A tear slid from her eye. "No, Trent, no. This is not what I wanted."
Turning, she ran from the building and he watched her slip away knowing he was the biggest damn fool in Texas.
Darkness cloaked the little town with only lights from the homes and saloon lighting the street. Sitting across from Meg and Zach at their dinner table, Caroline pleaded her case. "Isn't there anything you can do to help him?"
"Because he turned himself in, the judge will probably go lenient on him, but still he rode with that band of outlaws."
They would once again think her inept when she told them everything, but she believed in herself and while it would hurt, it didn't matter. "When we met, I tried to arrest him as Frank, but he denied he was that man. Took me in, fed me, let me take a bath. Then on my first bounty, he saved me. On my second, we worked together, but I was in charge. He's protected me so much."
Meg patted her on the hand. "We're so proud of you, Caroline. You've done well. Take a breather and rest."
"I can't," she said, looking between them. "This is not what I wanted to happen. I've suspected for quite a while he was Frank, but I didn't think he would turn himself in when we came to town. My plan was to talk to you, Zach, and find out what you recommended."
"As much as you hate it, he's going to have to face a judge, who is the only government official who can reduce his sentence for good behavior, but don't get your hopes up."
Biting her bottom lip, she stared at her cousin's husband knowing he was a law-abiding lawman, but for once she wanted him to cheat. For her. No, it would not be right, but Trent didn't deserve prison either.
"What is it about this man that makes you so certain he's a decent man?"
"Let's see, from the elderly woman who cooks for him and cleans his house. His housekeeper told me that she would be living in the streets except for the generosity of Mr. Trent. The way he protected me from death on the first hunt. The way he defended me when Smithy thought he would give me a good time. Plus, hasn't he suffered enough for his misdeeds?"
Picking at her food, she just wanted to go to the hotel, crawl in bed and rest for days. Never before had she felt so discouraged.
The glass pane downstairs shattered and the adults jumped to their feet.
"Sheriff," screamed a voice in the street. "They're breaking down the jail."
Zach grabbed his holster, buckling it around his hips, his feet moving toward the door.
"Zach Gillespie, you be careful," Meg said, following him down the stairs. "Don't get yourself killed."
"Don't you leave this house, you understand," he said. "Love you."
The man disappeared through the door as they both stared out the broken window at the chaos in the street. The peaceful little town appeared more like a war zone with smoke billowing around the buildings. With so much haze, it was impossible to tell which building burned and which didn't.
A quick glance at her cousin, Caroline moved toward the door. "He's right. You stay here. I'm going to help."
"Caroline," Meg yelled. "Come back here."
Just then their daughter started crying and Meg hurried to comfort her child while Caroline slipped out the door.
Men from the saloon poured into the street, fists flying. Flames and smoke surrounded the jail and she rushed toward the building. In the distance, she spied Zach fighting a man.
While everyone focused on the street fight, she ran into the burning building where Trent sat behind bars.
"Trent?" she cried, her pulse pounding. Nothing.
Fearful of what she'd find, she opened the door. A wall of smoke billowed at her. From what little she could see, there was a gaping hole in the back wall of the building. Almost like someone had used dynamite. Two cells were empty and, at first, she couldn't find Trent. A breeze from outside cleared the air enough and she saw him swinging from a rope.
Her heart slammed into her throat as she screamed. "No..."
In the heat, she ran to the desk and searched for the key, finally, locating it in a drawer. Running over to the bars, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Sliding a chair beneath his feet, she climbed on the chair and cut the cord from around his neck. Trying to support his weight against her own body, she held him.
"Trent," she screamed and hit him in the face. "Breathe, damn you, breathe."
Gasping, he opened his eyes and stared at her in shock as he struggled to put his legs underneath him. The fire crackled and popped, growing by the second. The roof above them groaned under the fire alerting her it would collapse.
With seconds ticking by, they had to leave, now.
"Come on," she said, watching as he shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs.
Jumping down from the chair, she took hold of his hand and helped him down. Again, he took a deep breath and coughed. The smoke rolled through the building like a cobra snake, thick and making it increasingly hard to see.
Her lungs were burning from the embers floating in the room and her eyes watered from the fire.
"Grab my papers," he said, his voice hoarse, pointing to a stack of pages lying on the cot. What was so important about these papers? Why was he always concerned about them?
Tugging on his hand, she pulled him out of the cell, through the office and into the night where the fights in the street still raged.
Glancing up, she witnessed James crouching on the top of the bank watching, his rifle in his hands.
"The bank is being robbed," she cried, running toward the building, slinking along the walls, hoping the outlaw wouldn't notice her. No lights shone from the building, but still, they must be inside. These men were known robbers and what better way to rob a small town.
"Is there a side entrance," Trent croaked.
"Yes," she said.
"Wait here and I'll drive them to you." Grabbing one of her Colts, Trent entered the bank.
"Trent," she called as she watched him running into danger. "Be careful."
But he was already gone with only six shots in his gun and no extra ammunition. God help him if he needed more.
Standing to the side of the front door, she couldn't help but think about that time in Dyersville, with Ruby and her husband Deke, and how at the end they had put her on a stage and sent her home, telling her she needed more instruction before she became a bounty hunter.
This time she would do better. She would protect this man she was falling in love with. She would protect him until she took her last dying breath.
Two men stormed out the door, their hands raised in the air and she stood in front of them, her Colt aimed at their heads. Seeing Trent walk out behind them, relief spread through her.
"Don't move."
Their eyes bugged out at the vision of Caroline, standing in front of them, her Colt at the ready. But Trent was right behind them. Yanking their weapons from their holsters, he took a rope a man tossed him and tied their wrists together.
"Sheriff," she cried.
Zach turned to locate the noise and that's when Caroline remembered James. "Trent, the roof."
In horror, she observed as James pointed the rifle at Zach, but before he could pull the trigger, Trent fired, hitting him in the hand in almost the identical spot as Smithy’s.
The man squealed in the cold, night air like he was dying. There was a possibility he might be missing a few digits, but she didn't think he was dying just yet.
The sheriff came rushing over. "What happened."
"His Winchester was aimed at you, so I thought it best if I stopped him," Trent told the lawman.
He frowned like he couldn't quite believe it. "What about the bank?"
The bank president walked through the door in his undershirt, smiling. "This young man saved us. Those outlaws were forcing me to open the safe, but he picked them off one by one, not killing them, just nicking them until finally they started running."
The man slapped Trent on the back. The banker might be gushing a little less if he knew Trent's past.
"At
the front door, he told them to freeze. Because of his quick actions, our money is safe. We can't thank him enough."
Confused, Caroline glanced at the destruction in the street. Up and down the lane, men were putting out small fires.
"What happened?"
"There was a street brawl and it looks like they bombed the jail and then set it on fire," Zach said.
"It's called a diversion tactic," Trent said, his voice croaking. "The street skirmish is to keep your attention off the jail and the bank."
Gazing at Trent, she asked. "How many of the gang members escaped?"
With a sigh, he looked at Zach and Caroline. "Smithy got away and I didn't see Butch. That coward is probably waiting somewhere on the edge of town."
A trickle of fear scurried down Caroline's spine. That horrible Smithy she would shoot on sight. No questions asked. Never again would he put his hands on her.
"Those bastards hung Trent in his cell. If I hadn't gone to release him, he would be dead," she said, her voice choking.
From the grimace on his face, she realized Trent's leg was hurting him as he leaned a little to the right instead of standing tall. Time to get him off his feet. And she didn't care what Zach said, he was not going into another jail cell, wanted or not.
"We'll be checked in at the hotel. You know where to find us," she said, walking over and wrapping his arm around her, helping him as they limped away.
After saving Zach's life tonight, stopping the robbery at the bank and keeping the thieves from getting away, he deserved some time to rest.
Chapter 13
When the explosion went off, Trent thought his life was over and he would never see Caroline again. Especially when in walked Butch and the rest of the gang. But instead of shooting him, Smithy thought they should hang him, like how they would have died if they stayed in jail.
Though Trent tried to fight them off, there was nothing he could do and they put the rope around his neck and kicked the chair out. He placed his fingers between his throat and the cord until he passed out.
Though his body was screaming for rest, his mind craved Caroline's touch. Like a dying man, he needed her. As the door closed on the hotel room, they came together.
"Thank you," he said, pulling her into his arms. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
Sighing, he walked her to the bed and together they sank down. Holding her hand, he stared into her eyes, drifting in their sapphire gaze.
"Two years ago, Butch, the leader of the Jones Boys learned that I wrote stories. After sneaking into my saddle bags, he read my story and understood I was writing about the gang. For reasons I don't understand, he believed I was talking to law officials. Yes, the tales were things I witnessed, but I changed the names and no one was the wiser."
This should be easy to tell her, but he didn't want her pity. All he wanted and needed was her love. Though he never intended to, he had fallen in love with Caroline. Loved her soft fierceness, the way she fought for those she cared about, and her determination to be a self-sufficient woman.
"What happened," she asked.
"Butch shot me in the leg and chest before he rode off leaving me for dead."
A cry escaped her throat.
"That's what happened to your leg."
"Yes. A man came along and found me. Two days later, when I came too, I was at the surgeons who saved my life. This is why my leg is still weak. I almost lost it that day."
Slipping her arms around him, she held him and he never felt more wanted.
"Since that time, I've tried to live using my real name, hiding from them, hoping they never found out I was still alive. Until we crossed paths with Smithy in Smithville."
Desperation had him clinging to her. Greedily, his lips covered hers as despair clawed at him. The very moment he dreaded, meeting up with the man who wanted him dead, had been thrust upon him tonight. Unable to escape, he thought he would never see her again.
An urgency surged through his blood, thundering in his ears, reverberating through his soul. This woman who tempted him, tantalized him, and made his body heat with a need he never experienced was his for the taking. Like a sweet cupcake, Trent knew he couldn't resist her.
With a sigh, his mouth plundered hers as he melded her savory body to his. Need exploded through him, his hands were everywhere, touching her, desiring her. In a blinding way, he wanted her to chase the demons from his consciousness, clear the voices from his mind and clear his doubts away.
Like a flower, her mouth opened and he caressed the inside of her lip, then swept through, insistent and urgent. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him, pressing her womanly body against him, seeking what he was more than happy to supply.
Needing the contact of her lips to his, he overlaid his once again, nipping at her bottom lip, drinking her delicious nectar.
Leaning back, he pulled her down on the bed, he curled around her, wrapping her in his arms.
The necessity to be next to her, to fondle her, almost overwhelmed him. Though his thoughts were irrational, the need to somehow absorb as much of her in one night as he was capable of rode him hard. Because he didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
Twice, they'd attempted to kill him and failed, who knew if the third time they would be successful. Besides, Butch would never give up. Sooner or later, they would find a way to end his life.
His fingers skimmed down the front of her dress, cupping her breast, kneading the rounded mound, while he ached to wrap his lips over her nipple.
This time he wanted to linger over her body, explore her, relish in her luscious curves. This time had to be special. This time needed to last him a lifetime and then some, because he was one well-placed bullet away from being gone.
Sweet Caroline tasted of erotic dreams and lazy mornings, and if this was a dream, he didn't want to awaken if Caroline was not in his bed, lying beneath him. Trailing his lips down her neck, across her silken shoulder, as his hands worked at the buttons of her blouse.
Fumbling with the clasps, she brushed his hand away. Quickly she undid the fasteners and opened the bodice of her gown. Smiling, he became entranced in her hot blue eyes.
Until she pulled his mouth down to her lips, collecting his attention once again while kissing him hungrily. Reaching inside, his hand tenderly plucked her nipple from her chemise, the pebbled kernel hard and wanting, just like him.
Reluctantly, he released her rich mouth and continued his exploration down her chest, leaving a trail of moist kisses across her sensitive flesh.
If only he'd met her before the Jones Boys. If only he hadn't been such a reckless man. If only he could change the past and make her his in every sense of the word.
Encircling her nipple with his fingers, he moved closer and closer until finally he flicked his tongue across the taut pebble. Caroline arched her back, pressing the kernel at him, demanding more. As he suckled her breast, his mouth teasing and taunting her, she moaned an earthy sound.
From the very beginning, Caroline attracted him, intrigued him. Yet, he laughed at how she had the shakiest revolver ever seen. All she had been trying to do was find her own way in this harsh world.
He opened her chemise wider when her shirt got in the way. Finally, she pushed him aside and sat up on the edge of the bed. Standing, she turned her lips up in a tantalizing smile that left him breathless.
Slowly, she peeled the material from her body and stood before him in her chemise hanging down to her knees. Through the filmy fabric, her breasts beckoned him.
Caroline unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the floor in a pool at her feet as she daintily stepped out. Her drawers peeked out from her chemise as she turned and pulled the loose garment over her head.
Anxious, he watched as she faced him in nothing but her pantaloons. Gasping at the sight of her beauty, pleased she was no shrinking violet, he wanted her with a passion that could not be denied.
Holding out his hand, she placed her palm in his and
he pulled her into bed, determined not to let her out again.
But Caroline had other ideas as she promptly shoved him out.
"Uh-uh. It's your turn now," she indicated with a wave of her hand, pointing at his pants. "Lose 'em."
Reclining in bed, her dark hair splayed across the pillows, a smile creased her face. "What are you waiting for, cowboy? Dawn?"
Gone was the shaking virgin. This woman wanted it all, and was giving her body to him like he always dreamed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he yanked his boots off. When he finished, she pushed him away.
Catching on quickly, she grinned and settled more firmly into the mattress. "I'm waiting."
Gritting his teeth in agony as he tried to prolong the suspense as long as possible, he straightened and loosened another button on his pants. Testing the strength of the remaining button, his penis strained, begging for release.
With a quick glance and a naughty smile, Trent unhooked the last fastener. Turning his back to her, he shucked his trousers revealing his back to her.
Crawling on the bed beside her, he pulled her against his bare skin, reveling in the feel of her smooth flesh.
"The waiting is over," he whispered against her ear. "For both of us."
Nothing should be impeding him as he yanked off her drawers, sending the garment flying to the floor. Naked before him, his fingertips advanced their path down past her waist to the thatch of hair between her thighs. Soft and silky and oh-so-warm and wet, just for him.
Why had she trusted him when she'd obviously known he was Frank? Why had she chosen him to lie with rather than waiting for a husband? As much as he wanted to marry her, he couldn't. Not until the members of the Jones Boys were dead and after he served his prison sentence.
"Trent," she said in a quiet, seductive voice as his fingers delved into her silken depths.
Gently, he cupped the center of her being while his lips nibbled on her earlobe, skimming down her neck, her creamy shoulders, kissing her satiny skin, caressing her folds. Like a cat, she bowed her back against his hand, craving more.
In the glow of the lantern, he felt her heated surrender as he stroked her until she called his name. Quickly he silenced her with a kiss.
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