Catch Me (21 page)

She choked back sobs when she saw the wound. Angry, crimson blood filled a gap in his skin four inches below his sternum. Even worse, the blood flowed slower and slower with every pulse of his heart. Please God, no. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she’d just managed to save Dean.

A wrinkle appeared over Dean’s nose. “We need a doctor. Right away.”

She didn’t even know how to feel. This strange numbness wasn’t right, but she couldn’t seem to break past it. She must be upset—tears trickled down her face in a steady stream—but it was almost as if she watched the scene from a distance.

Andrew cleared the way through the crowd for Dr. Grant, but the mob had dissolved into a wandering mass of people she’d once trusted. They all watched the little tableau with wide eyes and quiet murmurs. Andrew stayed near, keeping guard over Maggie and Dean where they knelt in the sand next to her father.

The doc knelt on Father’s other side. His thin mouth bent in a deep frown, he prodded at the wound with a pair of shiny forceps that soon dripped with blood. He shook his head. Maggie knew before she even saw his eyes behind his shiny spectacles. “I’m sorry, Miss Bullock. The exit wound leads me to assume his bowels are perforated.”

She brushed tears away. “I understand.”

“Maggie.” Father’s hand trembled as it wrapped around hers. “Maggie…I tried to make it right…Maybe it was too little…and maybe it was too late. But I tried.”

“I know you did.” She stroked his hair, afraid to touch him anywhere else for fear she’d hurt him.

He looked to Dean. “Will you look after my Maggie?”

Dean’s grip tightened on her upper arm, but she couldn’t tell if it was a reassurance or if he was uncomfortable at being cornered. His voice gave no hint, coming warm and steady. “Of course, sir. I’ll take care of her as much and as long as she lets me.”

Father rolled his gaze to her. “Forgive me?”

It took everything she had to force a smile to her face. Dean hitched a hand over her shoulder, lending her courage. “Of course, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, kitten.”

The light faded from his eyes. His chest stopped rising. And then…he was gone.

She crumbled into a pile of nothing. Deep, aching sobs racked her. Dean enfolded her in his arms and she pushed her face into his chest. She cried and cried, long past any healthy expression of grief. She sobbed even as Dean carried her out of the street as the bright sunlight speared her eyes. She cried while he carried her into a room and set her on the bed. She cried when he stretched out alongside her and tucked her against his side.

She cried until she fell into deep black, welcome insensibility.

Dean had only felt this damn helpless twice in his life. The first time had been at Jack’s birth, when he’d been relegated to pacing up and down the porch while Annie went through hell in their little bedroom. The second had been when he’d walked into that same house and found first the blood, then their bodies.

There was nothing he hated more than feeling useless.

He ought to be able to heal Maggie’s hurt. But it went bone deep. At first, he’d tried whispering assurances and calming words. But she’d hardly seemed to hear them. She’d wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine, but he’d never met a vine that cried so.

Eventually he’d given up on finding the magic words. He’d resigned himself to petting her back and holding her close, hoping it would be enough. She’d seemed fragile in a way she never had before. Tucked under his chin, her boots had skimmed his shins. She was warm and alive in his arms. As safe as he could make her.

It had taken nearly an hour for her to stop crying, and at first he’d been hopeful that she’d simply cried herself out. But it had quickly become apparent, from the tiny, snorting sigh that slipped from her, that she’d fallen asleep. He supposed that was better than nothing, and he’d gone on holding her. Even when he’d decided to get cleaned up, he kept a careful eye on her, not wanting her to wake alone. A quick wash and a change of clothes later, he’d slipped off her boots, then unbuttoned her bodice and corset hoping to ease her comfort.

She’d rolled into his arms and snuggled her face into his shirtfront, even in a knocked-out deep sleep.

Inside him, a tight twist of emotion he hadn’t even known he carried loosened.

He didn’t know if he’d cock it all up. There was no way to tell. No man could possibly be everywhere and protect everyone at the same time. That was what made him human. But he could try the best damn he could, and at night, if he could lie down beside this fierce woman, it would be enough.

He placed a hand over her chest and her heart thumped against his palm. It would be more than enough. He’d get the second chance he’d never thought he’d get. This time with a woman strong enough to be a partner at his side.

A pink swash of sunset painted the hotel room’s window. The day slipped and slid into night with an astonishing swiftness.

Still, Dean held Maggie.

Hours later she stirred, blearily wiping closed fists across her eyes like a child. He knew the moment she came fully awake, because she froze like a frightened rabbit. Her head craned up slowly, until she saw him.

She heaved a trembling sigh. “Hello.”

He rubbed the corner of her eye and his thumb came away damp. She’d wept even in her sleep. “Hello,” he echoed.

“I thought I’d lost you. That you were as good as dead.”

The last coal of fear that had been burning deep in his chest sputtered out. He’d thought the same thing. Relief washed over him like a cool waterfall. “I’m right here.”

“Thank God,” she said on a soft whisper, cupping his jaw.

She shifted, dragging her knee up higher over his thigh. Her loosely bound breasts pushed into his chest with every breath. Dean cursed himself soundly. He’d meant nothing but comfort and now he was rapidly becoming as randy as a young boy near his first piece of tail. He moved his gaze to the plain white ceiling and gritted his teeth as he thought of icy mountain streams. Breaking a horse. His Great-Aunt Esmeralda. Anything to get his mind off her soft, warm body stretched full-length along his.

“How long have I been asleep?” She trailed a finger over the placket of his shirt, tracing patterns in between and around the buttons.

“A few hours. I’m not sure.” He caught her hand before the innocent action could invoke more illicit thoughts from him. “Maggie, I’m so sorry—”

She snatched her hand free and crossed his lips with a single finger. “Shh. Not now, okay? Give me a little bit, all right?” Her eyes were huge, dark wells of sadness as they begged for his understanding.

He took her finger from his lips and grazed a kiss against the tender skin of her wrist. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” A soft smile curled her mouth.

He kissed her. He didn’t quite mean to. When she’d asked for a minute, she’d likely meant time to mourn quietly. But there was something about that smile that sent the thoughts right out of his head.

At least she didn’t seem to mind. She kissed him back with full measure, her tongue meeting his. He tasted the saltiness of tears, but she wound her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. The leg over his thigh shifted higher and higher until it crossed the swelling at his groin.

She moaned and he lost his mind. He filled his hands with her softness and pulled her to lie over him. Her hands went to work on his shirt, pulling the buttons apart. At the same time he found himself sliding up layers upon layers of skirts and petticoats. Even then, he found knee-length bloomers.

He shucked those off with her wiggling, tempting help so he could grip his fill of warm, soft skin. Between them she yanked and tugged his belt buckle, then his pants. His hard cock thrust up, brushing her intimate curls.

“Wait,” he breathed into her mouth. He sank his fingers through her silky hair and tugged her away. Though her lips were swollen and pouty with lust, her eyes were still red from weeping so long and so hard. “Wait, wait. Are you sure about this? I mean…now?”

“I’m positive.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I just…Remind me I’m alive, okay? We’re both alive.”

He stroked her lip with his thumb, pulling it away from the torture of her teeth. “If you put it that way, I can’t say no, can I?”

“Good.” Her smile was shaky, but at least it was there. If he could make her smile even a little bit, he’d count himself a lucky man. “I don’t like hearing no.”

“Far be it from me to make you unhappy.”

She trailed her hand from his chest down past his stomach, all the way to his groin. He hissed when she wrapped her small hand around his cock. “See?” she purred. “That’s more like I want to hear.”

“You keep that up and this’ll be over before we get started.”

“Can’t have that,” she breathed, before kissing him again. She rose up on her knees and shifted her hips before sinking onto him.

He slammed his head back into the pillow and wrenched tight on her hips. She’d send him straight to heaven on the express train. She spread her hands over his chest, nails biting into his skin.

Her motions were rough at first, but it didn’t take long to catch a rhythm she liked. Her wet heat clung and withdrew, until he thought he’d go out of his mind. He gripped her hips so tight he was afraid there would be marks tomorrow. But part of him growled with enjoyment of that idea, owning his hellcat, and he had to ignore the tingling pressure building at the base of his spine. He thumbed her tight button as he pulled her down for another deep, hard kiss.

And thank God she seemed to be right there with him, too. Her sheath clamped down on his cock as she moaned into his mouth. He jerked his hips up into her, wrapping his arm tight and low around her curvy ass. He tipped over the edge into the flashing swirl of orgasm.

She melted over him like a drooping flower. Gathering her in his arms, he tucked her up neatly against his side again. She’d been crafted to fit right there, from her small bosom to her long, long legs. Simply enjoying the moment, he lay quiet and restful. He hadn’t had many of such moments in a very long time.

But it didn’t take long for him to feel a suspicious dampness spread across his chest. He lifted his head and cursed when he saw the tears staining her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he tried vainly to wipe them away. “It was too soon. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. No, don’t you dare apologize, Elmer Dean Collier.” She pressed her hand across his mouth. “If you keep apologizing, I’ll have to…I don’t know, shoot you maybe.”

She’d certainly proved herself capable of shooting a man, hadn’t she? She was so much stronger than he’d ever thought a woman could be, and he was glad for it. “If you feel it necessary to shoot me, could you aim for my leg perhaps?”

She smiled and even managed a weak laugh. “I’ll consider it.” Her head dropped back to his chest and she petted across his skin. “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in all of this.”

He shook his head before remembering she wouldn’t be able to see it. “No, you don’t get to apologize, either. Not for that.” He sighed and started some of his own petting, up and down her bare arm. “I’m thankful. In a way I was dead inside. I’ve woken up. You’ve woken me up.”

She buried her head lower and her lips pressed softly below his nipple. “I’m glad of that. But…I don’t want you to think you’ve got to stick around. Not because of what Father asked. You reassured a dying man. That’s enough.”

He sat up, pulling her along with him. He needed to look at her for this. All his life he’d been careful with words, never tossing them around lightly. “I meant every word of it. I love you, Maggie Bullock.”

Her lips parted and she searched his face. He willed himself open, the better to show every speck of emotion he had for the reckless ball of energy she was. Her hand lifted and came to rest on his neck, trembling. “You mean it?”

“I swear it. And I know myself. I always will love you, until we’re both dead in our graves and the world stops turning. I thought—” His voice broke. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Besides that, he was pretty damn sure he’d never cried from pure joy and relief. “I thought you were dead. And I’d never get a chance at a life with you beside me. You’re an amazing woman. I’m not sure what I did to get you but you can be damned sure I’ll do my best to keep it up. Keep you happy.”

One side of her mouth turned up in that tip-tilted, mischief-making grin that he loved so much. “I love you, too,” she breathed. “And I always will.” She kissed him.

He drove his hands through her hair, around her head, and bore her to the bed under him, absorbing her love with every inch of his skin. He’d doubted that he’d ever find a home again, but here he was. At home with her, wherever that should be. He poured his joy into their kisses.

A knock on the hotel room door cut off Dean’s exploration of Maggie’s lithe body. He raised his head from the tempting in-curve of her waist just long enough to snap, “Go away.”

The only person stupid enough to interrupt them was Andrew. If the man couldn’t learn good timing, he deserved to be ignored. Dean rimmed Maggie’s shallow bellybutton with his tongue. She giggled and shimmied a leg over his hip.

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” came a muffled voice through the door, “but the town council was hoping to speak with you.”

Maggie’s eyes went huge. She shoved him away even as she scrambled up onto the pillows. “It’s Pastor Tavey,” she hissed.

“Who?”

“Pastor Tavey,” she repeated. “He helped me rescue you. You can’t let him know I’m in here.”

He must have been the dark haired man with the goatee who’d forced the rest of the townspeople to listen. “I’ll try, hellcat, but I can’t promise—”

“We’d like to speak with Miss Bullock as well,” Tavey’s muffled voice added.

Dean bit back a chuckle. “Yeah, I think that gig is up.”

It took Maggie only ten minutes to get dressed and make her way out to the hotel’s entry at Dean’s side, but she was positive it was ten minutes too long. She’d listened to Pastor Tavey preach every Sunday and now he’d know exactly what she and Dean had been doing in that small room. Her ears burned and the back of her neck prickled with embarrassment.

Dean caught her gaze. He winked and gave her hand a small squeeze before dropping it.

Any possible humiliation would be worth every damn second.

She could still hardly believe this man loved her as much as she loved him. His expression was finally open and relaxed, free of the ghosts that had ridden him so long. Her chest loosened with joy. Her stomach fluttered as if she’d just done a straight hour of bareback riding tricks. In a way, she had.

She choked down the giggle that tried to fight its way free.

Once she caught sight of Pastor Tavey, becoming more circumspect wasn’t difficult. He stood with his hat in his hands, a small contingent of leading townspeople ringing him. Her limbs went leaden. Though most of them wore hang-dog expressions and had bent heads, she couldn’t help but assume they were about to tell her she’d have to go to jail after all.

“Pastor,” she greeted him, adding a small nod of her head.

Dean said nothing. He’d somehow hardened back into the old version of himself, hands easy at his sides. It would only take a half second for his Colt to leap into his palm.

“Mr. Collier, Miss Bullock.” Pastor Tavey returned the nod, including Dean despite his lack of greeting. “We were hoping to have a little sit down.”

Dean scanned the small room. “Where’s Andrew?”

James Davidson, father of her schoolmate Charles and owner of the very hotel they stood in, stepped out of the knot of men. “I’ve put him up in a room. He’s having a shave right now.”

Her hands unclenched. If they were willing to offer Andrew a room, perhaps things wouldn’t turn out so badly. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I’m sure he appreciates that.”

Dean wasn’t having any of it. His mouth tightened to a flat line. “I’ll pay his tab.”

Pastor Tavey raised his hands between the men. He plied them with his genial smile. “Gentlemen, if we might have a seat? I think we’ve plenty to discuss.” He gestured to the restaurant attached to the hotel. Through the open door it was apparent several tables had been set together, enough to provide seats for everyone.

Maggie almost obeyed blindly, but Dean caught her by the elbow. “You gents go first. Please. I insist.” Though his words were polite, his tone said nothing of courtesy and everything of suspicion.

A shiver worked its way down her spine. He was right. These were the same people who’d tried to lynch him just hours ago.

No one took offense, and Henry Navarro blushed as his head fell even farther.

With a surprisingly small amount of posturing and maneuvering, they were all seated. Pastor Tavey sat at the head of the table, Dean beside him with Maggie next to him. The rest of the table was ringed with what remained of the town council, minus Masterson and her father. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she felt his death anew. She’d never been privy to these meetings, but she’d often walked her father to the door and given him a kiss on the cheek before going on to indulge in a bit of shopping with Melody.

Dean’s hand slipped into her lap and curled around her fingers. Somehow he knew just when she needed comfort.

She pushed back the wave of emotion and turned to Mr. Davidson, who was nattering on at length about the image that Fresh Springs wished to project to the rest of the Arizona Territory.

Eventually, Pastor Tavey waved a hand. Mr. Davidson sat down, straightening his embroidered waistcoat. Phillip turned to Dean and Maggie. “The point is that we’re a bit concerned about the void in leadership left in the wake of such horrendous events.”

Dean leaned back in his seat. “It seems to be you didn’t have much in the way of leadership at all.”

Tavey nodded. “You’re right, of course. For too long this council has allowed itself to follow blindly. I assure you that will not continue.”

Dean raised a single eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not much assured. It was my neck about to stretch.”

“Indeed.” The pastor drummed his fingers on the polished tabletop. “As a matter of fact we’d like to offer you a certain kind of recompense for that.”

Ulrich Winston leaned across Mr. Davidson. “For the record I’d like to state my objections one last time. This man is a bounty hunter and God knows what else. He’s taken Margaret Bullock, a known bank robber, as consort and helped her escape the bonds of justice.”

Maggie’s back stiffened. She’d never liked Winston, the pompous ass.

Pastor Tavey sent a narrow-eyed look down the table. “For the record as well, you’ve been outvoted. Besides, I’m sure consort is much too strong a word.” His narrow face wreathed in a congenial smile. “In fact I’m sure if we gave them a moment they’d announce their engagement.”

Maggie’s cheeks burned hot. Leave it to her pastor to call her out for lascivious behavior in such a genteel manner.

“You’d be right,” Dean interjected. “But that’s our business, not yours. I want to know what you’re pussyfooting around.”

“We’d like to offer you the sheriff’s position.” The table went silent as every single face turned toward them with expectation.

Maggie shifted in her seat. Dean snorted. Concealed in her skirts, his thumb rubbed across the tender skin at the base of her wrist. “Is that right?” he drawled.

“Yes.” The pastor laced his hands together. “Naturally, it will be a temporary position, at least until we can have your background checked out. You would complete the rest of Sherriff Bullock’s term.”

A bitter smile snared Dean’s mouth. “What in blue blazes makes you think I’d work in this crazy town?”

Mr. Winston pounded a fist. “Now see here, you ill-begotten—”

“Enough,” snapped Tavey. Hearing the usually even-tempered pastor raise his voice was enough to make everyone jerk back in their seats. “Mr. Collier, I understand your welcome to this town was severely lacking.”

“You have the gift of understatement.”

Tavey nodded. “We’ve come to accept that things must change in Fresh Springs and quickly. While we’re working on that, the town council cannot afford to leave a welcome sign out for every shootist and cattle rustler who’d like a place to hang their hat. We badly need a sheriff, and we’d like you to fill that position.”

Maggie’s blood turned into a white wash of noise in her ears. She hardly knew what to think anymore. A contemplative wrinkle tied together Dean’s brows as he studied each council member in turn.

He pushed back his chair and stood, carrying her hand with him. “I need a moment alone with Maggie.”

Mr. Davidson piped up. “Take all the time you need. If you like, my office behind the counter is available for your discussion.”

But Dean led them out to the front porch of the hotel. Maggie’s legs wobbled a bit as she followed him. There was so much to take in. She rather thought she’d be working through the past two days’ events for years.

But at least she’d be doing it with Dean by her side. He leaned against the railing at the far end of the porch and crossed his feet at the ankles. His expression was serious, his lips pressed flat and shallow lines bracketing his mouth. But she peered at him closely. He still looked somehow more relaxed than she’d ever known him. The tightness at the corners of his eyes was missing.

He tugged her improperly close. Her skirts covered his dusty well-worn boots. “What do you think?”

“Me?”

He laced their fingers together. “No one else here for me to be talking to. No one else anywhere whose opinion I’d want more.”

How very strange and exhilarating at the same time. Father had never asked for her opinions, not on things that mattered. “I think it’s fairly insulting. For the love of heaven, they tried to hang you. This entire town ought to be falling at your feet apologizing as well as offering you a job.”

He smiled. She thrilled to it. How much easier his smiles came now. “I can kind of understand that, hellcat. I did break a felon out of prison after all.”

She sniffed and raised her chin. “It was only me.”

“And quite the handful you are.” He lifted their linked hands to brush a feather-soft kiss across her knuckles.

He tipped a heavy-lidded look at her. She’d never noticed how thick his eyelashes were. Dean shifted his feet apart and stretched out his long legs. Tugging on their linked hands, he pulled her between his knees. His power almost seemed to vibrate around her.

“Do you think you can stay here?” She had to admit the idea of leaving her hometown so soon after losing her father scared her. But she’d do it, if that was what he needed. “Live where a mob attacked you? That’s a large burden to carry.”

He wiggled a finger under the cuff of her dress sleeve, sending flutters up her arm. “I think so. I carried a big burden for a long time.”

She wanted so badly to kiss him. But they were on a public street, making it improper. “I know you did. That’s no reason to take up another.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I carried it because I didn’t know how to set it down and let go. I know now. You taught me to embrace what I have.” He cupped her face. His eyes filled with emotion. “Your love is what holds me up. If you want to stay here to make our family, we will.”

A frighteningly large wash of love warmed her and even made her a little lightheaded. That this proud man would bend so and all for her…It was humbling.

Propriety be damned. She slid her hands over his wide shoulders and glided a kiss over his mouth. “I love you, Dean. If anyone had to catch me, I’m so glad it was you.”