Untamed Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 1)

by Pam Crooks

  Carina didn’t care about revenge, McClure’s or anyone else’s. She just wanted Callie Mae home again.

  Troubled, she loosened the strip of rawhide tied at her nape, allowed her hair to fall in a heavy mass over her shoulders, her back. Unbound and free.

  If only she could be free, too, of this awful heartache, this terrible fear of being alone. Of being without her little girl.

  Or not having a man in her life.

  McClure, at her side.

  Why did she have to go all weak and let him mean something to her? The days had been long, too long, since he left. He was always on her mind, some way or another. Why had she allowed him to be?

  She shouldn’t have. It just happened, out of her control, when she least expected it.

  Maybe he wasn’t coming back. He could have figured his debt to her had been paid in full now that her herd arrived in Dodge City, thanks to Jesse and Stinky Dale. He could think there was nothing to keep him in the C Bar C outfit anymore.

  Nothing to keep him with her.

  She covered her face with her hands and despaired over how it would all end. How she would survive if she lost everything. Her daughter, her ranch, the man she’d grown to love.

  “Carina.”

  The low voice penetrated her thoughts and brought her straight up with a jerk. She twisted to find him walking toward her from the direction of the chuck wagon. McClure, in the flesh. Masculine, tall, lean in the dark night.

  She bolted to her feet, her pulse racing. He’d come back when she’d all but convinced herself he wouldn’t. He strode toward her, a vision of power and agile grace, and in that moment, she wanted to be less boss and more woman. She wanted to throw herself in his arms so he could kiss her senseless.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said. “It’s getting late.”

  “I needed to think.”

  He halted in front of her, so close she could smell the saddle leather on him. The day’s ride and the night’s tobacco, too.

  He reached out his hand, as if he intended to touch her. But drew back, as if he decided against it. “You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  Damn, but she wanted him to hold her. “More than you know.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” He regarded her, long moments between them. She sensed he had plenty on his mind, as well. “It’s almost over, Carina.”

  She crossed her arms, shivered from all she stood to lose. “We’ve got a ways to go yet.”

  “Tomorrow, everything will change.”

  So little time left. Only minutes and hours. Yet it seemed like forever.

  “What’s going to happen, McClure?” she asked quietly. The shadows hid the planes and angles of his face, but his strength soaked into her. “Will Rogan give me my daughter like he said he would?”

  McClure hesitated. “There’s a chance he won’t. At least, not right away. And maybe not even then. You have to be prepared for it.”

  She swallowed and hated the truth in his words. “How can any mother prepare herself?”

  “All of us, we’ll do what we can to find her, bring her home. You know that.”

  Her men. The loyal C Bar C outfit. Their moods had been somber around the campfire tonight. Their silence grim while they ate their stew.

  “They didn’t want to go into town tonight,” she said, staring into the sky. Their devotion moved her then, as it did now. “They don’t feel like celebrating the end of the drive.”

  “They don’t want you to give your herd over to him.”

  “They know I don’t have a choice.”

  “Carina.”

  At the roughness in his voice, her gaze snapped to him. “We’ve been through this before, McClure. It doesn’t matter you disagree with me. It has to happen.”

  “Rogan is wanted by the United States government. He has serious crimes to pay for. You can’t make it easy for him to commit another one by blackmailing you.”

  “The hell I can’t!” Her voice rose in frustration. Did he think it was something she wanted to do?

  “I have a plan, Carina.” Suddenly, he stilled, slashed his dark gaze toward the low rise of the bluffs behind her. “Someone’s coming.”

  She turned and spied a horse and rider emerging from the shadows. Moonlight glinted on the barrel of a revolver.

  McClure kept his eyes on the man who rode boldly toward them from the opposite direction of their camp and nowhere near the herd. By the cut of his clothing, the style of his hat, his daring to approach with a drawn weapon, Carina knew he wasn’t any cowboy of her acquaintance.

  McClure tensed and breathed a terse oath. “Let me handle this.”

  He pulled the brim of his Stetson lower over his forehead and stepped back from her, shaking his head as if he was disgusted about something.

  “He’s about as lazy as a hound dog in the sun, Miss Lockett,” he said in a loud, exaggerated drawl Carina had never heard before. “I’ll tell him to pack up his gear and hit the road, then, like you said.” He ignored her confusion, glanced up and smiled amiably at the rider. “Evenin’. You lookin’ for the C Bar C boss?”

  “I am.” The rider reined in.

  “Well, you just found her. I’ll let you two have at it, but don’t be too late, y’hear, Miss Lockett? Ain’t safe for you out here by yourself. I’ll keep an eye out for you, just in case.”

  He touched a finger to his brim, turned and sauntered away, leaving her to play along and keep his identity safe. A match struck flint, and the flame illuminated Rogan Webb’s face.

  “Hello, Carina. You made it to Dodge City, I see,” he purred.

  “Where’s Callie Mae?” she demanded.

  “They told me at the stockyard office your herd had arrived.” The match flame licked at the end of his cigar. “And right on schedule, too.”

  “I won’t give you a single cent until you tell me where she is.”

  He puffed once, twice. The air filled with the scent of the tobacco. “Do you think you’re in control here, Carina? Because you’re not. Not at all.”

  He might be right in that regard, but she had the advantage over him, in ways he had yet to realize. She aimed for a new angle of attack.

  “Where’s Durant?” she taunted.

  “He’s gone.”

  Her brow arched in mock surprise. “Is he? Where?”

  “So the money from your herd is all mine.”

  “Did the law catch up with him, Rogan?”

  “It’s none of your damn business where he is!” Rogan snapped.

  Ruthless, she pressed on. “Just like the law will catch up with you. Then you’ll find out your blackmail scheme wasn’t as perfect as you thought.”

  “I’ll be long gone by then. And rich enough to stay that way.” He puffed furiously. “They’ve left, Carina. Headed toward Europe.”

  Her mind scrambled to keep up with his. “Callie Mae and Mavis?” Pain sliced through her. “How do you know? Have you seen them?”

  “Of course, I have. Before they boarded the train headed East. She was right here in Kansas, Carina, dear. And you didn’t even know it.”

  Carina began to bleed, deep inside. Close. So damned close. “Where is she now?”

  “On the ship, I suspect.”

  “Which one?”

  “I have the itinerary with all that information. Locked safely away, of course. When you give me the cattle money, I’ll tell you how to find the itinerary.” He lowered the cigar and smiled.

  Furious impatience roared through her to give him what he wanted and see the scheme done.

  “What do I have to do?” she grated.

  “Tomorrow, a cattle buyer by the name of Edward Lonner will approach you with an offer to buy the herd. Don’t take it.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s the man my mother chose to handle the arrangements. I’m going to change them.”

  “To what?” she asked, taken aback.

  “George Satterfield has bought C Bar C herds for years, hasn�
��t he?”

  Rogan had been thorough in his investigation. Woollie preferred working with Satterfield over the scores of other cattle buyers who swarmed into cow towns and stockyards to bargain for beef.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Deal only with him,” Rogan ordered. “Business as usual, understand? Have him pay you in my name and leave the bank draft at the Wright House on Front Street. Return in twenty-four hours, and the itinerary will be waiting for you.”

  “Twenty-four hours!” How could she wait that long?

  “It’s as simple as that, my dear Carina.” His smile came again, cold and calculated.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I have places far more pleasurable in mind.” He nudged his horse into a slow turn, kept the revolver trained on her. “Until tomorrow, then. And let me remind you, any attempts to put a bullet in my back in the next few minutes will keep you from finding Callie Mae for a long, long time.”

  Had she ever hated a man more? Fuming, frustrated, all but frantic, Carina had no choice but to stand there and watch him disappear into the black night.

  It was all Penn could do to let him go.

  He crouched behind some brush and strained to hear what he could of the conversation. He gleaned enough to know Rogan had set down some ground rules to carry out his plan; Penn could see from the rigid stance of Carina’s body the control she struggled to keep while he did.

  But to ride after him now would only jeopardize Callie Mae’s return, and Penn couldn’t risk it. Once Rogan recognized him, he’d bolt to avoid arrest. Or shoot. Or worse. Penn had come too far to chance losing him to the criminal underworld and be forced to hunt him down all over again. Better to play the game until the odds were better for Carina, and Rogan fell complacent, assured he was in control.

  For now, Carina concerned him more. She looked so damned alone, watching Rogan ride off. The sight of her tore at Penn’s insides.

  He rose and left the brush. He halted next to her and had to fight hard to keep from taking her into his arms.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” he said simply.

  She turned toward him. “Yes.” Her voice sounded hushed, resigned, in the night. “I know you will.”

  “It won’t be much longer.” The words sounded trite, but they were the truth.

  Her shoulders lifted as she drew in a breath, then exhaled it all in a rush. The anguish she struggled to contain. “What if she doesn’t want to come back?”

  This time, he couldn’t help it. He hooked his arm around her neck, over that thick mass of brunette hair, and pulled her against him. “Carina, she will. You’re her mother. The C Bar C is her home.”

  “Oh, McClure.” She sank into his chest with a moan. “What if Mavis has been filling her head with lies? What if Callie Mae’s having so much fun that she’ll never want to live on the ranch again?”

  He’d never seen Carina this unsure. This afraid. He slid his palm along her spine in long, slow strokes, searched his brain to find words of comfort and truth. And failed.

  There weren’t any.

  Instead, he fisted his hand into the silken weight of her hair and gently tugged her back to look at him.

  “No more what-if’s,” he growled.

  The time had passed for useless assurances, for going through the motions of commiseration, no matter how genuine. Her fears ran too deep. They were too real. Too much like his own, besides, and he sought to reassure her in the only way he knew how.

  He lowered his head to take her mouth to his. A small, hungry sound slipped from her throat, and she curled her arms around his back, pressed her body against him. She opened her mouth, and he angled his head, changed the purpose of the kiss to something far more selfish. He plunged his tongue into the warm, wet recesses of her mouth.

  She met him with an eagerness he didn’t expect. Her acceptance of his consolation fused into a bold invitation, a blatant need, that pushed him toward the edges of constraint. A side of Carina Lockett she’d let no man see, no man experience.

  Except now.

  Except him.

  The heat in his blood flared into a burning desire to discover more. To tear apart the cool authority she always wore and lay open the warm femininity she always tried to hide.

  And yet from the first moment he met her, he knew Carina Lockett was more woman than even Abigail had been. An intriguing blend of power and vulnerability that left him wanting. And fascinated.

  He was fascinated still. Now. More than ever.

  His hand slid from her back in a journey toward her breast. His palm anticipated the feel of those globes of supple flesh meant to be enjoyed by a man, by him, but suddenly, she curled her fingers around his wrist and stopped him before he got there.

  Her breathing ragged, she broke off the kiss. Her dark gaze opened onto his. “Tell me one thing, and make it the truth.”

  His brain strained to exchange lust for coherent thought. “What?”

  “Do you think of her when you kiss me?”

  He stared stupidly down at her. “Who?”

  “Abigail, McClure,” she said. “Abigail.”

  “Hell, no,” he said, without hesitation. He wanted her to believe him. It was important that she did. “She doesn’t exist for me anymore, except as a bad mistake that should never have happened.”

  It’d been a long time in coming, he knew. His love for Abigail dying. Her betrayal had been a festering wound on his heart, but being with Carina these past weeks, trailing her cattle, fitting into her world, had been the balm he needed to heal.

  Carina angled her face away. She would’ve stepped back if he let her.

  “How can you not think of her? She was your betrothed. You loved her,” she said.

  There was that pride and vulnerability again. Both always managed to get under his skin, into his blood. He cupped her chin, forced her to look at him.

  “Not anymore. I hold you in my arms, and you consume me,” he said, his voice low, husky, his need to convince her running strong. “The things you make me feel—damn it, the thoughts in my head are of you alone, Carina.” He pulled her hips to his, let the thickening of his manhood show he meant what he said, in a way where his words couldn’t. “If I lied to you about that, then I’d be no better than she was.”

  Her gaze lingered on him, her mind working.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He sensed the crumbling of her doubts. Felt it in the way her body softened against him.

  “I told you I wanted you, remember?” He thought of the time, the place. The two of them together like this. His fingers lifted to the top button of her blouse, flipped it open. Did the same with the one below. “I didn’t lie about that, either.” She filled him with a craving to know how her hands would feel moving against his skin, her breasts snuggled warm against his chest. How many times had he hungered for it? “And I’ve always made it a practice to get what I want.”

  With the decisiveness so much a part of her, Carina eased away and plucked his Stetson from his head. “Well, then.” She gave the hat a careless toss to the side, where it landed next to hers on the ground. “I appreciate a man who wants what I want.” She removed her holster and guns; they landed with a soft thud. “So let’s get to it.”

  His breath hitched. He replayed the words in his head to make sure she said what he thought she’d said.

  And from the way her fingers parted his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders, he’d understood just fine. She dropped the garment next to their hats. His bandanna followed. The gun belt, too. When she set to unfastening his Levi’s, Penn was all but panting from the anticipation.

  He was going to be one hell of a lucky man soon.

  But there were a few details which concerned him.

  “It’s chilly out here,” he said, the words at odds with his fingers, fast unbuttoning her blouse. “That going to be a problem for you?”

  “Not if we do this right.” She pulled the blouse free of her riding skirt and off
her body, leaving the ribbons of her pink camisole for his untying.

  Which he did. In record time.

  “Someone from the outfit might see. Could be embarrassing for you.” A breach of the privacy that meant so much to her. “Lift your arms.”

  “He’ll know to stay back and keep his mouth shut.” Her arms lifted. “Or he’s fired.”

  The camisole joined her blouse. Made her naked from the waist up. Penn stood stock-still and stared at her full, rounded breasts, shaded by moonlight and tipped with dark nipples, already pebbled from the cool air. Erect and ripe for suckling.

  Fire roared through his veins.

  “Carina.” He strove to keep the fiery heat from raging out of control. “You’re a damned beautiful woman, y’know that?”

  She trembled in response, and they both went for the button holding her skirt closed, fumbling with the thing until it came open. The skirt rustled past her hips and legs and landed in a heap at her ankles.

  Penn left her to the pantaloons. He saw to his Levi’s. They both took care of their boots, and finally, finally, they stood together, naked and breathing rough from the desires raging through them.

  Penn hovered on the brink of seeing them satisfied. Warred with the need to take her fast and hard—or to prolong the pleasure of the coming minutes, the ecstasy of sating his lust and hers.

  He wouldn’t have another chance like this. Not after tomorrow, when he saw his revenge against Rogan done. Carina would hate him for what he had to do. The plans he’d already made. She wouldn’t understand. Not with Callie Mae first and foremost in her mind.

  Penn only had now, this moment, and suddenly, a raw urgency coursed through him. A need to take this time with her and lock it away, deep inside his chest. Make it precious and pure.

  His very own, forever.

  “Penn,” she whispered.

  His thoughts fled at the hushed intimacy in that lone word. His name, rarely spoken. He took her into his arms, held her in a tight, possessive embrace that had him reveling in the intoxicating feel of skin against skin. Breasts to chest. His blade quivered against the warmth of her belly. Her slim thighs pressed to his broader ones. His head lowered, and he took her lips to his. Their mouths clung with tongues twisted and curled.