Lawless (5 page)

“Dead doesn’t exactly fix this situation.”

“If we get her back it does.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Wes shoved his hand into his normally immaculate hair and stared at his half-full glass. “I didn’t want her to go to Boston, much less travel back by herself. She’s just damned stubborn.”

Well, it was true Laurel could be strong-willed, but what had happened was hardly predictable. She was nearly twenty years old and able to travel alone if she wanted.

“Keep that in mind. She isn’t easily intimidated or bullied.”

“Seven rough men to one slender woman? Are you trying to sell me a bill of goods that she might be able to fight back somehow?”

It was a stretch and he knew it. Will also knew if he didn’t keep up hope, it was going to be harder to go after her. “As long as she’s alive, that’s what’s important.”

“You aren’t the one who wants to marry her, Will.”

“No, but she’s my sister. If you think this isn’t eating me up, you’re fucking wrong, Harper.”

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For a minute they stared at each other and then the other man sighed heavily. “I know it is. Sorry. I just feel helpless. I can’t even go with you to look for her. I have that big deal closing soon. I have to be here to sign the papers. The lawyers are on their way with everything.”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise Will. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Weston Harper, he did for the most part, but there was a shallowness there that he hoped Laurel saw as clearly as he did. Maybe that was why she had hedged over accepting Harper’s proposal so far. Wes was handsome, successful and charming, but he was also self-centered and Will had a big suspicion part of his horror over Laurel’s abduction was that everyone would know the woman he wanted to marry had been touched by other men.

More than touched, probably. It was the only reason they’d dragged her off that train.

He prayed they would try and ransom her, but according to the eyewitness report he’d gotten when the train rolled into Tijeras without her on board, the men hadn’t acted like they knew who she was. It was her looks that caught their eye, not the idea of their father’s money.

Murderous rage didn’t begin to describe his reaction, but sometimes the West was a violent place. It was part of living and part of dying some of the time.

He drained his glass, the whiskey burning his throat. “We’ll be riding out in an hour or so. My father is with John Evans arranging for men to go with us.”

Wes leaned back in his chair, looking morose. “Good luck.”

Will didn’t even feel sorry for him. He just got up and walked out.

***

The clearing was quiet, but there was a gray stream coming from the chimney and the faint tang of wood smoke was a wonderful thing. Cal urged Goliath, his big bay, toward the small corral at the back, a lean-to attached to provide shelter in the often unpredictable weather of this part of Colorado.

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The dog that trotted out to meet them was obviously half wolf, his wary demeanor and low growl subsiding as he registered the familiar scent. Cal said quietly, “Hello, Lobo. Where’s old Gabe?”

“Who you callin’ old, you renegade?”

The man who came out from around the back of the cabin was a welcome sight, even if he was lowering a rifle. A grizzled beard full of gray split in a wide smile. “I had you in my sights, damned if I didn’t. You need to be more careful.”

Cal grinned back with weary humor. “I’m too tired to be careful.”

“I hope that’s never true, Cal. If there’s a man I know who can’t afford to be tired, it’s you.” The other man’s smile faded. “Looks like you brought company this time. You can explain over a hot meal. I made some stew. Maybe I have second sight or somethin’

because I’ve got extra. Bring the girl inside before you tend to Goliath. She looks like she’s tuckered.”

It was true. Laurel had faded the past few hours, her body almost lax against his back, her arms only loosely holding on to his waist. As Cal slid from the saddle, she came with him and he was barely able to catch her before she hit the ground. “You seem to be right. Get the door, Gabe.”

The delectable Miss Daniels gave a soft moan as he carried her toward the cabin. Not for the first time, he felt both insensitive and brutal even if he hadn’t been the one to instigate her abduction in the first place. The pace he’d set had been hard and he hadn’t stopped more than once or twice, nor did they have much in the way of supplies. He was hungry as hell, and as he stepped into the first shelter they’d seen in three days, the fragrant smell of the bubbling stew hit him like a hammer. Considering how little the woman in his arms had eaten since she was dragged off that train, it was no wonder she was a little weak. He hoped it smelled as good to her as it did to him.

The bed was in the corner of the one-room space, and he deposited her gently as possible on the soft, patterned blankets. Ghostly pale and obviously exhausted, she stared at him as her long lashes fluttered upward. “Where are we now?”

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“Believe it or not, I have friends.” He attempted a reassuring smile. “We’ll stay here a few weeks. It’s safe. Just rest a minute and then we’ll get something to eat. It will make the world a whole new place, take my word on it.”

“Your word? That’s an odd request from the infamous Cal Riker, but I’ll do my best.”

The hint of humor in her reply was a relief. She looked so delicate and wan he was afraid he’d really pushed her too far. There wasn’t much question she’d won his admiration in more ways than just an appreciation for her tempting physical appearance.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

“I doubt I’m going anywhere.” She closed her eyes again, her slender body limp, her golden hair spilled across the blankets like pale silk.

He turned and left the cabin, Gabe right on his heels. Thickset, his hair streaked with gray, Gabriel Ranson was one of those men who seemed ageless. He looked exactly the same as he did when Cal had met him a decade earlier. The older man asked, “Now that little gal is a looker. Never seen one her equal. What’s the story?”

Briefly, Cal explained about the robbery and kidnapping as he unsaddled his horse and poured some oats into a trough in the corral. Goliath seemed pleased to be relieved of his double burden and off the trail—his ears pricked forward as he began to eat.

He had exactly the right idea, Cal thought, feeling a bit worn down himself.

“I’m thinkin’ you got a right pretty piece of trouble on your hands, Cal.”

“Maybe so, but there isn’t much I can do about it. We’ll lay low here until you get back and then I’ll take her on down to her family. Her father owns a big spread outside Tijeras.”

Gabe looked troubled. “I hope you don’t get a bullet for your trouble, son.”

“You and me both.” Cal rubbed his jaw, feeling the unshaven stubble. “I’m just going to have to worry about that later. For now, I could really use some food and I know Laurel is probably famished. She hasn’t eaten more than a few bites in the past few days.”

“We’ll fix that right now. Come on.”

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A few minutes later he was seated by the stone hearth of the fireplace, doing his best to not devour his food like a starving man. The venison stew was thick, meaty and rich.

There were biscuits too, baked earlier in the day and still soft and light. As he ate, Cal watched his lovely companion show the same appreciation, and when she was finished and declined a third biscuit, he was gratified to see some of the color had come back into her face.

“That was marvelous. Thank you.” She gifted Gabe with a dazzling smile. “I never knew anything could taste so good.”

“Just plain cookin’.” He shot Cal a reproachful look. “I don’t imagine Cal here would even light a fire.”

“No,” she admitted and glanced over.

In the depths of her eyes was a memory of how they’d lain together under the stars and that damned kiss.

The kiss. The one he should be horsewhipped for stealing. Not because she was a defenseless woman in his care and he should keep his hands—and mouth—to himself, but because it had branded his soul with a taste of something he could never have. A decent woman wasn’t in the cards for him, much less a well-educated beauty from a good family.

He looked away. At the plain but homey interior of the small cabin with its rustic, rough furnishings; a bed made of hand-hewn pine and piled with Indian blankets, the river stone hearth, the small table with two benches. There was a single window, the shutters now closed against the chill of the mountain air, and shelves with supplies already stocked for the winter. Flour, lard, salt, sacks of potatoes…it looked like Gabe was ready if there was an early snow. Winters could be fierce this high up.

The fire crackled, a log snapping as resin bubbled out of it, the sweet smell mingling with the fragrance of the stew. Cal contemplated the flames as he sipped a cup of coffee, all too aware of the woman sitting a few feet away.

Every curve of her luscious body was branded in his memory. The softness of her lips, the silken feel of her hair, the smooth, flawless warmth of her skin…

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Damn it, he needed to stop thinking about her.

“You wantin’ me to ride out in the morning?” Gabe came and sat down next to him, cradling a tin cup in his big hands.

“Yes.”

“I can do that. I’ve been waitin’ for you to show up.” His friend took a flask from his pocket, tipped some liquor into his cup and passed it over.

“If that’s the firewater you make yourself, no thanks.” Cal eyed the offering with suspicion. “The last time I drank some of that I lost three days.”

“That’s because you don’t do anything halfway, son. A little won’t hurt you. A lot isn’t a good idea. If I remember correctly, the time you mention was after the Las Animas robbery where Gil Holbert killed all those people.”

It had been. Cal still had nightmares over it. The fact he’d shot Holbert himself after the killing spree didn’t help much. Thank goodness no one recognized him and the sheriff thought Holbert had been caught in the crossfire between the thieves and the lawmen who tried to stop them leaving the scene.

“You were there?” Laurel seemed to rouse a little.

Cal heard the horror and reproof in the question and felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. He said nothing, just stared at the fire.

“Dear God, he gunned down ten people in cold blood.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression etched with shock.

“That’s why Cal killed him.” Gabe said the words in a matter-of-fact tone. “He faced down Holbert, dared him to draw and bored him for doin’ that to a bunch of innocent folks, but the local sheriff took the credit.”

“There is no credit in killing a man,” Cal interjected. “And shut up, Gabe. She doesn’t need to know any of this.”

“From what I heard, they tracked down the whole gang and they were hanged not long afterwards.”

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location of their hideaway. He said in a cool tone, “The Las Animas deal didn’t sit well with me so I left. What happened after that wasn’t my concern then or now. I go my own way.”

“You killed Holbert for what he did.”

Cal gave Gabe a look of pure annoyance. “Maybe. I’d be just as glad, Miss Daniels, if no one ever found that out.”

“Last night you called me Laurel.”

The soft reminder startled him. He finally looked at her, a vision in her rumpled clothes, a tumbled mass of her golden hair around her face. With only the firelight for illumination, it was hard to read her expression, but at least she wasn’t looking at him as if he was a cold-blooded murderer any longer. He
had
given that snake Holbert a chance to go for his gun, which was a lot more than the slinking coward had offered the poor people in the bank, but that was all past and gone. He’d found out a long time ago that torturing himself over things gone wrong was useless. If he’d had the slightest inkling Holbert was going kill everyone in the bank that fateful morning, he’d have stepped in earlier. That he’d been too late to save those people was just one of those things he would have to live with forever.

“Forgive the familiarity. I sometimes forget my manners.” He finally remembered the flask in his hand and decided a cautious drink might be in order.

As he tipped it to his mouth, she murmured, “I didn’t mind, actually.”

The reason he choked wasn’t entirely the harshness of Gabe’s home brew There was a lot more to the man sitting across from her than she knew and she’d sensed it from the terrifying moment she learned his identity. The icy calm exterior hid the inside core and the more time she spent in his company, the more she realized she had no idea who he really was.

The cold, heartless gunman was somewhere in there, because she’d seen it. The moment he’d offered the gang the money for her and slid off his horse, she’d known—as had they apparently—he was willing to kill to get what he wanted. However, it was a 38

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little hard to reconcile this was the same man who had treated her with nothing but polite courtesy since they’d ridden away from the camp.

Not to mention that bone-melting kiss.

It had started as an attempt to prove some absurd point, she knew that. To show he was as unworthy of trust as any of his ruffian cohorts, but when his mouth had actually touched hers, she’d felt he’d been as lost in the sensation as she was mesmerized by the tender warmth of it.

No man who could hold and touch a woman at his mercy with that amount of gentleness was evil. More to the point, she had a feeling that something was going on under the surface that explained his involvement with both the River Bend Outfit and men like Gil Holbert. After three long days in his company, she knew enough about Cal Riker to guess he detested men like them.