Hearts and Spurs

by Linda Broday

Returning to her mouth, he whispered roughly, “You are the most incredible woman, Skye O’Rourke. I’d give anything to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  Her hand seared a path across the corded muscles of his chest and pebbled nipples. “Shhhh. All we have for sure is right now, this moment. Maybe we don’t have a right to ask for more.”

  Cade tenderly smoothed back her hair and wiped away the tears that leaked from the corner of her eyes.

  When he could bear no more sweet torment, he positioned himself on top of her and took all that she wanted to give.

  Release came, and he could’ve sworn all his bones turned to liquid.

  How could he tell Skye how much she meant to him?

  And what right did he have to speak of it?

  Long after their bodies had cooled and sleep claimed Skye, Cade lay listening to her soft breathing and counted himself a very lucky man.

  For what she’d just given him, he’d crawl naked over a thorny field under a scorching sun. Skye was his one true love and always would be, until the day he died.

  ****

  Over the next week, Cade worked making repairs and fixing things. But when night fell, Skye welcomed him into her bed. She dreaded the day when he’d ride out, chasing his next adventure.

  How would she go on living? How could she forget the sound of the male rumble in his chest when he kissed her? And how could she forget their lovemaking that was sometimes slow and easy and other times raw and frenzied? She told herself not to get too attached to him. It wouldn’t last.

  On the seventh day since his arrival, Skye woke to find her milk cow dead with an arrow sticking from the heifer’s neck. Cold fear spread down her spine and along her nerve endings.

  Cade pulled out the arrow and broke it over his knee. Silently, his searching gaze swept the land around the homestead. “Go in the house, Skye,” he said quietly.

  She wasted no time arguing. Hurrying into the house, she bolted the door. Despite the arrow, she knew who was to blame. Hiram Dunston couldn’t fool her. But Cade was here now. He wouldn’t let Dunston hurt her.

  Unless he caught Cade by surprise and killed him.

  Quaking inside, her breath stilled as she listened for sounds beyond her door.

  Time seemed to stand still. At last, Cade hollered to let him in. She threw the bolt and hugged him.

  “Dragged the cow a good distance down to a ravine.”

  “I’ve never known Dunston to use arrows before,” Skye said. “Do you think—”

  “It was him all right. I’d swear by it.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “No. But hoof prints around the cow were the exact same as the prints near the fence posts he yanked from the ground.”

  The day wore on with no sign of Dunston. Skye relaxed. Maybe he went back to town. The man could’ve seen Cade and decided things were too dangerous for him. She hoped so.

  For supper that night, she fixed a stew from her limited larder and made cornbread. Cade talked about some of his travels. He’d been all the way to California, Montana and up in the Dakotas.

  “Hid out for a while in the Badlands of Dakota Territory. Posse chased me all over the territory.”

  “Why?”

  “A big rancher I’d worked for got murdered. They thought I did it.”

  “If you were innocent, why didn’t you tell them and clear your name?”

  “They weren’t in the mood to talk. They’d have hung me first from the highest tree and asked questions later. Men live by a different set of rules up there.”

  “No wonder you dodged my question about being wanted.”

  “My name’s on a poster in several states. But not in Texas,” he admitted. “Let’s talk about other things. How did Matthew die? You never said.”

  Skye worried with the edge of her apron, remembering that awful day. “Horse stepped in a hole and fell. Matthew landed beneath it. He died instantly.”

  “At least he went fast. Did you have a good life with him before…?”

  She sighed, choosing her words carefully. “Matthew did his best. You can’t make yourself love someone if the feelings aren’t there.”

  “I can relate to that. Is it too late to start over, pretend I didn’t hurt you?”

  How could they begin again when he meant to ride off at the first opportunity? To cover her quick tears she rose to clear the table.

  It was strange how much of her life she’d spent in denial and pretense. She’d pretended not to care when Cade left, pretended to love Matthew, pretended she hadn’t had to marry to save her reputation.

  But the greatest lie she told herself was that she hadn’t carried Cade’s child for a few short months.

  Chapter 5

  Cade strapped on his Colt and saddled his buckskin early the next morning. He needed to ride, sort things out. That Skye hadn’t answered his question about starting over chewed on him like a rabid dog.

  In his heart, he knew she could never pretend he hadn’t hurt her. That kind of pain went bone deep. Forgiving time was past.

  She didn’t trust him.

  Hell, he didn’t trust himself. He knew he could never settle down and live here. The life of a farmer wasn’t for him.

  Not even the deep abiding love he felt for Skye could put a plow in his hand and attachment for this godforsaken land in his blood.

  What had drawn his older brother to this rough terrain?

  Much lay untouched, left to the thorny brush and cacti. The wild, rugged expanse stretched as far as the eye could see.

  Skimming the ground, feeling the horse’s powerful muscles beneath him, brought some sense of peace.

  He’d just reined the buckskin in when his stomach clenched tight, making it hard to breathe.

  Trouble rode the wind.

  Trouble he couldn’t ignore.

  Skye was in trouble. He knew it as sure as he knew his name.

  ****

  Humming, Skye opened the chicken coop Cade had built and stepped inside. She gathered the eggs and took them to the house where she set them on the table.

  Her heart was light for the first time in a long while. Lying in Cade’s strong arms each night, touching his body and having him touch her had brought a sense of well-being.

  But it was a false sense of security.

  Cade didn’t belong in this world. He was a dreamer and a wanderer who lived by the gun.

  Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her stomach where perhaps a new life already grew. A child would lessen the loneliness and make it easier to face each new sunrise. She’d give it all the love she had.

  Just as she turned to tackle the rest of her chores, a hand closed around her throat.

  “You belong to me, woman. Time for a little fun.” The deep raspy voice filled the small dwelling, settling into the corners. “I came to get my due. I won’t leave less’n I get it.”

  Skye’s blood froze as icy fear swept the length of her body. Her thoughts had been so firmly on Cade she’d forgotten to watch out for snakes under her feet. A hurried glance found her rifle leaning against the wall too far away.

  Shaking, she slowly swiveled and stared into Hiram Dunston’s pockmarked face. “Then get ready to die. My husband’s brother will be back any second. He’ll give you everything you’re due and then some.”

  She stomped on his feet, pounded his chest, clawed his face trying free herself.

  Dunston whipped a gun from his waistband and pressed the cold steel to her forehead. “You’re lyin’, tryin’ to save your own skin.”

  “Then you’re surely a fool,” she said softly.

  He cruelly jerked her against him by her hair. “Only one man called me a fool. He’s dead.”

  Slinging her across the room, he laughed when she landed on the floor, slamming her head against the iron bedstead. Though pain shot through her body, she refused to cry out.

  “Now, get those clothes off before I lose my patience.” Laying his pistol on the table, he crept slowly towar
d her.

  It took all her strength to pull herself to her feet. Her fingers trembled so badly she had trouble getting the small buttons through the holes. With no weapons within reach, she steeled herself for what was to come.

  “Quit stalling, woman. Ain’t no one gonna save you. Make no mistake about it, I’ll take what’s mine come hell or high water.”

  The door suddenly flew open. Cade stood with his Colt drawn in the opening, his feet braced widely apart. The lines of his face had hardened into a mask.

  Dunston whirled, his tongue working in his mouth. “What do you want, mister?”

  Without answering, Cade moved from the doorway, positioning himself between the attacker and his gun. Skye could see his steely calm despite the anger that darkened his eyes.

  “Who are you, mister?”

  “I am your hell and high water.”

  All color drained from Dunston’s face, leaving it ashen. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “I ain’t done nothing. No crime agin visitin’ the widow. Who did you say you are?”

  “A man you don’t want to mess with. I promise you won’t like the result.” Cade’s blue eyes swept to Skye where she clutched her partially unbuttoned dress. The muscles worked in his jaw. She knew Dunston lived on borrowed time.

  “I’ll share the woman if that’s what you want. Even let you go first.” As Dunston spoke, he made a sudden move to his boot and jerked out a derringer.

  Cade pulled the trigger of his Colt. Orange flame and smoke shot from the barrel. The bullet slammed into Dunston’s chest, propelling him backward where he sank to the floor.

  Trembling, Skye rose and threw her arms around Cade. “I was afraid you wouldn’t return before he…”

  ****

  “Shhh.” He held her tight, burying his face in her auburn hair. “I’m here now, darlin’, and he’s dead. He’ll never bother you again.”

  “I was so scared.”

  “So was I,” he admitted.

  “Now what? What are we going to do with him? They’ll hang you.” Her stricken gaze met his.

  “Gather whatever belongings you want that’ll fit on a horse. I’m taking you far away from here. I love you, Skye.”

  She touched his cheek. “There was never a time when I didn’t love you. I won’t lie and say you didn’t hurt me, but I can forgive you. You have my heart.”

  “I’ll protect it with my life this time.” He kissed her fingers.

  An hour later, Cade set fire to the house and the evil man inside. He watched the flames glowing in the window, saw the roof catch.

  Strolling up from behind, he slid his arms around Skye’s waist. “Any regrets?”

  “None. I expected sadness, but it didn’t come. Instead, I realized that this is the finality of one part of my life and I’ve just begun a new chapter. I can’t wait to see how this book reads.”

  “I intend to spend the rest of my life showing you all the ways I love you. Where do you want to go, Mrs. Coltrain?”

  “Anywhere you are. We’ve waited a long time to be together. This is a wild, untamed land with plenty of places to dream and work and raise a family.”

  With love bursting from his heart, he helped her onto her horse and they set out with hope toward a bright future. No longer would his beautiful Skye be alone. He’d see to that.

  Like the locket that safeguarded their love through the years, whatever came now, they’d face it together as one, with one purpose.

  About the Author

  Linda Broday is a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author of three full-length western romance novels and seven short stories. She feels a deep obligation to preserve the history and spirits of the men and women who followed their dreams and came to settle the west. Through her characters, she shows their courage and deep determination to survive despite the odds.

  She lives in the Texas Panhandle on the Llano Estacado, land the American Indians and comancheros once roamed. She’s a grandmother, avid rock collector, and member of the Panhandle Professional Writers’ Association as well as Romance Writers of America. When she’s not writing, she’s scouring the Internet for little-known tidbits about the frontier to add to her stories. Writing and research are her passions.

  Watch for an upcoming western romance series that will release with Sourcebooks Publishing in 2015.

  She blogs once a month at www.PetticoatsandPistols.com, a website devoted to promoting everything related to western romance, and also at the www.prairierosepublications.blogspot.com blog.

  You can find her on Facebook: www.facebook.com/linda.broday1

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/lbroday

  Amazon Central Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Linda-Broday/e/B001JRXWB2

  Her personal website is: www.LindaBroday.com

  Guarding Her Heart

  Livia J. Washburn

  Outlaws threaten a Valentine's Day wedding!

  "Put your eyes back in your head, son," the stagecoach driver advised Grant Stafford as Grant swung a carpetbag and valise into the boot at the rear of the Concord stage. "It ain't seemly for a man to stare at a gal, even one as pretty as our passenger."

  Their only passenger, Grant thought as he tried to confine his next look at her to a glance. That wasn't easy. She would make most men look twice…or three or four times.

  Slender, but blessed with womanly curves, she stood on the boardwalk in front of the stage station in Buffalo Springs and clutched a small handbag. She wore a bottle green traveling outfit that hugged the clean lines of her body without being too blatant about it, along with a hat of the same shade. Her dark brown hair was tucked under the hat, but a few strands of it had escaped and hung around her ears. Grant saw those strands stir in the chilly February wind that blew along the settlement's main street.

  The wind took his attention off the young woman for a moment. He glanced up at the gray clouds scudding through the sky and said, "You reckon there's snow in those clouds, Scalphunter?"

  "Snow!" Scalphunter Reeves scoffed. He slapped his thigh. "If it was fixin' to snow, I'd feel it in my bones. No, it's gonna be right cold, but we'll make it to Flat Rock without gettin' snowed on."

  "I hope you're right," Grant said. He was glad he had worn a good sheepskin coat to protect him from the icy gusts.

  Scalphunter took off his battered old derby and scratched his bald head. "Reckon we're ready to roll, soon's I help the passenger aboard—"

  Grant stepped deftly around him and reached the boardwalk first, where he offered his arm to the young woman.

  "Let me give you a hand, ma'am," he said.

  "It's miss," she said, but she didn't offer a name to go with it. She also seemed a little leery of taking Grant's arm, but then she allowed him to help her step down from the boardwalk and climb into the stagecoach.

  Grant grinned through the open door at her. "There's a blanket under the seat there, so if you wrap up and keep the canvas pulled tight over the windows so not too much cold air gets in, you ought to stay pretty snug."

  She gave him a weak smile in return and said, "Thank you."

  Grant reached up and tugged on the brim of the brown hat that he had pulled down over his sandy hair. "It's my pleasure, miss." He closed the door.

  Scalphunter grunted as he hauled his portly form onto the driver's box set high on the front of the stagecoach. As he began unwinding the reins from the brake lever, he told Grant, "Get yourself up here, son. We got a schedule to meet, you know."

  Grant climbed onto the box and lowered himself on the hard bench seat next to Scalphunter. He picked up the double-barreled shotgun that lay on the floorboards at his feet. The barrels were a little shorter than those on a regular shotgun, making it easier to use at close quarters. Folks called it a coach gun, since it was used primarily by stagecoach guards like Grant.

  Scalphunter plucked the whip from its holder and popped the blacksnake above the heads of the leaders at the same time as he slapped the leathers against the wheelers' rumps, c
oordinating the actions with the skill of long experience. "Hi-yaaahhh!" he shouted at the horses. They surged forward and the coach rolled out of Buffalo Springs, headed west toward Flat Rock, thirty miles away.

  Grant and Scalphunter rocked back and forth slightly as the coach swayed on its broad leather thoroughbraces. The driver said, "Are you nervous about your first trip ridin' shotgun, son?"

  "No, not really," Grant replied. His gaze roamed constantly over the landscape as he searched for signs of danger.

  What he saw was a wide sweep of mostly ranching country, cut through with stretches of badlands and dotted with low mesas. At this time of year, the middle of February, it was drab and gloomy, but in a few months, once the weather started to warm up and the wildflowers popped out, it would be a sea of color, beautiful for a time…before the heat of summer set in and turned much of the vegetation sere and brown.

  But the really important thing, Grant thought, was that the rugged terrain offered plenty of hiding places for outlaws to lie in wait for a passing stagecoach. Such holdups had occurred all too often on this run in recent months.

  And that was why he'd been sent here by the Texas Rangers—to put a stop to it.

  ****

  As she rocked along in the stagecoach, Julia Courtland wasn't sure her toes would ever warm up again. Wasn't the weather supposed to be milder in Texas? It was a lot farther south than Philadelphia, so that should have been true.

  But ever since she had gotten off the train in Buffalo Springs that morning to catch this coach for the last leg of her journey, she had been cold, especially her feet.

  Cold feet? Wasn't that what people called it when somebody had doubts about getting married?

  Once the thought occurred to her, she couldn't seem to banish it. The idea didn't have any validity, she told herself. She was perfectly willing to marry Henry Everett.

  Even though she had never met him.

  Her uncle Creighton, who had been her guardian ever since her parents passed away, had arranged things. It had all been his idea, and even though Julia was of legal age and didn't have to do what he told her, the habits ingrained over several years were hard to break. Besides, Henry was the grandson of an old friend of his and a fine, upstanding young man, Creighton insisted. An officer of the law, serving as the marshal of a town in Texas called Flat Rock.