All I Need Is You (24 page)

D
amian was having a real hard time traveling with Jack Curruthers, despising him as much as he did. Being certain that the man was heading for a prison sentence after his trial didn’t help much. He’d stolen from a company, but rather than just run with the money, as most thieves would, he had tried to place the blame elsewhere and ordered a man’s death because of it, turning theft into murder.

Curruthers deserved whatever the courts dealt him. But Damian didn’t deserve to have to suffer his constant company on the long trip back to New York.

Jack didn’t show an ounce of remorse. He smirked, goaded, and bragged of his crime every chance he got. And in the parlor car on the train, there was no way for Damian to escape his presence. A gag could be shoved in his mouth, but the goading was still there in his owlish eyes.

Which was why, in St. Louis, Missouri, Damian left the train to find another parlor car, one
with a separate compartment that Jack could be locked away in. Out of sight—at least partially out of mind. And he found just what he was looking for, a car with a separate bedchamber. Unfortunately, Damian was gone for several hours, arranging for the rental—the car had an in-city owner—and the delivery. By the time he returned, Jack had escaped.

It was the last thing Damian had expected to happen at this point. He had taken precautions against it. Jack had been chained hand and foot, shackles obtained from the Culthers sheriff, as well as the foot chain being secured to one of the bolted-down benches. And the car had been locked with a key, only the porter who serviced it having a duplicate.

The porter wasn’t under suspicion. He had had an obvious aversion to Jack after hearing about his crimes, and besides, he’d taken the opportunity of the train’s being in the city for the night to visit relatives he had here. Damian was quick to find several witnesses, one who had heard the noise in the car, which had been the breaking of the bench, and another who had seen Jack tumble out of one of the windows and hobble away. He was gone, and St. Louis was a large city, easy for him to find places to hide.

Damian immediately reported his loss to the local police, who were quite helpful, but not to the extent of finding Curruthers. After three days of dead ends, he telegraphed the detectives he’d used in New York; they put him in touch with contacts of theirs in St. Louis.

It still took another week before a definite trail was found, one leading directly to Chicago, Il
linois. Apparently Jack had given up on losing himself in the vast openness of the West. He was going to try a huge city now, and Chicago ranked right up there in size with New York.

This certainly wasn’t how Damian had figured he would experience Chicago for the first time. In the back of his mind was the fact that his mother was there somewhere, but he managed to keep that out of his conscious thoughts. Maybe someday he would look for her, but he had too many other things on his mind to even consider it on this trip.

Casey, now, was a lot less easy to keep out of his thoughts—was constantly in them, actually. He was still angry at the way she had taken off without a bit of warning, simply sneaked out of the room they’d been sharing in the middle of the night. No good-bye. No chance to speak of meeting up again in the future…or anything else.

He had decided to talk to her about their marriage—or rather, their divorce. He wasn’t displeased that Bean had “unhitched” them. He’d just been furious that the judge had again forced a legality on them without asking. And that marriage had been a farce anyway. He’d been planning to take his pride in hand and ask for a real one. But Casey hadn’t given him a chance.

Just hours after getting her money for finishing the job he’d hired her for, she’d run off. Which pretty much proved how eager she had been to part company with Damian. She couldn’t even wait for morning to roll around. Nor had she been on the train when it had pulled out. He’d checked every car, hoping to
find her, before he even went to collect Jack, who’d been stored in the local jail for the night.

Now, several weeks later, he was still stewing over her departure, and with time on his hands—the detectives had been adamant about not wanting an amateur tagging along with them—he had nothing to do
but
stew. At least when Casey had been searching for Jack, Damian had been actively involved, had even felt somewhat useful—occasionally.

When the thought occurred to him, Damian jumped on it like a starving man on a haunch of beef. Casey ought to be here in Chicago with him. He’d paid her ten thousand dollars to bring Jack to justice, but Jack was eluding justice again. Damian had
not
gotten his money’s worth.

But how was he going to find her when he didn’t know where she lived, didn’t even know her full name? Even the name he called her wasn’t hers; it came from the K.C. initials she used, which she had probably taken from the brand on her horse for lack of better inspiration the first time she’d been pressed for a signature.

There
was
that brand on Old Sam…

Bucky Alcott had sent Casey off to that ranch near Waco to look for her roots. Damian had dismissed that as a wild-goose chase, considering he knew she hadn’t bought the horse from the K.C. Ranch but had received it as a gift from her father. Yet that ranch was the only clue Damian had, since she had never once mentioned anything about her home that would point to its location.

It gave him something useful to do, heading
back to Texas. There was another reason he was going, but he was still too angry to admit that, even to himself. Yet because he didn’t have much real hope of actually finding Casey, he figured he would probably just be wasting his time.

But wasting his time was preferable to sitting in his hotel room waiting for the detectives’ daily progress reports, which were monotonously the same—no leads yet. Jack had lost himself in Chicago, was smart enough not to use his real name this time. And how did you find a needle in a haystack, which was what he was in a city so big?

Surprisingly, Damian had every confidence that Casey would know how.

I
t was a mansion by any standards, the K.C. ranch house. Damian had thought he was coming to another town when he saw it and the surrounding buildings from a distance. It was like no ranch he’d seen before in his travels in the West, and he’d passed by many.

He was impressed and yet disappointed by its huge size, since a ranch so obviously successful would probably have no record or recollection of a single horse a young girl had named Old Sam, purchased by her father many years ago. Even if they did keep that type of record, he didn’t know her father’s name either.

He’d been hoping someone might remember the man from the description Damian could offer, but now he seriously doubted it. They must sell dozens of horses here every month. The many stables he could see as he got closer suggested they bred them as well as cattle.

He still had to try. Whoever had sold the horses here five or six years ago might have an excellent memory
and
still might be working
here. And someone as dangerous-looking as Casey’s father appeared to be, when Damian had seen him that day in Fort Worth, had a better chance of being remembered than an average buyer.

He’d rented a horse in Waco after getting directions to the K.C. Ranch. Funny how he had done it without much thought, hadn’t even looked for a buggy to rent instead. But now he actually felt comfortable on a horse, something he would never have imagined a year ago.

There was a very long, wide porch on the front of the house. Two hitching rails, just as long, spread out on each side of the stairs leading up to the porch. Damian tethered his horse to one before approaching the front door.

While he waited for his knock to be answered, he faced the front of the porch. There wasn’t much to see out there but open plains, cactuses, and the occasional tree—then he realized the porch faced westward. And he’d seen some of the incredible sunsets they had in this part of the country. The porch must be extremely relaxing at the end of a hard day’s work, with such a magnificent view. The many chairs and tables scattered along its length said a number of the ranch folks here probably took advantage of that serenity.

The door opened. A quite handsome, middle-aged woman stood there; her light brown eyes were vaguely familiar, though in Damian’s nervousness he couldn’t think why. His hope of finding Casey through this place wasn’t high, yet it was the only chance he had. It was because
he would find out today, one way or the other, that had him so nervous.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked curiously.

Damian doffed his hat and cleared his throat. “I’m looking for a young woman who rides a horse that came from this ranch—or at least, it was branded here.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know her real name,” he admitted. “Her father purchased the horse for her, probably about five years ago. And no, I don’t know his name either. But I was hoping someone here might remember him and know who he is, maybe even where he lives.”

She seemed to be waiting to hear more, but when no more was forthcoming, she said, “A lot of horses get sold here. Is there anything special about the horse that might distinguish it? Or anything unusual about the man who purchased it? Without a name, it’s going to be pretty hard to—”

“I can describe him,” Damian interrupted, though he didn’t mean to, had just realized he should have said so right off. “He’s probably about as tall as I am.”

“Well, that helps,” the woman said with a grin. “Since you’re quite a bit taller than average.”

Damian smiled back, feeling slightly more at ease. “He’s got black hair that he may or may not wear extremely long. The one time I saw him, it was very long, but that was recently. He’s probably in his mid-forties now, so figure around thirty-eight or nine back then.”

The woman chuckled. “Sounds like any number of men around here, including my husband. Anything else to set him apart and make him memorable? Scars, maybe?”

Damian shook his head. “I didn’t get a very close look at him. But there was a quality about him, a dangerous quality that would probably make some people nervous. To be frank, he had the look of an outlaw.”

“Goodness, are you sure you want to find him again?” she asked.

“It’s his daughter I need to find.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “What about the horse? Was it unusual at all?”

“It’s an exceptionally fine-looking animal. It could probably be termed a Thoroughbred, even though Casey calls him Old Sam.”

The lady stiffened. “Casey? I thought you said you didn’t have their names.”

Her reaction was encouraging, but he explained first, “I don’t. Casey is just a name I gave her, since she was going by the initials
K
and
C
—probably taken from the brand on her horse, though I never got around to asking her about it. Actually, all she called herself was Kid. Do you by chance know who I’m talking about, ma’am?”

“Oh, I might. Why are you looking for her?”

“That’s a bit private—”

“Then I guess I can’t help you,” the woman cut in and actually started closing the door on him.

“Wait!” Damian said. “She was a bounty hunter when I met her. I hired her to find my father’s killer, which she did. But before I could
get him back to New York for trial, he managed to escape.”

“So you’re looking for her to hire her again?” she asked sharply.

That was certainly none of her business, which was why he replied, “Something like that.”

“And that’s the only reason you’re here?”

It was Damian’s turn to stiffen somewhat at her persistence. “Why else?”

She was frowning as she said, “I think maybe my husband would like to talk to you. Come inside.”

He did. She immediately walked away from him with a curt “Wait here,” leaving him no choice but to obey.

Her behavior had him utterly baffled. She was definitely angry about something. Her eyes had turned hotly amber. And it had started when he’d said Casey’s name. Could that really be her name? The woman did seem to know who she was. That “I might” she’d said about knowing her had clear connotations of “Yes, I do.”

Damian went very still. Amber eyes?

Sounds like any number of men around here, including my husband
.

Hope surged through Damian. Had he actually found Casey’s home? Was that her mother he’d just spoken to who had eyes like Casey’s when she was angry? And the woman’s husband he’d described…?

The tap on his shoulder turned him around, and sure enough, it was Casey’s father standing there with his fist drawn back. Damian had no memory beyond that except for stars exploding in his eyes.

I
’m beginning to think I never should have told you that Casey was in love with him,” Courtney said to her husband as they stood over Damian’s long body, sprawled there in the entryway, a trickle of blood under his nose.

“Of course you should have,” Chandos replied, rubbing his knuckles in a satisfying way, his look reflecting the same feeling.

Courtney huffed, saying doubtfully, “Really? When I had to talk you out of going after him, all the way to New York, no less? And here the fool man shows up on our doorstep. He might as well have just handed you his head.”

Chandos raised a brow. “Then why’d you tell me he was here? You could have just sent him on his way, and I’d never have known the difference.”

Courtney made a tsking sound. “So for a very brief moment, I
wanted
you to beat some sense into him. But it was only for that brief moment,” she insisted.

Chandos almost grinned. “I take it he said something to annoy you?”

Courtney’s lips tightened. “He’s come looking for Casey to hire her again. Can you believe that? Not that she would even consider working for him again, but just seeing him is going to prolong her heartache. But does he consider that? No, the man is a selfish, insensitive son of—”

Chandos placed a gentle finger to her lips to silence her. “I love it when you get riled, Cateyes, but in this case, there’s probably no reason for it. Weren’t you the one who had to convince me that he didn’t know that Casey’s in love with him? Didn’t she admit that when you asked her? Kind of makes him innocent of any wrongdoing, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” she said, but then narrowed her eyes on him. “Then why did you come in here and immediately punch him, if you now hold him blameless?”

“For the plain and simple reason that he’s made my daughter miserable. Call it a father’s prerogative.”

She raised a brow now. “Oh, and a mother doesn’t have one of those?”

He chuckled at her. “Your prerogative was to come get me because you knew I’d tear into him.”

She blushed guiltily. “Maybe we shouldn’t be discussing the whys of our respective dislike of this young man, but rather, what we’re going to do about his unexpected and unwanted appearance on our doorstep. I would prefer it if Casey didn’t know he’s been here, but she’s been dividing her nights between here and the Bar M, and tonight she’ll be sleeping here. Considering
how late in the afternoon it is, she could show up any time now.”

Chandos nodded. “I’ll get a couple of the hands to dump him in a wagon and haul him back to town. Hopefully, the reception he received here showed him that he’s not welcome to return.”

Courtney frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think that will do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because he struck me as being a bit stubborn,” Courtney said. “And he’s come all this way to hire her. I don’t think he’ll leave until she tells him herself that she won’t work for him again.”

“You’re sure she won’t?”

“Not positive, but why would she? The only reason she did before was for the money, which she wanted so she could prove things to you. She’s got nothing to prove now. She’s running the Bar M and doing fine so far.”

“Excellent reasoning for a man, but what about a woman in love?”

Courtney almost growled, “You’re right, of course. That might affect her decision if she has to make one. She could agree because she might like to spend a bit more time with him. Or she could agree because he apparently needs help and she loves him. She might want to help him for that reason alone. So perhaps we should try and assure that she doesn’t have to make the decision in the first place.”

“You aren’t suggesting that I dispose of him permanently, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Courtney snapped,
then saw that he was teasing. She glared at him. “Perhaps just a talk with him will convince him not to return here, and you can have that by escorting him to town yourself. And if that doesn’t convince him, then tell him she’s not here, that she’s gone—oh, I don’t know…to Europe. Yes, Europe—quite far enough away for him to realize that if he’s going to get the help he needs, he should start looking for it elsewhere.”

“I’d just as soon
not
have words with him. Don’t know if I’d be able to resist swinging at him again.”

“Then I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Chandos said adamantly, then sighed. “Very well, I’ll take him to town.” He leaned down to haul Damian over his shoulder, adding with a groan, “Damn, he’s as heavy as he looks.”

“Chandos…?”

“What?” he grunted on his way out the door.

“Don’t let him know how Casey feels about him.”

He turned back toward her. “And why not?”

“She didn’t choose to tell him, and he was too dense to figure it out for himself—”

“Or he knew and didn’t care, which is what I figured was the case, though I let you convince me it was otherwise.”

“Ah, so that’s why you hit him instead of saying hello first?”

He snorted. She smiled and got on with her point. “Either way, I don’t think she’d appreciate him knowing. I know I wouldn’t if it were me.”

He nodded and continued down the porch steps, where he pushed Damian over the saddle of the horse he’d left there, belly-down. After gathering the reins, Chandos looked up at his wife.

“I should be back before dinner,” he told her. “Oh, and make sure he hasn’t left any blood on the floor from his broken nose.”

“You really think you broke it?”

“I damn well tried to. But why else would a man his size go down so easy?”

“Maybe because you always did swing a nasty punch,” she offered with a wave.

Chandos chuckled at her. “And you always give me more credit than I’m due.”

“Nonsense. I married an exceptional man. At least
I
know it.”

Chandos was smiling as he led Damian’s horse around to the stable to collect his own. But the pleasure he found in his wife’s words didn’t last long, not with the task she’d set before him.

That task didn’t take very long, though. About a mile down the road, Damian started making noises indicating he was waking up, so Chandos halted both horses to give him a chance to slide off his without further injury. That he did, though he was disoriented for a moment as he stood there in the middle of the road.

His first question when he finally spotted Chandos was “May I ask where you were taking me?”

“Back to town,” Chandos replied. “You’re not welcome on the K.C.”

“You couldn’t have just said so?” Damian grouched, carefully feeling his nose.

“Broken?”

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

“Just a low tolerance for pain, then, huh?” Chandos said this with a smile that could pass for a smirk.

Damian scowled and pointed out testily, “Just coldcocked with no warning.”

Chandos shrugged. “And just what kind of reception did you think you’d get from the parents of the young woman you nearly got killed?”

Damian flinched, surprised that Casey would have mentioned details about what she’d been doing while away from home, but he said in his defense, since her father obviously already knew, “She’s a bounty hunter and damned good at it. It’s her profession—”

“It’s something she dabbled in temporarily, hardly a profession.”

“Regardless,” Damian said. “She was ideal for the job, so she took the job.”

Chandos made a sound of disgust. “And now you think she’d take the job again?”

“The man she helped me find has escaped,” Damian pointed out. “I have detectives looking for him, but they’re having no better luck this time than they did before. Casey has better luck.”

“Casey’s just got good sense, is all.”

“That really is her name?”

Chandos frowned at the change in subject. “You didn’t even know her name?”

“Why does that surprise you? She volun
teered very little information about herself. It was quite a while before I knew she was a woman!”

“And just how did you finally find that out?”

The question was asked with so much condemning insinuation that Damian knew exactly what Chandos was thinking, and since he was as guilty as the man was thinking he was, he stuck with the literal truth.

“She told me,” he explained. “When I suggested she grow a beard.”

A peculiar look appeared on Chandos’s face, and if Damian had known him at all, he’d know the man was just short of laughing. But he didn’t know him, and all he saw was that brief lapse from the otherwise thunderous looks he was getting. Casey’s father no longer looked like the man Damian had seen that day in Fort Worth. He was clean-shaven now, his hair cut to a moderate length, though still long by city standards. Yet one thing was absolutely the same: that quality of danger that was so easy to sense about him.

“You might as well catch the next train back to where you came from, Mr. Rutledge. Casey no longer works as a bounty hunter.”

“This is a special case, since she was already involved in it,” Damian said. “Besides, I’d like to hear what she has to say—”

“Forget it,” Chandos broke in very quietly. “And take some advice. Don’t make me repeat this. Stay the hell away from my daughter.”

Damian thought to protest again, but considering there wasn’t another soul anywhere in sight, and the man’s hand was resting too close
to his Colt revolver, he thought better of it. Her father wasn’t going to be reasonable, didn’t care about Damian’s motives. And frankly, Damian didn’t trust him not to shoot to make his point.

So he nodded curtly and mounted up. “It’s been—somewhat—of a pleasure,” he said dryly.

Chandos rubbed his knuckles and agreed. “Yes, from my standpoint it was.”