“Sheriff Wade is a lucky man to have won not only a beautiful woman but also a very generous one. I will do my best to fill your needs. With luck, I’ll have both answers for you when we meet again. It was a pleasure to meet such a charming and intelligent woman.”
Randee stood and shook the hand which was extended across the polished desk. “I look forward to doing business with you, sir. I shall return at ten o’clock on July fifth. Hopefully your news will be good.”
George Light leaned back in his chair after Randee’s departure. He absently scratched his taut groin as he envisioned the blonde beauty. He decided that his boss was indeed a very lucky man to have ensnared such a special creature, if indeed he had. George wasn’t so sure about that, as this female was very bright and clever. Thank goodness, he had been warned by one of Brody’s men to expect a visit from her soon, but not this soon. He had stalled her as ordered, but for how long?
Jackson Fuller came in the back door, a lopsided grin on his face. “So, that’s the boss’s little treasure. Can’t blame ‘im for wanting that writhing beneath him in a bed every night.”
“Remember your orders, Fuller; she isn’t to be harmed, only her partner in this silly chase. You have the poster on him?”
“Yep, in my saddlebag. His death will look real legal, and maybe it is. I got rid of that whore at the Pleasure Palace.. Simple as breathing,” he hinted and laughed coldly. “I guess she found it hard to catch her wind with a pillow over her painted face. Carl couldn’t risk being seen in town, so he let me get rid of her for ‘im. Must say, I wouldn’t have minded a piece of her before she went out so easily. I been tailing those two ever since they hit town Sunday afternoon. Hayden visited that newspaperman and stayed a long time, but I couldn’t get close enough to hear anything. The girl kept to her room all night, alone. ‘Course that don’t mean ain’t nothing between ’em.”
George Light swallowed his sour disgust with this repulsive killer-for-hire. If he had known so many people would be slain during this job, he wouldn’t have taken it. He had been led to believe people would be scared out, but not this horrible way. Now, he was as deeply involved as Brody Wade and that malicious gang. If they were exposed and hanged, he would be too. He would be glad when this scheme was over, the sooner the better. What did it matter if he was going to be a wealthy and powerful man, when he had so much blood on his hands? “Anything else?” he asked when Fuller didn’t move. He wanted this satanic bastard out of his office and life. The bounty hunter had no conscience; he enjoyed the pain and death of others. Yet, George Light hated to see Randee Hollis in Brody Wade’s control ….
Jackson Fuller commented dryly, “I had to ride all night and day to beat ‘em here. I’m tireder than a doggie who’s been stampeded for hours. Can’t rest yet ‘cause those two won’t stay put long. It’s my guess they’ll leave within the hour, and I’ll be on their butts. By dusk, Hayden will be dead; that’s a sure bet, Light.”
George scowled at the mention of his one weakness, the vice which had gotten him involved in this bloody mess. “Then, I suggest you get back to work, or they’ll sneak away before you know it.”
The bounty hunter boasted calmly, “Nobody escapes me, Light. I’ve captured or killed every man I’ve gone after. I’m the best; that’s why Wade hired me. I was trained by the Apaches, so I have skills most trackers only dream about possessing. Hayden don’t know it, but he’s a walking dead man. Too bad the boss wants that girl with him.”
“Make certain you don’t forget that point, Fuller, or you’ll be the walking dead man when Brody sends that gang after you.”
Fuller threw back his head and laughed sardonically. “Don’t tell me she teased your craw too. Don’t worry, Light, I ain’t met the woman who could make Jack Fuller forget himself.”
George Light had not seen or met Storm Hayden, so he did not realize or suspect that Brody’s nemesis was the same man whom he had met earlier as Jacksboro rancher Marsh Logan ….
Randee and Marsh camped early that night, a half day’s ride from Fort Worth. They had talked little after discussing her nonproductive meeting with George Light and leaving town immediately thereafter.
She glanced at Marsh as they dismounted and unpacked their supplies. He had been unusually quiet this afternoon and she wondered what was on his mind. To break the heavy silence, she asked, “Do you think George Light knows what he’s doing for this unknown boss? With all those false companies involved, maybe he doesn’t even know whom he’s actually working for.” When he remained silent and distracted, she asked, “Is that possible, Marsh?”
“Possible, yes, but probable, no,” he replied.
“Where to now?” she questioned, having failed to draw him out.
“I don’t know,” he confessed almost sullenly. “All we can do is ride around trying to get rid of more raiders while Willard continues his paper.trail and his investigation of Carl Bush and Foley Timms.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked tenderly. “You’re too quiet tonight.”
“I don’t like that business with Flossie. My gut instinct tells me someone is on to us. If I’m right …” He fell silent again. “I think I’ll take a swim to get rid of some of this restlessness.”
She watched him pull a bottle from his saddlebag and take several deep swallows of whiskey, an uncommon action for this strong male. As if forgetting her presence, he did not politely offer her a sip, although she would have refused that potent drink. Something had him worried, and that alarmed her. Yet, she tried to appear calm and confident and cheerful. With a wisdom beyond her years and experience, Randee was careful not to behave like a selfish or nagging woman by demanding he explain his moodiness.
Her father had told her long ago during one of their special talks, “When you’re trying to rope your sweetheart, Randee, remember that men aren’t like women when it comes to feelings. You women show yours and talk about them; men think they have to control theirs and be quiet about them, because that’s how we’re raised. Us boys are trained to hide our tender feelings and use self-control. We’re not supposed to show fear, pain, doubts, or flaws. That makes people think you’re less of a man, makes you think you’re less of a man. That may sound silly, daughter, but we can’t help ourselves. No matter what happens, we aren’t supposed to burden you womenfolk with any problems, no complaining or tears or whining about cruel fate. We’re supposed to be strong enough to handle anything. When trouble arises, we need to withdraw into our silent worlds to work through our feelings, to solve nasty situations, to deal with our failures. When your man does this, don’t har. ass him with questions and tears and pouting. Be kind, and patient, and understanding until he opens up to you. He’ll love you all the more for being so smart and unselfish. Don’t be provoked to intrude on his silent retreat. When women behave like that, I’m sorry to say, we’re bad about striking out in self-defense, because your reaction makes us feel weaker and more intimidated. A man constantly needs to prove his strength and. worth.”
As the blonde observed Marsh Logan and considered her father’s words, she decided they were wise, but so hard to obey. Yet, she would try..With a radiant smile, she told him, “I’ll start our supper while you get rid of that nervous energy, Logan. We’ll talk later, if you’re in the mood. If not, don’t worry about it.”
Marsh glanced at her and half grinned. “Only a smart woman knows when a man needs to be left alone. And you, Miss Hollis, are brilliant. Thanks. I’ll be back shortly.”
Randee watched his retreat, worried about him. He had to keep his wits sharp to avoid trouble, and they were anything but clear and active tonight. There was nothing she could do except wait for him to explain, if he cared to do so. She built a fire and began their meal.
Suddenly she was seized from behind, a strong arm imprisoning her throat and cutting off her breath. She felt a gun barrel pressed painfully between her shoulder blades and heard a frigid voice in her ear warn, “Be still and quiet, or you’re dead, Miss Hollis.”
The man did not release her. Instead, his grip tightened and she feared she was going to be strangled. Then, it loosened slightly. “If you don’t do what I say, this bullet has your name on it. Call your friend back to camp. Storm Hayden and me have a little problem.”
Randee grasped the name her assailant had used in speaking of Marsh, and the frightening use of her own name. She didn’t know what to do. If she called Marsh and didn’t warn him, her love could be slain, probably would be slain. If she did shout danger, the man would shoot her and still go after Marsh. “Wha-t d-do y-ou wa-nt?” she asked, struggling to get each word past her captive throat.
“Your friend out there owes me something, his life. It’s yours or his or both; your choice, Hollis,” he replied, his voice icy.
Horror seized her. “Why?” she questioned frantically.
“Money.”
“I do-n’t un-derst-and. What mon-ey?”
“He’s a wanted man, one with a big reward on his head.”
“Do you ha-have to ch-oke me?” she asked, twisting to loosen his grip so she could get more air in her lungs.
“When I let up, you best call him over, or your pretty ass is mine, bitch, if you catch my drift. Cross me, and I’ll get rid of you real slow and painful after I finish him off. Obey, and you go free. You have my word, woman; ‘cause you don’t interest me, just Hayden.”
“I should believe that?” she challenged after drawing a deep and ragged breath. No time to think, she had to listen closely.
“You got a choice?” he asked sarcastically.
“What if I pay you more than his reward to let us go free?”
“You ain’t got twenty thousand dollars on you, and I don’t trust nobody. Shut up and call him,” he demanded contradictorily, jabbing the gun barrel sharply into her back.
Suddenly Randee realized that Marsh might suspect trouble when she used his false name, so she yelled, “Storm! Storm Hayden, come quick! I’ve burned myself badly! Get over here! Pronto!”
Marsh appeared almost instantly— behind them, and with a gun in each hand. But the alert bounty hunter had not boasted falsely to George Light about his skills; anticipating and hearing Marsh’s stealthy approach, he had whirled and placed Randee between them.
“Drop ‘em, Hayden, or she’s dead.” He shoved his gun roughly against her spine and wiggled it, causing her to jerk backward and to scream in pain. Her captor laughed malevolently. “You might get me, but I’ll get her before you do. Lose the guns,” he ordered coldly.
For a time, Marsh held his ground—a few feet away—with only a blanket wrapped around his dripping body. Wet hair fell over his forehead, and his unshaven face looked hard. His blue eyes narrowed and his jawline grew taut, and he knew he had made an incredible error. The warning had been in her words and he had grasped it, but he had underestimated the prowess of this killer— a stupid and possibly fatal mistake. He cursed his blunder and hastily assessed the situation. He dared not shoot with Randee as the man’s shield, particularly with such a dangerous and alert bastard who was quick and agile. This opponent was highly trained, highly skilled, highly perilous. Here was a man hard to trick, one who couldn’t be bargained with or fought fairly. Marsh was too far away to risk attack, leaving him no way to defend his woman. Yet, he adopted a nonchalant stance and grinned. “Seems you caught me with my jeans down, partner. What’s the deal?”
“No deal, Hayden. If you want this woman to live, stay right where you are. No sudden moves or heroics. Your poster says you’re worth more alive than dead, so I’d like to take you in kicking. The guns, toss them toward me, real slow and careful, barrels first.”
Randee’s life depended on his unselfish decision. For now, Marsh knew he had no choice but to surrender, and that enraged him. He pointed his weapons downward and uncocked their hammers. Flicking his wrists, he let his revolvers slide through his hands so he could grip their barrels with his fingers and toss them on the ground. He watched the now useless weapons hit the hard earth, out of reach. The number one rule for being a survivor was never to give up your gun for any reason; this time, he had to break it because he knew the man would shoot Randee without a second thought.
“That’s better,” the man said smugly. “Kiss the ground with your belly,” came his second order, an even more embarrassing one. When Marsh obeyed, the man added, “Spread-eagle, Hayden!”
Marsh cursed his oversight of not concealing a knife behind his back. In that one moment of the man’s distraction from apparent victory, he could have … He ordered himself to clear his mind of debilitating intrusions. Swallowing his pride and mastering his fury, he stretched out, knowing how vulnerable and helpless the position made him. Before he could decide a course of action, the man threw Randee aside and struck him forcefully on the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. The last thing he heard was Randee’s scream ….
“Move one inch, woman, and you’re a goner.” Pulling a rope from his pocket, Jackson Fuller bent forward and begin to bind Marsh.
Randee rubbed her sore throat and coughed. She shifted to her knees as she pleaded, “If you let him go, I’ll give you the money. I have that much in a bank in Wadesville, also a valuable ranch. You can hide him somewhere until we fetch it. No tricks; I swear.”
As the bounty hunter turned to scowl at her, shaking his head, she fired the pistol which she had drawn from her boot. The bullet struck him in the heart. She fired again. A shocked look briefly crossed his face as he grabbed at his chest before he collapsed, dead.
Randee stared at his unmoving body as her respiration came in short, shallow gasps. Her hands went cold and started to shake. For a time, she couldn’t move or think. She had killed him, but he had given her no choice. Doubtlessly he would have slain both of them, or at least killed her beloved. Finally she crawled over to Marsh on watery legs. She checked his injury, blood staining her trembling fingers. Impelled into motion, she rushed to their saddlebags and withdrew a clean cloth. Grabbing a canteen, she returned to her love’s side. She washed the wound and bound it tightly. Retrieving a bedroll, she spread it beside Marsh and eased his limp frame onto it. She waited for him to rouse, avoiding a single glance at the body nearby.
Nearly a half hour later, Marsh moaned and stirred. As his keen wits cleared swiftly, he tried to bolt upward to challenge their attacker. Randee placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed him to the bedroll again, saying soothingly, “He’s dead, Marsh, relax. You have a nasty cut. and I don’t want it to start bleeding again.”
Marsh twisted his head and glanced at the body nearby, then looked at the pale woman sitting beside him. “What happened?”
Randee related her story in a quavering voice. “You wondered if I’d panic and if I could shoot a man. I guess I proved myself tonight.”
Marsh was concerned by the hollow sound of her voice and.the anguish in her green eyes. “You saved my life, Randee, but thanks doesn’t mean much at a time like this.”
“You were willing to do the same for me; that’s why you gave up your weapons. I tried to reason with him, tried to buy him off. He was going to kill us. I had to do it, didn’t I, Marsh?”
“Yes, love, you made the right choice,” he said comfortingly, then drew her down into his arms.
Time passed as neither spoke nor moved, only drew solace from each other’s embrace. Both had faced demanding moments-of-truth tonight, and both needed privacy to deal with them.
Marsh released her and sat up, saying. “I’ll get his body out of camp and check out the area. I’ve been real careless tonight, and I nearly got us killed. You stay alert and concealed until I return.”
Randee started to refute his guilt, but decided not to do so. Her words would only intensify his bad feelings, not remove them. As her father had revealed, Marsh needed time and silence to deal with this crushing failure. Admitting his weakness aloud had been difficult enough without her trying to appease him. His ego was bruised, his pride singed. He was unaccustomed to de
feat and to being rescued by another person, especially a mere woman. She let him leave without a word, and obeyed his orders while he was gone.
Tuesday and Wednesday they traveled, but sighted nothing suspicious. They rode, rested, ate, and camped in near silence. Randee kept telling herself to leave Marsh alone while he worked through his emotions, but it was difficult, frustrating, tormenting. Each hour, he seemed to become more guarded, more troubled, more driven … more elusive. She hated this distance and coolness between them. She had tried to be cheerful, supportive, considerate; she had done everything she could to let Marsh know she was there for him when he decided to relent. Nothing seemed to work in her favor.
Did Marsh blame her for his vulnerability, his stunning defeat? Didn’t he realize he wasn’t the only man with superior skills and prowess? Didn’t he realize that no mortal man was unconquerable, matchless, infallible? He was riled by his careless slip, by the one-sided battle. He knew he could have been slain; she could have been slain. Was that the first time this unique male had faced real death, real defeat?
Yet, if the only things between them were sex and stimulating adventures, they did not have enough for a good and permanent relationship. If they couldn’t talk, couldn’t console each other, couldn’t share the bad as well as the good— couldn’t reveal their innermost feelings to each other—their relationship was nothing more than a physical one. If that was true, they had no future together. How long should she be “kind, patient, and understanding”? How much time and energy, how much of herself, should she give to this … arrangement before she made certain it would grow, deepen, and last?
Marsh was so accustomed to keeping everything to’ himself and to being alone that he did not realize he was shutting Randee out completely, and seemingly coldly. He had so much on his troubled mind. He was certain that Brody Wade was behind that bounty hunter’s attack, and Marsh felt to blame for rashly exposing his Storm Hayden identity to that jealous bastard. But, was Brody’s order given for only Storm’s death? How could the sheriff be sure that his fiancee wouldn’t be injured or killed, possibly by accident, by his stone-hearted hireling? Was Brody’s only motive to get rid of him and to force Randee to go home to marry him? His answers depended upon how much Brody loved and wanted Randee, on whether or not the lawman had believed her story …. Then, that business with George Light had him plenty worried and baffled. Why had the lawyer hesitated, postponed a deal with Randee? And what was so damn special about the Carson Ranch!
Passions Wild And Free Page 36