Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] (11 page)

Henry laughed, and it added to Vanessa’s irritation as she followed her aunt into the wagon. “That man sets my teeth on edge, gets my back up, and makes my blood boil! He’s so damn sure of himself. He’s got Henry thinking he’s the greatest thing since fire! If anything happens to Henry I’ll shoot him!”

“Somehow I think he’s trying to help Henry. I’m thinking maybe we’ve been wrong, Vanessa, in not forcing Henry to take more responsibility.”

“It’s too dangerous to start teaching Henry that now, Aunt Ellie. And I’m not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs. This wagon and what’s in it is all we have in the world, and I’m going to be out there protecting it.”

“Please be calm, dear. Mr. DeBolt said you should stay in the wagon.”

“I’m not taking
his
orders. You may think every word he says is pure gospel, but I don’t.”

“He just . . . well, he just seems to know what he’s doing, and he’s trying to help us. He’s like Mr. Wisner. If we get out of this awful country it will be because of them.” There was a pleading note in Ellie’s voice, and Vanessa had to harden her heart against it.

“I’m going out. Here’s the rifle. Don’t shoot unless someone is forcing his way in.” Vanessa opened the door and eased herself out into the darkness.

She moved cautiously along the side of the wagon as silently as a shadow, then ventured out away from it and pressed herself against the trunk of a tall oak tree. The camp was still except for the usual night sounds. An owl hooted nearby, and from far away came an answer. Vanessa drew cool air deep into her lungs, air touched with the faint scent of the wet ashes of their campfire.

It seemed to her that hours passed while she waited and listened. Where were Henry and Kain? Where was Mr. Wisner? If the robbers come she would not panic, Vanessa told herself. Someone had said that panic only filled an empty mind. She would think of something—anything. But she wouldn’t waste another thought on that conceited, arrogant, know-it-all, Kain DeBolt. She still had to thank him for getting their mules back. He’d probably throw her thanks back in her face. The idea of him having the gall to ask her if she had missed him! Well, his charm might work on Henry and Aunt Ellie, but it didn’t work on her!

And then she heard it, the soft sound of footsteps muffled by the thick grass. Warning herself that she must be careful not to hit the wrong man, she gripped the barrel of the shotgun in her two hands like a club. A movement to the side caught her eye. It stopped and she saw the outline of a man in a wide-brimmed hat. He was too short to be Henry or Kain, and too thin to be Mr. Wisner. She concentrated all her attention on the shadowy figure as it approached and stopped on the other side of the tree. Whoever it was had the rancid, unclean odor of one long unbathed.

Vanessa slowly drew the shotgun back. Anger washed over her like a tidal wave. The low life, chicken-livered sidewinder! He was here to take their money. If he thought they would be easy victims of his thievery, he would soon find out how mistaken he was. The man was unaware of her, but so close she could hear him breathing. Realizing he would discover her any second, she swung the butt of the shotgun at his face with all her strength.

The wooden stock struck with a dull smack. The man cried out and staggered back. She followed and swung again. This time the blow caught him on the side of the head. He grabbed for the gun she was using as a club, but she jerked it away and jabbed at his face.

“You sneaking polecat!” she shouted and struck out wildly. “Snake! Robber! Dirty stinking dog!” He grabbed for the gun. It slipped from his hand and she brought it down with a chopping motion. It missed his head and struck his shoulder. He lost his footing and fell.

“You dirty little swine! I ought to beat your head in!” Vanessa continued her attack, aiming for any part of his body. He grabbed her pant leg and she kicked him in the face.

“Stop it! You damn hellcat! Ah, shee . . . it!”

Suddenly she heard a shot, a deafening roar, and saw a flash of flame. She reeled backward to regain her balance, panting for breath.
The damn little weasel had shot at her!

Kain’s strong arm swept her aside and his tall form loomed over the man on the ground. He kicked the gun from his hand.

“Hold him, Henry!” he commanded.

Henry fell on top of the man who was struggling to rise.

“Vanessa! Are you all right?”

“I . . . hit him. With this.”

“Goddamn it, I told you to stay in the wagon.” Kain seized her by the arms and shook her. “Don’t you ever do what you’re told? You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t!” She jerked away from his grasp.

“Vanessa! Henry! Oh, my God!” Ellie came stumbling out of the wagon. “Are you all right?”

“We’re all right.”

“Thank God! Oh, thank God! I was so scared.”

“Somebody light a lantern. Hold on to that bastard, Henry. His three friends will have headaches in the morning and I’m thinking he’d rather have one than what he’s got.”

“Oh, Henry!” Ellie’s eyes were fastened on her son. She pressed her balled fist to her mouth. She had never seen him use physical force on another person.

Mary Ben came out with a lantern and the light shone on the bloody face of the young bully who had fought Henry in Dodge City. His nose was obviously broken, his lip split, and one eye was rapidly swelling shut. Blood ran from a gash on his cheekbone to his chin. He rolled his head from side to side and whimpered with pain. Henry sat astride him.

Vanessa was startled when she saw the boy’s face. She had done that? What sort of person was she becoming?

“I hit him too hard!”

“Not
too
hard.” Kain grinned. “But you sure whacked him a good one. There’s blood on your gun butt.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realize—”

“The poor boy’s nose is broken,” Ellie moaned.

“Poor boy?” Kain snorted. “The bloody little bastard came to rob you. He deserved anything he got. I should break his damn leg to teach him a lesson. Let him up, Henry.”

Henry stood and the young man rolled to his knees, picked up his hat, and got slowly to his feet. He looked around on the ground for his gun, saw it, and went to pick it up.

“Leave it,” Kain said sharply. “Hightail it out of here. You’ll find your gun as well as your friend’s after we leave here. I won’t send a man down the Cimarron cutoff without a gun. But if you bother these folks again I’ll bury you. Understand?”

The boy’s eyes blazed with hatred as he looked at Vanessa. His lips formed curses, but no sound came from them.

Kain followed him to the edge of the camp and watched him stagger off into the darkness. When he turned his eyes went to Vanessa and stayed there.

Her head was tilted defiantly, her red mane of hair glistening in the light from the lantern. She watched him, her eyes lit with the fire of her hostility. Dear God, she was lovely! The hunger to be with her had been with him for the past two days and he had had to force himself to stay away. Tonight his painful restraint had broken. He should have taken John’s advice and his buffalo gun, and scattered the thieves before they reached the camp. The damn kid had shot at her! God help him if he had hit her!

“You did well, Henry.” Kain’s words were not related to his thoughts. “You could learn to be a real good sneaker. You got the right touch for head bashing, too. Just enough force to knock them out and give them a hell of a headache.”

“Ma, John got one, and me and Kain sneaked up behind the other two. We each hit one.” Henry was delighted with his part in foiling the robbery. “We were coming to get the other one when we heard Vanessa yelling.”

Vanessa’s furious eyes met Kain’s. “You think this is some kind of game, don’t you?”

Kain looked at her in silence. Her blue eyes shimmered moistly with her anger. When he finally spoke it was lazily, as though he were thinking aloud.

“Pretty little red bird. If someone doesn’t clip her wings she’ll not live to get to Denver.”

“It’ll not be
you
to do it!” she exclaimed.

“Mr. DeBolt, can I speak with you?” There was a cool determination in Ellie’s voice.

“Yes, ma’am. But can it wait a little bit? I’ve got something to say to Vanessa.” While he spoke his eyes never left Vanessa’s face.

“You’ll not leave until I can talk to you?”

“No, ma’am. You can count on it.” He waved his hand toward the outer circle of the camp. “I don’t think you want your aunt and cousin to hear what I’ve got to say to you, Vanessa.”

Her first compulsion was to defy him; she trembled with the force of it. Kain gave her a menacing look, and with a toss of her head, she pivoted and walked proudly and stiffly to the edge of the camp and into the darkness.

A seething anger stopped her before she took many steps, and she turned to face him. His grip on her arm set her feet in motion again, and she was propelled over the uneven ground. When they finally stopped the glow of the lantern and the outlines of the wagons were but dim images. She tried to pull her elbow from his grasp, but his fingers tightened.

“Let go of me, damn it!” Thoughts whirled about her brain like wind whipped tumbleweeds.

Kain looked at her in silence. Her face was a blur in the darkness. “I should turn you over my knee and spank your behind.” He spoke softly in spite of his anger.

“While you reconsider such an outlandish notion, release my arm,” she snapped, “unless you intend to break it—to teach me a lesson.”

He laughed. Dear God, she was lovely! In the faint light her face was starkly white under the cloud of glowing hair, and he was again struck by her beauty and the slender reach of her full-bosomed body. He was aware of an involuntary arousal, and conscious of the hard pounding of blood through his veins and a simultaneous shortening of his breath.

“If I let go, will you run back to the wagon?”

“I might!”

“Vanessa! I’m the one who should be angry. I told you to stay in the wagon. You came to within an inch of getting yourself killed tonight. And that morning when we went to get the mules, I told you to stay out of sight. What did you do but come in right behind me. I had no idea you were there. What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing! I’m not your responsibility. I thank you for what you’ve done for us. Good-bye.” She stepped away, but the hand on her arm pulled her back.

“Not so fast!” His patience snapped and he spoke in a firm, irritated voice. “You may not give a damn, but if I had batted an eye that morning by the river, the breed would have killed me, or tried to. I had no idea you were behind me. I know I won’t . . . live forever, but I’m not anxious to be finished off by a bullet from a gunslinger.”

The harshness in his voice knocked all the composure out of her. She rolled her head back and forth and said woodenly, “I’m sorry. I was merely trying to help. They were our mules.”

“Yes, they were. And it was your money the thieves were after tonight, but you’d be just as dead if that bullet had hit you or if that shotgun you were using as a club had gone off. Did you think to unload it?”

“I was protecting what was ours,” she said stubbornly, but her voice lacked the sharpness it had held before in spite of her determination to keep her anger as a shield between them.

“If I let go of you to light a smoke will you run away?”

“Run? Why should I run from you? Am I your prisoner?”

“No.” He rejected this with a slow shake of his head. And then said, as if to himself, “But I may be yours.” He drew in a deep breath and his hand dropped from her arm. He fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco pouch and began to roll a smoke. His eyes left her face only to glance occasionally at what his shaking fingers were doing.

The match flared and he held it between cupped hands until it blazed, then raised it to the cigarette in his mouth. The light outlined his face and turned it into a bronze mask.

Vanessa’s eyes clung to his smooth skin, straight brows and thin, high-bridged nose. He was too handsome, far too handsome, despite the jagged scar that slanted across his hard cheekbone and disappeared into his thick brown hair. His gold-tipped lashes lifted and his amber eyes looked into hers. Oh, God! Why did she have this feeling of rightness when she was with this . . . stranger?”

He blew out the match. “What were you thinking, little red bird, when you looked at me with those beautiful eyes?” His hand came up and his fingers gently fondled her cheek and looped a strand of hair behind her ear. Vanessa caught her breath sharply. It was an action she hadn’t expected. She tried to move away, but he held her with his words. “Don’t go.”

“I should get back. Aunt Ellie . . .” Her voice grew weaker and then ceased altogether. She brushed her hair from her forehead with the palm of her hand.

“Stay and talk to me.”

“What about?” His gentle request also caught her unaware. Their constant sniping at each other was tiring, and her heart was beating twice as fast as it should have been. She let out a sigh.

“Tired?” Kain asked. Long, slim fingers carried the smoke to his lips. He drew deeply on the cigarette and the end flared briefly.

“Not as much as I was at first.”

“Where have you come from? Where are you going?” He asked the first thing that came to mind, although he knew they were going north of Denver.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I have a feeling your aunt is going to ask me to ride along with you.”

“Yes. She’s terribly frightened out here.”

“And you?”

“I’ve no time to be scared.”

“That breed wants you. He isn’t the kind to give up.”

She flinched, and her eyes closed for an instant. “He just wanted what was handy. If he comes near me again I’ll fill him with buckshot.”

“Have you ever shot a man?”

“No, but I could . . . if I had to.” She turned her head and looked back toward the wagons. Kain looked down at her clearly etched profile. He marveled that she could be so distant and seductive all at once.

“I believe you,” he said very quietly.

Looking into his eyes, Vanessa voiced the question that came to her then. “Are you going to stay with us?”