The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (15 page)

The hand on my shoulder spun me around. “No!” I
shouted again, in the very instant that a muck-filled hole in the path sucked
my foot, and wrenched my ankle. My knee hit the ground. I looked up just in
time to see a flash, and then a crack split the air, so loud my instinct was to
cover my ears.

His hand hit my neck then slid to my waist. I
pulled myself up, willing my feet to keep moving.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Mr. Swearengen
said in his slow, easy monotone. “Especially not one who saved a town.”

I froze. There wasn’t anyone following me. Turning
slowly, I saw that his hand was in the very hole that had grabbed my foot. And
then he jerked, let out a groan and fell still.

Looking up at Mr. Swearengen, words escaped me.

“Come on in,” he said then raised a finger before
turning to someone inside. “Tammy, will you clean a spot for Miss James? She’s
weathered enough trauma I think.” One of his eyebrows twitched as I came to a
stop right below him, still stunned. “Enough trauma for a lifetime maybe. The
lady should at least have a clean seat.”

The front door swung open after a moment of
clattering passed.

“He likes you,” Tammy said as she held it for me.
“He wouldn’ta shot Grant for just anyone.” A grin stretched across her face.
“Though maybe he’d been looking for an excuse, and you just happened to give
him one. Hard ta tell sometimes with him.”

If nothing else, it was nice to see a friendly
face. Miss Gretchen waved from where she stood, supervising the girls who cleaned
the floor from the top of the stairs. “Let Miss James have a seat, Tammy. She
doesn’t need to hear your crass jokes,” she said.

“I changed my mind,” Mr. Swearengen announced.
“Bring her to my office. I’m not of a mood to see the condition of my establishment.
Not yet, anyway.”

And quite a condition it was. All manner of
liquids, foods, and other substances I didn’t even hazard a guess at covered
the floor. A nearly silent team of women worked ceaselessly to clean it up,
though they’d managed little more than a quarter of the room. From the looks on
their faces when they looked up at me when I passed, they’d been at it for some
time already.

“This way,” Gretchen beckoned. “Mr. Swearengen’s
office is up here. Mind that stuff, whatever it is, on your left.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at the sour look on her
face. “This place is enough to turn an undertaker’s stomach,” she remarked
softly when I reached the top of the stairs. “Follow me.”

Stepping into Mr. Swearengen’s office, I felt a
strange gravity, as though I were being introduced to some dignitary, or a
president. In a way, I suppose he was the closest thing Deadwood had, whether
or not he wanted the responsibility.

I trembled unconsciously when I entered the room.
It’s hard to explain, but it felt so strange to be in
his
office, like
visiting a lion in his den. Out in the wild, a lion is imposing, but in his
home?

“I shot that man because he’s less human than you
are. Have a seat.”

He stood, briefly, but returned to his chair
before I’d taken mine. Upon his desk was a quarter-bottle of whiskey, a glass,
a revolver that I noticed had five unfired rounds, and a stack of papers.

“They’re claim deeds,” he said. “Your eyes fell
upon those papers? Claim deeds. As official as anything in these
soon-to-be-United States. Or was it the whiskey you were looking at. Would you
like a drink?”

In honesty, I’d never had one, but he’d poured it
before I had time to refuse. He pushed it across the desk.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted it before.”

“You swallow it, like this.” He grabbed the glass,
poured it down and sighed. “Like that.” He filled the glass again and pushed it
toward me. “You look like you need it.”

Following his lead, I quaffed the foul-smelling
stuff all in one go. It burned like hellfire all the way to my stomach, and
immediately I fell into a coughing fit. As soon as it passed though, my mind
eased slightly.

“Anyways,” he said. “We’ve got business to talk.
You did me a good turn by not letting that damned Sioux have his whooping
braves burn this place to the ground. I save my thanks for when I mean it.
Thanks.”

“I just did what I had to,” I said. “Eli was –”

“Framed by the horse’s ass known as Eustace Rawls.
The problem is that Rawls has connections, of which you might have heard?”

“Yes sir, I –”

“Have you been writing?”

“What? In my book?”

He pushed his chair back on two legs. “Gretchen
told you to be attentive, did she not?”

“Yes, she did. How did you –”

Waving his hand, he said, “doesn’t matter. Give me
the book. Rawls and his half-wit aren’t known for their subtlety. They’ve said
something foolish in your presence? You’ve made notes?”

“The other day, just after Miss Gretchen and I
spoke, I recorded part of a conversation. Rawls is apparently planning to get
father’s claim somehow.” I handed my journal over.

“It stops partway through,” he said, looking down
his nose at me through a pair of half-moon reading spectacles. “What happened
after they tittered about the gold claim?”

“That’s just it,” I said with a sigh. “Someone
came along the road and startled Rawls. I’m sure he was about to admit to his
complicity in Eli’s arrest.”

“But he didn’t.”

I looked down. “But he didn’t.”

“Good.” Mr. Swearengen set the chair’s legs down
with a thump. “That means you need my help.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you
wanted
Rawls
caught?”

“I do, but it makes little difference to me when
he’s figured out. But
you
want him caught now, and you have something I need
as well.” He patted the stack of claim papers. “You see these? These are power.
The more claims I have, the more mineral rights I have. And the more of those I
control when the United States government makes this place a state, the richer
I am. You’re following?”

“Not entirely,” I said honestly. “You want my
father’s claim?”

He shook his head and stood. “Not his. I couldn’t
afford that. Star’s told me how much gold is underneath it, and I trust him.
Aside from that, having people like your father here is good for business. The
more bankers and the less washed-up grotesques like Rawls we have, the more
legitimate this place looks.”

“And that means more business for you,” I said,
finishing for him.

“You learn fast. Maybe that’s why I like you. I’ll
get to the point. I want Davis Clark’s claim. Your father has a line in on him
and if you get me that plot of land, I’ll deliver Eustace Rawls to you on a
platter.”

“But how? How am I to get his claim?”

He leaned over, putting his fists on his desk and
getting almost uncomfortably close. “You’ll manage. He’s put a great deal of
money into it, but it’s not as rich as he thinks. Your father’s claim, though
seems to be quite bursting.”

“I’ll do what I can. If I get this claim, you’ll
help me rescue Eli?”

“I can give you Rawls, but I can’t save your
lover. That part is up to you. Of course, if the man who framed him had
anything to do with that raid last night, wouldn’t that be a sight?”

Mr. Swearengen poured another drink and offered it
to me.

“No, thank you,” I said. “I’ll need my wits about
me if this is to get done.”

He smiled half a smile. “Oh, and you’ll want to
hurry. Word is a U.S. Marshall is riding from Yankton to investigate the fire.
You’ve got three days, possibly four. This has gotten bigger than Deadwood,
Miss James.”

It may well have outgrown Deadwood. But all I
could think was that I’d do whatever it took to share that Texas sunset with my
Eli.

Whatever it took.

“I’ll get your claim. I don’t know how, but I
will.” I stood to leave, and he watched me out the door. As it swung shut, I
heard a groan and then floorboards creaking.

Three days.

“Clock’s ticking, Miss James.” Mr. Swearengen’s
came through the door. “Clock’s ticking.”

October 4 1878

Deadwood, Dakota Territory

––––––––

S
ince my encounter with Mr. Swearengen, the gears
in my head refused to stop.

Sleep has never been a strong suit for me, though
normally the thoughts that fill my mind of a night are idle. A way to save Eli,
a way to turn everything around for myself and my beloved outlaw, as the people
of the town had decided he was. It was enough to keep me from closing my eyes
for very long going on a week.

I’d taken to long walks.

The road from Father’s and my house to the town
center was devoid of life since Sheriff Bullock placed a mostly-effective
curfew that required all residents be in one of the several common buildings –
the Gem, the inn, or one of the other gathering places – by dark. Anyone
wandering the streets was headed to one of these places, or to wherever it was
they rested their heads, so the likelihood of my being harassed was very slim.

This gave me a great deal of time to wander
unhindered around the streets. A time or two, Mr. Bullock had seen me on my
walks and greeted me with a friendly wave or a tip of his hat, but never
harangued me for breaking the rules. I think he knew well that if Itan happened
to return, I, of all the people in town, was in no danger, and that made him
uneasy.

The night everything changed, I was on one of my
walks, though that night it was to assuage the worry I held over father not
returning from the claim until well past midnight. I made my way back home,
and, finally exhausted, was changing into my night clothes when a gentle
tapping on the door – so soft that I thought it my imagination at first –
caught my attention.

“Clara,” a hushed but urgent voice called. I
hopped down the stairs two at a time, my bare feet thudding against the wood.
“Clara, hurry!”

“Who is it?” I whispered instinctually.

But as soon as I asked, I knew.

Before he answered, I opened the door and fell
into my Eli’s arms. He was covered in dust, a three-day growth of beard, and
looked as tired as I’d ever seen anyone. Huge black circles marked his face.
“Eli, how did you get here?” My jaw dropped and I put my hand first to my
chest, then to my mouth, hiding my surprised, gaping mouth.

He stroked my face, pushing my curls behind my
ears and kissed me desperately. I drew a deep, surprised breath when he
clutched me against his chest, inhaling the scent of leather and the road that
covered my beloved’s entire body. His lips sucked at mine, as though he needed
it, needed me, to survive.

“I can’t believe the streets are empty,” he said
when he pulled away after a few blissed moments. “I thought I’d have to dart
from shadow to shadow or scale half a mountain to get back here, but it’s just
dead. Sheriff laid down a curfew?”

I nodded. “Eli, he’s not out to get you,” I
blurted. He looked confused. “Sheriff Bullock. He doesn’t want to haul you back
in.”

He grunted a laugh. “Like hell he don’t, there’s
been rangers scouring the hills for the last three days that I’ve been with
Itan and his band.”

His hand felt so warm, so good, in mine that I
grabbed the other and stared right into his blue eyes. They seemed like the
only part of him that wasn’t beaten up and unwashed. “What’s happened to you?
You look terrible.” My voice was a whisper.

But then he smiled, I saw those dimples, and my
heart melted. “Terrible, she says. Three days hiding out in the hills and I
look a bit unwashed. I can’t say that’s much a mystery.”

“I suppose not,” I said, unable to keep from
beaming. “Oh goodness, come in. Why didn’t you enter right away?”

“Even in my present state of disarray, I’m able to
keep my manners. But, thank you.” He held the door and gestured me through. “It
feels good to be out of the dirt for once.”

“Do you need any food? A drink?” I paused a moment
before breeching the most apparent thing he needed. “Maybe a bath?”

With those powerful arms, he pulled me to his
chest again and kissed me deep, taking the breath right out of my chest and
sending goosebumps down my back. “Why, Mr. Masterson, you’re quite forward,” I
gasped, smiling.

“All three of the things you offered would be
divine, but I must admit that the thing I need most, I already have.” Eli’s
eyes twinkled and he touched my lips with his again, then my cheek and the side
of my neck right below the ear. A slight groan escaped my lips before I stopped
myself.

“I hesitate to ask out of fear you’ll make me
blush and possibly swoon, but what is it you need worst of all, Mr. Masterson?”
My hands moved along the sides of his face, rasping over his hard stubble. I
turned his head and interrupted the beginning of his reply with a kiss of my
own.

“Why, Miss James, it’s you. I believe that if you
were able to slake my thirst that I could live forever on nothing but your
love, your touch and your sweet kisses.”

I was briefly overwhelmed with a hot flush on both
of my cheeks and a weakness in my knees. “Maybe you’d better have that bath and
that food and drink before I start to have other ideas, Eli.” I kissed him
again and pulled away, yearning for his touch the second we parted.

“I’d never do such a thing, Clara. You know me
better than that.” His face held a stern look for a moment before softening.
“Though I can’t deny I felt similar things. I hate to put you out by making use
of your facilities. I can’t possibly thank you enough for your kindness.”

“Father’s clothes should fit you, if be a bit
large. I can wash what you’re wearing tomorrow morning if that’ll do.”

“I can’t stay. If anyone finds out that I’m here,
they’ll-”

“Nonsense,” I interrupted him. “No one will know.
You’re here and you’re safe and I’m not going to let you get away from me
again. You’ll stay right where you are.”