Comanche Cowboy (The Durango Family) (13 page)

“Rand’s a perfect gentleman!” She colored at his words, tossed her head in defiance, and went back to the camp circle.

In minutes, the fire was banked, the small group asleep on the ground.

It was the middle of the night when Cayenne felt an urge to relieve herself, quietly got up, and crept out of the circle of sleeping men. She tiptoed out to the grove of wild plum bushes. Cayenne was on her way back through the thicket when she heard a twig crackle and she started.

Rand stepped out of the bushes ahead of her. “Evening, ma’am,” he said softly. “Sorry if I scared you. I heard you leave, got worried something might happen to you out here unescorted. Decided I’d better come see about you.”

She was touched by his chivalrous concern. “Why, thanks, Rand, it was kind of you.”

“Miss McBride”—he moved closer—“about this evenin’, I really meant that. I’d be proud to accompany you back to Texas, proud to court you, give you a chance to get to know me. I’d be interested in marryin’ up with you.”

“I—I don’t know what to say except I’m flattered, Rand.” He was handsome, she thought, and polite. She couldn’t stop her mind from picturing him naked. Would he have hard, sinewy muscles like the half-breed? Would he take her with the savage frenzy of Maverick Durango?

The cowboy must have taken her hesitation for encouragement because he reached out and put. his hands on her shoulders. “Stop actin’ so innocent!” His tone dripped arrogance. “You built a fire in me, honey, flirting with me like you done. I know what you want; why you came out to the bushes, hopin’ I’d follow you!”

Before she realized his intent, he pulled her to him, kissing her thoroughly while she froze in shock. One of his arms held her tightly to him while he tried to force his knee between her thighs. Her arms were pinned to her sides by his embrace, and when she tried to cry out, his tongue went into her mouth, hot and demanding. She struggled against his strength but he held her easily, his free hand coming up to stroke her breasts.

She saw the dark shadow past his shoulder as she struggled in his arms. Before she could move, a hand came out of the darkness, caught Rand’s shoulder, and spun him around.

Maverick’s white teeth shone in the darkness as he snarled. “You snake!” He hit Rand then, a solid blow that caught the man in the chin with a thud, sending him stumbling backward.

Over by the campfire, the others came out of their blankets. “Fight! Fight!” one of them yelled.

As the others came running, Cayenne watched the two square off, snarling with fury. There might be a killing here tonight and whoever won figured her body would be the prize!

All Cayenne could do was watch as the two men fought. Hennessy and the others came running, but when paunchy Fleming moved as if to stop them, the bearded leader gestured him away. “These two been snarlin’ and circlin’ each other all evenin’ over that girl! We might as well let them get it outa their blood!”

The moon came out, lighting up the shadowy ground as the two men meshed in combat.

Maverick hit Rand hard, sending him falling into a plum bush. “You dirty sonovabitch! I’ll teach you how to treat a woman!”

Rand came up, blood dripping down his chin. “She can’t be much, travelin’ with a filthy Injun! ” He swung, catching Maverick on the jaw, the half-breed went down.

Cayenne looked on helplessly as the fight moved out onto the grassy prairie. She gestured toward the others. “Aren’t you gonna stop them! They’ll kill each other! ”

Hennessy shrugged. “I can only do so much, miss. Are you going with the winner?”

Maverick hit Rand again and they clenched, rolling over and over.

Of course not
, she thought.
I never had any interest
in Rand
.
I’m going with Maverick.
And with that decision, she grabbed up a plum bush branch, running over to attack Rand who had Maverick down choking him.

She flayed him about the head and shoulders until he was forced to let go, trying to fend her off. “You little bitch!” he howled.

“Don’t call her that! ” Maverick roared, stumbling to his feet. Cayenne backed off as Maverick hit him again. This time when the driver went down, and the half-breed looped the rawhide thong around his neck and pulled both ends.

Cayenne saw the fury on Maverick’s face as he garroted Rand, and she knew the savage half-breed intended to kill him.

She ran over and caught Maverick’s hands. “Stop!” she shrieked. “Maverick! Don’t kill him! He isn’t worth it.

For a split second she thought he would strike her as she struggled to pull his hands away. Then reason seemed to return to the cold gray eyes, and he loosened the thong and stood up. “You’re right,” he muttered. “He isn’t worth it.”

Rand stumbled to his feet, clutching at his reddened throat and gasping, “He was going to kill me! Damned Injun!”

Hennessy shrugged. “You brought it on yourself, boy, messin’ with his woman! No real man’d do any less! Now maybe you’ll behave yourself ’til we get to Darlington!”

Maverick came over to Cayenne and caught her shoulders in his strong hands. “Are you all right, Reb?” His voice still shook with uncontrolled fury. “If he’s hurt you, I’ll—”

“I’m all right,” she nodded quickly. “Don’t kill him!

Maverick’s grip relaxed and he let go of her shoulders almost reluctantly.

So
uncivilized, so savage,
she thought, studying his hard features. She remembered the gentle way his hands had stroked her when they made love, but those same hands had almost taken a man’s life because of her. Maverick Durango was clearly no one to be messed with!

Maverick glanced up at the moon. “We need to move out anyway, see how far we can get before the heat of day.”

Hennessy stroked his beard and looked over at the choking, stumbling Rand. “You two are ridin’ into the heart of the Uprising country! You’d be a lot safer going to the Darlington agency with us, then on down to Fort Sill.”

Maverick ran his hand through his tousled black hair. “No. Rand might decide to paw Cayenne again and I’d kill him next time for sure!”

Hennessy laughed. “And I reckon you’re surely the man who could do it, Maverick!”

Rand didn’t say anything as he brushed past them, limping back to camp.

So the pair saddled up, loaded their packhorse, and headed southwest again. They rode until late afternoon, stopping only to make a cold camp and eat a little dried beef jerky and stale cornbread.

Maverick smiled at her. “Now I wish I’d saved the butter.”

She felt a flush of embarrassment at her wild, abandoned behavior. There was something about this man that heated her blood, made her react in ways she’d never dreamed possible. “I didn’t ask you to waste it on my sunburn,” she replied coldly.

He grinned and her heart melted.
Was he really all that handsome? Only when he smiled,
she thought suddenly, watching the big gray eyes soften,
only when he smiled.
She imagined a son with those big gray eyes. Would he be dark like Maverick, too? Jefferson Davis Durango. Then she remembered that he would never settle down to a peaceful, married life, would always roam and search until his thirst for vengeance was sated.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, standing feet wide apart, thumbs hooked in his gun belt.

She glanced at the scalp dangling from the big gray’s bridle. No, he was too much of an uncivilized savage to ever be tamed, even if he survived the showdown in Texas.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Nothing.”

They spread their blankets, resting through the heat of the afternoon in what little shade they found under a lone cottonwood, while the horses grazed peacefully. He made no moves toward her and quickly dropped off to sleep on his blanket, his pistol ever ready under his hand. As he slept, his face smoothed out, the worry and emotion leaving it. She realized then he wasn’t nearly as old as he’d seemed before, surely not more than his middle twenties. A troubled frown crossed his face and she heard him whisper, “Annie, I’m sorry . . . I couldn’t stop him. . . . ”

She listened jealously, straining to hear his words, but he only moaned softly, as if remembering something too horrible to face, and thrashed around.

Cayenne reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maverick, wake up. Are you all right?”

He jerked upright suddenly, startling her. “What happened?”

“Nothing. You were having a nightmare, that’s all.”

He frowned, running his hand down the scar on his cheek. “Sometimes it’s so bad, I’m afraid to go to bed, afraid I’ll dream. . . . ”

She waited expectantly but he only sighed, running his hand through his tousled black hair.

“Maverick,” she said softly, “if you’d let go of her memory, you wouldn’t have those dreams.”

His eyes shone with unshed tears and his hand trembled as he reached for his tobacco. “Not until I get him.” His voice shook with anger and she didn’t need to ask what he meant. “When I get him, then she can rest in peace.

Could she give this tortured soul any comfort at all?
“Papa used to pace the floor at night. I can remember hearing him walking up and down when I was little.”

Maverick rolled a cigarette. “Lots of men have regrets, guilt they can’t deal with,” he said acidly.

“Who? Papa?” she almost scoffed. She couldn’t imagine her beloved papa doing anything wrong. But then she knew nothing about his past except that he’d been a poor immigrant who’d come with a wagon train many years ago from Kentucky. His drawling accent still betrayed his southern past.

“Then why’d he pace the floor?” He stuck the “quirley” between his lips.

Cayenne shrugged. “I—I don’t know, really. It started when some boy came to the ranch with some kind of message. That was maybe a little over ten years ago. After that, until Mama died three years ago, he paced nearly every night. I used to lie in my little bed wondering what worried him and how I could help.”

“Ten years,” Maverick seemed to speak without thinking. “Twenty-five is what it should be.”

“What?” she eyed him curiously.

“Nothing, nothing,” he muttered, and seemed flustered as he lit a match with his thumbnail. “What’d the young man say?”

Cayenne shook her head. “Don’t know, really. Papa and Mama took him into the parlor, closed the door, sent me out to swing. But things were never the same after that day. There was tension between my parents; I could feel it. Mama always acted as if she was jealous of me.” The old hurt came back as she reluctantly relived those years. She’d never discussed it with anyone before.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever met, Cayenne,” he said simply, shaking out the match. “Was your mother pretty?”

She blushed at the compliment, ducking her head. “No, Mama was plump and plain. But she’d inherited a big ranch. Sometimes when I was little, I used to wonder why a handsome redheaded man like Joe McBride would marry a homely, sour woman like Hannah Adams” .

Maverick snorted as he smoked. “It wouldn’t be the first time a man married a lonely spinster for her dowry.”

Cayenne frowned. “Well, he sure doesn’t have anything now. He mortgaged it all to raise the ransom for the Comanche hostages eight months ago.”

“Any of those hostages related to him?”

“No. My papa is a kind man, a heroic man. That’s why he mortgaged our place to stingy banker Ogle to raise the money; went into that camp when everyone else was afraid to.” She swallowed hard, remembering that terrible day. “I tried to keep him from going, told him it wasn’t his responsibility. He said the welfare of other people was his responsibility, and besides, he owed a debt to someone he’d never paid. This was his way of evening things up.”

Maverick appeared visibly shaken. His hand trembled as it brought the cigarette to his lips. “Joe McBride said that?”

She nodded, wondering what memories her discussion of Comanches had brought back from his own past. “I wondered what he meant but he never mentioned it again, even after what the Indians did. . . . ” Her voice trailed off as she thought about the way they’d tortured him. Some of those braves might be Maverick’s relatives. But Papa hadn’t been bitter about it. “Papa turned his life around, became very religious after Mama died.”

Maverick smoked and studied her. “She died havin’ your youngest sister?”

Cayenne nodded and tasted salt as the tears came to her eyes. “When Mama was dying, I bent over her bed and she whispered, ’We was wrong, wrong. He did it to protect you, Cee Cee, but I did it to hold onto him. Joe always loved you more than me. I hated you for it.’ ” Cayenne wiped the crooked tear streaks on her sleeve. “I’ve always wondered what she meant but I never asked Papa. He had so much to bear already with five motherless kids.”

Maverick cleared his throat several times and turned his head so she could not see his face. “It’s—it’s tough to be alone in the world, no parents,” he said finally.

She watched him smoke in silence, wondering about his bereft, lonely expression.
Had any woman ever held his love besides Annie Laurie?
“After Mama died, Papa found peace in religion, stopped pacing the floor at night.”

“Peace! ” Maverick sneered. “Even the dead have no peace! And there’s sure none for those of us left behind! ” Maverick ground out his cigarette. He looked up at the sky. “It’ll be dusk soon. The Cimarron’s up ahead of us some place. If we can find it, it’d be a good place to camp.

Cayenne watched him, thinking of the dead, mysterious girl whose love goaded Maverick incessantly toward revenge.
He would only find peace with a new love,
she thought,
when he let go of that other ghost, let the dead rest in the haziness of memory.

A distant boom rumbled, interrupting her thoughts. It was followed by another echoing boom. “Is that thunder? The sky’s too clear for rain. . . . ”

“ ’Big Fifty’ buffalo guns,” Maverick said grimly as he stood up and stuck his thumbs in his gun belt. “They seem to be off to the west a way, we’ll avoid that area. ”

She nodded, picking up her hat.

Maverick hesitated. “Cee Cee, until we clear this area, I’d think it wise for you to put your hair up under your hat, wear one of my shirts so your curves don’t show.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Buffalo hunters,” he nodded toward the sound again. “Just in case we run onto them, I’d just as soon they’d think you were a boy.”

She realized what he intimated and the thought scared her a little. She did as he told her, and soon they were mounted up, riding toward the Cimarron River while the big buffalo guns boomed off to their right. Without even thinking about it, she rode closer to Maverick so that their stirrups were almost brushing, then realizing what she did, Cayenne laughed to herself a little, knowing how much she had come to depend on him.

Maverick glanced over at her. “We’ll try to stay far enough away. They won’t see us, although a man can see for miles on this flat prairie. If we should cross their trail, you keep your mouth shut, let me do the talking.”

She nodded and they rode on toward the river. And as they rode, they began to pass dead buffalo, freshly skinned.

Maverick swore under his breath at the carnage, the waste. “Taking nothing but the hides, with Indian women and children starving!”

Cayenne winced away from the sight of the slaughter. “I think you’re not as tough and mean as you’d have me believe,” she said to him, “otherwise, you wouldn’t be worried about starving Indians.”

“I only hate Comanche,” he muttered, his eyes hard. “And even then, I hate to see their kids starve!”

It was almost dusk, and the Cimarron River was in sight when Cayenne heard the roar in the distance.

“What’s that?” She turned in her saddle curiously.

Maverick shook his head, puzzlement on his rugged face as the roar grew louder. “Never heard that before; isn’t buffalo running.”

Across the lavender sky to the north, a black cloud moved toward them as the roaring buzz increased.

Cayenne looked up at the gigantic cloud moving toward them and the roar grew so loud that she had to shout. “A cyclone!” she shouted. “A tornado!”

Maverick seemed hypnotized as he stared at the black cloud moving closer and closer. The horses seemed to sense something because they snorted, pulling at their bridles and whinnying nervously.

Maverick shook his head. “I don’t know what it is,” he shouted at her, “but it’s not a tornado! Maybe we’d better seek shelter, maybe—”

She couldn’t hear him now as the roar heightened as the boiling cloud drew nearer, dipped, and moved.

Strawberry whinnied and reared while Cayenne fought to control her. Maverick shouted but she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t understand over the roar. Then the dark cloud descended and she was covered and surrounded by crawling things.