Kiss Of The Night Wind

by Taylor, Janelle

  Off and on for seven years she was a daring desperado in Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Kansas. But she had faced the truth long ago. Her deeds were no longer a matter of honor and vengeful justice. The harsh demands of a criminal’s life—the cold, the rain, the dust, the hunger, the desperation—were wearing. She couldn’t pretend to be cold, hard, and tough any longer. She was tired of having no home, no meaning to her life, and no friends except other bandits. And, she admitted, she hated what people thought about her.

  Too, real life was passing her by swiftly. She was twenty-four, a spinster by custom. She had never been married, never had a child, never even had a lover! To keep galloping down the wrong road was like recklessly racing toward a box canyon with a crazed posse hot on your tail. Surely Fate had forced this life-saving decision upon her.

  After concealing Carolyn’s body and fleeing the soldiers who were approaching the overturned stage, Darby and his men had headed for a hideout in the Oklahoma Territory, hoping to stay unnoticed for a few months while “heads cooled a mite in these parts.”

  The soldiers had taken “Carolyn Starns” to the next Butterfield station to continue her journey following a “lucky rescue just in the nick of time.” Since that tragic day, she had switched to this Garrett stage in Fort Worth for the remainder of her trip to Tucson.

  The redhead knew her brother was worried about her daring plan, but he had agreed with it because he was more concerned about himself and his gang endangering her on the trail. If anything went wrong, she knew where and how to contact Darby.

  Gunshots filled the air and ceased her musings. Carrie Sue glanced out the window and sighted the trouble. As the driver urged the horses to outrun the bandits who were attacking it, the stage lurched wildly, hurling the two passengers on the other seat toward her and the man beside her. Obviously the driver had seen the six masked men galloping from behind a hill toward them and had decided to make a desperate race for the next relay station, which baffled and alarmed her because it was twenty miles down the road. It was a policy of stagelines to yield to robbers to safeguard passengers’ lives, but the rash driver must have felt that he and the guard could successfully discourage the bandits, as he surely could not race the horses at breakneck speed for hours.

  Carrie Sue and the other man helped the two fallen passengers back into their places. The holdup made no sense to her, as it was common knowledge that the Garrett line carried no mail or strongboxes; the Butterfield line performed those perilous tasks. The Garrett line was known for its passenger comfort because of its slower pace and fewer robberies. Averaging five miles an hour for nine to ten hours a day in comparison to Butterfield’s rapid nine miles per hour and fewer stops, this line only covered forty to fifty miles a day and halted every night instead of every twenty-four hours for sleep. They had been on the road for five hours today, and Tucson was about sixty miles ahead of them. So close for trouble to defeat her!

  The stage bounced up and down roughly, shaking them about like cotton bolls in a flour sack. Many sounds assailed her ears: the driver’s whip slapping against horseflesh; the metal and wood creaking in protest; the pounding of many hooves and the labored breathing of the frantic animals; the exchange of gunfire. The soldier’s wife began screaming hysterically and the two men cursed in fear.

  Carrie Sue saw the guard’s body fall from the stage and tumble several times upon the hard ground. Hills, trees, yuccas, and brown mountains flashed by swiftly. The man on the seat beside her slumped into her lap as a bullet caught him in the head, staining her dress with blood. She did not shove his body aside because it would probably only fall her way again. The other man drew a small pistol and began firing at the outlaws. She shouted a warning but he sneered at her. He, too, was shot and killed.

  As Carrie Sue peered out the window to see how close the gang was, the soldier’s wife—in a panic over the horrible tales she had been told about the Wild West—screamed, “They’ll rape us and murder us!” The woman seized the dead man’s gun and shot herself in the head before Carrie Sue could grab the weapon from her. The redhead gasped at the shocking sight. She looked at the three bloody bodies which surrounded her and heard the peril closing in on her. These bandits were merciless, and she did not want to imagine what they would do to her. Now she knew what it was like to be a helpless victim. As Kale vowed, she had actually smelled fear and death in the air, and its odor was foul in her nostrils. Carrie Sue knew she wasn’t anything like these heartless outlaws; yet, she wanted to gun them down! Dare she reveal who she was? Would it matter to them that she was Darby Stover’s sister, that she was the “Texas Flame?” If she exposed herself, probably they would take her with them and there was no telling what would happen to her in their camp!

  Outlaws were galloping on both sides of the coach. The driver reined in and yielded only to be shot by the bandit leader. Carrie Sue wished fervently she had her revolvers or rifle inside the coach. She was an excellent shot and her aid might have swung the odds in their favor. She knew better than to hide her money—no, Carolyn Starns’s money—even in her bodice. She knew better than to give the cutthroats any trouble. She knew from experience.

  Suddenly she wondered if the handsome stranger at the relay station was in this gang, if he had been scouting the stage while pretending to eat. Would his presence help her?

  During her brief distraction, the door was jerked open and Carrie Sue.was yanked outside. She lost her balance and fell, skinning her hands and dirtying her already ruined dress. Quickly she flipped to her seat and glared at the despicable ruffian, preparing to defend herself. She watched the man’s expression change upon viewing her face.

  A lecherous grin revealed his perilous interest in her. “Whatda we have here? Seems this stage was carrying two prizes, boys. Get that strongbox while I have a look-see at this pretty thing.”

  As the lawless bully bent forward to seize her, he was shot in the throat near his collarbone. His body fell past Carrie Sue, hitting the ground with a thud. The other bandits whirled to check out their danger, but not in time to prevent two more from taking lethal rifle bullets.

  The rescuer, who was galloping toward them without fear or hesitation, nearly concealed behind his horse’s head, shoved his rifle into its saddle holster and drew two pistols. The remaining two outlaws fired at the lone gunman who rode to the side of his horse Indian-style and fired guns from either side of the animal’s neck. One bandit yelled in pain as his chest accepted two deadly shots.

  The last man grabbed Carrie Sue’s wrist and yanked her to him to use as a shield and hostage. Wanting to protect herself and to aid her defender, she fought the cowardly villain like an unleashed wildcat as he struggled to control her while defending himself. Their actions caused her braid to fall. He cursed her and threatened her, but she did not let up on her attack of nails, fists, and kicks. As his hand tried to band her chest to imprison her, his rough fingers snagged the edge of her bodice and, as she attempted to escape his grasp, popped off several buttons and scratched her tender flesh. Provoked further, she whirled on him and landed a fisted blow to his mouth. “The Devil take you, you bastard!” she screamed.

  Carrie Sue broke free and scrambled beneath the stage to give her rescuer a clear shot at him. She knew the bandit didn’t have many more bullets in his two revolvers and he was winded from his fight with her. As he damned her to hell and scurried behind the coach for cover, she saw him shove an emptied weapon into one holster.

  She kept her gaze on the nearby bandit and shifted her position as he did. Hurriedly her mind plotted how to help defeat this killer. She risked a quick glance at her rescuer, but he had dismounted and rushed behind a tree which was too small to offer much protection. Yet, the faded gray shirt and ebony head were familiar. Excitement traveled through her. She saw him duck a bullet, and knew she could not allow the bandit time to reload his weapons. She looked about for a rock or stick; none were available. If she tried to climb on the driver’s box or into the coach to ge
t a weapon, the outlaw would hear and feel her movements. Then, she spotted a dead outlaw’s pistol not far away.

  Carrie Sue checked the bandit’s stance which said he was peering around the back of the stage. Rapidly she scooted toward it. Her rescuer fired several times. Obviously he had seen her action and was giving her time and cover by distracting the ruffian. Seizing the weapon, she turned and fired beneath the coach at the man’s legs.

  He yelped in pain and staggered into the handsome stranger’s view. The raven-haired man jumped into the open. His right hand cocked the hammer and his left hand pulled the trigger in one fluid motion which required no more than a split-second. The last bandit was slain.

  The smokey-eyed gunslinger with whom she had eaten breakfast shoved his revolvers into their holsters and stalked forward in a purposeful stride, a black stallion trailing him out of love and protection. He glared at her and shouted, “That was a stupid thing to do! You could have gotten killed! Why didn’t you stay under the stage?”

  Distressed by the mayhem of the day, and angered by his ridiculous attitude, she shouted back, “If you had gotten yourself shot playing the hero, I would have been in deep trouble by now! I couldn’t take a chance on your being killed for helping me! I wasn’t about to let that ba…beast get his hands on me again!”

  The man glared at her as if no female had ever dared to argue with him, and she glared back. His left thumb tipped up his hat and that obstinate ebony lock fell over his forehead once more. He sighed loudly in annoyance and shook his head. “What about the others?” he finally asked.

  Carrie Sue knew he meant the people inside the coach. “All dead.”

  He rubbed his jawline as if saving her life had cost him precious time and energy which he resented spending. This vexed the redhead even more than his previous behav-. ior. She suggested coldly, “If you’ll help me load the bodies, I’ll drive the stage to the next relay station and you can be on your way.”

  His eyes widened as he looked her up and down in astonishment. She was the most beautiful and desirable woman he had ever seen, even more so in her highly agitated state. Her tawny red hair seemed aflame beneath the brilliant sun. Strands had pulled themselves free of her plait and now danced about her dirty face like a fiery glow. A defiant expression filled her violet-blue eyes and tightened her enticing lips. She faced him squarely able to meet his gaze without craning her neck though he was over six feet tall. What an armful she would be!

  When she wiped at the perspiration on her face, it mingled with the dust and created playful smudges on her forehead, nose, and above her upper-lip. Her dress was dirty, torn, and blood-stained. He noticed the scratches on her chest where the bodice gaped and revealed a white chemise. Observing his line of vision, her free hand lifted to clutch the severed garment together. The revolver was still dangling from the loosened grip in her right hand. He recalled how she had fought the bandit, even shot him. And hadn’t he heard her curse the man? Where had that prim and proper lady from breakfast gone? What a surprising spitfire she was!

  All that shyness and gentleness which he had observed this morning was now masked by a strength, confidence, and boldness which he found unexpected, befuddling, and appealing. Yet, he still sensed that same wary nature he had detected earlier. This intriguing vixen could definitely take care of herself, if the odds weren’t too uneven.

  Long ago he had built a strong wall around himself to prevent ever being hurt again, and had honed his skills to make certain no one ever took advantage of him. In a few minutes this morning, this wild filly had nearly kicked a hole in that sturdy wall, and he had been willing—eager—to let her! That was crazy! He was a loner and she was a stranger, a ravishing and troublesome type. At the station this morning, he had lost his wits for a while. No, this beautiful thief had stolen them! He had tried to dismiss her from mind after leaving, but found that task impossible. He had caught himself riding slower and slower and sticking close to the road just to be near her once more when the stage halted for the night at the last home station. While he halted to get control of himself, the stage had passed his hiding place. Now he was glad he had hung back.

  What was so different and alluring about this particular creature? Was it her entrancing eyes which exposed such vulnerable innocence and such defiant fire? Her beautiful face with its rosy gold hue? Her shapely body in that simple cotton dress? Her fiery mane which enticed his fingers to enter it? Or some elusive and irresistible aura which he couldn’t name just yet? Whatever her magic, he didn’t have time to test it, enjoy it, or become ensnared by it! He had to get to Tucson to kill a man. Afterwards, there were other men to track and slay.

  As the man stared at her, Carrie Sue felt that strange heat and tension crawl over her body once more like a dangerous viper seeking a vulnerable spot to strike. She had not expected him or wanted him to be so… whatever! Being alone with him was intimidating. Never had she been more aware that she was a woman. “Why do you keep gaping at me so rudely, just like you did at breakfast? Your mother should be whipped for failing to teach you any manners!”

  The stranger’s eyes chilled and narrowed. He forcefully jabbed his thumbs into his gunbelt as if controlling the urge to strike her. “Why is it people always blame a mother’s failure for their bad traits and weaknesses? Obviously your mother failed in the same task or you’d be thanking me for saving your pretty hide instead of being so smartmouthed,” he scolded. “When a man sees such a beautiful woman, naturally he’s gonna stare a minute or two. At your age, I would think you’d be used to it by now,” he added, but made it sound more like an insult than a compliment. He watched her violet-blue eyes blaze with fury. He lowered his head and inhaled deeply several times, chiding himself for his callousness. Obviously she had endured a bad scare and wasn’t herself just now. When he looked back at her, he asked, “Have you ever driven a stage or wagon before?”

  His mood, expression, and tone had changed. Maybe it was the heat or lethal battle which had put him on edge. They both had to settle down because there was a grim chore to perform. “A wagon, yes; a stage, no,” she replied, mastering her own unleashed temper.

  He was visibly impressed by her self-control. In a teasing tone, he said, “No insult intended, Ma’am, but you don’t look strong enough to handle six half-broken horses and a heavy stage. If you have no objection, I’ll drive it to the next station.”

  “You seemed in such a hurry that I didn’t want to put you out any further,” she responded in like manner.

  “Won’t delay me much. I’m heading for Tucson just like you.”

  “Why?” the question jumped uncontrollably from her lips.

  His expression waxed to one of curiosity. “Does it matter?”

  Carrie Sue dared her cheeks to turn that unnatural red again. Her body must have feared her threat, because it obeyed. “Not to me. I was just wondering why you didn’t travel with us. If you’d been…”

  Knowing her words, he interrupted, “I travel alone, unless it suits me otherwise. Your stomach strong enough for this task, or you want me to load the bodies alone?” he inquired, his voice softening.

  The lovely fugitive liked the change in his tone and expression. “I’ve seen and touched plenty of dead people before. I’m just angry because this attack was stupid, a waste of lives. The Garrett line never carries anything of value. I’m glad you came along when you did. I’ve never witnessed more courage or prowess than you displayed,” she said without thinking. Unnerved by her slip, she rushed on, “Let’s get busy. It’s four hours to the next station. What about those bandits?”

  His smokey gray eyes glanced over them. “I would leave ’em here for the vultures, but there might be a reward or two on their heads. I see no reason not to collect it for my trouble. I might even be persuaded to split it with you. Let me check your hand,” he said and reached for the one which had struck the last bandit.

  Carrie Sue jerked it from his light grasp and stepped away from him. She hoped her face didn
’t pale and her trembling didn’t show. “Are you a bounty hunter?” she asked, her tone laced with revulsion.

  Chapter Two

  He was surprised by her reaction. “A bounty hunter?” he echoed in a matching tone of aversion. “Not me, but it’s foolish to pass up a possible reward when you’ve earned it. Why do you feel so strongly about them?”

  She looked relieved by his reply, but ignored his question. “You’re awfully good with a gun,” she hinted for information.

  He responded to her evocative tone and expression, “I manage to stay alive and healthy. What riles you about bounty hunters?” he persisted.

  “I’ve heard many times that they hunt men down like wild animals, that they get their shooting and questioning out of order. They’re nothing but glorified killers using the law to carry out the evil within them. What do you do for a living?”

  “Rescue beautiful women in trouble,” he quipped. The stubble on his face and his dark tan made his teeth appear snowy white when he smiled.

  She frowned. “Hold the jests, please. What are you? A gunslinger? A drifter? A lawman?” she inquired.

  He chuckled to prevent her from realizing that he was aware of her excessive anxiety. He knew she was afraid of something or someone because her lips remained parted, her respiration was shallow and swift, and she seemed to hang on every word he spoke as if seeking life-sustaining clues in them. In a casual tone and manner he said, “I’m intrigued by your choices. I’ve had lots of jobs in the past. When I get bored with one or the place I’m in, I move on to the next challenge. I guess that makes me a drifter of sorts, doesn’t it?”