Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) (24 page)

Silence descended upon the train station. No one, it seemed, knew what to say to that.

“Well . . .” Leon drew the word out, long and uncertain.

“That's what you wanted.” Ruth spoke quickly, frantically. “Now you can have it.”

Leon ignored her, contemplating Noah with renewed interest. “Why did you come here, Walker? You said she'd be better off without you.”

“
Aargh!
” Ruth turned and kicked Noah in the shin.

“Ouch! What did I do?”

“Ask me first the next time you decide to ruin my life.”

“Ruin? I wanted you safe and happy. You saw what our life would have been like. After those three men surprised us, you could hardly talk. I figured you'd be thrilled to be freed from a commitment you hadn't truly understood when you made it.”

“Thrilled? Thrilled?” The increasing volume of her voice, the narrowing of her eyes, made Noah step out of range of her sharply pointed boots. “I was devastated. I want
you.
If I can't have you, I don't want anyone.”

“You just said you'd marry Leon.”

“To save you. Try and keep up.”

She spun back to face the sheriff, who was grinning at her display. Noah was having a hard time keeping his own smile to himself. If he hadn't been in imminent danger of dying, he might have laughed out loud. Ruth seemed to have come out of her apathy with a vengeance. Perhaps she'd be all right, after all.

“Well?” she demanded. “Is it a deal?”

Leon's smile faded. “No deal.”

“But you've been wanting to marry me for years.”

“Not anymore.”

“What?” Ruth sounded outraged. “I thought you loved me.”

“I'll never love you like he does.”

Ruth blinked. So did Noah.

“Walker gave you up so you'd be safe. I just wanted you so I could have the life I dreamed of. But you'll never be happy with me, and while you might never be truly safe with him . . .” He shrugged. “Happy is a whole lot more important.”

He uncocked his gun and holstered it. “You'd better get a move on before Kelly comes back. He'll just want you dead.”

“I-I don't understand,” Ruth stammered.

Leon crossed the short distance and took her hands. “Go with him. Have a life. Love like yours doesn't come along twice.”

He kissed her on the brow, and Ruth peered searchingly into his face. Noah had no idea what she saw there, but she went on tiptoe and kissed Leon on the lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Leon released her hands. Then he turned, and for an instant Noah saw the same sadness that had haunted his own face for the last several months in Mexico. But when the sheriff's eyes met his, it was gone, and he was all business once more. Leon jerked his head toward the tracks, and Noah joined him there for a private conversation.

“Your horse is in the alley, along with Ruth's.”

Noah frowned. “Why?”

“My deputy found him. Figured he'd wandered off from the Kellys'. I sent him on home and brought your horse over here.”

“That's why you weren't surprised to see me.”

“To be honest, Walker, if you
hadn't
shown up, I'd have been surprised. I did my best to get her to marry me before tonight, but I lost.” He held out his hand. “Good luck.”

In another time, another place, without a woman between them, they might have been friends. Maybe they were even now, even here, despite her. Noah put his hand in Leon's, and they shook.

When the sheriff would have pulled away, Noah held on. “You said you didn't love her like me, but I think you do. You're giving her up, too.”

Leon withdrew his hand and shrugged. “Go. I'll tell everyone I heard you were killed in Indian Territory. Hardly anyone gets out of there alive.”

“What about her father?”

“She disappeared.”

“Will he believe it?”

“It'll be the truth. If you ever get out of here.” Leon smiled. “To be honest, he'll be glad. She wasn't going to marry me. There would always be whispers. He hates that kind of thing. Robert Kelly is a selfish old man, and he doesn't deserve her in his life.”

“You'll get no argument from me. But what about his legacy?”

“The town? I'll take care of it. I'm going to need something to occupy my time.” Leon flicked a glance toward the open prairie. “What will you do down there?”

“I'm not sure. There's a village right on the Gulf. The blacksmith is as old as water. I always liked horses. He said he'd teach me if I—” Noah broke off. Miguel had said he'd teach him if Noah sobered up long enough to listen.

He glanced at Ruth, who sat on the bench watching them both with concerned eyes. He might be able to manage that now.

Noah slapped Leon on the back in lieu of good-bye, then led Ruth to their horses. Dog, who had been snuffling his lips along Annabelle's neck as if he hadn't seen her in a year, suddenly lifted his head and blubbered in joy.

“Yeah, I missed you, too, boy.” In Mexico, Noah could have gotten a real dog. There were plenty to be had. They wandered the streets at will. But he'd discovered that he missed his pet horse, and nothing else would do.

In the dark alleyway where he'd once watched her and dreamed of a future as his life ebbed away, Ruth put her hand on Noah's arm and lifted her face. “Did you say you loved me in our barn beneath the stars?”

His eyes widened. He'd been certain she was asleep. “Yes,” he admitted. “I did.”

“You told me once that you'd never say those words unless you meant them.”

“I did.”

“Then how could you leave me?” Her voice broke, and he felt like a slug.

“I was selfish—then and now. I should have asked you what you wanted. What
do
you want, Ruth?” He held his breath. Though he knew she loved him, what he deserved was for her to hate him. But men like Noah rarely got what they deserved. That he still lived was proof of that.

“The only thing I've ever wanted was you.”

Despite her words, doubt reared its ugly head. “I'm no bargain. I'll try to start over, but—”

She put her fingers over his mouth. “Stop. I've always seen you as my hero, and you thought I was a princess. But we're just Noah and Ruth.” Her hand fell back to her side. “We've got a second chance. Let's begin with the truth. I love you—black soul and all. Starting over means starting anew. The past is as dead as Billy Jo Kansas. Let it, and him, stay dead.”

Her words made sense. The soul he had never hoped to cleanse suddenly lightened at the truth he saw in her eyes. As snow sparked her eyelashes and danced across her nose, Noah knew he'd never loved her more than he did right this minute, and now was the time to tell her what he had learned.

“I might not deserve your love, but you deserve mine. No one will ever love you like I do.”

She cupped his cheek, and everything he'd ever felt for her—protectiveness, desire, true and forever love—filled his soul. He put all of them into his kiss.

With no more need for words, Noah lifted Ruth onto Annabelle. He climbed on Dog. Together the four of them headed south as the snow fell on another Christmas Eve.

Read on for a peek at the first Western-set historical romance in the
Once Upon A Time in the West
series by Lori Austin

BEAUTY AND THE BOUNTY HUNTER

Available now from Signet Eclipse

A half hour later, Cat reached Alexi's tent, which was large enough to serve as a Rebel hospital. Mikhail stood outside. “Hitch the horses,” Cat told him. He moved off without argument.

Cat drew aside the flap and ducked in. Alexi was sprawled on a feather tick, one arm around a blonde and another around a brunette. The women were naked and fast asleep. Alexi lay naked and wide awake.

Cat's gaze swept his body. Everywhere.

He smirked. “Care to join us?”

“We need to be on the road.”

His lips flattened. “What did you do?”

“Now, Alexi.”

He came to his feet, tumbling the blonde onto the ground and the brunette into the dip where his body had been. Both awoke with a jolt and a gasp.

“Leave.” He flicked one hand as if shooing a fly. The girls were obviously familiar with Alexi because they snatched their scattered clothes and fled. “Should we expect a posse or merely the sheriff?”

“Hard to say.” Depended on whom she'd knocked out—citizen or visitor—and what kind of friends he had.

“I need to know,
cara
,” Alexi said softly.

Since he did, Cat quickly told him what had happened. Alexi didn't say she shouldn't have gotten involved. He knew she couldn't turn away. He also knew she'd been right.

Alexi might have more bed partners than hairs on his head, but they were always willing. He would consider it a terrible breach of his principles to take what wasn't given freely. Women offered their bodies; men offered coins, horses, jewels. After a few hours, sometimes even moments, with Alexi, they just couldn't help themselves.

Alexi struck the tent—folding it over and over, then shoving it onto the floor of the wagon and placing the feather tick that had been his bed on top. Mikhail hitched the horses, the two of them performing their tasks so smoothly it was obvious they'd done so many times before. In less than an hour they left St. Louis.

They traveled five miles that day without incident, setting up camp near a thin stream of creek as the sun set. Cat was exhausted, but camp had to be made, horses watered, fed, and hobbled, fires started, food prepared.

She'd just sat down with a plate of rice and ham, along with the coffee she'd wanted so badly that morning, when Alexi strode up. The tent rose behind him, a white cloud against the ebony night. The dancing flames of her fire threw shadows across his face, making the fine bones even more pronounced. His dark blue eyes swept over her. “You have to change.”

“Don't you like me just the way I am?”

“No time,
querida
.” Reaching down, he hauled her up by the arm. “They're here.”

Cat didn't bother to ask how he knew. Alexi always knew, because Mikhail, whose large ears seemed to hear better than anyone else's, always told him.

She still wore her boys' clothes. Driving a wagon in a skirt was always a mistake, but she should have thought ahead, realized that dressing like this—a woman in pants—was an even bigger one after the events of that morning.

She shoved her plate and cup at Alexi. He nearly dropped them, sloshing coffee over his hand and dumping the plate onto the ground. He cursed, several languages all mixed together so that they sounded kind of pretty, then called after her, “Costume,
bébé
. You know what to do.”

Cat stripped out of her boy's clothes and shoved those at Alexi, too. He'd dispose of the evidence, probably in her own fire, then, wearing only her underthings, she ran to the tent and ducked inside. Not an instant too soon. Seconds later the steady beat of horses' hooves drifted on the night and someone hailed the camp.

Cat's gaze swept the interior, lighting on the valise where she'd once stored her costumes sitting atop Alexi's bed. She couldn't believe he'd kept it for over a year. She tore through, pulling out a brightly colored skirt with many flounces that ended well above the ankle. Cat found an equally bright blouse that dipped low enough to distract just about anyone.

Add large Gypsy earrings that would sparkle and twirl and capture every gaze, then scrub some water through her hair until it appeared tousled by lustful hands and slap on a bit of makeup to darken the skin. Her light green eyes were a problem. But if she kept them cast down and let her hair fall over them, maybe in the dusky light—only one lantern burned within the tent—they'd mistake her for someone Alexi had picked up south of the Rio Grande.

Thanks to Alexi, her Spanish was quite good, and what she didn't know, she'd invent. She doubted anyone in a Missouri posse would notice.

“Everyone out of the wagons and tent!” The man sounded like he meant business. Whoever the fool in the alley had been, he seemed to have good friends indeed.

Cat peered into a hand mirror. The woman gazing back smiled seductively. She shoved her blouse off of one shoulder, tugged the waist of the skirt a little higher to reveal more of her calf. She just might do.

“Exactly who are you searching
for
, gentlemen?” Alexi sounded half asleep, as if he could care less who invaded his camp or rifled his property.

“Cat O'Banyon.”

Ah, hell.
Cat recognized the voice. Obviously she hadn't hit the man in the alley hard enough.

Alexi began to laugh. “The bounty hunter? Why would he be here?”

“Word is that O'Banyon's a woman who likes to dress as a boy.”

“You think a woman could get the drop on all those desperate characters?” Alexi's voice dripped with scorn. “I heard that in Abilene three men caught Cat O'Banyon red-handed, chased
him
for thirty miles. Although . . .”

He drew the word out, and even Cat, who knew Alexi's tricks, found herself leaning forward in expectation of what he might say next.

“The man is quite clever,” Alexi continued. “What better way to throw everyone off the trail than to pretend to be a woman?”

Silence descended. Cat held her breath, hoping that Alexi's talent at lies had saved them again. She should never have made the idiot in the alley say the words. That must have been what gave her away. But she hadn't been able to help herself.

“Doesn't matter,” the leader said at last. “Even if the woman we want ain't O'Banyon, she assaulted a citizen. We gotta take her in.”

“Why would you think she's here?” Alexi asked.

“Folks along the river said you left in an awful hurry.”

“Is that a crime?”

“In my experience, a quick exit usually means something's fishy.”

“I assure you we've done nothing wrong.” Alexi's voice held just the right amount of sincerity and outrage. He was so damn good at this.

“Then you won't mind if we look around.”

“Be my guest.” The statement was followed by clangs and thumps as they searched the wagons. They wouldn't find any elixir; Mikhail always sold every last bottle before leaving, which made it easier to deny ever selling it at all.

A short while later, the tent flap parted and several big, rough, dusty men strode in. The leader was easily distinguishable by the big tin star on his burly chest, the man in the alley equally recognizable by both the huge knot on his forehead and the sway of his enormous belly.

Cat had been peering into a hand mirror so she could see them enter without staring at the doorway as if she were expecting them. When they crowded into the tent, she spun, gibbering Spanish, berating them for invading her domicile, demanding to know who they were, calling them every name and every curse word she remembered.

None of them paid any attention to her words, her face, or anything else but the slow slide of the brightly colored material as it cascaded downward, catching on the swell of one breast.

Cat stroked her collarbone, making everyone who watched wonder how her skin would feel right there, stretched taut over such a fragile bone. While they considered that, she used the other, unwatched hand, to tug on the hem of the blouse so that the neckline dipped low enough to tantalize. Perhaps they might catch a hint of nipple if the garment would only slip just a little . . . bit . . . more.

Every man in the place, except Alexi, who'd already seen this show, held his breath and prayed.

Cat sauntered across the room, chattering in
español.
Speaking it brought back memories of the sudden spring snowstorm in South Dakota, the deserted cabin with more holes in the walls than boards. They'd huddled around a fire, and to pass the time Alexi had shared every word and phrase that he knew.

She was very good at learning languages, and she made up for her lack of vocabulary with a flair for invention, adding a few words that sounded like Spanish but weren't anything at all.

Her skirt twirled, revealing more leg than was proper. Her feet were bare; she'd tied a piece of red string around one ankle. Several of the men couldn't take their eyes off it.

Another thing Alexi had taught her—some men liked legs, some breasts—so it was best to give everyone a peek at everything. If they were to survive, people such as Alexi—and Cat—needed to use each gift they'd been given.

Though few could drag their eyes above her neck, she'd let her hair fall over her too-light-for-a-Mexican-peasant eyes, and she kept her distance from the fat man with the knot on his head. From what Cat had observed of the fellow so far, she should have hit him harder.

Cat glanced at Alexi, gibbered louder, waved her hands, which served the dual purpose of distracting attention from her face even more and making her breasts jiggle enticingly beneath the thin cotton blouse. One of the men choked, another muttered, “Holy hell.”

She thought Alexi managed, just barely, not to smile.

The lawman shook his head hard and dragged his gaze from Cat's chest. “Why didn't you come out when we called?”

Alexi pushed his way through the crowd until he stood at Cat's side. “I'm afraid she doesn't speak English.”

“None?” The leader of the posse sounded skeptical.

Alexi grabbed Cat by one wrist and yanked her close. “No need,” he murmured, running his palm across her bare shoulder.

Cat shivered. Good Lord, those hands.

Alexi brushed his thumb along the soft skin at the crook of her elbow, and Cat planted that elbow in his stomach. She proceeded to give him a piece of her furious Spanish mind. If they weren't careful, she'd end up in jail or worse.

Alexi, who had turned his back to the others, rolled his eyes and smirked, but he let her rant on. They both understood that the more Spanish she spoke, the less Cat O'Banyon she appeared.

“What's she sayin'?” whispered the heretofore silent man. Considering his high-pitched voice, Cat understood his reticence to speak.

“How should I know?” muttered the lawman. “This is Missouri, not Texas.”

Alexi winked at Cat, then turned. “I doubt very much you'd want to hear the translation.”

The leader's gaze narrowed. “I say we do.”

Alexi shrugged. “She says you are the sons of swine to barge into a lady's tent. She believes your mothers were . . .” Pausing, he tilted his head. “Well, I should not repeat that in the presence of a lady.”

“
She
said it,” one of the others pointed out.

“Nevertheless,” Alexi continued. “Something about how you will die. Blood, sweat, pain, your intestines in a fire.” He waved one hand. “It all blends together after a while.”

The men shuffled and murmured. Cat was certain she heard one of them say, “Witch.” She tensed. Being accused of witchcraft didn't happen often these days, but it happened. And it always ended badly.

For the witch.

“What good is she if she can't speak English?” the lawman asked.

“Ah, but, gentlemen.” Alexi glided in behind her, then dipped one hand down the front of Cat's blouse, boldly cupping a breast and thumbing the nipple until it peaked and drew every eye, every thought, in the room. “She is so very good at everything else.”

Cat gritted her teeth and waited for the men to leave. Unfortunately, Alexi was giving them a performance for free that they couldn't find outside a raree-show for several dollars.

He kept his hand down her shirt, palm around her breast, thumb just brushing the nipple. She wanted both to elbow him again and to lean back against his shoulder and sigh. It had been so long.

However, it hadn't been long enough that she could overlook an audience.

“
Vete
,” she muttered.

Alexi put his mouth to her ear, as if he were nuzzling her. “Patience,
chiquita
,” he murmured, then licked the lobe.

The moan that escaped her was low and full of promise. A couple of the men watching answered in kind.

Alexi lifted his head, but he kept his hand right where it was. “Pardon me. I had forgotten you were there.”

Cat couldn't see his smile, but she heard it in his voice. Felt it in his—

He pulled her more firmly against him. Yes. He was definitely smiling with more than his mouth.

“You will understand if I ask my associate to show you out.”

Cat risked a quick glance through the curtain of her hair. Mikhail stood in the opening, and she hadn't even heard him arrive.

“Hold on, now,” the lawman began, and turned. When he had to lift his head, then lift it some more, for his gaze to reach Mikhail's, the remainder of what he'd been about to say faded to a gurgle.

Everyone else appeared frozen, staring as well. Obviously none of them had seen Alexi's show or purchased his elixir. Which was probably for the best.

Mikhail cracked his knuckles—the sound like gunfire in the sudden silence—then swept aside the tent flap. The posse filed out, though each one could not resist throwing a final glance over his shoulder. Perhaps to make sure the big man was not going to break their necks as soon as they turned their backs. Or, more likely, to discover if Alexi would be unable to wait until they were gone to toss her onto the mattress, throw up her skirt, and—