Almost an Outlaw (5 page)

He lifted his head and stared wantonly into her eyes. She returned his raw gaze. The ache deep in her womb made her whimper and she nudged invitingly against his hard sex. “I want you. Now.”

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as he thrust deep inside her. She heard him groan deeply as she gripped him tightly with both the muscles inside her and the muscles of her legs that she wrapped around his waist. She knew the agony he felt. It was exquisite and unlike anything she had ever experienced. She surrendered to it, to him.

They mated in a fiery rhythm, and when the first sensation of deep pleasure darted through her, she pressed her mouth against his upper arm to stifle her sobs. He gripped her hips and drove into her until a powerful release surged through their melded bodies and left them both limp and exhausted.

She combed his sweaty hair off his forehead and he said, “I couldn’t swat a fly.”

“Neither could I,” she agreed as she lay across his chest. She heard the comforting pulse of his heartbeat and she closed her eyes.

An hour later, she awoke from her nap and lifted her head. His eyes were closed and she moved carefully, trying not to wake him as she eased her body from his.

His gray eyes fluttered open. “You’re not getting up, are you?”

She swung her legs off the bed and scooped up her shimmy. Her wrist throbbed as the fabric brushed across the red welt on her skin. She slipped on the long lace-trimmed chemise. It had been easy enough to forget her troubles while she was in Austin’s arms, swept into a fantasy. Now reality was back, ominous and foreboding.

She turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. “Do you know if Cole planned to go to Miss Luellen’s tonight?”

“Huh?”

She shifted on the mattress and looked toward Austin. “Did he mention that he might be visiting Miss Luellen’s establishment tonight?” She was counting heavily on that.

Austin wondered why she was interested in Cole’s whereabouts. His old friend was definitely a ladies’ man and even the most decent of women were charmed by his gallant manners. Cole knew how to win over a woman. Had he won over Darcy? “Knowing Cole, he’s probably at the whorehouse,” Austin remarked coldly as he sat up. “Why does that matter to you?”

“I must get a note to Jesse. If Cole is at Miss Luellen’s, I can give it to him”

Austin watched as she secured her petticoats and continued to dress. He felt slightly bereft. One minute she was in his arms, loving him the way he had always dreamed about, and the next she was worried about getting a note to Jesse.

“Are you planning to go to the whorehouse to find Cole?” He recalled how she had been quick to remind him of what was appropriate behavior. “Do you consider that proper?”

She shrugged while she hooked her corset. “I have no choice.” She gave him a pleading glance with those pretty green eyes of her. They easily turned him to mush. “Will you accompany me?”

What choice did he have? He wasn’t about to let her go to Miss Luellen’s alone.

Groaning, he got up and started dressing. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

He saw the look of hesitation on her face.

“Tell me,” he ordered as he fastened his pants and pulled on his shirt.

“It was rather strange.” She braided her hair while she spoke. “When I was on my way back to town this morning, a man stopped me. I had never seen him before, but he knew who I was.”

Austin noticed Darcy favoring her injured wrist as she paced about nervously. He knew she had not burned her wrist with the iron as she had claimed. “Was he a Pinkerton?”

She shook her head. “No, but he is after Jesse and Frank. He said as much.”

“Did he tell you his name?” Austin asked the question impassively to draw the truth out of her.

“He said his name was Gabriel Wallace.”

Gabriel Wallace
. Austin buttoned his shirt. He had never met the ruthless bastard, but he had heard of him. Wallace was well-known in the Southwest as a hired gun with no conscience. He tracked down men for reward money and never brought them in alive.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Things that—” She paused and her face clouded with uneasiness. “Things that were strange. He talked about the angel Gabriel, and how he was God’s messenger.”

“God’s messenger?” Austin responded in disbelief. Hell, Wallace was as far away from a deity as you could get.

“He said he had a message for me to give the Boys.”

Austin stepped into his boots and walked over to where she stood. He pulled her into his arms because he wanted to hold her and because she looked as if she needed to be held. She clung desperately to him. He pressed his lips against her soft, tangled hair. “You didn’t burn your wrist,” he said softly. “It was Wallace. What happened?” He felt her grip on his waist tightened.

“He mentioned you,” she answered. As she told him what had happened, rage stirred inside him. The night his mother had been murdered, a dragon had been born inside him, sired by fury and injustice. The beast had been asleep for a long, long time. But now it had been awakened from its slumber.

“What was the message he wanted deliver to the Boys?” Austin intended to deliver it personally.

“Actually, it was a Bible verse. One about Death riding a pale horse. He said it came from the Book of Revelation.”

Austin immediately connected the verse to the one that had been found on Molly Slater’s body. Gabriel Wallace had killed a whore? To what end, he wondered and then he knew as he looked at Darcy. Wallace was using the women as a means to call them out. Well, his ploy had worked. Austin reached for his gun belt. “I’m going to go find Cole and I’ll see to it Jesse knows about Wallace. You stay here and keep the door locked.”

“Stay here?”

He buckled on his gun belt. “This is a hotel. You’ll be safe here.” He strode over to her and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Gabriel Wallace stood at the bar in the saloon. Business was slow since it was late on a Thursday night, and thunder rumbled in the heavens. Only two of the card tables were occupied with men, who obviously had nothing else better to do. The bartender, who was busy drying glasses, talked to a skinny young woman leaning against the bar. Wallace assumed the woman not only served drinks but also sold herself cheaply. She had smiled suggestively at him several times, but he was not interested in anything she had to offer.

“You want something stronger than coffee?” the bartender asked, and Wallace shook his head.

He never drank whiskey. Drinking impaired one’s mental state and Wallace valued being alert. Alertness kept him alive. Along with being able to handle a weapon with speed, accuracy and no regret. He could take a life without blinking an eye. That was a great deal more than he could say for his cowardly father. Wallace despised his Quaker upbringing and the way his pacifist family never defended themselves from ridicule. Proudly, he had never tilled the ground for a living nor had anyone ever mocked him. And he had made a substantial living in the Southwest without ever breaking a sweat.

Times were changing for him these days. Lawmen kept too close an eye on him. Once he had heard about the big reward offered for the James gang, his plans for the future began to evolve. With that kind of money, he could leave the country. Head to South America where he would buy himself a large spread.

He glanced up as a figure appeared at the saloon doors and he gripped the butt of his Smith &Wesson. The young cowboy who waltzed into the saloon did not appear to be a threat. One of the men at a card table said, “Howdy.”

The kid, who looked to be about twenty, responded with a smile. Full of energy and smiling, he pulled up a chair, flipped it backward and started chatting with the card players. Wallace’s gaze move from him back to the doorway. Sooner or later, the Boys would show up. He figured the girl had gotten word to them and, unless he was way off his mark, they would come. He had already run several gunfight scenarios through his mind. One in the saloon, one in the street, one just outside his hotel. Fortunately, the odds were in his favor even though he would be outnumbered.

He was fast and accurate. He only missed intentionally and he always shot to kill. On the other hand, the former farm boys turned outlaws couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. He had heard witnesses talk about their robberies and it appeared they often hit bystanders accidentally. If you were a skillful gunman who knew how to handle your weapon, you never hit anything by accident. He figured he could nail all five of them using one pistol.

The youngster crossed the room to join the other table of card players. Once again, he pulled up a chair, flipped it backward and sat down to visit. Within five minutes, he was on his feet again.

“I’m thirsty.” He headed toward the bar and Wallace was glad he went to the opposite end of the bar, where he joined the bartender and the girl. They huddled and spoke in whispers as if they were old ladies sharing gossip. The bartender got the kid a beer, put it on the counter, then spoke to Wallace in a rude tone. “You want anything else?”

With a frown, Wallace replied, “Did I ask for anything else?”

“Sir, if you’d like something stronger, I’m buying,” the kid offered. “The beer’s real good.”

Wallace sent him a cold stare. “Mind your own business, boy.”

The bartender yanked off his apron and headed toward the back of the saloon with a garbage can and the skinny girl trailed after him. A gust of cool air reached the saloon area when the bartender opened the back door.

“There ain’t no reason to be unsociable like,” the kid said, taking a sip of his beer. “Name’s Robert.” He introduced himself with and ear-to-ear smile. “You must be Gabriel Wallace. Heard you’re fast. Real fast.”

“I suggest you shut up and move on if you want to see your next birthday.”

“Bet you’re hoping to collect that reward for the James brothers, huh?”

Wallace dropped his arm to his side, his hand hovering over the gun as he stepped away from the bar and faced the youngster. “You’re pushing your luck, Robert.”

“Last name’s Younger,” he said. “Pull that gun and your brains are gonna be splattered all over the bar.” That was when Wallace felt the cold steel of a double-barrel shotgun shoved against the back of his neck.

“He’s right.” A deep voice came from behind Wallace. “This shotgun will take your head right off your shoulders.” Then the man said, “We got your message.”

Wallace swore as he realized he had let himself be distracted. But he had heard nothing. The man with the shotgun had to have come in from the back of the saloon. The card players quickly left the saloon, heading out into a night lit by an occasional fork of lightning. The last one out turned the Open sign to Closed as he left.

The bartender returned from the back of the saloon. This time he was smiling and carrying a strip of heavy twine. “Go ahead, Captain Cade,” the bartender said. “Shoot him if you want, right here and now. If I’d knowed he was the one who killed Molly, I’d shot him when he walked up to the bar.”

Wallace scowled as the former guerilla captain ordered him to put his hands on his head.

“Get his guns, Bob.”

With his hands on his head, Wallace considered his odds. The captain might have been a terror during the war, but he raised horses now and had a close association with Marshal Doss Hannon. The fact that Austin Cade was now law-abiding worked in his favor. A man with integrity never had the guts to do what was necessary.

Bob put his guns on the bar. They were not entirely out of reach.

“Turn around slowly,” the captain ordered and Wallace did as he was told. He looked past the short barrel of the shotgun into Cade’s deadly gray eyes, the color of the winter sky and just as cold. For the first time, apprehension crawled up Wallace’s spine. “You taking me to the sheriff?”

With an impassive shake of his head, he replied, “You’re going for a ride. Put your hands behind your back.”

The bartender handed the kid the strip of rope he held. Wallace was no fool. He knew he would not be returning from the so-called ride. Quickly, his mind sorted through what facts he had gathered about the man, seeking an edge. “You’re the one they used to call the White Comanche. But you didn’t save your own mother, did you? You weren’t even around. Just like this afternoon.”

“Get your hands behind your back or you die here slowly.”

“I should’ve put a few bullets through that Branson bitch. Then you could have found her dead. Just like you did your mama.” Wallace expected a reaction but he never saw the blow coming. Cade struck abruptly, in a blink of the eye. Pain seared his skull as he was hit with the stock of the shotgun. Dazed, he dropped to his knees.

The kid grabbed his hands and tied them together while Cade kept the shotgun aimed on him. He heard the sound of footsteps as other people entered the saloon from the rear. Light footsteps belonging to a woman and heavier ones made by men’s boots.

“We got him, Miss Luellen,” Bob said.

“Good work, boys.” A tall brunette dressed in dark red strode around the bar. She bent to look him in the eye. “You got any more Bible verses you want to quote, Gabriel?”

Still hoping to gain an edge, he stared straight into her brown eyes. “Molly was praying for mercy when I broke her neck.”

A tall, muscular man grabbed the whore before she could pounce on him. “Not here, Luellen.” He ushered her to the bar. “I could use a beer, and pour one for Austin.”

“Sure thing, Cole,” the bartender said. “It’s on the house. In memory of Molly.”

Wallace swore as he was pulled to his feet by Austin Cade. A young man dressed in black entered the saloon with a hangman’s noose draped over his shoulder. He handed the noose to Miss Luellen. Wallace noticed his vivid blue eyes blinked often as he spoke to him. “Deuteronomy Chapter Nineteen, Verse Twenty-One. ‘And thine eye shall not pity; but life shall go for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’”

For the first time, Gabriel Wallace realized he had not known his prey as well as he thought.

Friday morning, Austin was late meeting Doss for breakfast at the hotel. It had been after midnight before he returned to the hotel. He had told Darcy that he had delivered her message. Then he had walked her home. His intention was to say goodbye at her door. Instead, he had lingered, and when she had asked him to stay, all his intentions changed.

The next thing he knew they were in her bedroom, full of frilly things like lace dollies, china figurines and sweetly-scented sachets. On Darcy’s brass bed, the pretty embroidered roses on the white linens were crushed as he sank down on the mattress with her in his arms. “Darcy,” he murmured, wanting to possess her, to make her his.

She lifted herself from him, tossed her hair back from her face and gave him the most seductive smile he’d ever seen. Then she straddled him, and whatever reality was, it no longer existed as he gripped her delicate waist, slid inside her and felt the blazing embrace of her center.

At that moment, he was in heaven. Nothing else mattered as nature ran its course.

She rode him, matching the turbulent demands of his body, and he loved how she held nothing back. The dainty bed shook with their forceful movements, and the quiet room filled with sobs and curses as completion riveted through them until they were left satisfied and exhausted in each other’s arms.

Afterward, he knew he had to get dressed and go back to the hotel while it was still night. It would not do to be seen leaving her place in the morning. He wanted to protect her reputation. “It’s hard to get up,” he admitted, enjoying the comfort of the feather mattress and the warmth of her body.

She sighed. “I wish you could stay.”

“You do?” His heart jumped on that comment. Maybe he did need more than just pleasure. The loner inside him was shocked. Women were the ones who needed love. He had done without love for years, and now he knew he couldn’t do without it any longer.

“Umm,” she responded in a wanton moan that made him want to grab her and kiss her. She closed her eyes as if they were too heavy to keep open any longer. “You are like chocolate pie.” She nestled her head on one of the pillows. “I love chocolate pie.”

“Chocolate pie.” He crawled out of the bed and reached for his pants. He had been accused of a great number of things in his time, but no one had ever said he was like chocolate pie.

She pulled a quilt over her. “Yes, I wish you were a chocolate pie and I could have a piece anytime I wanted.”

He put on his shirt and chuckled to himself. “If I could turn myself into a chocolate pie, I would. For you.”

With another yawn, she said, “I know. But you’re just as good.”

How could he argue with that?

At the Croft hotel, Austin found Doss waiting at a corner table in the restaurant. The robust marshal had ordered the largest breakfast on the menu. “Since when did you take to sleeping all day?”

Austin shrugged and said nothing about his rather eventful evening. “Are you sure you’ve got enough to eat?” He took a seat opposite the marshal at the gingham-covered table.

“I’m considering ordering seconds.” Doss finished off his coffee. “Got some news about Billy Wise. Heard he’s keeping a jail cell warm in Dodge City.”

Austin smiled. “Suits me fine.” The waiter appeared and took his order for a regular breakfast while Doss asked for another biscuit and more gravy.

“Billy fell in with the wrong bunch. They tried robbing a stagecoach. The driver was killed,” Doss said. “I figure we can get to Dodge City before they hang him.”

“There’s no reason to go. I know where Midnight Dancer is,” Austin replied. “Billy sold her.” Austin sipped his coffee as he related the story Darcy had told him. “I’m going after her today. I’m hoping there won’t be any trouble.”

“I know Henry Gibson. He wouldn’t keep a stolen horse. He’s as honest as they come and he’s a decent man. He took in that kid when nobody else would.”

Austin stirred his coffee. If it were a different horse, one less valuable, and one he planned to sell, he’d let them keep the horse. But he had paid a small fortune for Midnight Dancer and he already had other ranchers bidding for the colts she would someday produce.

Doss glanced up at Austin. “There was a hanging last night. It appears a group of vigilantes hung a gunslinger out in the woods. Same location where Molly Slater was found. They pinned a note on him. ‘Murdered Molly Slater’.” Doss poured syrup over his flapjacks. “You know, there was a dead Pinkerton found a couple of months ago with a note pinned on his clothes too.”

“Humph.” Austin took a drink of coffee.

“Yep.” Doss lathered a biscuit with butter. “When are you leaving, Austin?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good.” Doss popped a piece of the biscuit in his mouth.

“I want to ask you something.” Austin had no idea if Doss would answer his question. Probably not. “Have you ever regretted loving my mother?”

“Good God almighty! What kind of fool question is that?” He mopped his mouth with the cotton napkin.

“If you hadn’t fallen in love with her, you might have met someone else. A lady who would have married you.”

“What’s gotten into you? Talking about me and your ma. Hell fire!” Doss tossed the cotton napkin on the table. “That’s private stuff.”

Austin conceded with a nod. “I don’t suppose I should’ve asked.”

“Damn right, you shouldn’t.”

Austin decided to change the subject since he had annoyed Doss. “I thought we were in for bad weather last night.” The storm had moved through the area about midnight, with little rain or high winds.

“Heard the worst of it was south of us.” Doss finished off his coffee, and after a silent moment, he spoke. “I don’t have no regrets about Libby. It’s easy enough to find a woman to marry you. Could get married tomorrow if I wanted.”

The marshal’s rugged face softened. “What’s hard is finding a woman whose smile you don’t forget. A woman with a face you find pretty. Like a summer flower. A woman whose touch is a comfort to your soul,” he said. “Even though we didn’t have a lifetime together, I was very lucky I found a woman like that in your ma. Some men never do.” He shook his finger at Austin. “Those men are ones with regrets.”