Marshal of Hel Dorado (26 page)

 
    
A remarkable woman, whose presence
permeated every part of the house. They followed her rules, they kept to her
schedule and they honored her with such reverence when they spoke of her.
Scarlett loved her room, the deep femininity of it, the simplicity of the rich
blues and curving furniture.

 
    
She would have liked to have known Miss
Molly.

 
    
But she would have to say goodbye, even to
the ghost of the woman who so greatly influenced her family despite her death.

 
    
With heavy hands, she pulled her hair free
and began to brush it. Tears burned in her eyes at every yank through the
knots.

 
    
She wished she could say goodbye properly,
say thank you. But she didn’t dare. Sam made it clear in the cave. He wouldn’t
let her go.

 
    
Tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She
brushed her hair, furious at herself. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.
She’d run this morning, intending to find her brothers, to go home. To be safe.

 
    
To protect the Kanes.

 
    
Kid was offering surcease and escape.

 
    
But the tears continued to fall long after
she’d smoothed the last of the knots, changed her clothes and washed up using
the tepid water in the washing bowl. She was careful to hang up the borrowed
washcloth and dressed in borrowed britches and top. She tried to choose the
most frayed, the most worn.

 
    
If she could, she would send them back.

 
    
Perched on the edge of the bed, fat, heavy
tears continued to roll down her face. The ache in her chest was matched only
by the stinging ache of her bottom. Sam had been so angry when he found her at
the cave.

 
    
Her cheeks warmed with humiliation as she
recalled the way he’d lunged at her, swung her up and paddled her rear. But
he’d tempered that with such utter kindness, listening to her story, urging her
to share her troubles.

 
    
Not once had he looked at her as though she
were a freak.

 
    
Scarlett stretched out on top of the covers
and curled over on her side. The pillows smelled of lavender and sage. The
sweet feminine scent just provoked more tears. There’d been no anger or
rejection in his gaze, no recrimination for her abilities.

 
    
Instead, she’d seen only fascination and
awe and an emotion she hadn’t been able to label until he’d taken her in his
arms.

 
    
Her lips tingled at the memory of the
heated kisses, the way his hard body pressed into hers, the weight of his
fingers as they’d cradled her bottom.

 
    
Desire.

 
    
She’d never understood it, never truly
grasped what it meant to be kissed by a man, to be held and to be treasured.
She rubbed her legs together, squeezing. The unfulfilled ache that lingered
long after the kisses, rekindling every time Sam touched her. Even the most
innocent of caresses as he helped her mount to when he’d squeezed her hands.

 
    
Her shoulders shook and she pressed her
fist into her mouth to stifle the sobs.

 
    
It seemed hours later when the door opened.
Scarlett closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

 
    
Quiet steps approached the bed and it
dipped as a larger weight sat on the edge. A gentle hand feathered the hair
back from her face, but she held herself still. Sam’s scent filled her nostrils
as gentle fingers stroked over her damp cheek.

 
    
He swore softly, the sound plunging the
ball of misery deeper into her heart.

 
    
“Aww Minx, we’ll figure this out.” The
sympathy in his words stabbed her. She shifted, burrowing her face into the
pillows and away from the gentle ease of his touch. He went still and she took
a long, deep breath and pushed it out, certain he would hear the hammering of
her heart.

 
    
He sat there so long, petting her hair, she
worried he wasn’t planning to leave. One guttered candle flared to life across
the room, the light of it bright against her closed eyelids.

 
    
Sam’s soft laugh teased her. “Even asleep
you’ve a bit of a temper.” The heat of him pressed around her. His breath
feathered over her cheek, but he left the gentlest of kisses on her cheek.
“Sleep well, Minx. We’ll talk in the morning.”

 
    
One last stroke of his hand on her hair and
then he was gone. She held her breath until the door closed behind him. Tears
wavered her vision as she opened her eyes. She looked across the room to the
candle and snuffed the flame.

 
    
She touched two fingers to her cheek,
savoring the fleeting touch.

 
    
“Goodbye Sam,” she whispered into the
darkness.

 
    
Scarlett was sitting in the center of the
bed when her door peeked open having long since abandoned the pretense of
sleep. Not even Quanto’s meditation exercises could sooth her bruised heart.
Her eyes were swollen and puffy, but dry when Kid stuck his head in the door.

 
    
“Carry your boots.” He murmured the words,
so soft, she had to strain to hear them. She slid off the bed, gathering her
boots and the bundle of her dirty clothes and tiptoed after him. She kept her
gaze ahead, refusing to look down the hall to the line of doors. She didn’t
know where Sam slept.

 
    
She didn’t want to know.

 
    
Kid was quiet as he guided her out of the
house. On the porch, he motioned for her to pull on her boots. Together, they
set off at an angle from the house, Kid put a hand on her elbow. A sliver of
the moon was visible, but offered little in the way of light. A blanket of
stars twinkled overhead, but the shadows on the earth were thick, crowding
together.

 
    
They were nearly to the bathing pond when
she heard the gentle nicker of the horses.

 
    
Dawn waited alongside another mare. Both
were saddled and Kid guided her around to them, stirruping his hands together
so she could mount.

 
    
Silently, they rode away from the house.
Scarlett didn’t dare to glance back. The first fingers of dawn stained the
eastern sky, Kid sped up the pace and it wasn’t long before she saw the cabin
slipping out of the light in the distance. Dawn turned the sky to steaks of
velvety purple and one by one the stars winked out.

 
    
They were nearly atop the cabin when her
mare snorted an alarm. Scarlett rubbed her neck, soothing her as the great,
sandy colored wolf padded out from the side of the cabin.

 
    
Cody.

 
    
Scarlett was off the mare and racing across
the cabin yard to fall on her knees and throw her arms around the great wolf.
He snuffled her hair, raspy tongue swiping at the tears she wasn’t even aware
of crying and let her weep into his fur.

 
    
It wasn’t until Cody nipped her gently that
she remembered they weren’t alone. She looked up to see Kid watching them with
a bemused look. Cody nudged her aside, moving to stand between she and the
younger Kane.

 
    
Clearing her throat, Scarlett swiped away
her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Kid.”

 
    
The younger man nodded slowly. “You’re
welcome, Miss Scarlett. Wolf.”

 
    
To her amazement, Cody stared at Kid for
three, long heartbeats and then whuffed a noise that sounded suspiciously like
a bark, but deeper. Kid tipped his hat. “Miss Scarlett, please accept the
horse. Unless you’ve a furry secret of your own, I suspect you’ll need her. Go
directly west. At the third stream, go southwest. That will angle you towards
Dorado and keep you off the main trails. I wouldn’t recommend you go into town
and I’ll cover your trail.”

 
    
“Kid?” She called, stepping forward, knees
bumping Cody as he moved to block her from following.

 
    
“Ma’am?”

 
    
“Will you get into trouble?”

 
    
He grinned, the wide, easy grin she
remembered from their first meeting. “Well ma’am, I expect I will, but don’t
you worry. I’m used to it.”

 
    
Cody snorted an amused note. Kid tipped his
hat again and turned his horse around. But he didn’t turn east for the house,
angling south instead. She stared after him until Cody nipped the side of her
leg, dancing away before she could swat him.

 
    
“I hope you know where everyone else is.”

 
    
He bobbed his head once and looked at the
mare, bossy as ever. Scarlett swiped an impatient hand across the tears still
leaking from the corners of her eyes and walked back to the mare. Cody kept his
distance, the mare’s eyes rolled and Scarlett took the time to stroke her neck,
murmuring soothing words until she calmed down.

 
    
“You might have to keep your distance until
she gets used to you.”

 
    
Cody just stared at her.

 
    
With a sigh of regret, she mounted and
glanced once more back to the east. Sam would wake soon, if he wasn’t already
up. It might be hours before he noticed her absence, unless he went in to wake
her.

 
    
A growl demanded her attention. She glanced
at Cody. He was pacing back and forth, his tongue peeking out from between his
teeth. He wanted to go. They needed to go.

 
    
Her heart kicked at her ribs as she touched
her heels to Dawn’s sides, urging her into a trot and aiming directly west, away
from the rising sun.

 
    
 
Goodbye, Sam.

T
wo days later…

 
    
Kid stroked a hand down Marguerite’s bare
back to her rump and slapped it gently. “Get up, lady-o. You need to pull
something on before the Marshal kicks in the door.”

 
    
“Que?” The woman blinked at him sleepily.
The hot, dusty little town sat just a day’s ride north of the San Antonio
watershed. He’d ridden hard, leaving a clear trail south. From the shouts
downstairs, his work had paid off.

 
    
He recognized the deep tones of his
brothers. Kid sat up and slapped Marguerite’s rump again, rousting her from the
bed. “Vestirse, ahora.”

 
    
Kid dragged britches on over his own
nakedness and tossed some coins on the bed. His big-breasted companion wasted
no time scooping them up. She insulted him in Spanish, but had the loose top
pulled over her head when Sam’s fist pounded on the door. Kid folded his arms
and waited, enjoying the view as Marguerite wiggled into a pair of too tight,
over washed pantaloons.

 
    
The door wasn’t locked.

 
    
The handle wiggled and the door opened.

 
    
Exhaling a hard quick breath, Kid stiffened
his spine and met his brother’s furious gaze.

 
    
“Afternoon.”

 
    
“Where is she?”

 
F
our days later…

 
    
“Bourbon?” Jebediah asked. The judge
arrived at the Flying K earlier, dusty and trail worn.

 
    
“Don’t mind if I do.” A year younger than
Jed, Judge Farrell’s dark hair was salted with a heavy dose of gray and his
sun-darkened face was a sea of wrinkles.

 
    
Jed examined him in the mirror as he filled
two imported, French cut glasses with a thumb length of amber liquid. The Judge
moved slowly, slightly dragging his right leg in a manner characteristic of
gout. Jed sighed. Age was the friend of no man.