Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) (24 page)

“It’ll be slow but the horses can pick their way out of here if we give ‘em their head,” Jonas said.

“Find my daughter, marshal.”
Gardner
’s low voice cracked as he spoke.

The Rankins were so near, Cole could smell them. But this man’s love for his daughter altered his plans. “I’ll stay and look for Miss Daisy,” Cole said to her father. “You men go home, and let Bosco know where I am.”

“And if don’t you come back by morning?”

“Send out a search party for Miss Daisy. I’ll be all right.” Cole held up his lantern so he could find his horse’s reins.

Gardner
threw him a bundle and a canteen. “It ain’t much, but it’ll keep the hunger at bay ‘till you get back.”

“Thanks.” Cole tied the food to the saddle and looped the canteen over the pommel. “Let’s go, old boy.”

The dark night made negotiating the rocks nearly impossible, and the lantern didn’t help much. He walked ahead, giving his horse as much rein as possible, and held the lantern high to light as much ground as possible. The horse was game to the task, and Cole congratulated himself on his choice. He’d picked him out of the remuda the day of Bosco’s ill-fated bank robbery attempt, and the spirited gelding had served him well.

“It’s about time we gave you a name, old boy.”

The horse nickered and picked his way toward Cole.

“All right, how about ‘Nick’?” Not too original but better than thinking about Daisy—what all could happen to her if the Rankins got hold of her.

Finally, he reached level ground, the place where Forrest had said the Rankins veered left up the crevice, although it was more like a canyon—steep rock on one side and gently sloping dirt on the other. His horse raised his head, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

“Smell water?” Cole lifted the lantern higher to study the area, but he didn’t see any indication of a spring—no junipers or grasses. “Lead the way, boy.”

Cole followed as the horse moved on down the gully, sniffing the air every few steps. A nice little spring would be a good camping spot. Shelter would be good, too, since the desert could get mighty cold at night, and all he had for cover was a horse blanket.

He wondered if Daisy was warm and comfortable. Hell, maybe she was home in her bed. Lordy, what he wouldn’t give to be in that bed with her right then! She’d warm him up in a hurry. In fact, he felt a little warmer just thinking about her, and just as fast, grew cold with the thought that she could be in danger, and all because of him.

Why, with all his good intentions, did he cause such heartache in those he loved? First Thomas, and now Daisy. Well, they’d both be better off once he got his affairs settled and got the hell out of the territory. He hoped that would happen soon, like tonight.

His horse nickered again, and picked his way through the rocks to a level boulder about halfway up the canyon wall. Cole followed, his arm aching from holding the lantern so high, so long. But the horse seemed to know where he was headed, and that was more than Cole knew.

The gelding came to a stop on the flat boulder and again, his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He stuck his head into a gap between the rocks. Cole moved up with the lantern. Hell, the old boy had found a cave! Another horse whinnied, and Nick answered. Cole led his gelding in—stepping cautiously. Snakes, mountain lions, coyotes, and any sort of other animal could be waiting, although with a horse in there, the wild animals more than likely would be named ‘Rankin.’

He pulled his Colt and stayed tight to the wall. Old Nick, however, made a beeline for the other horse, and the water bucket in the corner. Cole blinked. A sidesaddle? No Rankin would be using a lady’s saddle. Hell, that was Daisy’s mare! He lowered the lantern, smiled, and relaxed for the first time since leaving Oreana.

He continued moving along the wall until he came to another, smaller opening. He hunched his shoulders and entered.

“Stay right there, buster,” Daisy yelled, “or I’ll blow your head into Kingdom come!”

Cole froze. There was nothing more dangerous on the face of this earth than a scared woman, and while Daisy sounded more confident than he thought she ought, surely she was scared out of her wits. She kneeled by an old trunk holding a pair of handcuffs in her left hand, training a pistol on him with her right.

“Daisy?” he said softly. “It’s me.” He relaxed, relieved she was safe—and plumb tickled he hadn’t walked down the bore of one of the Rankin brothers.

“Marshal?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“
Hold
the lantern up to your face so I know for sure.”

He did. She lowered the pistol and smiled.

Cole hadn’t found the Rankins, but what he had found was far more dangerous.

Daisy uncocked the pistol, set the lantern down, and flew into the marshal’s arms. She felt safe, and he must have found Forrest as well.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

He hugged her back, a possessive hug that thrilled her to her toes. “I’m so glad I found you,” he murmured in her ear. “I was—er,
we
were real worried about you.” He pulled her even tighter into his arms.

Memories of what he’d done the previous night sent warm tingles from her breasts to her thighs. Her body ached for more—she wanted more. “I knew you would,” she whispered, and raised her face, licking her lips. “And Forrest?”

“He’s on his way home with your father.”

“We’re so lucky to have you for our marshal.” Daisy meant it. She’d spent hours in fear for her little brother, and yes, she felt a little guilty, too, as if she could’ve somehow prevented Forrest from his foolishness. But now…

Now nothing was in her way. Her insides were on fire. By morning, she’d have a marriage proposal from the perfect man for her.

Cole stared at her mouth, his eyes dark with the same wanting that churned inside her, she was positive. She couldn’t have been more sure. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back. The cave was hard and cool—the marshal was hard and hot.

“Daisy, I can’t
…
We shouldn’t
…
” He lowered his lips to hers in a tender kiss, then deepened it until he’d tasted her completely.

She flicked her tongue on his, tentively at first, then with more confidence. She urged him on, her breasts tight against his chest, her pelvis moving against his groin. She wanted more from him than he’d given her the night before. She wanted it all, now and forever. She sought—demanded—his warmth, tugging his shirttail from his britches, plunging her hands under his shirt to feel the smooth, warm skin on his back.

He gave a low groan. “Oh, God, woman. This isn’t what you want.” He pulled back, but she didn’t let him go.

She wouldn’t let him go! She’d had a taste of the wonders that happen between a man and a woman, and it had only made her hungry for more. Only with the marshal, though. Only him. She pressed her lips against his neck and ran her tongue to his earlobe. He shuddered, the movement urging her to do more.

Unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, she kissed the little indentation below his Adam’s apple, then unbuttoned the other buttons and peeled the shirt off him. He fell to his knees and pressed his face in her bosom. Tingles shot through her body with such ferocity, she thought she might faint with pleasure. She plunged her fingers through his hair and held him at her breast.

This night, she, Daisy Gardner, would find out all the wonders of being a woman.

Chapter 13

Cole breathed in Daisy’s lavendar scent. Even the smell of her made him lightheaded. Aw, damn, he could not resist this woman, yet he must. The most they could have was the pleasure of the moment—after that, she’d be a ruined woman and, with a broken heart, he’d leave her forever. If they had never met, they’d both have been better off.

He thanked God above for the small kernel of common sense that warned him to put some distance between them before the situation went from bad to worse. But he’d never had a bad situation feel so damnedably good before.

Still, a nearly painful urgency prodded him to take her then and there. It wasn’t simple lust that gripped him, but the overwhelming desire to mark her for his own. Yet, she could never be his. Not with a noose practically around his neck. Not with the half a heart that his former fiancée, Etta, had left him with when she married Thomas.

“No, Daisy,” he ground out, shoving her away from him a bit more roughly than he’d planned. “You don’t want this.” He stood back, wrestling with his overwhelming desire to throw good sense into the wind and take her. His heart pounded and his groin ached for her. He tried to look away from her, but he could not.

Her face glowed with passion, puzzlement, and maybe even a little hurt. It couldn’t be helped—a little hurt now would be a lot easier for her to get over than a lot of hurt later. And he was bound to hurt her—that was the course of his life and he couldn’t do a blessed thing to stop it.

As for the passion, well, another man would have to show her those delights. The very thought raised his ire. No other man would love her the way he did, and no other man would make her feel the way he could make her feel. Of that, he was certain.

He snagged his shirt and put it back on, trying to think of the right thing to say. “How’d you get here? Or find this place?”

Daisy turned away from him and shrugged. “I’ve been coming here for three or four years now."” She shrugged again. “I read here.”

“Read?”

“Yes.” She lowered her head. “My detective stories. I read all about Honey Beaulieu and her adventures as a lady detective.”

He picked up the handcuffs lying on the trunk. “And where’d you get these?”

“I ordered them. Last year.”

He should have known. This explained her obsession with poking her nose in situations where it didn’t belong.

“I have dried fruit and jerky stored here, and there’s a spring in the back there, with plenty of water.” She offered him a dipper.

His fingers brushed hers as he took it, nearly undoing him all over again. “Thanks.” He drank, barely able to swallow from the wanting of her, then asked, “So why are you here after dark? The whole town is worried about you, not the least of all your mother.”

“I know. But I couldn’t leave. The Rankins were camped not a hundred yards from here, and I was worried that if I left, they might
…
” she looked down at her hands.

“Hurt you,” Cole supplied. “They’re not nice men, and you made a wise choice staying right here.” He glanced around the small cavern. “Looks like we’ll be staying here tonight. I’d better get the saddles off our horses.”

“All right,” she said as she moved over to the trunk. “I didn’t unsaddle Gal because I might
have
need
ed
to get away quickly. The poor thing has been standing there for five or six hours cinched tight.”

He nodded. “You did the right thing. I think your mare will understand.” He hunched over to get through the passage to the outside cavern.

“I’ll get out some food for you, and the blanket.”

“Your father gave me a bag of food—I’ll bring it in when I’m done with the horses.”

The horses stood content, waiting for him to tend them. As he settled about his chores, he marveled at Daisy’s calm demeanor. Not one woman in a million would have acted so unruffled. It seemed to him that she ought to be a lot more unsettled than she seemed, being trapped in a cave six miles from home by outlaws, then being forced to spend the night with a man who was anything but honorable.

If there was anything more frustrating than an honorable man, Daisy couldn’t think of what it might be.

She knew from her heart and soul that the marshal wanted her as much as she wanted him, yet his sense of honor and propriety kept him at a distance. Of course, she certainly admired these traits; nevertheless, they made her goal of landing him in front of a preacher that much harder.

So she would try that much harder. She splashed icy spring water on her face and dried off using her petticoat. From all the unspoken dire warnings about men losing control, she never dreamed it would be this difficult to lose her virtue. Ha! So far, the marshal had shown an iron will. Of course, it only made sense that a man of the law would be more honorable than others.

They’d have to eat off one plate, since that’s all she had. She filled it with a couple of pieces of jerky each, and several pieces of dried apricots and apples. It wasn’t the most romantic meal ever, but it would have to do. Then she fetched the comforter—an old, worn one that her mother had thrown out—shook it, and placed it on the cave floor.

When the marshal came back holding a small bag, he looked everywhere but in her eyes. “Here’s a few biscuits and some cheese I told you about.” He placed it by the plate on the blanket. “We should have plenty for supper—and breakfast, too.”

“You can wash up in the spring,” she said, handing him a bar of soap. “The water’s cold, but it’s clean.”

After he washed, she kneeled on the blanket and patted the space by her side. “Sit down, marshal.”

He paused, then sat cross-legged—several inches away. She picked up a piece of apricot and scooted closer to him. “Are you hungry?”