Gregory, Jill

by Warm Stranger Cold Night

  From the corner of his eye, Quinn saw Lucky Johnson shouldering his way through the crowd. He came to stand behind the Hicks girl.

  "Name it, Lassiter." The tall rancher met his gaze squarely, and beside him Alice smiled at Maura. "Whatever I can do."

  "I'm planning to ride out after Lee and Ned Campbell soon as I get my wife safely home. Can you spare a couple of ranch hands to camp out near our cabin and keep an eye on things while I'm gone? Maybe a man or two to start rounding up some of those steers I bought from you? Good men," he said grimly, "men you trust."

  "There's several I'd swear on with my life. I'll send them over right away. But I'm coming with you to track those outlaws." Tyler's face was set. Alice made a small sound of protest, but he just patted her hand and kept his gaze on Quinn's.

  "I'll send two of my top hands over pronto."

  Quinn nodded. "Much obliged."

  "But Quinn—you're not going after them tonight?" Maura asked, staring at him in dismay.

  "The sooner I head out, the better. The trail will be fresh."

  "Hold on." Lucky Johnson pushed his way forward. He bumped into Nell, knocking her off-balance, but was so intent on the discussion between Lassiter and the rancher, he didn't even notice. "I'm coming with you," he exclaimed.

  "The hell you are." Quinn turned away from the youth and took Maura's arm. "Let's get your purchases and—"

  "I said I'm coming with you and you can't stop me!" Lucky shouted, stepping directly into Quinn's path.

  A hush fell over the throng. Maura felt her heart sink as Quinn released her arm and turned those cold, deadly gray eyes on the boy.

  "I owe you, too, Lassiter!" the boy exclaimed. "And like it or not, I'm going to help bring those varmints in!"

  Tyler gave him a long, steady look. "Son, we want seasoned men, men who know what they're doing."

  "Young man, whoever you are, your intentions are admirable, but you're still wet behind the ears," Seth Weaver added. "Now men like Mr. Lassiter and Mr. Tyler have got the experience to go after a gang like the Campbells and come back alive. They don't have time to keep an eye on you and smoke out those scoundrels."

  Lucky Johnson's flush deepened and a muscle jumped in his cheek. He took one swift belligerent step forward.

  "I don't need no one to keep an eye on me! I can take care of myself and I can shoot just as straight, just as fast as anyone—well, maybe not as fast as Quinn Lassiter, not yet—but as any other man in this town—"

  "That's enough!" Tyler frowned at him. "You're wasting our time."

  Nell Hicks stared at Lucky Johnson, taking in every aspect of his handsome face, red and angry as it was. Her green eyes shone—no doubt with sympathy, Maura reflected. She felt sorry for him, too—not only was his help being refused, but he was being publicly embarrassed by the very men whose respect he obviously craved.

  Then Quinn spoke and she held her breath, bracing herself for the next stinging comment Lucky would have to bear.

  "Let him come."

  "What?" Tyler stared at him.

  "Mr. Lassiter," the banker said, "I thought you didn't want—"

  "Changed my mind. He can come." Quinn flicked a glance at Lucky. "Get your gear packed and your horse saddled. Pronto."

  Ignoring the flash of joy on the boy's face, and hoping he wasn't making a big mistake, Quinn took Maura's arm. "Ready?"

  She nodded, her throat dry. It was difficult to absorb both his sudden turnaround with Lucky and the fact that he was leaving her, going after the Campbells on a deadly hunt from which he might not return.

  "I was nearly finished at the mercantile," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. She wanted to cry, Don't go! Something terrible might happen to you! Stay with me.

  But instead she turned to Mr. Hicks and said with far more calm than she felt, "I don't believe I settled the bill yet. Shall we go back and finish our business?"

  "My pleasure, Mrs. Lassiter. Nell, come along, girl." To Maura he explained, "She's quicker than me at adding up all those figures." Then he threw a sharp glance at his daughter, still staring at Lucky Johnson. "Nell? Nell, what's got into you? I said come along."

  The girl startled and tore her attention from Lucky to meet her father's glance distractedly. "Oh, coming, Papa. In a minute."

  Lucky Johnson hadn't once noticed her. Even as the Lassiters and Nell's father moved away, he continued to peer after Quinn Lassiter with a mixture of gratitude and amazement, as if scarcely able to believe his good fortune in being allowed to join the posse.

  Nell lingered another moment, gathering her courage. She smoothed her long black braid. "Mr. Johnson." She moistened her lips. "Be careful."

  Lucky did notice her then. He spun about, glaring at her. Anger flared in his thick-lashed eyes as he took in Nell's tomboyish garb and worried green gaze. "Huh? How do you know my name?"

  "I've...seen you around town. You bought some eggs and tobacco and things in the store."

  "Oh, yeah. You're that Hicks girl." Lucky hunched a shoulder. He stuck out his jaw. "Why'd you tell me to be careful?" he demanded. "You think I can't handle being part of that posse?"

  "I didn't say that," Nell exclaimed.

  He studied her closely. She was a kid, no more than sixteen. Last night he'd spent the whole night in bed with Orchid, the prettiest, most buxom, and most experienced saloon girl in town, and here was this skinny, bossy female kid in denim pants and a man's boots horning in on his business!

  "Get lost," Lucky scowled. "You can't tell me what to do."

  "Well, somebody ought to." Answering anger sparked in Nell's face, turning her eyes to twin green flames.

  Her hands plopped onto her hips. "It's true what they said—you are too young and...and green to be riding with men like Quinn Lassiter. If you had the brains of a— a prairie dog you'd stay behind and let them handle this."

  Lucky took a step forward and towered over her, pleased when those flashing eyes of hers widened just a little. "Seems to me what I do is none of your business, little girl. Matter of fact, if I were you, I'd go on back to that store with my daddy and leave the men to their work. I heard Lee Campbell almost ran off with you last time he came to town. Maybe by the time I'm done with him, you'll be thanking me for being able to sleep a little better!"

  "It happens that I sleep just fine!" Nell shot back, but it was her turn to flush, her cheeks turning a deep shade of rose. "Don't you worry about me, Lucky Johnson. You're the one who needs a lick of sense if you're going to stay alive."

  Lucky hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt and regarded her in amusement. "Why are you so all-fired interested anyway? Don't tell me you'd weep big sad tears if I got myself shot."

  "I'd sing a song and do a two-step over your grave!" Nell called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Go on, get yourself killed for all I care. See if I even come to your funeral!"

  Lucky laughed as he watched her march off after her father and the Lassiters, that black braid swinging behind her, her hips encased in those denim pants rolling in a haughty, feminine way that served to amuse him even more.

  While Quinn loaded the wagon and conferred with Jim Tyler, Alice Tyler approached Maura outside of the general store.

  "Your husband never hesitated," she said softly, giving her dainty head a slight shake. "He risked his own life to save mine. I have four young boys at home, none of them older than twelve. They need me. I'll never forget what your husband did for me today—and for them."

  "I just thank God he was there to help." Maura shuddered. She glanced around the gray little town, where people were beginning to scatter and once again disappear indoors. "When we decided to come here, we thought Hope would be a safe, quiet place to settle down and raise a family. But now—"

  "A family? Do you mean to say ... is there a little one on the way?" Alice asked.

  Maura nodded, her lips curving in a happy smile. "Yes, there is." She heard Serena Walsh suck in her breath. Her face wore a frozen expression. The woman had remained
nearby ever since the shooting, even accompanying them to the mercantile. She hadn't said much to anyone other than Quinn, but she was listening to everything that went on. And apparently she was stunned by what she'd just heard.

  "Not for some months yet," Maura added, refusing to glance again at Serena. "But soon, yes, we'll be expanding our family."

  "That's wonderful. And all the more reason to rid the town of the gang!" Alice exclaimed.

  "But it's so dangerous." Maura's dark eyes moved to Quinn, his face set with purpose as he spoke with Jim Tyler and put the last of the supplies in the wagon.

  A knot of fear twisted inside her. "Alice, aren't you afraid for your husband?"

  "With all my heart. But it's even more dangerous not knowing when the gang is going to return, or what they're going to do next. If no one stands up to them, they'll just get bolder and more vicious. That's what's been happening for months. Jim and Sheriff Owen tried tracking them before, but couldn't find a trace. But now that your husband has wounded one of them, perhaps the blood will leave a trail."

  Maura swallowed hard and nodded. "Let's hope so. And let's hope the wounded man and his brother don't get the chance to put up much of a fight."

  "Your husband may not have wanted to wear a sheriff's badge," Alice Tyler said softly, her eyes meeting Maura's, "but right now he's our best hope for ridding the town of those animals."

  Turning to look at Quinn again, Maura knew she was right. From the first moment she'd set eyes on him back in the Duncan Hotel, she'd known that he was a man who could handle whatever peril or challenge life threw his way. There was no braggadocio about him as there was in

  young Lucky Johnson—only the quiet steel of a man who knows his own abilities, has honed them keenly, and is prepared to pit them and his own nerves against anything that stands in his way. If Quinn had made up his mind to end the Campbell gang's reign of terror over Hope, she knew he wouldn't rest until he'd done it. And neither would she.

  An hour later she stored the last of her purchases in the pantry and tried to calm her uneasy heart. When Quinn came inside after giving instructions to Bill Saunders, the new foreman he'd hired, and Tex and Grady, the two hands Jim Tyler had sent over, she showed him the two canteens on the table freshly filled with water.

  "I've put sandwiches, a can of beans, hardtack, and a package of Arbuckle's coffee in your saddlebag." Biting her lip, she glanced out the window at the dark stallion, Thunder, who pawed the ground as if restless to be off. "Are you leaving now?"

  "Yes." He drew her over to the corner where shelves held dishes and pots and pans. Beneath the shelves, a rifle was propped against the wall.

  "It's loaded and ready. You know how to use it?"

  "A little." She studied the gun warily. "Judd showed me once when I was twelve. I haven't had much practice."

  "We'll fix that when I get back," he told her grimly. "Saunders and Tyler's men will keep an eye on things and start work on the corral while I'm gone. I've left orders for one of them to be here at all times. You won't be alone."

  "I'm not afraid, Quinn." Not for myself.

  "Good. The Campbells don't know about you or about this place. They'd have no notion I'm married now or settled here on Sage Creek, so it's not as if they'll come here looking for me—or for you. But while men like them are on the loose, you shouldn't be here alone."

  She whirled away from him and paced to the table, gripping the back of a chair. "Don't worry about me. You're the one who's riding into danger."

  "It's what I do, Maura," he said curtly. He studied her, brows raised. "What I'm going to continue to do. This is no more dangerous than that gun-for-hire job coming up in Laramie."

  "How reassuring."

  His jaw clenched. "What's wrong? Afraid I'm going to get myself killed and leave you stranded?"

  A lump rose in her throat, making it difficult to breathe, even to swallow. Let him think that, she told herself desperately. Let him think it's only that.

  "Don't worry, angel. I won't kick the bucket before I get this place up and running for you."

  "F-fine." She picked up the canteens and thrust them at him. "Because my having to get this ranch going alone is not part of our arrangement." Maura forced out the words, then gave a gasp as Quinn dropped the canteens back onto the table and took her by the arms.

  His eyes were dark as smoke as he pulled her toward him. "Maybe you'd like a little something to remember me by."

  "I already have a little something to remember you by." In vain she tried to wrench away. He was too near, too strong, too compelling.

  "Something more." Roughly he hauled her up against him, one muscular arm encircling her waist. "Don't miss me too much, angel," he said huskily, and then his mouth came down on hers in a hard, hungry kiss that jolted her like a sweep of fire. Her knees wobbled, and with a growl in his throat Quinn clasped her tighter and deepened the kiss further yet, his mouth hot and fierce upon hers, exploring, commanding, possessing.

  When he lifted his head, they were both breathless. His eyes gleamed into hers, intense as flame, and he had a grin on his face. "That ought to do it."

  He released her so suddenly, she gasped. Hefting the canteens, he swung toward the door.

  "Keep the doors and windows locked and the rifle handy," he ordered over his shoulder just before the door slammed behind him.

  Shaken, Maura sank into a chair. The bruising intensity of Quinn's kiss had left her dazed and dizzy, her lips hot, aching for more. For a moment she could only sit in a kind of fevered shock. Then she heard Thunder's hoof-beats fading away, and she flew across the room to the window.

  Her hands clasped to her throat, she stared out at the sight of her husband riding toward the rise, the sky glowing turquoise and pink before him, the valley still as death.

  Quinn never looked back. He sat straight and tall in the saddle, and hard competence radiated from his broad-shouldered frame as he spurred the horse over the plateau.

  Maura knew the moment he disappeared that she was truly in trouble now. But the danger did not come from without. It came from within.

  She knew that somehow, against all wisdom and good intentions, she had made a terrible mistake. She had fallen in love with her husband.

  Chapter 19

  "Whattaya mean she's gone? Gone where?" Judd Duncan slammed Willy Peachtree up against the hotel's front counter and stared with disbelief into the old man's thin, frightened face.

  There was no one else in the lobby of the Duncan Hotel, but if there had been, they'd have gone running after one glance at the murderous expression upon Judd's face.

  "S-sorry, Judd—she didn't tell me nothin'. I thought she'd be back in a day or so. She jest said to watch the place till you or her came back!"

  "How long ago was this, you worthless bag of bones?"

  "W-weeks. I didn't know what to do. You didn't come back, she didn't come back... I tried to keep up with everythin' myself but I didn't know what to do..."

  His voice trailed off fearfully. Judd released the old-timer, his breath rasping in his throat. Before Willy could escape, Homer grabbed him by his dirty shirt collar and clenched his fist to punch the hapless man until he saw Judd had already bounded away toward the stairs and was pounding up them two at a time. At that moment Homer remembered why.

  All that really mattered was the diamonds! Homer let go of Willy, who slunk away behind the counter, breathing hard.

  "Son of a bitch! They'd better be there!" Homer yelled after Judd, and then he, too, charged up the stairs.

  Sweat poured down both of their faces as they raced to Maura's narrow little room at the rear of the hall. Neither of them had counted on being away from Knotsville and the hotel for this long. They hadn't counted on that damned sheriff in Great Falls locking them up just because they'd gotten drunk and shot up both saloons, the barbershop, and the whorehouse. They'd been rotting in that stinking jail for weeks—and all this time, they'd thought Maura and the diamonds were safely back here in K
notsville.

  Their customer had paid handsomely for just one of those little diamonds and was willing to pay a whole lot more for the rest of them and now...now...

  Judd tore through the bureau where Maura had stored her belongings. The few things she'd left behind were hurled to the floor as Homer watched, white-faced.

  "Well?"

  "That jewel box ain't here!"

  They turned to the bed, hefted the mattress, tossed it on the floor. Next they looked under the bed, behind the bureau, knocking the washstand over, as well as the chair. They tore the room apart, refusing to give up hope.

  But after everything had been turned upside down and inside out, it was clear the jewelry box and the diamonds were gone.

  "She took 'em, all right." Judd thumped a ham-sized fist down on the bureau, purple color suffusing his cheeks. "Maura Jane stole 'em. Stole our diamonds!" he muttered incredulously. He shook his head. "That damned sneaky little bitch. When I get my hands on her—"

  "She didn't know she had 'em, Judd." Homer leaned against the wall, feeling sick with disappointment. "She just thought she was takin' Ma's jewelry box. Ma did leave it to her."

  "She had no right to run out on us! After all we done for her, she left this hotel to rot! She left, Homer! When are you going to stop sticking up for that no-good little bitch?"

  "Reckon you're right." Anger flitted into Homer's pale eyes. He ran a hand through his lank brown hair, scraping it back from his face. "We took care of her all her life and the minute our backs is turned she runs off."

  "We gotta find her." Judd's mouth set in an ominous line.

  "Hell, we surely will. We'll get those diamonds back if we have to wring her scrawny neck to do it."

  Judd headed for the door. Homer followed him down the stairs, thinking of all that money they'd never see if they didn't find Maura and the diamonds. That San Francisco businessman wouldn't wait forever. He might make a deal with someone else to buy diamonds for his pretty lady friend.

  Downstairs, they were so preoccupied with their own frustration that they didn't notice the fresh footprints in the layer of dust on the floor, nor did they sense the man hiding still as death in the shadows on the opposite side of the staircase. They only saw that Willy had disappeared. The lobby was deserted, thick with dust, silent as a coffin. And from the looks of the guest book, there were no paying customers. Sure enough, Willy couldn't have been able to run this place for long all by himself.