Kiss Of The Night Wind

by Taylor, Janelle

  “Surely you can understand why I panicked when I found you and everything gone and didn’t see that note,” she entreated.

  He halted his chore to look at her. “I know all your secrets and I trust you, so why do you find it so difficult to trust me? Have I said or done anything to make you doubtful?” His gaze returned to the fire.

  She joined him on her knees, his profile to her. Her gaze slipped over his bronzed face, chest, and shoulders. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness. She released a deep breath whose intake she hadn’t noticed. She said in a rueful tone, “No, but I find it difficult to trust anybody, especially a man, except Darby and Kale. After all I told you last night, can you blame me?”

  He didn’t appear to soften and he didn’t meet her troubled gaze. “Nope, but Darby’s the one who got you into all this trouble, so why is he the only one you trust? Brother or not, he was wrong.” He didn’t mention the other man, but committed this information to memory.

  She was miffed. “You can’t blame him, T.J.; he didn’t twist my arm. I agreed to help him battle the Hardings. You know why.”

  He briefly glanced at her to check her expression. “Yep, you agreed to help him get justice and revenge on the Hardings, but you didn’t agree to become an outlaw, to do all those other crimes.”

  She reasoned, “Once Quade found out about us, which was my fault, we didn’t have any choice in our actions. We had to survive.”

  He poured her a cup of coffee and sat it nearby. He refuted, “Yes, you did have a choice, Carrie Sue, just like I do every time I’m tempted to break the law or I run into trouble. If you’d gone to the authorities, perhaps you could have gotten it straightened out before your landslide came.”

  She looked stunned, hurt. “Who would have believed us over the Hardings? They wouldn’t even investigate Darby’s charges after our parent’s deaths and the seizure of our ranch. Darby went to every law office he could think of, but no one would help us. We were young and scared and foolish. We didn’t think about going straight because of Quade’s pursuit and the crimes we’d committed. I’ll even admit that the boys found their new lives exciting. They were reckless and daring, and having fun together. It was like being caught in a flood; things kept pushing us onward to a waterfall. Once we were carried over it, we couldn’t fight our way upstream again.”

  T.J. realized he had to back down. “I guess you’re right, but it riles me how you were ensnared in this trap by Harding and your brother and you can’t get free. You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

  Carrie Sue misread his meaning. She thought he was angered because she was unavailable because of her past, a past for which Quade Harding was responsible. He even blamed Darby for her predicament. She asked, “Why did Quade have you barbwired to that tree?”

  He looked at her as if surprised by the change of subject. He shrugged. “We were in a poker game and I accused him of cheating. I caught him red-handed and he was humiliated. The bastard didn’t admit he was guilty. He tossed his winnings to the table, got up, and said the money wasn’t worth dying over and he wasn’t about to call me out over a silly misunderstanding. He just strolled out of there, red-faced. I couldn’t shoot him in the back, so I let him play the coward,” he related deviously. “Nothing makes a foe quicker than humiliation, and nothing settles that offense except death.”

  “Then what happened?” she pressed when he fell silent.

  As he worked on his task, he went on in a casual tone, “He didn’t want to use any of his men and he didn’t even use his brand of barbwire so it couldn’t be traced to his ranch. Since you’ve ranched, you know how many kinds of barbwire there are and most cattlemen prefer a certain brand. Curly James and two of his friends were in town, probably smarting from being tossed out of Darby’s gang. Quade hired them to do his dirty work.”

  “How did you know Quade was responsible? Is he your only enemy? And how did they get the drop on you? I wouldn’t think that possible.”

  “Curly boasted about how much Harding was paying him to get rid of me, in a very slow and painful way, one to give me plenty of time to suffer and to pray for death.” He paused a moment before saying, “I hate to confess it, but they took me by surprise while I was bathing. A woman helped them, so I have little reason to trust sly vixens,” he teased pointedly. “While I was in the tub without my weapons, the girl who was supposedly helping me scrub and fetch stuff, unlocked the door and made lots of noise while they slipped in.”

  “You let a woman bathe you?” she asked, astonished and jealous.

  He chuckled and seemed totally relaxed by now. “I heard it was a real nice pleasure, so I tried it, and I’m sorry I did. They caught me with my pants down and guns missing. I was knocked unconscious, taken out the back way, and pinned to that tree with wire stickers.”

  “Does Quade know you’re still alive?” she asked worriedly.

  “I don’t think so. No, I’m certain of it.” He related what the Ranger had done, but as if he had taken that precaution. “I stole a drunk’s body and dressed him in my clothes and put him in my place. I figured by the time Harding checked on me, if he ever did, wouldn’t be anything left but bones and clothes.”

  “What if Quade went back too soon and realized it wasn’t you?”

  “If that problem exists, I’ll deal with it later. We both have a debt against Quade, and one day I’ll settle it for us when he least suspects it.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and sipped it.

  “Something I don’t quite understand, T.J.: with your reputation, how would Quade not know that you’re still alive?”

  “Because I left the area right after I got loose and replaced myself on that tree. I’ve been tracking Curly and his two friends since I healed. I got them all, one by one, just like they deserved. I doubt Harding knows I’m still around and plotting revenge.”

  “If he does, he’ll be sending someone after you. Quade doesn’t give up on something he wants. Those detectives will track you down just like they tracked me down several times. As with me, Quade knows what you look like and can provide your description.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to take care of him sooner than I planned. In fact, I’ll probably do him under when we reach Brownwood. I’ll turn you over to your brother and I’ll go after Harding. That way, he’ll be off both our backs for good. It’s a shame I didn’t take care of him before he released your description. I was heading back to Brownwood after I finished off Curly James, but I met a distraction.”

  She smiled warmly. “I wish you had. Then, I’d still be a schoolmarm in Tucson. I’d have been free forever.”

  “I guess that’s something else for you to hold against me.”

  She asked, “What do you mean by something else?”

  His gaze locked with hers. “Evidently you’ve got something against me because you can’t seem to trust me.”

  She caressed his smoothly shaven cheek and vowed, “I promise I won’t ever mistrust you again.”

  “We’ll see,” he hinted, then returned her smile. “We have a long way to ride together, woman. I’m afraid the next time something strange comes up, you’ll forget this promise.”

  She stroked his jawline with the back of her hand. “I swear I won’t.”

  “I’ll be counting on you, Carrie Sue, because there will be times when you’ll have to get me out of trouble. I have to know I can depend on you like you can depend on me.”

  “You can, T.J. honestly.” She leaned forward to kiss him.

  He imprisoned her face between his hands and kissed her with a hunger greater than the one in his belly. Suddenly smoke and a sizzling noise caught their attention. They jerked apart to find their meal about to be ruined. They laughed and hurried to save it.

  When they finished eating and cleaning up, T.J. repacked their supplies while she dressed nearby with her back to him. She pulled on jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved faded blue shirt. She strapped on her holster, checked her weapons as
usual, and told him she was ready.

  “We’ll leave the bodies where they are. No better place for an evil man to be buried forever than in total darkness. We’ll take the horses along for a while. If we release them here, they might find their way home or back to town. I don’t want anyone in Tucson to be alerted to a problem and begin a search. By the time Martin Ferris and his sidekick are missed, we’ll be long gone.”

  Carrie Sue agreed. She twirled her long braid and tucked it beneath her hat. Taking Charlie’s reins, she led the brown and white pinto outside. T.J. joined her with Nighthawk and the other two horses. She noticed only bridles on them as she mounted.

  “Let’s try to put this area behind us again,” he murmured.

  They headed down the Old Spanish Trail. When they reached the road into Tucson, he didn’t have to slow down because they could see for miles in both directions.

  T.J. halted. He pointed southeastward and said, “You ride toward those mountains while I hang back to cover our tracks. Use the terrain to set your pace, and I’ll catch up soon.” He passed the two horses reins to her. “Keep your canteen handy. This ride will be slow and hot, and we don’t want to halt until necessary.”

  Carrie Sue left the road and headed across country at a sluggish pace, weaving her way around mesquites and scrubs and cactus. It didn’t take long for the morning sun to get high enough to cause sweat to ease down her face and slide down her stomach from beneath her breasts. Riding toward the sun created a glare in her eyes which was too low for her hat to prevent. Her eyes soon grew weary and red from the dryness and squinting. The terrain jostled her in the saddle, almost as badly as the stage ride had done weeks ago. Time passed, but she couldn’t sight her lover when she halted a moment and twisted in her saddle to look behind her. She scanned the area in all directions and saw nothing moving. She continued, trying to ignore the heat.

  She traveled alone for two hours before T.J. joined her. She smiled and said, “Everything all right back there?”

  “Stop a minute while I take these coverings off Nighthawk’s hooves. The Apaches taught me this trick to conceal tracks.”

  She watched him dismount, untie the leather squares, and pack them. He glanced up at her and grinned. “That should protect us for a time, unless somebody hires another Apache scout. Won’t fool him.”

  T.J. took the reins of Martin’s and Jess’s horses. They headed off again, with her lover in the lead. They passed north of the Santa Rita Mountains and rode for the Whetstones. They halted there to rest and eat strips of jerky, which wasn’t her favorite meal.

  As if establishing a new rapport after the incident this morning, they talked little as they moved along beneath the blazing sun and through the difficult terrain. It was dark when they reached the San Pedro River and stopped to camp.

  “When we head out at dawn, we’ll leave Ferris’s horses here near water and grass. Why don’t you freshen up after that hot ride while I tend ours? It’s cold beans tonight, woman, because I don’t want anyone seeing a fire and coming to investigate.”

  “That’s fine. Think a bath is too risky?” she inquired.

  “Yep. It’ll have to wait until we’re camped in the Chiricahuas. Lots of water there, cool and pretty area. We’ll stay there a few days to rest,” he murmured as if visualizing a dreamy setting. “Stay dressed and ready to take off like a hare before a coyote. I’m going to take off the saddles, rub ‘em down a bit, and resaddle them for a fast getaway. We can’t take any chances tonight, woman.”

  Carrie Sue caught the underlying meaning of his words, no lovemaking. She followed his suggestions, knowing he was right.

  The redhead removed her shirt at the riverbank, rinsed off, dried with it, then donned a clean one. The nights were cooler, sometimes chilly, so a clean, dry shirt would feel better tonight. She removed her boots, rolled up her pant legs, and dangled her feet in the water. Afterwards, she dried them and replaced her boots on soothed feet.

  Carrie Sue returned to where T.J. had lain out their bedrolls, side-by-side. She sat on hers and ate the beans, warmed only by the sun, and washed them down with water and one sip of whiskey to put a more pleasant taste in her mouth for the night. She tried to wash the dishes, but T.J. insisted on that task.

  “I’m used to taking care of chores around camp, so I don’t mind. Besides, I want to freshen up, too,” he remarked, then peeled off his damp shirt and tossed it on his saddlebag. He headed for the riverbank.

  Carrie Sue reclined. She commanded her heart to stop racing madly and her mind to stop thinking up reckless ways to seduce him tonight. She craved him fiercely, but lovemaking here was too dangerous. She eagerly looked forward to those cool and secluded mountains ahead.

  She closed her eyes and fantasized about her irresistible partner. She reflected on their sensual nights together, and longed to repeat those blissful sensations. Maybe she could slow this trip to Darby and spend as much time with her love as possible before something parted them. The desperado could not imagine what her brother was going to say when she suddenly appeared in his camp, without or with her lover. T.J. was doing exactly what he had promised, defending and helping her, but she wanted more from him, so much more. Slowly she drifted off to sleep with images of them dancing peacefully in her head.

  T.J. found her asleep when he reached his bedroll. He gazed down at her and intense longings surged through him. She was right about him tricking her with that note. He knew how brave and strong and smart she was, so he had to prove to her how alone and vulnerable she was without him. He had used that situation to scare her, to panic her, to push her closer to him. He had noticed how, even though she was righthanded, she always grasped her blanket and threw it aside with her left hand. And, even though the fire had been to her left, it was too far away to entice her to change her habit, as neither slept close enough to the fire for a spark to jump on their bedrolls.

  Before they reached Darby’s camp, he had to find other ways to eat up her remaining mistrust, which he was certain still existed. He had to make their bond so powerful that, if trouble arose for him in that outlaw’s haven, she would side with him against those murdering bandits, even against her brother. He felt that she was falling in love with him and he needed to strengthen that bond. He planned to do just that while they were camped in the Chiricahua Mountains for days.

  There were baffling parts of this mission which he needed to know, but it would create more suspicions if he probed them even casually. No matter what she said or thought about her brother’s character and intentions, Darby Stover was a cunning outlaw who had to be stopped any way possible.

  T.J. stretched out on his bedroll and tried to relax. He wished he could tell her the truth and obtain her help, but he doubted she would ever betray her only brother. Even if he could dangle a pardon beneath her beautiful nose, she probably wouldn’t aid him.

  A pardon for her aid, his keen mind stressed. He knew that wasn’t possible, but should he pretend it was? If offered her freedom and a life with him, would she take his side and help defeat her own brother and his gang? T.J. asked himself if he could accept such rewards if it meant betraying and killing his brother Tim. He tried to put himself in her place, and Tim in Darby’s. In all honesty, what would he do if his trickery meant earning a pardon and winning her? Could he live with himself afterwards? Would he come to despise himself, and her for tempting him to such treachery? Would it make a difference to him if Tim had killed her family? He couldn’t answer.

  Lordy, what was he doing in love with a woman like Carrie Sue Stover? How could she seem so innocent, so gentle, so kind and caring when she had been an outlaw for years? How could she not have been touched, tainted, by such a lengthy existence? Those big periwinkle eyes and rosy gold face appeared to glow with purity and warmth, but what if she had learned to use her special traits to her advantage? What if he was totally wrong about her? What if she was the one using and duping him? She had been ready and willing to kill him this morning! She had play
ed Carolyn Starns with a skill to be envied by the best actress! Lordy, what if she was just like her brother?

  You’re grabbing for a dust devil, Thad, and it can’t be captured. All it will do is dirty your hands and choke you. Forget this nonsense until your mission’s over and you discover the truth. If she isn’t guilty, you’ll find a way to save her from prison and the rope, even if she refuses to forgive you and stay with you. But what in blue blazes will you do if she is guilty? Or if you get her killed by accident? He couldn’t answer those questions, either…

  The following day, they traveled between the Dragoon Mountains where Naiche’s camp had been and Tombstone, a town known for its savageness. Since that wild town was Ike Canton’s domain, they didn’t linger there. The ride was long and hard because T.J. was determined not to halt before reaching their enticing campsite.

  After telling her it was sixty miles, he reminded her that an Apache warrior could run on foot under these same conditions to cover seventy miles in one day, so covering less by horse would be easier.

  Many times they were allowed by the terrain to ride side-by-side at a leisurely gallop; other times, they were compelled to ride single file through scrubs and desert vegetation at a snail’s pace. Often T.J. scanned all directions with his fieldglasses, as one could see for miles in this area. Even though they were far from the road, he didn’t want to take any chances of their dust attracting unwelcome visitors.

  The sun was behind them now. It beat down unmercifully on their bodies, urging them to continually sip water to prevent dehydration. They steadily journeyed, eating away the miles to their destination. Yet, they were careful not to overtire or overheat the horses.

  Carrie Sue sensed her flesh burning beneath the garments. She couldn’t remove her hat to cool her head or roll her sleeves to cool her arms as the sun would attack her fiercely. She rubbed her salty brows with the backs of her forefingers, and winced when the tiny balls of fire drifted into her eyes. When they teared, she blinked to help wash away the stinging sensation. She felt sticky all over, and a salty residue was left behind by her perspiration—moisture which dried almost instantly everywhere except on her clothes. She wondered if steam could rise from her head which seemed saturated by boiling liquid, as was her hatband. She wished she could pull off her boots if only for a few minutes and pour water over her scorching feet. She was miserable, but she never complained to her partner or slowed their progress.