Shades of a Desperado

by Sharon Sala

  She stretched. “Umm-humm.”

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say.”

  She heard a tone in his voice that hadn’t been there in days. She went still.

  “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Horror flashed, then quickly disappeared. She would not let the memory of Griffin Ross’s evil ruin their lives. She sat up to face him, wearing a small, unusual smile.

  Daniel had no way of knowing that, for Rachel, the act had been twofold. Mercy Hollister had been responsible for the death of the man she loved. It had been up to Rachel to see that history did not repeat itself. She would have done whatever it took to keep this man alive—for herself, as well as for him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  His jaw clenched nervously as he debated with himself as to the best way to pursue what was on his mind.

  “You know... we haven’t known each other very long, although I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.”

  Oh, my darling, Daniel...if only you knew. Rachel smiled and reached for his hand. “I love you, sweetheart. Always have. Always will.”

  Daniel’s eyebrow arched as a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “You were scared of me, and you know it.”

  “Not of you. Never of you. Only what you represented.”

  He nodded. “I can accept that. What I’m trying to say is, I know in my heart how I feel, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you’re—”

  “No.”

  He looked startled. “No, what?”

  “I’m not willing to wait.”

  His grin widened as his black eyes glittered with promises he could hardly wait to keep. Then he took a deep breath, trying to remember where he’d been going with this thought. “I have a couple of things I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “This was my last undercover assignment.

  She looked slightly startled. “Not because of me?”

  A wry smile cocked the corner of his mouth. “Of course it’s because of you. You think I’m going to go off half-cocked the rest of my life and leave you within reach of someone like Charlie Dutton?”

  Rachel frowned. “I would never cheat on our love.”

  He caught her hand. “I was only teasing,” he said quietly. “I knew this job would be my last one before you and I ever met. I’ve had enough of it, honey, and it’s had enough of me.”

  Never in her life had Rachel wanted to throw herself into someone’s arms as badly as she did right then, but they were too confined by tubes and needles to give it a thought. Instead, she leaned forward until mere inches separated their lips and whispered, “I’ll never have enough of you. Just remember that.”

  Emotion came swiftly, blinding Daniel to all but the love shining out of Rachel’s eyes.

  “Rachel, if I asked you real nice, would you marry me?”

  To his surprise, she started to cry.

  He grimaced, swallowing a few tears of his own. “Come here, you.”

  She went willingly. Time passed as she settled in his good arm.

  “Rachel.”

  “What, darling?”

  “You never answered me.”

  She sighed. After all they’d been through, how on earth could he doubt? She moved, needing to look him in the eye when she said what she had to say.

  “Yes, a thousand times yes, I will many you. For the love we have now, and for all the love we once shared.”

  He groaned and pulled her back into his arms. What she’d said made no sense, but he was too happy a man to care.

  “Daniel, be careful,” she warned him, as he urged her into his lap.

  “Now, darlin’, I’m always careful, don’t you remember?”

  One last time, the image of Dakota’s face slid between them. Black hair blowing in the wind as he mounted a horse in a flying leap. The laughter she could see on his lips as he yanked Mercy up behind him.

  Rachel closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss to come, and when it did, there was no mistaking the man who was in control. Daniel’s breath was soft against her skin. The touch of his hand ever gentle against her cheek.

  “Open your eyes, Rachel. See who loves you, baby.”

  She complied, although she knew before she did as he asked.

  Through the centuries, all kinds of men had walked the earth. Some of their spirits had been dark, their souls black and hell-bent against redemption before they were ever born. But not her Daniel. He was a desperado... but in a subtle shade of gray.

  Epilogue

  It was spring in South Dakota. When Daniel and Rachel landed in Rapid City, it was just after noon. The rental car was waiting, as they’d requested, and by the time they loaded their bags and headed toward Deadwood, Rachel’s anxiety was at an all-time high.

  It hadn’t been until after their wedding that Rachel learned where Daniel was born. That surprised him. Up until that moment, he’d still believed that was why she’d gone to South Dakota in the first place.

  But now they were here—together—and for reasons he still didn’t understand. Rachel had been oddly reticent with explanations, and adamant that they should go, and so he’d come—because she’d asked.

  She didn’t sleepwalk anymore. She claimed the episodes had stopped as abruptly as they’d appeared. There were a lot of things Rachel didn’t explain and Daniel didn’t care to ask. As long as she was well, nothing else mattered.

  They drove into Deadwood as the sun was setting in the west.

  Tomorrow their mission would begin.

  Rachel walked among the tombstones, clutching a small plastic bag, her gaze focused downward, reading each epitaph, one by one. It was here. It had to be.

  “Rachel, I know there’s a real good reason why we came all the way to Deadwood for a belated honeymoon, and an even better one for dragging me through Boot Hill, but I have yet to figure it out.”

  “I love you, too,” she said absently, and kept moving without looking back.

  There was an abstracted look Rachel got on her face when she was concentrating real hard that made his toes curl in his boots. It always made him want to take her to bed and give her something else to think about. Daniel grinned to himself as he watched the sway of her hips in those tight blue jeans. These old outlaws would probably rise up and cheer if he followed his instincts right now.

  “Hey, Rachel, don’t you think it’s sort of early on in our relationship for you to be ignoring me?”

  Rachel paused and stifled a grin. Some of the verses on these tombstones were a hoot. This one in particular.

  Red Fred

  Died in bed

  “What did you say?” she asked, suddenly realizing Daniel was a distance away and looking as if he were waiting for some sort of answer.

  He laughed and threw up his arms. “Nothing, honey. Just wait for me.”

  Joy surged anew as Rachel stood in the warm Dakota sunshine while a cool spring breeze played with the ends of her hair. Love for this man...for her husband...was overwhelming.

  His wind-tossed hair gleaming a sleek seal black, Daniel Blaine came toward her with a long, careless stride. His head was up, and his chin was thrust forward in the same way he met life: straight on. There was a power in him even clothes couldn’t hide. The wide set of strong shoulders, the determination on his face that rarely wavered, and, always, a dark, carefree glitter in his eyes.

  Rachel smiled as he drew near. In some ways he was like those who lay buried here, but in the ways that counted, he was so much more. He’d made the most of himself instead of letting life drag him down. She loved him, and her respect for him knew no bounds.

  He swooped, lifting her off her feet and into his arms, kissing her grandly and with no sense of embarrassment for the dozens of other tourists who were sharing their day.

  “Daniel Blaine! What will all these people think?” Rachel said, as he put her back down.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Honey, I don’t care what they think. You
’re my woman. I’ll kiss you any place I damn well please.” He glanced down and then grinned. “Even in front of Red Fred.”

  She laughed and then took him by the hand. “You’re impossible, but I love you. Now come help me look.”

  He rolled his eyes and let her lead him away. “I’d be glad to help, if I only knew what I was looking for.”

  Rachel ignored his complaint as, once again, her attention was focused on the tombstones scattered all around.

  Few voices shattered the silence within the cemetery grounds as people walked about. Even though these men had been hell on earth, they’d been buried in hallowed ground. Preachers had spoken over their graves. Friends had shed tears for their passing. They’d gained a stature in death that they’d missed in life.

  It wasn’t until sometime later that Rachel paused, then dropped to her knees.

  Daniel was a few feet ahead before he realized she wasn’t behind him. He turned, a smile on his face and laughter in his voice as he started to chide her for dawdling again. But his jest was never voiced, because he saw her reach out and trace the letters on a gray, weathered headstone.

  Her head was bowed, and even from where he was standing, he could see a tremor in her chin. Within seconds, he was at her side. Curiosity drew his gaze to the stone that had so captured Rachel’s fancy, but curiosity changed to surprise when he read the name on the stone.

  Dakota Blaine

  Deserved No Mercy

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” Daniel said. “We have the same last name.”

  Rachel’s eyes were filled with tears as she lifted the tiny bouquet of flowers from the sack she’d been carrying. When she’d seen them displayed among the florist’s array, she’d picked them up without a second thought.

  They were bluebells, tiny bell-like flowers that grew on fragile-looking stems that even the strongest of winds could not break. Their pure blue was also the color of Mercy Hollister’s eyes. As she laid them on the grave, Rachel knew Dakota would have approved of her choice.

  “How did you know this was here?” Daniel asked, as he watched Rachel place the flowers with care.

  She looked up at him. Tears shimmered on the surface of her eyes—blue eyes, just like the bluebells she’d laid on the grave.

  “I guess you could say I saw it in my dreams.”

  Daniel gave her a sharp, studied look. “Are you all right?”

  Rachel smiled and held out her hand. “Let’s go. I’ve done what I came here to do.”

  He helped her up without pressing her further. Rachel had loved him without question; the least he could do was return the favor.

  They walked away without looking back, but Rachel felt no need to linger. Only one more stop and her mission in coming this far would be over.

  The day was drawing to a close, but Rachel had been firm in her convictions that this stop was truly necessary. The church was old and long since abandoned, yet the tiny nearby cemetery was well kept and mowed—proof to passersby that, while the parishioners had moved on, the care of those left behind still continued.

  Daniel was beginning to worry. Combing cemeteries seemed an unhealthy pastime. The tension on Rachel’s face was showing, and her actions seemed frantic, as if she were racing against some deadline of her own. This behavior was too symptomatic of her sleepwalking episodes for his peace of mind.

  But she wasn’t talking, and he didn’t know how to intrude. For the time being, he stayed at her side, keeping careful watch over the lady who was his wife.

  Months earlier, Rachel had enlisted the aid of a service designed for genealogists in search of missing ancestors. The letter she held contained the name of this church and the approximate location of the grave marker she’d come to find. One fact had come out in the search that she hadn’t expected. Mercy Hollister had taken her own life. She had not been buried in hallowed ground.

  For Rachel, it was the last piece of the puzzle she’d been trying to find. Maybe this was why Mercy Hollister’s search for love on earth had not ended with her death. By taking her own life, she’d lost her chance to follow Dakota Blain into eternity.

  Rachel stumbled. Daniel caught her, then pulled her to him, caressing the side of her face with his hand as he gauged the fever of her intent.

  “Rachel, darlin’, you’re beginning to scare me. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong? I promise you, there’s nothing you can say that I won’t understand.”

  Rachel was tired. She’d been fighting this thing alone for so long. She caught his hand, feathering a gentle kiss upon the palm, then looked up, searching the beloved features she’d come to know so well.

  How to tell you, my love? How to explain where we’ve been...what we’ve done? She sighed.

  “It’s almost over,” she said, pleading with him to persevere with her a while longer.

  He bowed his head and then held her close, feeling her tremble with fatigue. He fought with himself and his instincts, but his love for her won out.

  “Tell me what to do,” he said.

  “Do you have my flowers?”

  He held up the second small florist’s sack. She nodded in satisfaction.

  “Then come with me. It should be right over here.”

  She took him by the hand, and together they traversed the neat, narrow rows between headstones, to a small section of markers set aside from the rest. They were outside the old picket fence, beyond the neat rows and well-clipped grass.

  The grass was taller here, obscuring the stones that were less prominent in height. A small brown rabbit suddenly darted from behind an old tombstone, while tiny wildflowers, only inches high, blew to and fro with the breeze. Rachel leaned down to read the names.

  “Help me,” she said.

  Daniel came to her side. “Who are you looking for?” he asked.

  “Mercy. Her name is Mercy.”

  A chill of foreboding swept across Daniel’s senses, almost the same sensation as when a bust was about to go down. A sense of knowing that within moments everything was going to come apart and there was no way of knowing the outcome until it was over and done. But then it passed, and he took her hand.

  Together they walked, stooping every now and then to brush away leaves and read names, to toss away brush caught against the stones.

  It was Daniel who found it. And, as Rachel had done at Boot Hill, he found himself down on his knees, tracing the weathered, hand-carved letters in an old piece of stone.

  But as he touched it, he rocked back on his heels, startled by an overwhelming wave of sadness. He shook his head in disbelief and chalked it up to the fact that they’d been in too many graveyards.

  “Rachel.”

  She was at his side in moments. She knelt beside him, and as his finger traced the letters in Mercy’s name, her throat swelled with the ache of unshed tears.

  “Oh, Daniel,” she said, and laid her head against his shoulder.

  Mercy Hollister

  1853-1877

  Dakota took her

  Gone but not forgotten

  Only Rachel knew the subtlety of the Dakota reference. It wasn’t the Dakota Territory that had taken her away; it was the man who’d taken his name from the land.

  Rachel began pulling grass and weeds away from the stone, clearing a small place for the flowers to go. But when Daniel handed Rachel the sack, she rejected it with tearfilled eyes.

  “No, sweetheart, I think this would be better if it came from you.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, darlin’.”

  No, Daniel. It’s you...or who you were...that will make Mercy happy, wherever she is.

  The nosegay was small and round and tied at the bottom with baby-fine ribbons. White ones. Purple ones. Sky-blue scalloped ones.

  “Put it there, I think,” Rachel said, pointing to a sheltered spot against the small stone.

  Daniel leaned the flowers there, firmly shoving the end of the bouquet into the soft, loamy earth until they appeared to have sprouted on the spot.<
br />
  The blossoms dipped and bounced with the South Dakota breeze. Rachel reached out and touched them, testing the fresh, tender petals with the palm of her hand. They felt cool and soft, like Daniel’s lips on her face when they made love in the dark.

  And as they knelt, a feeling of peace settled deep in Rachel’s heart.

  “It’s over...isn’t it?” she said softly.

  “What did you say?” Daniel asked, and then realized Rachel wasn’t talking to him.

  His nerves skittered, reminding him suddenly that they were a long, long way from home. He put his arm around her and urged her to stand.

  “Rachel, honey. It’s getting late.”

  She looked up at him. “No, Daniel. We were just in time.”

  They stood, looking down at the flowers on the shamefully small grave.

  “The flowers are pretty,” Daniel said. “Wonder what kind they are?”

  “Forget-me-nots.”

  He nodded, rereading the verse on the grave one last time.

  “They seem to fit real well, don’t they? You know...gone but not forgotten?”

  There was a hard knot in her throat as Daniel took her by the hand. Rest in peace, Mercy Hollister.

  Just for a moment, the steady blowing breeze seemed to stop, as if God were holding his breath. A small cloud passed between the earth and the sun, casting the place in which they were standing into sudden shadow. And then, slowly, as clouds have a way of doing, it moved on and, as it did, left sunlight behind to mark its passing.

  Rachel watched the small shadow moving across the face of the land, across the cemetery beyond, and then along the road on which they’d traveled.

  It was a fanciful thought, and one she knew had no real foundation, but she could almost believe the receding shadow was Mercy Hollister’s spirit, going home to rest.

  “Daniel?”

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “Take me home.”

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7204-0