Sagebrush Bride (9 page)

“You!”
she accused. “What were
you
trying to
do? And where do you think you are taking me?” She glared up at him again,
still slightly disoriented.

In
the light of day, he seemed different somehow, more Indian maybe. Ominous,
definitely. His clothes were the same ones he’d worn last night, except for the
wide blue and white bandanna that was bound about his forehead. It seemed to
accentuate the length of his hair, the swarthy tone of his skin. Beads of sweat
dotted his brow above it.

That
was the difference, she thought dimly. That, and the fact that he was
bareheaded besides. It was amazing how that small variation in his apparel
changed his entire presence. His hat, his one token of civilization, had
obviously tumbled from his head during the fall, because it lay upon the ground
not more than three feet from her toes. She eyed it malevolently as she wiggled
her foot, then bent her knees cautiously, repeating the ritual for the other
foot. Satisfied that nothing was broken below the waist, she tested her arms
under his watchful eye, grimacing as a dull pang shot through her shoulder.

Belatedly
her gaze slid across the grassland, taking in the wide open space, the fact
that there were no buildings, nothing but early morning skies and open land.
The landscape looked a little eerie with the dew still hanging heavily in the
air. “Where the hell are we?”

“Easy,
bright eyes, I’m only trying to help.”

Delving
into a pocket, Cutter removed from it a clean bandanna, using it to gently pat
the fleck of blood from her lip. She recoiled at his touch, and he gave her a
frown for the effort. “We’re on our way to St. Louis,” he informed her, giving
her a worried glance. “Don’t you recall anythin’ a’tall?”

“St.
Louis!”

Forgetting
her aches, Elizabeth sprang from the ground, resisting the urge to rub her
bruised fanny, because that infuriating little smile tugged at Cutter’s lips,
and she had the notion he’d read her thoughts. Nettled, she dropped her hands
at her sides.

Her
mind raced, trying to piece together the events that would have brought her to
this ungodly predicament, but try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything.
She eyed him suspiciously. “St Louis?”

Like
a stubborn weed, his annoying amusement returned and his grin swept into his
dark eyes, though he said nothing, only nodded, and Elizabeth bristled.

Forcing
a calming breath, she peered down at the filth that clung to her skirts, taking
in the torn hem and her once white blouse, groaning inwardly at the thought of
presenting herself in St. Louis this way. She tried again, her nerves fast
reaching a breaking point, and said, “I don’t remember.” Her gaze challenged
him. “That is to say... I
do
recall
your offer, Mr. McKenzie... but I also recall telling you no thank you. But all
right... let’s say I did request your services... It was quite
gracious
—” she spoke the word with
barely contained fury”—of you to accept, but I find I do not need you
escorting me, after all. You can take me home now.” His smile deepened, and her
anger escalated. “Don’t you understand plain English? I don’t want you taking
me to St. Louis! I want you to carry me home this very instant!”

Cutter
shook his head. “We’ve come too far to turn back. Besides, I was countin’ on
the dinero,” he said.

Walking
over to pick up his hat, he tapped it against his leg to rid it of the dust and
grass seed that clung to it along with the dew.

Her
eyes widened incredulously. “No?”

“No.”

“I
can’t believe this! You
have
to take
me back!”

He
placed his hat upon his head, adjusting it until it sat comfortably, then made
his way toward his horse, which was waiting patiently, nibbling at the high
grass only a few feet away. “Izzatso?” he offered without turning.

Lifting
her skirts, Elizabeth marched after him, stopping just before plowing into his
back. “Yes, it is!” she declared.

“And
why is that?” He still didn’t bother to turn toward her. Instead, he busied
himself with straightening the saddle, tightening the cinches.

Flustered,
she said, “Just because!” She didn’t quite know how to say it.
Because you’re a half-breed, Mr. McKenzie?
Because there is no way I’ll get my sister’s child with you posing as my
husband?
Because I feel uncomfortable
in your presence? Because you’re an infuriating mule’s ass! Because you’re much
too good-looking for my peace of mind?
No, that would never do.

She
looked at him crossly, frustrated, not really wishing to hurt his
feelings—he was Jo’s brother, after all—but she wasn’t about to let
him take her to St. Louis either. How in blue blazes had she managed to get
herself so liquored up that she wouldn’t remember hiring him? “Just because,”
she snapped again, much more irritated with herself suddenly than she was with
him.

He
made some strangled sound. “You’re going to have to come up with a better
reason.”

“Well!
I-I don’t have any money to pay you!” she said quickly. “How’s that for a
reason?”

He
finally turned to face her. “You don’t plan on reneging on me, do you?” One
brow rose in censure.

“No!
Yes—I mean... That is to say, I don’t have any money
with
me.”

“Uh-huh.”
He returned his attention to the saddle. “You know what Johnny Law does to
double-dealers, don’t you?”

“I-I—”

“Look,
you can pay me when we get back, Miz Bowcock. I’ve got a few dimes we can spend
until then.”

“But
I don’t have
anything
!” Elizabeth
protested. “No clothes! Nothing! I can’t go to St. Louis!” Not with you, she
added silently.

“I’ll
buy you whatever you need. We’ll just add the cost to what you already owe me,”
he offered pleasantly. “How’s that for accommodating?”

She
grated her teeth. “I don’t want a new dress!” she said, resisting the infantile
urge to stomp her feet like a wayward child. The man enraged her beyond reason!
“And I don’t want you to be accommodating! I just want to go home!” she told
him firmly.

Apparently
finished repairing saddle damages, he turned to her with a determined gleam in
his eye. “Trouble is, Doc... Jo’s already wired St. Louis to say we’re on our
way. They’ll be expecting us. We have to go.” He nodded toward his mount, his
jaw set stubbornly. “Now, get on. Let’s cut some dust.”

He wasn’t going to take her home.

It
took Elizabeth a full minute to recover from that shocking revelation. She
opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again.

“Jo?”
she asked finally.

“That’s
right. Where do you think you got that ring on your finger?”

At
his declaration, Elizabeth glanced down at the simple silver band that now
graced her left hand. Her shock was physical. Try as she might, she still
couldn’t recall a single thing. Surely she wouldn’t have just up and married
the man? She didn’t even know him, for mercy’s sake! She moaned, the sound
anguished. “We’re not... we didn’t... good night!”

The
look that passed over her face was anything but complimentary. She looked
downright spooked by the thought of actually marrying him, and it struck a raw
chord in Cutter. “Don’t go getting yourself all full of prunes, medicine woman.
We’re not married, just playing at it,” he said curtly.

“Full
of prunes? Oh! You! How dare you speak to me that way! You have no right!” She
lifted her chin, meeting his hard gaze straight on. “If—if you won’t take
me home, I’ll—I’ll simply walk! The good Lord didn’t give me two good
feet for nothing!” she informed him acidly.

Cutter
merely shrugged.

Her
chest puffed, and Cutter fixed his gaze on her face, trying not to notice the
luscious swell of her breasts. Her body was actually trembling with anger, her
eyes blazing amber fire. “Just tell me which way to go!”

She
watched as he settled in the saddle, taking his sweet time before turning to
her. And then he smiled. “Don’t you know?” he asked, reaching back casually
into his saddlebag. He lifted the unbound flap and slipped his hand within,
retrieving a shriveled slice of jerky. Ripping it in half, he slid one dark
strip into his mouth, holding it firmly between his teeth as one would a
toothpick. The other half, he held in his hand, intending to offer it to
Elizabeth.

Her
indignant expression was too much for him. He chuckled. “That way,” he
relented, and further obliged her by indicating the correct direction with a
brisk wave of the jerky. He was confident in the fact that they were too far
for her to cover the distance on foot. As he saw it, she’d grow tired enough to
listen to reason before too long. Sore feet had a way of doing that to a body.

Her
expression smug, Elizabeth made a big to-do of brushing off her skirts and
hands, as though to rid herself of his presence once and for all. Slapping discreetly
at her backside, she then turned haughtily in the opposite direction from that
which he had indicated.

Cutter’s
jaw actually dropped a little as he watched her march defiantly in the very
direction they were headed. And he almost burst out laughing when he spotted
the dusty print of her small hand planted firmly on her left rear, but the
laughter died on his lips as he suddenly envisioned himself placing his hand
over that print... thought of how her bottom would feel under his palm.
Sweeping off his hat with a frustrated gesture, he shook his head, as though to
shift his wayward thoughts.

“You
think I’m that gullible, don’t you?” he heard her mutter. “Well, you can think
again, Mr. McKenzie!”

“Well,
I’ll be hanged,” he swore softly. And then he chuckled suddenly, amused that
the little she-wolf had actually thought he would lie to her. Briefly he
contemplated whether he should correct her choice of direction and the answer
brought a devilish grin to his lips, because he sure as the dickens wasn’t about
to. They’d ridden good’n’ hard this morning, and his horse was ready for a
breather. As it was, he’d intended to follow her only as long as it took to
change her mind, and then turn around and carry her on to St. Louis.

This
way, there’d be no wasted time.

Farther
along, there was a wide place in the road, just a small town, but one big
enough that they might find a place to hang his hat and hitch his horse for the
night... and maybe, if they were lucky, secure another mount for Elizabeth.
Somehow he wasn’t too keen on the notion of riding double anymore.

Again,
he shook his head and grinned, just thinking of the look of shock she’d wear
when they rambled into town.

Deuced little hellcat!

Maybe she was too embarrassed to admit she didn’t
know which direction he’d pointed out?

Damned Cutter’s guilt wasn’t gnawing at his gut.

A frown crossed his features as he tore at the
other half of the jerky. He’d tried to give it to her multiple times, but she’d
refused him outright. She needed some kind of sustenance, he knew, so he reached
back into the saddlebags, withdrawing another cut and stepped up his pace,
intending to offer it again, certain the she-wolf was starved by now...
hopefully enough to overlook her stubborn female pride. He shook his head.

Damned females; you couldn’t live with ’em, and
you couldn’t shoot ’em.

He studied her stiff back as she marched. She sure
as cuss looked like a woman who thought she knew where she was going; those
feet of hers never faltered once.

Maybe she was just plain contrary, he decided.