Dance With A Gunfighter

by JoMarie Lodge

  Whirling around to run, she smacked right into the big blond’s rock-hard chest.

  "My turn!" With a high-pitched giggle, he plucked he sack from her hands and held it high over his head. "Can’t reach it, can’t reach it," he chanted. It looked about ten feet off the ground.

  He was tall, but not so tall she couldn’t knee him. He screeched and doubled over, dropping the money.

  Furious though she was about the money, she had no time to retrieve it, but broke for her horse, needing to reach the saddle and her knife, hoping the money clattering over the ground would divert the men. But the gray-haired man caught the back of her shirt as her fingertips reached the saddle horn. He was dragging her back toward the others when Lane took hold of her feet and lifted. The gray-haired man grabbed her arms, stretching her between them like a hammock. She bucked in fear and fury.

  "I’m sick of this horseplay," Gray-hair bellowed. "We got the money and the girl. Let’s make this fast and get out of here. You first, Blackie. I’ll go second, and if Big Bob’s figured out by then what he’s supposed to do, he can go third."

  Big Bob walked over, scowling and rubbing his crotch. "Then can we kill her?"

  "You might do it for us, Big Bob, if you’re as big all over as we expect." Gray-hair and Lane laughed and, after a moment, Big Bob joined in.

  "First, I want to know why she was lookin’ for me," Lane said.

  Gray-hair shrugged. "Ask her."

  "Why, girl?" Lane said.

  "To see you in hell!"

  Lane’s face twisted with fury, hot and sidewinder mean. "We’ll see who gets there first. Get her ready for me."

  "Take her hands, Bob," Gray-hair said as they dropped her to the ground. Gray-hair knelt beside her, one knee digging into her belly, as he yanked her big, man’s shirt loose from her trousers. As soon as he reached for her belt, she arched and twisted her body, slipping free, but they easily caught her. Each time she broke free, their hold grew tighter. Lane struggled with the buttons on her trousers as she kicked at him.

  "Here’s my knife!" Big Bob yelled, crushing her arms under his knees to hold her down as he wielded a broad knife close to her face. "Let’s cut them off her. Let me do it."

  Gabe screamed at the same time as a bullet whizzed past Big Bob’s nose. He jumped back and let go of her. The other two looked up, and all movement stopped.

  Twisting around to look, she recognized McLowry’s stance silhouetted against an orange sunrise--the outline of his flat-crowned hat, the serape he wore to ward off the morning chill, and in his hand, his long Colt .45.

  Without wasting a moment, Gabe got up, scooped up her money and ran toward her horse.

  The instant McLowry glanced at Gabe, Lane went for his gun.

  He wasn’t fast enough. McLowry fired once, hitting Blackie Lane in the heart. The other two men shouted not to shoot, their arms raised high.

  "Throw down your guns, take Lane’s body, and get out," McLowry ordered.

  Quickly, they tossed Lane over his saddle, leaped on their horses and fled in the direction of Tombstone.

  McLowry watched them go, then took a deep breath, knowing he had to face Gabe. He wasn’t any good at handling hysterical women--and especially not women who had been brutalized the way she had been. He braced himself for her tears, her hysteria. Then he turned.

  Far in the distance, he saw her astride Maggie, heading north at a fast gallop.

  "Damn it woman!" His head throbbing from too much drink the night before, McLowry hurried back to his horse.

  Chapter 10

  Riding hard across the high desert, Gabe glanced over her shoulder. McLowry was getting closer. He was the last person she wanted to face.

  The morning’s horror swirled around her. Blackie Lane’s hands on her body...his leer...the stench of his breath...the calculating, callous look of the gray-haired bandit as he reached out to hurt her...the look of madness in the blond man’s eyes...the glitter of his knife...

  Her stomach roiled and the sunburned desert floor shimmered as it rose toward her and meshed with the white sky. Her eyes shut a moment, then she tried to blink away the quivering world, tried to hold down the nausea that threatened.

  Maggie slowed and Gabe leaned forward, dizzy, grasping the pommel. She had just managed to control her dizziness, and was about to urge Maggie again into a gallop, when Jess leaned over and grabbed the reins.

  She dismounted, but her legs buckled and she fell, hands and knees to the ground.

  "Gabe!" As if from a distance she heard Jess’s voice, the scuffle of his boots against the sand. Gentle hands touched her shoulders.

  "Stop it!" she yelled. She struggled to her feet, needing to get away from him. He caught her and she flailed and kicked at him, unsure if she were more furious at him or at herself. "Leave me alone!"

  He let go, holding his hands out at his sides. "Stop, Gabe. You know I wouldn’t hurt you."

  She lunged for her horse, but he caught her wrist.

  "You’re in no shape to ride," he said. "You could fall off and break your fool neck."

  Making a fist, she whacked him hard in the shoulder. "Get away, damn you!"

  Grabbing her shoulders, he forced her to look at him. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

  "I'm fine! Leave me alone!"

  "What are you mad at me for? I’m the one who saved you."

  "Yes, you did. And I thank you for that, and for killing that low-life, hog-breath, vile, stinkin' murderer Blackie Lane. I said it once, and I'll not say it again." She jerked free, then shoved him. "Now get out of my life and go back to Tombstone."

  Before she got away, he took hold of her arms. "Will you listen to me? Tombstone is the last place I want to be!"

  "Don’t lie to me, Jess." She glared at him, so furious she was shaking. "Don’t lie about Clara."

  "Clara?" A confused, angry glint appeared in his eyes.

  "You don’t have to keep it from me anymore. I know all about it. So go back and, leave me be!" Even held by his strong hands, she still tried to hit him, to make him feel a small part of the hurt he caused her.

  His grip tightened and he yanked her close. "And just what is it you know?"

  She felt the heat of his anger on her skin. "That you love her and want to marry her."

  "I what?"

  "That you'd be with her except that you feel some obligation to take care of me. Well, you don't have to feel that way anymore!" She couldn’t stand here and talk civilly about his love for another woman. She tried to twist away. "I don't want your help! Go back to her."

  "You’re wrong!" Suddenly he pulled her flat against him, her breasts crushed to his chest.

  Her body tightened and her eyes leaped to his. His gaze burned, and she felt as if she were melting inside. He let go of her, pushing her away from him like a man afraid of being singed.

  Squaring her shoulders, she looked him directly in the eye and spoke through gritted teeth. "Go back to Tombstone, McLowry."

  "There’s nothing for me there. Not now. Clara was--"

  "I don’t want to hear it!" She shrieked, knowing she sounded like some harridan, but unable to stop herself. "She told me more than I want to know already--about the magic the two of you share, how you would go to the Crystal Palace to be with her, night after night."

  His voice was a whisper. "She said that to you?"

  "Why shouldn’t she?"

  "Because it’s a lie, damn it!" He rubbed the back of his head, as if unsure about explaining it to her, or if so, how. "The only thing Clara feels magical about is money. And I won plenty of it at cards. She’s a pro...a dancehall girl. She’s paid for her time. The last thing I feel for her is love."

  "I saw you kissing her!"

  He dropped his head back and looked at the sky as if seeking guidance. Then he faced her. "What can I tell you? There are two kinds of women in this lousy world. Those who’ll go with any man--more often than not for a price; and good women--ones who’d never waste the time of
day on a man like me."

  The harshness of his words shocked her. "You’re so wrong, Jess."

  "It’s true. For me, at least."

  Breathless, the fight out of her, she struggled against the urge to throw herself into his arms once more. She had no strength left to argue. They faced each other a long while before she turned and walked toward Maggie, all her energy fixed on holding herself together, on not letting herself shatter into little pieces over all she had been through, over his words about Clara, over him, and over her feelings about him. She could not handle all of that now, not when she had to find Tanner.

  With a hand on the pommel, she faced him. "I’m heading for Dry Springs. Do what you want, Jess. It's no mind to me."

  He mounted the sorrel and rode beside her.

  o0o

  The desert was hot and still that afternoon. Now and again, in the distance Gabe would see a dust devil dance, then lose itself in the wind. She squinted her eyes against the sun and looked at far-away hills. Dry Springs was in the valley just beyond them.

  The rocking movement of Maggie and the quiet strength of McLowry slowly lessened the fear that had colored her every second in the wake of the morning’s violence. The same shock and unreality at the unexpected attack evoked memories of her family’s murder...at the way Tanner, Lane and the others had swooped down on them, unsuspecting and without warning.

  At times, hysteria bubbled up close to the surface, but she fought against it, willing herself to be strong. She would see her vengeance through to the end, whatever it might be.

  When the wind died and the sun’s heat grew too intense, they stopped to rest and to take water in the shade of some rocks or brush. Gabe didn’t eat. Her stomach still roiled from the morning’s fright and the nausea and fury that followed. McLowry seemed to sense her state. They moved on in silence, and slowly her shoulders loosened, the knot in her stomach eased, and her distress lessened.

  When the sky turned to burning shades of crimson, and the mountains black silhouettes, McLowry stopped. "Let’s make camp in the rocks for the night," he said.

  "Make camp? We’ve still got some daylight."

  "We’ve also got a couple days travel ahead of us. A few minutes more or less won’t matter." He dismounted and began to gather mesquite twigs for a campfire. He had brought some bread rolls and dried sausage. One thing he had learned drifting around--never expect things to go right or to happen on time and you won’t be disappointed.

  Before they ate, Gabe thanked him for the food. Her words startled him. He wasn’t one to provide another person with food or care the way he was doing for her. That he did so now was puzzling to him, and he grew even quieter.

  He stoked the fire so it would burn slowly during the night, then made up his bedroll, taking care to place it on the opposite side of the fire from hers. The temperature in the desert dropped low at night, so he put on his serape, lay down, and turned on his side, facing the desert.

  She looked at his back, then wrapped her blanket snug around her and lay down as well. It was strange that, despite being out here in all this emptiness, it somehow it felt even more intimate than had the hotel room they’d shared. Despite the distance between them, despite the crackle of the small fire, she could feel his presence.

  Somehow, she needed to ignore his nearness, to count the stars, perhaps. How could it be, she wondered, when everything else in her life had turned upside down, that high above her now were the same stars as she had watched in Jackson City, and they sparkled just as bright and true?

  The minutes pass slowly, but sleep wouldn’t come. She rubbed her eyes, trying to rub away the ache of loneliness and loss, and then shut them, hoping for the reprieve that only sleep could bring. But as always, when she shut her eyes she saw again the barn, the flash of gunshots, her father falling, and Henry, then Chad...her darling, handsome Chad...

  A bone-crushing guilt pulsated through her, as it had every single night since their deaths. Would a time ever come when she wasn’t aware of each moment that passed since she had done nothing and watched her family die? At least two of the men that killed them were dead now, even if neither at died at her hand. Only three to go...

  She put her arm over her eyes, trying to blot out the too brilliant, too happy stars. How was it that they still shone when all the world had gone black?

  A while later, a match flicked and burned, then the tip of a cigarette flared.

  "I thought you were asleep, Jess," she said.

  "I thought the same about you."

  She rolled onto her side and watched the steady glow of the cigarette tip.

  After a while, Jess spoke. "I was thinking about something you said."

  "What was that?"

  "Clara wasn’t the one the one who told you about Blackie Lane being in Dry Springs, was she?"

  "Yes, and that Tanner was there as well."

  He said nothing.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "She and Blackie Lane go back quite a few years. When Lane showed up, she probably saw it as a way to get you out of Tombstone--send you on some wild goose chase, and send him after you. She didn’t know why you wanted to find him, and probably didn’t think Lane would kill you--just scare you." Then he added quietly, "And more. Damn! She should have realized that with a man like Lane there’d be no controlling what he did."

  "So...so you really don’t love her, then?"

  "Of course not!"

  "But you spent time with her. Everyone said so."

  Long moments passed before he answered. "You might remember one afternoon we had a picnic on the hillside."

  "Yes."

  "You were asking so many questions and looking so blasted desirable you drove me mad. I went with Clara that night. I tried to use her to forget about you."

  Her world rocked. She’d never dreamed...

  "It didn’t work, Gabe." His self-disgust was evident in his voice. "And Clara knew it."

  She twisted and turned his words every which way as the full impact of their meaning hit her. It couldn’t be. He was close to Clara, and everyone knew it. "How did you find me?" she asked.

  "Last night, when I found out you’d left Tombstone without even a by-your-leave, I figured you had really come to hate me. I knew I’d been treating you badly, ignoring you--or trying to. I was busy getting shit-faced at the Crystal Palace when Neil Dexter showed up and said he was surprised to see me there, surprised I wasn’t heading to Dry Springs with you, and that you were going there to meet Tanner and Blackie Lane.

  "When I heard Lane’s name, something niggled inside. I looked at Clara and she’d turned whiter than any ghost. I thought it was just because the idea of you confronting those madmen frightened her as much as it did me. I see now that I was wrong about her. Dead wrong."

  She could feel the force of his gaze even in the darkness. "I left to search for you based on what Neil Dexter had said. Thank God I found you in time."

  Hearing his worry, she realized how frightened this strong man had been for her safety.

  "This whole crusade of yours, Gabe, this revenge--it’s too dangerous. You’ve got to stop."

  "Please, don’t say that."

  "What if I hadn’t been able to find you?"

  There was no need to answer. She knew what would have happened, and so did he. "It’s a chance we all take, isn’t it?" she said. "Those ‘what ifs.’ But you were there, and I’m safe now."

  "Still--"

  "Jess, thank you for explaining to me about...about you and Clara, and...and the day of our picnic." Back in Jackson City, she had learned she wasn’t the type boys paid any attention to, and she had learned to ignore them in return. But Jess had said that he cared, and that he’d wanted her, and she clung to his words.

  "I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way," McLowry replied. "It meant nothing."

  She cringed. "Ah, I see. I should have known. God, I’m such a fool sometimes."

  "A fool? Why?"

  "To have ima
gined that you had strong feelings for me." She guessed it was the anonymity of the night that gave her the courage to say the next words aloud, but she couldn’t hold them back. "I’m not the type men find attractive. I know that. I’m twenty years old and you know what? I’ve never even had a beau. Heck, I’ve never even been kissed. Imagine, nearly raped and killed, and I don’t even know how to kiss a man." She chuckled derisively, then started to laugh. Memories of the morning’s terror struck as her laughter grew and grew until she didn’t know what she was doing.

  Desert sand crunched, then he appeared in the light of the campfire, coming toward her. "Gabe, stop," he said, kneeling at her side.

  He touched her shoulder and in the next moment she was in his arms, her head nestled against his chest. He held her tight as her laughter stopped and her body trembled as the memories of the morning swept over her with full force. "It’s all right," he whispered, "you’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe." He rocked her, murmuring words of comfort, until she grew calm once more.

  After a while, she raised her head and pressed her hand against his chest. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to show such weakness."

  "Everything caught up with you, that’s all."

  "I’m sorry," she repeated.

  "No need to be. You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know."

  "Don’t I?"

  With a wry smile, he shook his head. Then his gaze drifting to her all-too-tempting mouth, her unkissed mouth, mere inches from his. There was no way in hell he had the strength to leave her that way.

  He leaned toward her, slowly, ever so slowly, until his lips met hers.

  His kiss was gentle, their lips barely touching her as her head cocked, allowing his mouth to better fit over hers. She tasted good, like desert spring water. His arms tightened ever so slightly as he touched her lips with his tongue. Instinctively hers parted, letting him taste the inside of her mouth. He pulled her closer, stroking her back, her ribs, her hips, as his kisses deepened. He was like a coiled spring ready to snap. He groaned and felt himself sinking into the kiss, wanting her, needing--