Desert Dreams (4 page)

"Get a priest," he murmured.

Those words were his last. His body went limp and his life
escaped on a ragged sigh. She peeled his fingers from around her arm and stared
down at his silent, empty body. His words echoed in her mind and she began to
tremble.

Slowly she became aware of her surroundings again. The huge,
dirty man she had threatened with the pistol earlier moved toward the
gunfighter, but the man closest to him placed a hand on his chest, halting him.
"Leave it alone, Jake."

"Shut up, Tucker, I
ain't
scared of this hombre," Jake replied without taking his gaze off the
bounty hunter. "And I don't believe this pretty little thing is his
wife."

"Better listen to him, Jake," the bounty hunter
said. The menace in his voice shivered down Anne's spine, and she wondered
again if she'd made the right choice in trusting him. "You might not
believe she's my wife," he went on, "but believe this. Either you back
down or you'll die."

"That's Rafe Montalvo," Tucker informed Jake.
"I seen him gun down three
pistoleros
in Mesilla a few months ago.
Ain't
never seen nothing
like it before or since."

A tick started in Jake's left eye. Anne held her breath as
Jake considered Tucker's revelation and his own options. She could almost see
his bravado faltering. Her gaze moved between the two men – Rafe Montalvo's a
mask of deadly intent, Jake's indecisive.

All of the men had taken a step back, leaving Jake alone to
face this man whose name alone sent a wave of fear through these hardened
teamsters.

"Why don't you fellows move along now?" Rafe
Montalvo suggested. "The show's over."

Slowly the disgruntled crowd began to disperse. Jake lingered
for a moment after the others wandered off. Anne could scarcely breathe through
the tension in the air. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding
when he finally followed his companions and the gunfighter turned his attention
back to the wounded man and to Anne, who struggled to her feet.

"He—he's dead," she murmured.

The gunfighter stepped toward her and she took an involuntary
step back. She noticed the tensing of a muscle in his jaw and the anger that
flashed briefly in his eyes before he hunkered down next to the Mexican and
placed a finger against the dead man's throat.

"One minute he was alive and talking, and the
next—"

"Talking?" The gunfighter stood and narrowed his
eyes, cold, emotionless eyes that seemed more animal than human. "What did
he say?"

He took another step and she backed away again, but this time
he was quicker. His hand wrapped around her upper arm. His touch sent a shock
through her bones. The devil’s touch.

She gasped as he pulled her up close to his face, struggling
to break free, but he only clutched her more tightly.

"What did he say?" he demanded through clenched
teeth.

She recoiled from the menace in his voice and in his pale,
pale eyes. "He... he wanted a priest, but there wasn't time," she
said, hardly aware of speaking the words, her mind and body numb with shock.

She wanted desperately to run, to escape back to her hotel
room, but she doubted her legs would carry her, and she wasn't at all sure he
would let her go. Swaying dizzily from exhaustion, hunger, and tension, Anne
feared she might faint for the first time in her life.

Their eyes met and she tried to keep the fear from strangling
her, even as she fought the urge to look away.

"That's all he said." She tried to jerk free again,
hoping to take him by surprise, but the attempt failed, leaving her no choice
but to face him down.

He stared at her for a long moment before his expression
suddenly softened and he released her. His eyes reflected curiosity and
something like tenderness as he lifted a hand toward her face. He reached
toward her, and she flinched, her heart catching in her throat. Her reaction
stopped him. A shadow of pain flashing across his face before he dropped his
hand away. He turned to gaze down at the lifeless body, and Anne could breathe
again.

"Well, I doubt all the priests in Texas and Mexico put
together could pray Luis Demas into heaven."

"What a terrible thing to say about a dead man."
She blinked to clear her dizziness, surprised she could speak at all.

"He was a bandit," he told her as he turned to face
her once again. "He murdered and raped and d cheated all his life. Just
because he's dead doesn't make him a saint."

"I know." Perspiration broke out over her body. She
struggled to still the tremors that gripped her and the nausea that threatened
to overwhelm her. She heard him curse as the darkness at the edges of her mind
closed in around her and she staggered toward the ground. He caught her and
swung her up into his arms.

He smelled of soap and stale whiskey and cheap perfume—the kind
that had often clung to her father when he would come home from one of his late
nights on the riverfront. Strong arms surrounded her, one supporting her back,
the other beneath her knees, leaving Anne no choice but to twine an arm around
his neck. Conflicting desires—to remain there and to run as fast and as far as
she could—warred within her.

His hard chest crushed her breast. She tried to shift her
weight, but her efforts only increased the intimate contact. So she remained as
still as she could.

"Please, I'm all right," she managed to murmur.

He carried her toward the hotel, his brow furrowed as if in
concern, his eyes never leaving her.

"I can walk." The words sounded like a plea, and
she cursed the way her voice trembled.

He said nothing, just stared at her with those ice-blue eyes
that saw far too much and revealed far too little. But the pain lurking there
terrified her as much as everything else about him.

"I can walk," she repeated as they reached the
hotel lobby. Heat crept over her body. She couldn’t bear the idea of him
carrying her to her room, putting her in her bed. "Please put me
down."

"Which room is yours?" he asked as if he hadn't
heard her.

He carried her up the stairs to the landing above. His gaze
held hers as he lowered her feet to the floor.

"Please…" She pushed against his hard chest. The
pressure seemed to get through to him.

"Are you sure?" His gentle voice went straight to
her heart.

Anne nodded, unable to speak, frightened by her profound
reaction to him-his maleness, the sadness mixed with violence, the power he
exuded. She didn't want to feel anything for this dark, dangerous man.

His intense gaze made her uncomfortable until finally he
turned with a slight nod and retreated down the stairs.

It took several moments, but finally she could breathe
normally again. Her body trembled at the memory of his strong arms around her,
those icy eyes boring into hers.

Earlier that day, she'd seen him ride into town with a body.

Bounty hunter, the hotel manager had asserted.

A man who killed for a living had just saved her, just held
her so close she could feel his breath on her face.

She should feel revulsion, but her body had reacted to his in
a way that left her shaken and a little embarrassed.

The only thing she knew for sure was that she was safe for
now, thanks to the stranger who glanced back at her from the foot of the
stairs.

Anne retreated into the shadows, her back against the wall.

Absently she reached for the locket that should have been
between her breasts.

It was gone. The clasp must have broken again. Frantically
she patted her bodice as she gazed down at the floor around her feet. She
remembered having it when she'd returned to her room after dinner.

No! It couldn't be lost. Her father had given it to her the
night he'd died. It was the only memento she had left.

What if it had fallen off in the street? Or maybe just
downstairs?

Either way, she had to go back for it. Retracing her path
through the hall and down the staircase, she had almost reached the lobby when
she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Ducking quickly around a corner,
she pressed her body flat against the wall as Rafe Montalvo stepped into her
line of vision in the parlor, a lit cheroot in his mouth. The last thing she
wanted was another interaction with him tonight.

He paused and turned around to face someone inside the room,
taking the cheroot from his mouth and rolling it between thumb and index
finger.

"Look, I don't give a goddamn about Luis Demas," he
said to the bald-headed man who was standing in the doorway. "And I sure
as hell
ain't
paying for his burial. As far as I'm
concerned, you can take his carcass and drop it at the end of town. Buzzards
gotta
eat, too."

Anne clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from retching.

"Of course. Well, I won't take any more of your time,
Mr...." The bald-headed man let the word trail off, as if expecting the
other man to supply his name. When Rafe Montalvo didn't, the little man
shrugged and walked toward the door, where he paused and said softly, "Whoever
you are, death seems to follow you, don't it?"

Anne withdrew farther out of sight as the bounty hunter
followed the other man toward the front door. Then she rushed headlong up the
stairs, fleeing from those wretched words.

Chapter 3

The stagecoach to
Ubiquitous
stood ready to pull out of San Antonio the next morning. Anne sat in a
forward-facing seat, resting her head against the window. She had hardly slept
at all last night, and she was exhausted.

She closed her eyes and reached habitually for the locket
that wasn’t where it belonged. Her heart convulsed, and the emptiness in her
stomach intensified. Just another in a growing list of losses. She swallowed
the grief. She couldn’t go back. She had to look forward to the future. By the
end of the day, it wouldn’t matter.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, shutting out the
other passenger, an older woman with a ridiculous feather hat, who, thankfully,
hadn’t spoken to her, shutting out the tears that threatened to belie her
resolve.

Moments later, sound of the coach door opening and the sway
of the vehicle told her someone had joined her. Of course there would be other
passengers, but she had no desire to interact with them. All she wanted was to
get this over with-this last leg of her journey.

The smell of his cologne nearly smothered her in such close
quarters. He appeared young and reasonably clean. Some women—perhaps most
women—would find him attractive, but he had a weak chin and the practiced smile
of a cardsharp. He was probably a lady's man.

The young man doffed his hat and nodded toward Anne who
closed her eyes again, shifting in a vain effort to find a comfortable
position.

Not to be discouraged, the young man turned his attention to
the matronly woman who sat beside Anne.

"You ladies been
travelin
'
long?" he asked.

He was definitely a dandy, couldn't stop talking if you put a
gag in his mouth. Just like Borden McKenna.

More dangerous territory, that! Just the name sparked an
anger deep in her soul.

"All the way from Cincinnati," the woman said.
"I'm a widow, you know, going to El Paso to stay with my brother and his
wife."

The woman's shrill whining voice grated on Anne's already raw
nerves.

"I'm truly sorry, ma'am. If there's anything I can do to
make your journey more pleasant, please do not hesitate to tell me."

You could shut up, she wanted to say out loud. If the man
wasn't a snake oil salesman he should consider changing vocations.

"It hasn't been easy," the woman went on. "No
family to speak of—"

"Well, at least you've got your daughter with you."

Anne stiffened. He was fishing for information.

The woman rose to the bait. "Oh, we're not
together."

Thanks, lady
.
Didn't anyone ever tell you not to confide in strangers?
Now this slack-jawed snake knows I'm traveling alone
.

The weight of the pistol in her skirt pocket reassured her.
He seemed harmless enough, but she didn't trust him any more than she liked
him. And after last night, she'd vowed never to be caught unprepared again.

"Well, ma'am, I don't mean to frighten you, but Texas is
an awful dangerous place for a woman to be traveling alone."

"Thank you for your concern, young man," the matron
said, a bit crossly. "But I've made it this far and I'll make it the rest
of the way. The Lord is looking after me."

"I'm sure he is, ma'am, but, well, you're getting into
Indian Territory once you leave Ubiquitous. Now that the army's gone east to
fight the war, there's nothing to stop those savages from doing whatever they
want."