Marshal of Hel Dorado (18 page)

 
    
She couldn’t believe it.

 
    
Sam stalked inside the cave, water rolling
off the brim off his hat and dripping down the sides of the horse he led
inside. He dropped the reins and pounced her before she could go for the gun.

 
    
Water from his oil coat soaked through her
britches and undershirt as he plucked the gun from the holster. She scrabbled,
but he was already flipping her over, sitting on her abandoned rock. She landed
on her stomach, across his knees. She turned her head, glaring up at him.

 
    
“You wouldn’t dare!”

 
    
“Oh wouldn’t I?”

 
    
She yelped as his hand landed on her
backside with a stinging slap.

 
    
“That’s for running.”

 
    
The second slap wrung tears of surprise and
outrage from her eyes.

 
    
“That’s for hitting me.”

 
    
The third set her lower lip trembling as a
fire of tingles burned through the numbness of her backside.

 
    
“That’s for charming Micah into letting you
keep going.”

 
    
By the fourth slap, Scarlett’s cheeks
burned in humiliation and fury.

 
    
“That’s for taking my damn gun.”

 
    
He stood, dumping her onto the rock floor
in front of him before retrieving his gun and going to his horse. Her ass stung
worse than the time Wyatt had switched her for nearly burning down the outhouse.

 
    
With Wyatt in it.

 
    
Sam stripped off the horse’s gear, rubbed
him dry and pulled out a pouch of feed from his saddlebags. She eased over onto
her side, careful to not sit. Her bottom protested even that little movement.
It took Sam minutes to feed both horses and then he was turning back to her,
walking over, and reclaiming the rock to sit on.

 
    
Even in the half gray light of the cave she
could read the thunderous look on his face, the tightness to his jaw, the
outline of a bruise on his cheek and the red lump swelling just below his
hairline. He opened a canteen, a twin for the one that Micah passed off to her,
and held it out to her.

 
    
“Now, you were going to explain…”

 
    
S
am
ignored the nagging regret for the pained look creasing Scarlett’s face. The
ache in his head was a dull throb matching the sting on his pride. He shook the
canteen at her, both brows raising until she reached out and took the canteen.
Her hand shook, but despite the outrage and her earlier struggle, she’d not
burned him.

 
    
So he was right about that much at least.
She truly didn’t mean any harm, log notwithstanding. His brief smile earned him
a frown as she shifted gingerly, careful to sit on her knees rather than her
stinging bottom.

 
    
“Now,” he said the words slowly, banking
the flames of his own temper. He’d promised to listen. He’d promised to give
her the opportunity. “You were going to explain.”

 
    
“I wasn’t.” There was the sass that he
enjoyed. He leaned against the cave wall, his gaze drifting from her narrowed
gaze to her tight lips. She was furious with him.

 
    
“You make fires. I don’t know how, but you
can make water burn.”

 
    
“Really, Marshal. I didn’t think you were
one for fanciful tales.” She blocked him from her gaze, tipping the canteen up
for another drink.

 
    
“I’m not the Marshal at the moment. I took
off the badge, remember?”

 
    
She hesitated.

 
    
Good.

 
    
“Scarlett, you’re going to tell me the
truth.”

 
    
“What is it with you and your family? Why
can’t you just let me go?” There was a plaintive note in her question. He
couldn’t speak for his father and brothers, but the fear that rode him until he
caught up with her had nothing to do with the robbing of banks and everything
to do with the minx glaring at him. Flashes of lightning glowed in her eyes,
leaving them in shadow, and him wanting more each time it passed.

 
    
“You weren’t sick a few days ago, were
you?” he leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on his knees. He’d had a lot of
time to think on that ride. A lot of pieces to assemble. “You were burning up,
but you weren’t ill.”

 
    
She lowered the canteen, but looked away
from him to the cave entrance.

 
    
“It’s raining too hard. The storm stretches
for miles. Had you paid attention this morning, you would have seen it bearing
down on Molly’s.”

 
    
“It’s just water.”

 
    
“No, it’s a storm. The runoffs will swell,
overflow and rush to push the banks of the streams, the ponds and the creeks.
The rocks will sluice it away from these caves, but with the wind and the rain,
it would be treacherous to be afoot and more dangerous to be ahorse. You did
well choosing this cave.” Had he not been watching so closely, he would have
missed the brief smile that tilted up the corners of her mouth.

 
    
“Micah told me to ride north and east. He
said there would be shelter in the caves.”

 
    
“He would know.”

 
    
“Am I still on Kane land?”

 
    
“Hmm-hmm.”

 
    
She sagged then, shoulders drooping.

 
    
“Why run?” Wind lapped at the cave mouth.
At the tremors shaking her, he rose and ducked into the back of the cave. Water
spilled down one of the walls, a small spring bubbling up from the rocks. It
emptied into another divot in the stone floor, escaping to some underground
waterway. The gloom was deeper here, the weak light at the cave entrance barely
extending.

 
    
He found the wood packed against the back
wall by touch. He wasn’t surprised, his father kept caches such as this all
over the property, prepared for the chance overnight stay away from the main
house. He pulled several pieces out and carried them back to the front.
Scarlett was at the entrance, one hand on the stallion, staring at the wall of
water that fell from the swollen skies.

 
    
Sam had seen storms like this. They could
be here for the rest of the day.

 
    
Surprisingly, that thought didn’t bother
him. He stacked the wood close to the entrance, urging sleepy Samson further
back into the cave, parking him next to Dawn. He returned to the wood,
restacking it and choosing stray rocks to create a makeshift fire pit.

 
    
“Can you light it?”

 
    
Scarlett frowned at him, jerking her gaze
to look back at the downpour.

 
    
He waited. Despite his earlier rancor, he
found he could draw from a much deeper well of patience, particularly now that
she was safe. But she was cold. There was a hint of blue around her lips. Her
undershirt clung damply to her skin.

 
    
That was his fault. He should have stripped
off the oil coat, but he believed in swift punishment and scaring the hell out
of him definitely qualified. He shucked off the coat and circled the makeshift
fire pit to drape it around her shoulders. He half expected her to pull away,
but she sighed, as though resigned.

 
    
“Scarlett.” He rested his hands on her
shoulders. “Can you light the wood?”

 
    
“I just wanted an adventure.”

 
    
He could barely hear the quiet words.

 
    
“I begged them for years to let me
tagalong, to visit the towns they went to, to meet new people. They always said
no.”

 
    
“What made this time different?” He asked
after a long silence.

 
    
“I don’t know. I can be very annoying when
I want to be.”

 
    
He had to swallow a chuckle at the small
note of pride in her voice for fear of cutting her off.

 
    
“I had to promise to do what I was told and
to keep my distance. We rode for weeks before we came to Dorado. It wasn’t the
first town we stopped at either.”

 
    
No, Sam knew that for certain. Riders had
carried word of gold shipments that were sacked and other banks in further away
towns that were robbed.

 
    
“How long were you in Dorado?”

 
    
“Well, if we count the time in your cell,
Marshal…”

 
    
“…Sam…”

 
    
The tension in her shoulders eased under
his fingers. He squeezed her right shoulder comfortingly, pleased when she
didn’t pull away. Her face was still turned away, but he could see a hint of
color blooming in her cheek. She was warming up.

 
    
“…just a few hours. We made camp outside
the town for two days, but they wouldn’t let me go in. And I wanted to see the
dress shop and the general store. I wanted to walk down Main Street and dine in
the restaurant. Maybe even stay in the hotel.”

 
    
“The hotel is no place for a lady.”

 
    
The quick burst of laughter caught him off
guard. “That’s what they said, but they went to town. They went to the saloon
and the brothel and the livery. They even got to go to the general store, but
no, not me.”

 
    
“But they took you to the bank?”

 
    
“Well, no—not exactly.”

 
    
She’d followed them. He saw that. She’d
been left at their camp and his stubborn, impetuous little minx had followed
them.

 
    
“The whole reason I came with them was to
see some of the world. To meet new people. But they wouldn’t even let me go
into the towns. When they left for the bank, I was supposed to wait, but I
wanted to see, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

 
    
Headstrong and foolish.

 
    
“Then you spoiled it.” The pout was so
palpable in the words it was Sam’s turn to laugh.

 
    
She turned her head and glared at him.

 
    
“You were robbing a bank. It’s the
Marshal’s job to spoil those types of
adventures
.”

 
    
Scarlett wrinkled her nose and pursed her
pinkening lips. He eased closer, his hands continuing their gentle, squeezing
massage on her shoulders. She was cold. He didn’t know if it was the story, the
coat or his nearness or some combination of the three, but she was warming up.

 
    
“What does the army need with so much gold,
anyway?” She crossed her arms and leaned back against him. Her neck tilted to
the side as he hit a particularly stubborn knot of muscle with his thumb. She
made a low sound, almost a mewl as he dug his thumb in, forcing it to relax.
“They pay their men less than a dollar per month.”

 
    
“Does it matter? It belongs to them. It
keeps the bank flush and provides security to other depositors. Taking the gold
could have destroyed the banker and hurt the town.” Sam ignored the way her
bottom brushed against his thighs. The more she relaxed, the more she leaned
back towards him.

 
    
“We needed the gold.” The admission was the
first one she’d given voice to where the robbery was concerned, but Sam
silenced the little voice in his mind that noted it. He wasn’t the Marshal
right now.