Kiss Of The Night Wind

by Taylor, Janelle

  “Renegade Apaches,” he commented knowingly from their colors and patterns. “Must have broken from the reservation. No buzzards circling yet. Stay here while I take a look around.”

  He climbed down slowly, adjusting his gunbelt when his boots touched the ground. He retrieved his rifle from Nighthawk’s saddle and cocked it. He closed the distance between the stage and the station. He scanned all directions with keen eyes, then dropped to the ground and listened for any sound of hoofbeats as the Apaches had taught him. He examined the bodies, the charred remains of the house and barn, the empty corral, and tracks on the earth. He returned to the coach and said, “Happened late yesterday. She was dry and burned quickly, but the odor’s still fresh. They won’t be back this way. We’ll camp here for the night, then leave at dawn.”

  Her wide eyes checked their surroundings and her ears strained to pick up any unnatural sound. Mountains were visible in all directions over the tops of the thick growth which encircled the clearing. Her lips were parted and her breathing was shallow and swift. She knew what Indians on the warpath could do, and was wisely afraid. If Indians came galloping down the narrow road, they would be trapped. “I don’t like being boxed in like this. You’re sure it’s safe?” she pressed.

  “No reason for them to return. They stole the horses and supplies and destroyed everything else. Besides, our horses have to rest and graze before they can take us on to Tucson. We’ll load those bodies in the stage to keep the vultures off them and leave the stage here. We can make better time on horseback. I’ll let you ride Nighthawk and I’ll use one of these horses. Can you ride?”

  “Yes, but what about the gold and my baggage? Other bandits might come along and steal everything before the company can send someone to recover them. Can’t we just take the stage on into town?”

  T.J. gave her reminder some thought. The gold was too heavy for them to lift out and bury. If anything happened to it, someone might point an accusatory finger at them and mess up his schedule. “You’re right, Carolyn. We can’t risk losing that gold and falling under suspicion for its theft. We’ll take the stage on to Tucson at dawn.”

  Although he hadn’t mentioned her possessions, she thanked him for agreeing with her. She certainly didn’t need to fall under suspicion for a robbery! She climbed over the edge of the driver’s box and made her way down, with T.J.’s hands securely about her waist. “What’s first?” she asked.

  “Let’s put these bodies inside the coach. Too many to bury, and families might want to claim them for burial at home.”

  Carrie Sue and T.J. carried two more bodies to the stage and added them to the eleven already there. To foil vultures, they had no choice except to pile them on the seats and floor. She wished there were blankets in which to wrap the bodies, but none were available in the warm month of May. She watched her partner lower the leather window shades and secure them tightly to keep insects away.

  Afterwards, he unhitched the team and placed the horses in the corral where unsinged hay and a water trough were located. Nighthawk was placed with them so he could drink and feed. T.J. motioned to a spot on the western side of the clearing where a few trees didn’t have limbs teasing the dry ground. “We’ll camp there in the shade. Your nose is already pink. You need a hat, Miss Starns.”

  She touched the sensitive area and said, “I didn’t even think about it in all the excitement. I’ll unpack one for tomorrow’s ride.”

  Carrie Sue followed T.J. beneath the trees, both having to duck to avoid low branches. He spread out a blanket and told her to have a seat while he gathered firewood and prepared them some “grub.”

  “I can help, T.J.,” she offered. “My rear can use some relief. That shotgun seat is harder than the benches inside the coach.”

  He chuckled when she rubbed her sore behind. He was accustomed to doing chores alone, but he welcomed her company and assistance.

  Being careful around the bristly cacti, sharp-tipped yuccas, and thorny catclaw, they scouted amongst the scrubs for dead branches and dry weeds to use for a fire. When they finished, T.J. raised his left pant leg and withdrew a large knife from a sheath which was strapped to his calf. He dug a shallow pit and built a fire within it.

  On the lip of the hole, he placed a circle of rocks to contain the flames and heat. Around it, he jabbed a threeprong metal holder into the ground from which to suspend a small cooking pot. He opened his pouch and dropped strips of dried meat into the pot, then cleaned and used the sharp blade to open a can of beans to add to it. Next, he put some coffee on to perk near one edge of the fire. “It’ll take a while. Which one of your bags do you need for the night?”

  “Why don’t I go with you? There’s no need to lift a heavy bag down and up when I can climb up there and pull what I need from it.”

  “Good idea. Come along, partner.”

  They went to the coach and mounted the driver’s box. T.J. pulled her largest bag forward so she could reach it easily.

  Carrie Sue opened Carolyn’s bag and withdrew a washcloth, dress, hat, and undergarments for the next morning. She was glad she had hidden her rifle and six-guns on the bottom of the case where he couldn’t see them. She closed the bag and fastened the straps, leaving a tiny gap which would tell her if the bag was tampered with during the night. If he was anything more than the gunslinger T.J. Rogue, she would know by morning. And if he was, she would deal with that problem then. She inhaled deeply to distract him and said, “That coffee smells wonderful.”

  “Let’s see if it’s ready.” He helped her down and they walked back to their small camp. “Not yet,” he said while stirring the beans.

  Carrie Sue excused herself to use the outhouse, the only unburned structure. Borrowing his canteen upon her return, she washed her dirty face and hands. T.J. handed her the ointment from his saddlebag and suggested she rub more on her scratches, which she did.

  “I only have one set of dishes and utensils. You can use the plate and fork, and I’ll eat from the pot with a spoon. I’m afraid we’ll have to share the cup,” he told her. “Sorry, but I don’t have any sugar.”

  “It doesn’t matter; I drink mine black,” Carrie Sue replied, having been forced by years on the trail to adjust to unsweetened coffee. “You’re handy to have around, T.J., and you’re most generous. I’m sorry I accused you of not having manners; clearly you have plenty.”

  He glanced at her and teased, “Don’t swell my head, woman. I guess we were both a little edgy back there. Sorry.” He pulled two biscuits from a cloth and put them on a hot rock to warm. “Sam gave ‘em to me this morning. Been craving ’em all day.”

  After dining on coffee, beans, biscuits, and dried beef, darkness surrounded their cozy campfire. T.J. suggested, “We’d better turn in so we can get an early start at dawn. We only have one bedroll, so we’ll have to share it too. You mind?”

  “Not if you remember you’re a gentleman,” she teased pointedly.

  “I promise not to forget that fact, Miss Starns. I wouldn’t want the Tucson town council tracking me down for molesting their teacher.”

  Carrie Sue stayed in her clothes as she settled down to spend the night beside the handsome man. She turned on her side away from him, and he did the same. Yet, as time passed, she remained aware of his close proximity and her body burned to feel his touch again.

  T.J. couldn’t sleep; the woman near him was too desirable. He wanted to turn to her and pull her into his arms, to smother her lips with kisses, to caress her shapely body, to run his fingers through her fiery mane. He knew that would be a mistake, for both of them.

  Carrie Sue struggled to locate dreamland where she could unite her torrid flesh with his, but her search was in vain. He was too real; this moment was too real. She attempted to concentrate on their surroundings. Not far away was a coach filled with bodies. She was heading for a new life, one free of complications. He was T.J. Rogue, a famous—or infamous—gunslinger who could destroy her without meaning to do so. He would call attention to he
r presence. Their match was perilous; their attraction was dangerous.

  “Carolyn?” he whispered, “are you awake?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “I’m going to bed down near the corral, else neither of us will get any sleep. Don’t be afraid; I’ll be nearby.”

  “T.J…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “I know,” he murmured hoarsely.

  He left the area and his body was engulfed by darkness. She listened as he crossed the open space and flopped down on hay near the corral. How she yearned to call him back to her side, but she dared not. How long, she wondered, before she would feel safe to yield to her desires? How long before another man like this appeared?

  Carrie Sue thought about Quade Harding’s lust for her. It had been seven years since they’d met. Why couldn’t he forget about her and settle down with another woman? How could he sustain his obsession for so long? He must have spent a fortune on detectives. Anyone would think he’d weary of the chase and setbacks. But time seemed to increase his hunger for her. Merciful heavens, what would he do next to locate her?

  The lovely fugitive’s mind drifted to her brother. Had Darby and his men made it to their hideout? What if peril forced him northward and she needed him to rescue her? Would he head to El Paso in early July as planned? If she ran into trouble, would that old Mexican deliver her message to Darby as promised? Would Darby keep his gang out of Arizona as promised so her new life wouldn’t be threatened? And, how long would Quade hold silent? Or that Ranger she had shot and thwarted last year? If the vile lawman had reported her deed, news of it had not been released. After all, it would be her word against his that she had surrendered, then been forced to shoot and flee.

  Carrie Sue recalled the Stover farm in Georgia before the War Between the States had destroyed their lives the first time. Her family had raised cotton and done very well at it. She remembered how to plant it, pick it, and gin it. After the war, greedy northerners had forced them off their prized land and out of business. Finally her father had yielded reluctantly, bitterly, and sold out to a persistent Carpetbagger in ’67. The moment the evil man moved into their home, her father had robbed him and had burned the barns, house, and fields so he couldn’t profit from his wickedness. Afterwards, they had made their way to distant Texas and purchased a ranch in early ’68 with the villain’s stolen money. Perhaps that was where Darby had learned the motives and means of just revenge which he had used against the Hardings in ’69.

  Men, could any of them be trusted? Carrie Sue wondered sadly. First, the northern soldiers had terrorized her family in Georgia. Next, northern Carpetbaggers had ruined their life and driven them from their home and land. Then, the Hardings had destroyed their new chance for happiness in Texas. Now, countless lawmen, bounty hunters, and others wanted nothing more than to see her and her brother’s gang dead.

  If only they could be left alone for a while, allowed to cease their criminal life and settle down. Both she and Darby should be wed by now with homes and families. But fate had dealt them heavy blows. Everywhere they went, trouble followed. Everyone they loved, fate destroyed. T.J. Rogue had enough trouble without taking on hers!

  Carrie Sue grimaced as if in physical pain. Never had she known a man whom she wanted to know intimately. It was too late. When she reached Tucson and he departed, she must forget him.

  T.J. glanced toward the cluster of trees. It was too dark to see the woman camped beneath them; yet, he knew she was still awake, awake and miserable like he was. He felt the heavy tension in the air, sensed the odd mingling of powerful attraction and necessary rejection in both of them. Why had he allowed her to get under his tough hide? How could he simply scratch her out like a troublesome chigger? He had to ignore her, resist her pull, forget her. But could he?

  At last, the distraught redhead and agitated smokey-eyed male were fast asleep and the remainder of the night passed swiftly.

  Chapter Three

  Carrie Sue stirred and awakened on T.J.’s bedroll. She nestled her cheek against the material which held manly scents along with those of leather and horseflesh. Accustomed to such smells, she did not find them offensive. In fact, the gunslinger’s scent was quite arousing.

  To break its hold over her, she sat up and looked around, but didn’t see the charming Rogue anywhere. The sun was just peeking over the distant mountains to the east, so her shade would be stolen soon. Except for the neighing and movements of the corralled horses, few sounds were heard in the “Southwest Corner of Hell,” as early travelers had described this dry and sunny area. At first glance one might think this landscape was desolate and dreary, but on closer inspection, it was filled with life and wild beauty.

  The creaking of metal and splashing of water caught her attention and she turned to find the black-haired man near a water pump at the corral. She stood, straightened her dress, removed the washcloth from an overhead branch, and headed his way. Used to being around males who were half-dressed, she thought nothing of joining him. “Good morning, Mr. Rogue. We did pass the night safely as you promised.”

  He met her smiling gaze and grinned. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to awaken you to start breakfast, but I was getting mighty hungry.” His mellow gaze roamed her sleepy face and rumpled clothes. “I found a bucket in the yard and filled it with fresh water. I put it behind the coach. Why don’t you get washed up and changed behind the stage while I prepare some coffee and vittles?”

  “Sounds marvelous to me,” she replied, stretching and yawning. She watched T.J. fingercomb his wet hair and use his dirty shirt to dry off his muscled torso and darkly stubbled face. That willful lock fell forward to tease at his temple and she had the urge to twirl it around her finger. She eyed the two rows of curious scars which ran across his furry chest, arms, and over his flat stomach. Then, she noticed matching ones across the backs of his wrists. It appeared as if he had been bound tightly by a metal rope with jagged edges.

  T.J.’s smokey gray eyes went from her inquisitive expression to his chest and arms, then returned to her face. He reached for the bib-shirt which he had thrown over the fence and began pulling it on. “Barbwire,” he murmured as , he fastened the buttons.

  “What?” she said in confusion.

  He left the top part of his shirt unbuttoned and flapped to one side. As he tied a brown bandanna around his neck, he revealed, “I ran afoul of a man in Texas so he had his hirelings ambush me and tie me to a tree with barbwire.”

  “Merciful Heavens, T.J.! How did you get loose without tearing yourself to pieces?” she asked, imagining those sharp points biting viciously into his handsome body.

  His eyes narrowed and chilled, but he joked lightly, “I stayed real still until somebody came along and cut me free. Didn’t take but two days. I was so hungry and thirsty and mad by then, damage or naught, I would have broken myself free in another hour or two. Worst part was all those blood-sucking insects wanting a drink from me.”

  “How could anyone do such a despicable thing? Did you kill him?”

  T.J. withdrew a comb from his saddlebag and ran it through his ebony hair. “I caught two of them later and let them enjoy the same experience for a while. Their friend will cross my path one day and I’ll make certain he recalls who I am. As for their boss, I couldn’t prove he was involved, as if anyone would believe a notorious gunslinger over a respectable rancher. He even had a different kind of wire used on me so the evidence wouldn’t point a finger at him. But he’ll make another mistake some day, and I’ll be there to repay him. I know right where to find him and he isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Was he trying to kill you for some reason, or just torture you?”

  “Yep, I made a fool of him in front of others. A man doesn’t forget or forgive humiliation. He planned for me to rot at that tree, real slow and painful, but I fooled him.” T.J. chuckled coldly.

  “Why didn’t you sneak to his ranch one night and get revenge?”

 
“I’m letting him simmer and sweat. Fear is a perfect first course to a fine meal of vengeance. About the time he stops looking over his shoulder, I’ll be standing there. Guess that sounds pretty cold-blooded to a genteel lady like you, Miss Starns.”

  “No, it sounds like justice to me. Sometimes men have to take the law into their own hands to obtain it. Evil men don’t deserve to live.”

  “Lordy, woman; you think like me.”

  “Is that why your reputation says you take on villains the law is afraid to touch or can’t touch?”

  “It’s a job like any other, but one I seem to enjoy a lot,” he admitted. His gaze wandered over her lovely face and tousled hair. Her eyes were wide and alert, but enticingly soft. When she looked away, fell silent, and shifted her weight nervously, he knew he was making her uncomfortable with his stare. “We’d better get busy.”

  T.J. headed for the campsite beneath the fragrant mesquites and squatted by the fire ring. Carrie Sue’s gaze followed his retreat and lingered on his back for a time as he pulled items from his saddlebag. She sighed heavily and made a trip to the outhouse before going behind the stage to bathe and change clothes. She wanted to look her best when she entered Tucson later today, as the impression she made on the people there would be vital. With their grim baggage and tale to be exposed, their arrivals certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed; that worried her.

  At least she would look fairly well-rested. Actually, she was amazed at herself for sleeping so deeply; she hadn’t even noticed T. J.’s stirrings at dawn. Obviously she felt at ease with him. But, she wondered, should that please her or make her nervous? Merciful Heavens, it was scary to trust a stranger!

  She slipped off the dress, glad Carolyn was accustomed to dressing alone and had all of her garments made with buttons up the front. The only exception was an elegant gown and it wasn’t appropriate for her mission today. But at least she had a proper dress if a special occasion arose.