The Renegades: Cole (2 page)

“And Gates isn’t the only one,” she was saying
in her husky voice, which had a little break in it now and then. “You know as well as I do that when word spreads that my herd is trailed by a woman, there’ll be others who’ll try to take it away from me.”

He did know that—if she could actually manage to hold a herd together and start it south—but he closed his mind against the images springing to life in his imagination.

“It isn’t a common thing for a woman to do,” he said. “You might want to think again before you start out.”

“I have no choice. I can do it if you’ll come along to protect me.”

The word “protect” sent a chill of the old guilt right through him.

“I’m sorry for your troubles, but I can’t help you,” he said. “I’m not the one to take responsibility for another person’s life.”

He turned on his heel and strode away.

“But you just did! You just did take responsibility for my life!”

He didn’t even turn his head; he gave no sign that he had heard her.

She waited a moment and then called after him again.

“I didn’t even ask you to, and you saved me from being shot. You said so yourself.”

He kept walking.

Later, Aurora could not believe that she had called out after Cole McCord, had
yelled
at him in public, right out in the street like some kind
of hoyden. And she could not believe that she couldn’t think of anyone else for her bodyguard now that he had turned her down flat.

She had thought of nothing but Cole McCord from the moment he’d left her. When Tom Drury had caught her horse and brought him to her, she had been so immersed in watching Cole disappear around the corner that she’d hardly thanked the man. When she’d ordered the supplies to be sent to the ranch, she’d been remembering how secure she’d felt with Cole’s arms around her, and she had had to go over the list three times before she got everything they would need for the drive. And when she’d bought the new dress to replace the dusty one his spur had ripped from thigh to hem, she had taken so long to make her choice because she’d been trying to guess how Cole would like each one. Mrs. Donathan, who owned the shop, had almost lost her patience, but money was so tight that she couldn’t buy all three dresses she liked so much, as the woman kept suggesting. She really shouldn’t have bought this one.

But she did carefully keep back the money she’d hoarded all winter for the bodyguard’s pay, and she did get all the supplies that were on Cookie’s list. The damage she’d done was to her emergency funds, which now were down to nearly nothing.

Sighing, she turned away from the window of her hotel room, where she constantly found herself lurking behind the curtains, hoping to see Cole out on the street. She crossed to the
bed, where she stood and gazed down at the new dress she had finally chosen. It was worth its price, with its short jacket that showed off her waist and the divided skirt in which she could ride into a town along the trail, if need be.

But the deciding factor was its colors, the very blue of her eyes in the heavy twill of the jacket and skirt and, in the soft blouse, a honeyed fawn that matched her hair. She wasn’t trying to attract Cole McCord, though. Not at all.

She was simply trying to look womanly and businesslike all at once, which was exactly how she needed to look to deal with Cole McCord. He had to realize that she was a woman who needed help so that his gallantry would demand that he hear her out. Plus he had to understand that she would pay him well and define his duties clearly. The fact that just looking at him made her want to grab his lapels and beg him to come with her was completely irrelevant. Any kind of personal relationship would weaken her authority on the trail.

Her pulse quickened with excitement and fear at the thought of the drive, and she fluffed her damp hair again with both hands before she bent over and shook it to let the air to all its layers. If she was going to take her five loyal cowboys and twenty-two hundred cattle safely down the trail, she
had
to have someone extra hired to watch out for trouble. And she had to hire him soon—after noon tomorrow she’d be
forced to go back to the Flying B and finish preparations for the drive. At this moment, she really ought to be considering how to find some other prospects for the job if Cole McCord turned her down again.

But no one came to mind. She did try to think of someone, but her mind went blank.

Before she’d come to town, it had been merely an idea to hire Cole, based on his reputation. Now hiring him, and only him, to be her bodyguard had become an obsession.

It wasn’t because he had muscles like steel and an unexpected, crooked grin like sunshine on a cloudy day. Or that he had dark, dark eyes the color of melted chocolate. It certainly was not.

It was because even the sheriff treated him with exaggerated courtesy, because people were afraid of his fast draw all around the country, and because everyone she had ever talked to who had had any dealings with him called him a square-dealer and a straight-talker who never went back on his word. God knew, she had to have someone she could trust.

Plus, he would be an interesting companion on the long trail to Texas, even if he wasn’t quick to laugh and his smile was rare. There were mysteries in his eyes and a tension in him, and she wanted to know why. She was simply curious, that was all, and she was tired of having no one new to talk to for weeks at a time.

Restlessly, she walked to the window again.
A good many people were on the street, but Cole wasn’t among them, at least not that she could see from here. He seemed to have disappeared.

A quick fear clutched at her heart. He couldn’t have left town. When she had checked into the hotel a little after noon, a friendly visit with the desk clerk about her morning’s adventure had elicited the information that Cole was, indeed, staying in Room
4
waiting to meet a man from Denver who, according to today’s telegram, would be arriving tomorrow. That clerk had better be right.

Otherwise, she would’ve found Cole and followed him everywhere he went all day trying to convince him to take the job, even if her hair
had
been full of dust from rolling in the street and her dress dirty and torn. And the flirtatious old codger had better be right about Cole’s taking all his meals at Mattie’s Diner, too, because that was where she planned to waylay him at supper.

Swiftly, she turned away from the window and went to the mirror to begin putting up her hair. It was still damp, but she couldn’t help that. The sun was starting down, and she wanted time to dress so she’d look her very best.

Lloyd Gates went straight to the Golden Nugget Saloon as soon as he finished his business at the bank.

“Bring me a whiskey, Nate, will you?” he
called to the bartender in passing. And then, before he thought, he added, “No, make it two.”

His usual table in the corner was empty, so he took his position there with his back to the wall. A man couldn’t be too careful when everybody in town was jealous of his success, never mind how they treated him to his face.

Nate brought the drinks.

“Expectin’ somebody?”

“Nah. I’m just thirsty. Too tempting to get a bottle, though.”

Too costly, too, but he didn’t say that. People thought he was a generous man, and he was when it suited some purpose, but there was no sense throwing money away on a whole bottle of whiskey for Skeeter. He could get him to agree to the plan without an unnecessary expense like that.

He didn’t want to admit that he was waiting for Skeeter, either. Everyone would see them talking, but that would appear to be happenstance. He made a habit of visiting with everybody who came down the pike, and the whole town knew he discussed everything with everybody. No, if he didn’t mention Skeeter ahead of time, this little meeting wouldn’t draw any special attention, not nearly so much as if they’d been spotted alone in a more private place.

Nate put both drinks in front of him.

“Was you around for the near-gunfight this mornin’?” he asked.

Damned if the man wasn’t as nosy as an old,
gossipy woman. Ordinarily, Lloyd would enjoy picking his brain for news, but right now he needed some peace to think things out some more. However, he couldn’t be rude without that being grist for Nate’s mill, too.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hard to believe there was that many rounds shot off and nobody killed.”

“
Or
hurt,” Nate said. “ ‘Specially Miss Benton, her driving in between the two shooters right at the wrong time.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd said. “She got there at the exact right … I mean wrong, time.”

He managed to make his tone interested, yet impersonal, but the fire of frustration in his belly flared up again. He still couldn’t believe that particular piece of rotten luck—if she’d been hit, as by all rights she should’ve been, he wouldn’t have to be fooling with Skeeter at all.

Nate hung around for a minute, wiping at the table with a towel, chatting about a dozen inconsequential topics, but finally he went away. As Nate stepped behind the bar again, Lloyd watched him greet the two new arrivals walking up to it and thought about the fact that Nate knew all the cowboys for miles around and who worked for what outfit. But Nate would not think one thing about him talking to Skeeter, no matter what happened later far away from here.

He took another sip of whiskey and gave a big sigh of appreciation. It didn’t matter what Nate saw or didn’t see. Nobody still alive had
a hint that he and Skeeter had known each other before.

He leaned back in his chair and watched the door, taking tiny sips of his drink, so as to save it as long as possible.

Aurora was still half a block from Mattie’s Diner when the door opened and Cole McCord stepped out onto the sidewalk. Sheer surprise stopped her for a minute. He was coming her way.

The way he moved made her breath catch in her throat. He walked like no other man she’d ever seen, in a confident, unhurried manner that proclaimed he would go wherever he wanted and do as he pleased when he got there.

She watched him, trying not to let him see that she was. She needn’t have bothered. He hadn’t even noticed her.

His long, fluid strides covered the ground fast, but they looked lazy and slow, like a big cat’s prowl. The long saddle muscles flexed in his thighs beneath his tight black pants, and his feet, even in boots, seemed to stroke the earth softly with each step. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Without warning, she could feel his arms around her, could smell the starch of his shirt and the spicy scent of his skin through the dust of the street. Remembering sent an implacable desire pouring through her, the desire to be close to him again with her breasts pressed against his hard chest. She felt her face flame at
the thought. Shameless. Not only was she becoming prodigiously bold but she was becoming shameless, too.

However, if bold and shameless were what it took to survive, then so be it. She’d already shouted at him on the street once today, so what would it matter if she initiated another public conversation with him? Living by society’s rules wasn’t going to get her a ranch in Texas or a safe passage to it.

“Mr. McCord,” she said as he reached her, “how nice to see you again.”

He tipped his hat. “Miss Benton.”

But he intended to walk on past.

She swallowed hard and spoke quickly.

“May I have a moment of your time?”

He stopped, looking down at her with a quick, impatient stare that cut right through her. His remoteness made her heart lurch. What if she couldn’t persuade him, after all?

“I ask you to please reconsider my offer of employment. This morning I neglected to say that I can pay you well.”

“I thought I made it clear that I’m not interested.”

His tone was a level louder than necessary—from irritation, no doubt—and a couple passing behind him on the sidewalk turned to glance at him, then looked at Aurora. She gave them only a passing glance so they wouldn’t stop to talk, but they were Sid and Dolly Reichert, who owned the next ranch south of hers and who’d been kind to her when her father died. To her
chagrin, instead of going on down the street, they strolled to the mercantile’s window and stood looking in, staying within earshot of her conversation.

She stiffened her spine and concentrated on Cole McCord. It didn’t matter what the Reicherts thought of her because they weren’t helping her get her cattle to Texas.

“You may have heard in town today that I’m losing my ranch and am short of funds,” she said, “but I can pay you. I can pay you very well.”

She glanced at the Reicherts again, and he flicked the barest look in that direction, too. Understanding flashed in his eyes.

“Well, now, that makes me feel downright special,” he drawled, just loud enough for them to hear. “If you’re short of funds, what kind of compensation
do
you have in mind for me, Miss Benton?”

A lewd chuckle sounded behind her, and she whirled to see that they had an even bigger audience than she’d thought, for two old men sat on a bench placed against the wall of the mercantile, their beady eyes twinkling, their big ears straining for more. The Reicherts were still at the window, silently listening, too. Aurora turned her back on them all and gave Cole McCord a straight, hard look.

“I’ll pay you money, of course.”

“Money,” he said thoughtfully. “To go down the Loving Trail with you?”

The way he said it, the name of the famous
trail took on an entirely different meaning, one that had nothing to do with geography. Her face burned with heat, and the old men cackled gleefully.

“Take ‘er up on it, son,” one of them said. “You’ll regret it if’n’ you don’t!”

Cole McCord was looking her up and down, from head to toe, with open speculation in his eyes, as if he really believed that she had meant what he implied. Her temper flared. So he thought he could embarrass her enough to make her go away.

“Yes,” she said briskly, in her most businesslike tone, “I’ll use the Loving Trail until we go through the Raton Pass and probably some farther—I’ll decide after that where we should turn east.”