all dying. Rope’s waiting for me, anyway.”

  “No!” Sam said.

  MacDonald’s eyes gentled. “Ah, darlin’ girl, I should have sent you away a long time ago. I was damned selfish.”

  “MacDonald’s not going anywhere,” Jared said harshly. “I don’t give in to vigilantes or hired guns.” He fixed his gaze on the man, then Samantha. “We’re wasting time. Any more questions?”

  No one said anything.

  Reese went upstairs.

  MacDonald had remained seated in a chair. He turned and looked out the window.

  Jared limped over to Sam. He brought her chin up with his finger. “I wish you would go to one of the mine shafts.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then promise me to be careful. Keep your head down and load the guns. If things go bad, do you have a place to hide?”

  She nodded, but he didn’t believe her. She would be there to the end. Again he thought about grabbing her and cuffing her to the bed in the makeshift cell, but then she would be helpless if the gunfighters somehow got inside.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  “Not giving up Mac. For trusting me.”

  His fingers ran up her face. “If anything happened to you…”

  “Then it would be my decision,” she said. “This is where I want to be. Where I have to be.”

  “I know.” And he did. If anything happened to her, he didn’t know whether he could live with himself. But if he didn’t include her, he would destroy something inside her.

  He leaned down and kissed her. He didn’t care if Mac watched, or anyone else. Her arms went around his neck and she stood on tiptoes and kissed him back. Hard. Fervently. Then she let go and ran upstairs. Her scent remained with him, as did her touch.

  MacDonald started to say something, but a rifle shot stopped him. Reese was warning them.

  Jared stepped out and started down the street. His Colt was in his holster, and he’d tucked one of Mac’s spare pistols in his belt. He glanced around and counted at least ten rifles propped in the windows. They looked ready for action.

  He took a few more steps, trying not to let the limp show. He wanted to get at least fifteen feet in front of the first dynamite sticks. It took all his concentration.

  He stopped at the predetermined position. Not in the middle of the street but more to the side. An empty water trough was inches away. He stood and waited. This last attempt at peace was probably futile, but it was his duty to avoid bloodshed if he could.

  The riders came in slowly, cautious. He saw them stop at the edge of town, their gazes searching the few buildings. One pointed to a rifle in a window, then another. They kept coming.

  The leader appeared to be the heavy, bearded man. Jared knew the tracker who rode at his side. They stopped twelve feet from him and he watched as some of the posse placed hands on their gun butts.

  “Thought you had better taste,” he said to the tracker.

  “It’s a job,” the tracker said. “Didn’t think you would be protecting a killer.”

  “That’s yet to be decided. I’m on the side of the law, and every marshal in the territory will hunt each of you down if you kill one of theirs. We don’t forget and we don’t give up.”

  “We don’t want trouble,” the big man said. “We just want my son’s killer.”

  Benson. “No,” Jared said flatly. “Look around. I have more than enough guns backing me.” He watched as they took note of the rifles. Some of the men dropped their hands from their guns. “I don’t know how much Benson offered you,” Jared continued as he searched the faces of the men in front of him, “but I guarantee it’s not enough for the trouble you face.”

  “I didn’t sign up for killing no marshal,” one man said. He backed up his horse and turned in the other direction. Three others followed him.

  “Cowards,” yelled Benson. “He’s protecting my son’s murderer.” He drew and fired as Jared leaped behind the trough. Adrenaline dulled the pain in his leg, but he knew he couldn’t depend on it to support him. He felt a dampness and looked down. A bullet had nicked his right leg again.

  Explosions ripped through the street just feet from the horses. At least a third of them reared, throwing off their riders and racing back toward the pass.

  The remaining gunmen struggled to control their horses. Rifles fired from the saloon, stable and abandoned house. Several men fell.

  Benson tried to rally his posse. “Five hundred dollars to every man who stays, and twenty thousand to the one who takes Thornton.” Men about to ride away turned back.

  “The marshal,” the leader said. “Take the marshal. Surround him.”

  Jared knew he was in trouble. He had damned little protection. It had probably been a stupid thing to do, to walk out, but he’d had to try it. He knew the tracker. He’d hoped
if he could convince him, he could turn the others.

  He heard more explosions, but they were farther down the street. They startled the horses but only one man was unseated this time. Riders began to circle him. He drew and fired, and a man went down. Another man was felled before he could fire again. Reese? Archie?

  “No!” A woman’s voice sounded above the melee. He turned, as did the riders.

  MacDonald stood in the middle of the street, cradling the rifle with his ruined right arm. His left fingers were on the trigger. He swayed slightly with the effort.

  Jared knew instantly what he intended to do. Jared was trapped. MacDonald was giving him a chance at the cost of his own life. He was gambling that once he was dead, the vigilantes would quit.

  Jared knew differently. He had seen the faces. They couldn’t afford to let him live now.

  Before he could react, Samantha ran out the saloon door, Colt in hand.

  “No,” MacDonald yelled like a man in pain. He dropped the rifle and threw her to the ground, covering her body with his, just as two shots rang out.

  Jared turned and fired three bullets at the leader. The big man fell from his horse. More shots rang out from the saloon, the livery and the house. One man fell from his horse, then another. The rest dropped their guns and put their hands up.

  Jared stood awkwardly, his gun in hand. “The first man that moves is dead.”

  Jared limped as quickly as he could over to MacDonald. Blood spread out from his back. Jared checked his pulse. Still alive. He felt him stir. “Don’t move,” he said in a low voice. “Play dead.”

  He lifted MacDonald gently from Samantha. She was bloodied from Mac’s wound but her eyes flickered. The wind had been knocked out of her. Nothing more. Thank God. He pretended to be listening to her heart. “Play dead,” he whispered. “For MacDonald.” Her eyes flickered and he knew she understood. He picked her up. Her hat fell off and her shirt stretched tight over her breasts. He could hear the exclamations from the horsemen.

  “Your friend just killed a woman, along with Thornton. You attacked a U.S. Marshal. I can’t take you all in, but by God I’ve looked at every one of your faces, and you’d better make tracks out of this territory.”

  Slowly, one by one they turned to leave. With the leader gone, several of their posse on the ground and rifles still protruding out of windows, they had no more stomach for the business. Two dismounted and helped the wounded on horses, then they put their leader’s body on his horse. They turned and galloped toward the pass as if the devil was after them.

  Jared lowered Samantha to the ground and scanned her body as she protested, obviously wanting to get over to MacDonald. “Stay still,” he warned.

  Archie hobbled toward them, his bag in his hand.

  Jared searched the road ahead. The riders were all gone.

  Archie examined MacDonald, who bore it with the patience of a man too used to wounds.

  “That man has more lives than a durn cat,” Archie grumbled. “Bullet went through his side. Don’t think it hit anything bad.”

  Reese appeared along with Jake and Ike. Reese and Ike, the two strongest, carried Mac inside. Sam shook herself as if surprised to be alive.

  Jared took her in his arms. “You’ve got to stop doing this,” he scolded, his voice breaking.

  “You, too,” she said, looking him over. “I think you’re bleeding again.” She hesitated, then added, “That was a damn fool thing for you to do.” He was bleeding, but at the moment nothing mattered more than feeling her in his arms. Knowing she was still alive. Unhurt.

  “How’s Mac?”

  “You must mean Thornton,” he said slowly. “He just died. So did you. There were at least ten witnesses, not including Reese and Ike and Jake and Burley. Maybe no one cares about Thornton, but they know they could hang for killing you. We shouldn’t have any more trouble.”

  She searched his face, then closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Seems to me you two saved my life, as well.” He nuzzled her cheek. “But I have another problem.”

  “What?” she asked in a breathless voice.

  “I think I’m in love with a sprite who doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble.” He wanted to caress every part of her. He tried to resist. Foolish thought. “I’m afraid I have to keep you with me to keep you safe.”

  “Look where that has gotten me so far,” she replied, snuggling herself farther into his arms. “I think we might be dangerous for each other.”

  “I can live with it,” he said. He eased away from her slightly. “Can you?”

  She lifted her face to look up at him. Tumultuous emotions shone in her eyes, and he lowered his head until their lips met in an explosion as bright as lightning striking the earth.

  He didn’t need a better answer.

  Epilogue

  Montana

  “IT’S AS BEAUTIFUL as Colorado,” Samantha said. She stood with Jared in front of their new home and watched the clouds float by in the biggest sky she’d ever seen.

  Cattle munched rich grass along the river. Their cattle.

  They’d found their ranch land three months earlier and filed claims for it under the Homestead Act. Today her home was finally finished and the last of the furniture moved in, including a cradle Archie made. The godfathers were celebrating with a picnic, but Sam and Jared had broken away for a quiet moment.

  Sam felt Jared’s hands on her shoulder as they gazed over the grasslands and the river that bordered it. Then those hands went around her swelling middle. She was four months along now. The three godfathers and Burley, who’d helped put in the last of the glass windows, were, to say the least, delighted.

  They—the six of them—now had five homesteads, one hundred and sixty acres each, for a total of eight hundred acres. Beyond their homestead was open range, allowing them to own a large cattle herd. She and Jared had filed together since they were married on the trail when they met up with a circuit preacher. Archie, Burley, Reese and Mac had filed separate claims, all touching one another. She and Jared were given the best piece of land, the top of a hill overlooking the river.

  To keep the claims, they had to build a house of some kind on their property. Burley had a one-room cabin. Mac had two rooms, but he planned on building more. Now that Thornton was good and truly dead, he had his eye on a pretty widowed dressmaker in the closest town.

  Reese built a substantial one-room home, but he had plans to keep adding to it, as well. He’d limited his gaming to the saloon in the nearest town, but she felt sure his wanderlust would soon take him to the mining towns.

  Archie built a little two-room building, half of which he used as a medical office. Sam usually helped him. There were no regular doctors within fifty miles, and both of them had been in high demand.

  She and Jared had taken more time to build their place. He’d wanted a house that would stand for a hundred years, he said, and one big enough for a family. He was tired of wandering. Their home had one room large enough to entertain at least four frequent visitors and any additional family members, a large bedroom for her and Jared, a kitchen and two additional bedrooms, along with a loft.

  “For guests,” Jared said, “until family fills it.” He made it clear he meant the godfathers. Their house was always open to them. The four men had worked well on their way to Montana; they’d become good friends as well as partners in the ranch.

  She loved the land, but then she would love anyplace where Jared was. Jared and the godfathers. They had used their collective money to buy cattle. They bought some along the way, then several hundred more head from a rancher in south Montana.

  Jared leaned down and kissed her neck. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, but that was all right. She couldn’t stop touching him, either. She’d fallen in love with him quickly, but now she loved him deeply and thoroughly and unconditionally. She knew the difference now. Loving meant trusting. Loving meant believing. Loving meant forever.

  He’d left after that vi
olent day, and she and Mac had retreated to the mine shaft for several weeks. It was possible the law, or some of those men, would return. Jared thought it doubtful, though. Benson was dead, and one of the posse had taken the body home. He’d been killed by a U.S. Marshal. Dead along with a wanted outlaw named Thornton and a woman called Samantha Blair. They were buried in the same cemetery as her mother and father. Jared had made sure the news was in all the papers and he’d made the report to his superiors in Denver. Then he resigned.

  Then he’d returned to Gideon’s Hope for Sam and the others. They were his family, as well, now. An outlaw, a cardsharp and a cussing mule skinner. And Burley, who swore he wouldn’t drink anymore—the devil had been plumb scared out of him. Jake and Ike stayed behind. Like Jake said, he wanted to be buried looking toward the mountains he loved.

  She felt his fingers in her hair. She was letting it grow out. And she was wearing a dress. She found it more comfortable now that she was expecting. And she liked looking pretty for Jared. After the baby, though, she told him right enough that she was going to wear britches when she rode.

  “They say there’s hard winters,” he said.

  She grinned up at him. “Better, then, to stay inside and—”

  He stopped the last word with a kiss. She barely heard the snickers behind her as once more her world spun to magical places and she melted against him.

  She was home.

  Sarah Mayberry

  HOT ISLAND NIGHTS

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue