Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Branded by the Texans (lit)

  “I think you’re gonna enjoy riding around the ranch.”

  “How many horses do you have?”

  “Well now, let’s see. There’s my ten personal ridin’ horses. Dono and Dash have their own ridin’ string of horses. Then, there’s our herds.”

  Kylie scooched back against him, balancing as Diamond powered up the steepening incline. Good lord, she was an amazing-feelin’ woman. Mightily tempted to brush his thumb along the swells of her breasts, he didn’t.

  “Wow, lots of horses. What kind are they? What breed, I mean?”

  “Lots of breeds mixed together. For a long while we purchased any available stud or mare that fit the traits we wanted for our ranch horses. Morgans, Arabs, the half-breeds. Some Quarter horse thrown in, along with Thoroughbred blood.

  “We use Mustang half-breeds, too. Those are Dono’s favorites. He can do anything with them like their kin of his, instead of horses. Diamond here, has a lot of Paso Fino blood. Makes her a comfortable ride on the trail.”

  “She is comfortable.” Reaching out, Kylie patted the mare’s neck. “This is awkward, you know. I feel like a kid asking endless questions. Why this? Why that?”

  “You know very little about me, sweet thang. Or about the ranch.” And nothing about Dono and Dash, yet.”

  Hearing the snap of a twig, Dillon cocked his ear and tightened his grip on the rifle. The crackling pops that followed, and the long brushing sounds of foliage, meant a deer herd passed close by, a darn good thing.

  Deer had become scarce after the last border war. With food supplies cut off, they’d been hunted by those trying to stay alive. Now, most folks left them alone to breed, only culling the larger herds or using a deer that had died or been severely injured.

  “Kylie,” Dillon rested his chin on her shoulder, “if I say ‘Down’, lean over Diamond’s neck and hang onto her. Do you understand?”

  “You mean if we’re attacked, right?”

  “Yep. You sure do smell nice.”

  “I need a bath,” she snapped, then went quiet for a few moments. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

  “I’m taking it as one.” Dillon caressed her middle with the movement of his arm as he gently kept hold of her. “Washin’ your back would be a mighty pleasurable activity.” Her body heated and she tensed for an instant. “I sure want to feel those little hands of yours on my back.”

  Dillon thought he heard a tiny moan, though it could have been the subtle sounds of nature surrounding them.

  “Maybe.” Defiance and challenge infused the word. So did her desire for him.

  “Maybe?” He drawled the purr close to her ear.

  “You’re one of those dominant men who think they can just get their own way, whenever they want.”

  “Guilty, darlin’. But I bet you’re gonna enjoy it.”

  “My fist is aching to sock you a good one. A big mistake, probably. I’d only crack it on that granite-like jaw of yours.”

  Her tone pounced on him like the little wildcat he’d called her.

  “Why, thank you, for the compliment, sweet Kylie.”

  The fuse to her temper flared, and her body became sinuous as flame against him.

  “You’re probably just as savage and primitive as the Vikings.”

  Her scathing accusation tickled him. His woman would probably attack him if he gave her half a chance. Dillon figured he’d do just that, when the time was right. Their carnal lovin’ was bound to be sizzlin’ hot as a whole passel of firecrackers.

  “Worse,” he teased. “I aim to plunder you good and proper.”

  “How can you plunder me good and proper?”

  She fired her irritation at him, her body a dance of righteousness against his torso. Just too hell bad he couldn’t find a private little spot and let her wail on him while they rolled around, the passionate smolder taking over.

  “Soft and fierce,” he answered. “Like in poetry, a feeling that is both soft and fierce. Love is both soft and fierce, don’t you think, Kylie?”

  “Exasperating,” she muttered. “That’s what you are.”

  “Hang onto the saddle horn, Kylie.”

  Seeing the natural stairway ahead she obeyed using both hands. As they neared the enormous slabs of rock, piled about thirty feet high, Dillon lifted the reins and prepared to guide Diamond if she needed assistance. At the same time, he raised the rifle into a position to shoot anyone who might be waiting for them, since his view would be blind near the top.

  “It’s a good thing for you, I’m a natural at riding,” she muttered.

  Lunging forward, Diamond hopped up on the first slab and nimbly balanced. The mare negotiated her way, jumping up onto each wide layering of the rock. Spinning on her back hooves about midway, she launched onto a platform-like ledge and Dillon heard a rifle cock, a crack of sound in the high clean air.

  Hell and highwater, it figured this is where Jeb, or whoever, would make their move. Not wanting to halt Diamond’s upward momentum, Dillon wrapped the reins around his wrist, then brought the rifle level with his eye. “Down. Stay low,” he commanded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her frightened, but defiant whisper drifted up to his ear, mere background noise due to his absolute focus.

  Everything slowed around him. Every sound was exaggerated, and he felt the subtle energies of their attacker. Sensing danger, Diamond lessened, then steadied her pace up the rock stairway.

  With the man’s breath roaring in his ears, Dillon followed the vibrational path to the man’s heart and pointed his rifle. With her muscles powerfully bunching, Diamond surged close to the top.

  “Don’t move, Vega.” Jeb’s voice cut through the air like a perfectly thrown Bowie knife.

  “Don’t intend to. Except to pull this trigger.” Dillon dead-aimed for Jeb’s chest as Diamond walked up the incline. She halted at the sight of another horse and rider about ten feet ahead of them.

  “Dillon, you ole wardog. Instincts are still working, are they?” Jeb didn’t back down, and Dillon knew the kid still believed he owned the superior hand.

  “You get one warning before I blow your shoulder apart. And this is it.” Dillon eased the trigger back, already seeing the bullet hit its mark in his mind’s eye.

  He felt Kylie shift, though she didn’t rise upward. “What are you doing?” she demanded of Jeb. Her tone reminded him of a scolding schoolteacher.

  For a split second, Jeb aimed his gaze at Kylie, and Dillon was tempted to put a hole through his shoulder. However, he’d heard the clopping tread of horses coming upon them and hoped it was Jeb’s brothers.

  “You need a tamer woman, Jeb. Not this little spitfire.”

  “Me and my brothers can do whatever tamin’ is necessary.”

  “You’re tellin’ lies, Jeb. Your brothers aren’t part of this ambush.”

  “No one is going to tame me!” Kylie shouted, fierce as one of his wolf-husky bitches protecting her pups.

  Dillon would have laughed his sides sore at his plucky woman, if the situation had been different. Instead, he kept his aim true, playing the patience game.

  “If you come with me, redhead, I promise me and my brothers will treat you right as rain, and no wife tamin’ like you’ll get with the Vega brothers.”

  Kylie stiffened, especially her legs against his, and Dillon silently cursed. God only knew what raced through her mind.

  “Time you were turnin’ your horse around, Jeb, and gettin’ out of my sight.” Dillon eased the rifle a slight distance. “I got you’re drawin’ shoulder in my sights.”

  “Dang it, Jeb! What the hell are you doin’, boy?” Jackson’s stern, I’m-the- oldest brother voice rang out. “Put that rifle down. Or I’m tellin’ Dillon to wing you.”

  “I want a woman!” Jeb yelled back.

  “Not this way, you fool,” Jackson shouted back.

  The crack of a whip split the air. Jeb yelped with pain as his rifle was jerked from his grip. “John, why’d you go and do that? You�
�ve been hankerin’ like a stud dog for a bitch.”

  “Can’t deny it.” John rode closer. “I may be randy as an old goat, but I ain’t no thief, stealin’ another man’s woman.” Dismounting, he quickly grabbed up his brother’s rifle, then mounted up again.

  “My apologies, Dillon.” Jackson tipped his hat. “Appreciate you not pluggin’ Jeb.”

  Dillon gradually lowered the rifle and nodded. “Hate sheddin’ blood where it ain’t necessary.”

  “Yep, we lost too many good men already.” Jackson urged his mount beside Jeb’s horse. Despite the narrowness of the trail, he grabbed hold of the horse’s bridle. “We’re goin’ home, Jeb. You cost us a day’s work, and Jerod’s having to take care of the ranch by himself.”

  “Dillon.” John tipped his hat. “Congratulations on your bride.” After coiling his whip, he followed after his brothers.

  Watching them disappear around the next curve of trail, Dillon lowered his rifle. He’d sensed no deceit from Jackson or John. Further, he knew by their reputations they were considered decent and fair men. It always paid for a man to stay on guard, though. Keeping his rifle in hand, he reined Diamond onto the trail. “Slow, Diamond girl. Take it slow.”

  “What about me? Do I get to straighten up slowly? Or are you about to have a shootout with someone else?” Her words dripped acid, yet were soft with her fear.

  “Kylie, sweetheart, keep it up. I’m about to bust a gut over you.” Dillon allowed himself a short laugh while he gathered her close against him using one arm.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding about a woman shortage here.”

  “Nope. You’re a prize filly.” Dillon nuzzled the silkiness of her hair briefly before scanning the trail ahead of them.

  “About to be tamed by the Vega brothers.”

  Her tone accused, a scathing condemnation. Her little body shivered with shock as the realization sank in that she’d belonged to him and his two brothers.

  With a gentle tug on the reins, Dillon halted Diamond. “Kylie, listen to me. You can come to me no matter what. If Dono or Dash does anything you don’t like, tell me. I’ll handle it. I swear on a stack of Bibles, I’ll handle it.”

  “Sorry,” she uttered a moment later. “I don’t trust men to do what they say they’re going to do, especially promises like that.” She flipped her cap of hair. “So it’s true…you, you…I, I…” Giving up, she went slack against his forearm.

  Touching Diamond with his heel, he signaled the mare to continue along the trail. “Yes, Kylie, you belong to me, to Dono and Dash, as our wife.”

  He felt the strong clench of her belly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Sliding his rifle into place, Dillon rubbed her back as he would have done for a distressed child. “I know this isn’t easy. You’ve come from a way of livin’ where this ain’t normal. It’s the way here, for now. It keeps the peace. Brother fighting brother over a woman was tearin’ Texas apart, once the war ended. As it is…well, hell, you just saw what can happen.”

  “It was like being in an old western movie.”

  Her tiny miserable voice squeezed his heart. Hard.

  “You’re a tough little thang. I’d want you watchin’ my back.”

  “Watching or washing?” She gurgled a small sound that wanted to be a chuckle.

  Dillon paused as her meaning became clear. “Both. Watchin’ and washin’.” He continued stroking her lovely back, making lazy circles with his palm.

  “What if I don’t like your brothers?”

  Figuring it wouldn’t help matters if he told her his brothers were very well liked by women, usually, he tried to think of a response that would reassure her.

  “Well, darlin’, if you don’t like ’em, I’ll just have to disown them. Kick Dono and Dash off the ranch.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s not funny.”

  “No, not funny.” He gathered her close with one arm. “Kylie, I swear, I won’t…”

  “You said that. What? Am I just supposed to switch husbands every night? I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t like dating more than one man at a time. Now, I supposedly have three husbands. Yeah, that’s going to work.” She slumped backward, her mood obviously morose. “I wish I could kick something, or someone.”

  His precious woman twisted back and forth like an unhappy kitten for several moments, then stilled and straightened her spine. “Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,” she muttered, then elbowed him, not hard but as a protest. “Oh, I know. Why don’t we keep a schedule on the refrigerator?”

  Dillon decided his own thoughts on the situation wouldn’t be worth a tall hill of pinto beans. He’d long since reconciled himself to sharing a woman with his brothers, despite his possessive nature. “Refrigerator?”

  “Fridge, ice box.” She continued when he didn’t instantly answer, “What you keep food in to keep it cold and from spoiling.”

  “Cooler. Got one. A big one. And a root cellar. Also a pantry.”

  “Got cooler magnets?” She tossed, her tone as aggravated as a foraging raccoon that’d been disturbed.

  “We’ll find the prettiest ones out there.”

  Her involuntary sob halted his words. She tried hard, but her tears won out and sobs wracked her body. Angrily, she scrubbed at her eyes until he seized her little wrists in one hand and held them. Releasing Diamond’s reins, he lifted her, swinging his wife around to face him.

  “No. I don’t want—”

  “Shush now.” Gently, he held her against him until her small struggles ceased. “I’ve got broad shoulders. You might as well use them.”

  Her torrent of tears soaked his shirt quickly, and her pitiful weeping escalated, ripping at Dillon’s insides. Finally, surrendering against him, she clung to his shoulders as if she’d never let go and cried every bit of her brave heart out.

  Dillon realized it wasn’t only because she now had three husbands. It was everything in her past she’d refused to shed a tear over. It was because she’d lost her entire life to the cruel senseless injustice of her Earth, the one that had brought her to him.

  Keeping his arm tightly banded around her, he picked up the reins and touched his heels to Diamond. The mare swung into her ground-eating gait since the trail gradually wound upward.

  Listening to her strangled tiny wails, Dillon decided a woman should never have to weep like his Kylie did now. Once he learned more about her, he’d give her as much of what she’d lost as he could. He’d also give her a shoulder to lean on and make her use it. Why some man hadn’t claimed her and cared for her, he’d never understand in a million light-years. Though, selfish as a fox in a hen house, he was damn sure glad they hadn’t.

  Once her crying jag eased off, Dillon glanced at the position of the sun through the sparse new leaves of elderly aspen trees. A green-golden transparency, they delicately fluttered in the low wind. It was comin’ onto late afternoon, and they were still about two hours’ ride from the ranch house.

  Sniffling, she kept clinging to him. He wasn’t certain if it was because she’d exhausted herself or simply needed to hold onto something. God willing, he wanted to be the man, the something, she always held onto. Always.

  Anxiously, Diamond pulled at the bit. They’d arrived at a miles’ long stretch of meadowland and the mare wanted to lope over it, eager to get home.

  “Hang on, sweet thang. Diamond wants her head.”

  His wife answered by barely nodding against his shoulder. Surprising him, she wrapped her legs around his waist, natural as you please, and hung on.

  Clucking to Diamond, he gave her free rein. The mare sprang forward, then eased into a long-reaching lope. Dillon damn well knew he hadn’t died and gone to heaven. It felt like it, though, with his woman’s soft full breasts pressed against him and her ripely curved body molded to his.

  The female fragrances of his Kylie and the fecund scents of the land emerging from winter’s rest, made him feel vigorous with life. Dillon figured it was a new promise to him.


  He’d make certain it was a new promise to his wife, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kiss an Angel Good Morning

  They rocked in union with each other as Diamond steadily loped over the rain-softened ground. Dillon bent his head toward her ear. “You okay?”

  “Sorta.”

  Her weak response touched his ear like a breeze.

  “I’ll bet you’ll be mighty hungry by the time we’re home.”

  “Sleepy,” she murmured.

  “Diamond’s rockin’ you to sleep,” Dillon teased.

  “You’re keeping me awake.” Her snappy tone pleased him.

  “Am I?”

  She moved her head, resting her cheek on another part of his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  She collapsed against him, then released a huge sigh. For a while, they rode in silence. Dillon knew once they reached the house, he would miss riding with her this way. Somehow, he’d have to persuade her to ride double with him, often.

  “How long can Diamond go this fast?” She raised her head, shaking her hair out of her face.

  “She’ll probably lope for another mile. Then take a break.”

  Dillon caught a glimpse of her tear-stained cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes. He almost reached for a soft cloth he kept in his saddlebag, but decided against it. Most women were shy of being seen this way, though Kylie might not give one dang hoot what she looked like to him and his brothers. For some reason, that made him grin inside.

  Swiveling her head back and forth, she watched the scenery go by. “How far away from a city do you live?”

  “A good fifty miles. We make regular trips to several small towns, and I told you about Saturday nights in El Paso. Don’t worry about shopping, little Kylie. For some reason Dono and I don’t get, Dash has a real yen for it. He’ll be happy as a hog rolling in mud to take you around.”

  “Hog in mud. I doubt your brother would appreciate being described that way.”

  “Yep, I might be duckin’ his right cross.”

  “You don’t fight often, do you?”

  “Word arguments get loud every now and then. It always blows over. Dono and Dash were scrappin’ with their fists. But that hasn’t happened for about a month.”