In a Cowboy’s Arms (31 page)

“A bit.”

“A helluva lot,” he said. “What hurts you the most?”

“It’d be easier to list what doesn’t hurt.”

Dade set her on her feet but didn’t drop his hands from her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed, seeing no sense in putting up a brave front now. “Because we couldn’t afford to waste a day while I rested.”

“I should’ve known better.” He stepped away from her and scanned the area. “Damn, I don’t like the idea of making camp out here in the open.”

Neither did she. “How much farther till the next town?”

“Hard to tell,” he said. “Since we forded the Pawnee River some time back, I’d guess we’re a little better than an hour’s ride from Ravanna.”

Hopefully it had a hotel or boardinghouse, though as tired as she was she’d settle for a hayloft. “Then I say we set off for Ravanna as soon as we’ve eaten our lunch.”

The look he gave her said he wasn’t sure she could hold up to more riding. But Maggie was serious about moving on.

“I feel vulnerable here,” she said.

“You’re not alone.”

There was nothing around for miles but unbroken prairie. They’d be able to see for miles while they had light, but at night their campfire would be a beacon. She didn’t wish to make it easy for the bounty hunter or some other outlaw to find them.

Maggie washed up in the stream and returned to find Dade had spread a blanket and set out their lunch. Though this was all done out of necessity, she allowed herself to daydream that this was what it’d be like if Dade were courting her and they’d taken off for a picnic.

She settled down across from him and bit back a wince when her muscles protested this position too. He handed her one of the sandwiches Miss Jennean’s cook had prepared.

“How did you and your foster brothers manage to survive when you ran away?”

“We scrounged for food and begged for handouts,” he said. “Nighttime was the worst because we had to sleep on the street. We took turns sleeping so if a sodomite happened on us, we stood a chance of fighting him off.”

She couldn’t imagine the fear they’d felt. “It’s a wonder you all survived.”

He snorted. “Things were mighty bad right before we crossed paths with Kirby Morris. It was getting on winter and mighty cold. We’d taken to walking the alleys, looking for discarded food.”

She stopped chewing, stunned to realize he’d been reduced to fighting rats for his meals. It was a wonder the three boys hadn’t frozen to death.

“That’s when you happened on Kirby Morris?” she guessed.

He nodded and finished off his sandwich. “Kirby was a damned good man. When he passed on, I cried, and the last time I’d done that was the day Ma died.”

“Were you happy on the Crown Seven?” she asked.

He smiled, revealing a bit of the easygoing youth he’d likely been. “More than I’d ever been in my life. The second year we lived there, Kirby surprised us by giving us each one-sixth of the ranch, with the promise we’d each gain another sixth when he passed over.”

“That was generous of him.”

“That was Kirby Morris. The Crown Seven was my home, and I’d have been content to stay right there and raise cattle.” His expression hardened. “You know the rest of it now.”

He stared at the ground, his expression somewhere between furious and troubled. She reached over and laid a hand on his arm; his tightly coiled muscles filled her with concern.

“Will you go back?” she asked, knowing she was prying but believing he needed to get this pent up rage out of him.

“I don’t know.” He stared off across the plains, his mouth set in a grim line.

“So that’s it?”

He shifted restlessly, that hand fisting again and again. “It’s over and done with now.”

“But Miss Jennean heard there was a dispute about your shares,” she said. “You could still own part of that ranch.”

“Maybe. Tavish said that the Crown Seven sold, but he never mentioned anything about a title dispute.”

“He might not have known about it.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “You should go back to the ranch, if for no other reason than to settle this bad blood between you and Reid.”

“I don’t rightly give a shit if I ever see him again.”

She knew that was a lie.

Dade wasn’t a chameleon who changed his feelings at whim. He was hurting inside over the betrayal. She just wasn’t sure how to help him deal with the pain.

Maggie sensed the abrupt change in him before he got to his feet. His right hand curled around his sidearm so instinctively that she doubted he realized just how lethal he looked.

“Rider coming,” he said. “Pack up.”

Her heart hammered with the force of a sledge striking a blacksmith’s anvil.
Please don’t let it be Carson.

This far away she couldn’t tell who was approaching. She ignored the aches and twinges as she hurried to gather up their provisions.

“I’m betting he’s on one side of the law or the other,” Dade said as the lone rider drew closer.

Maggie agreed. The man sat the horse with military precision, his hat low to shadow his face, his left hand holding the reins while his right hand rested on his thigh.

A rifle barrel extended from the scabbard. But it was the sun glinting off the sidearm strapped to his hip that caught her attention. The rider could likely pull his gun in the blink of an eye.

“What do we do?” she asked, her throat parched despite the sweet tea Miss Jennean had furnished for their lunch.

“Say no more than you have to.”

Maggie would gladly adhere to that advice. She was comfortable playing whatever role Dade deemed necessary, trusting him as she hadn’t trusted anyone in so long.

The cowboy was doing his best to protect her reputation and would likely palm her off as his sister. In public. In private was a whole different thing. Just thinking of what they’d done last night made her ravenous for more of the same.

She dabbed at a trickle of sweat that took a meandering trail down her throat and disappeared beneath her collar. A shiver played over her skin as a snippet from last night returned to tease her.

Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning she’d complained about being hot. Dade had dribbled cool water over her bare skin, helping a lady out, he’d said. Then he’d proceeded to lap it off her skin.

She closed her eyes and smiled, having loved every deliciously wicked second of what had transpired after that. This man certainly knew how to make a woman feel adored.

The loud splash brought her eyes popping open. The intruder crossed the creek and stopped less than twenty feet from them.

“Dammit to hell,” Dade said, his voice no more than a breath of sound.

Her gaze flicked from Dade’s rigid form to the rider. A shaft of cold passed through her as his pale, glacial eyes skewered her to the spot.

She’d never seen such emotionless eyes. As for his face, she couldn’t tell if he was as old as he seemed or if he’d simply led a hellish life.

“Well, now,” he said in a gruff voice that abraded her nerves. “Who you got there, boy?”

“A man ought to remember his children.” Conviction rang clear and loud in Dade’s voice, and for one heartbeat Maggie almost believed that she was Daisy Logan.

So this was the infamous outlaw who’d taken his children to the orphanage. She had absolutely no respect for anyone who turned their children out, and looking into his cold gray eyes didn’t change that opinion. But the fate they’d been dealt at the orphanage was far better than what they’d have had living with their outlaw father.

She held her breath as the outlaw’s steely eyes flicked from Dade to her. “Daisy?”

The man was smart to question that, for she looked nothing like Daisy. Still, she wasn’t about to reveal Dade’s lie. He had reason to hide the truth, and she’d given her word that she’d go along with whatever ruse he wanted.

“Who are you?” She forced her chin up, attempting a brave front though her knees were knocking something fierce.

“Clete Logan,” he said, his chest puffed with the false pride only an outlaw could have. “Your pa.”

She turned to Dade, positive that Daisy wouldn’t remember this man either. “Is he?”

“Yep,” Dade said. “Except he gave up that right when he left us standing on the steps of an orphanage in the dead of winter.”

“You got a good memory, boy,” Clete said. “I did what had to be done.”

“You did what you damned well wanted, and that was ridding yourself of the responsibility of a family.”

Clete Logan went still, his hand poised at his sidearm. She feared he’d pull it in a spurt of anger. “You still wearing a tin star, boy?”

“Nope,” Dade said, clearly keeping to his word now and saying no more than necessary.

Not that it mattered. They’d both riled Clete Logan, and a man who’d deserted his family would likely have no qualms about shooting either or both of them dead right now.

The old man thumbed up his hat, revealing a face that looked as if it’d been chiseled from bedrock and baked in hell’s inferno. “That holdup in Placid have anything to do with you turning in your star?”

“Not one damned thing.”

Animosity arced between the two men like sheet lightning, the energy so strong it raised the fine hair on her nape.

“Reckon you heard about Seth and Brice,” the old man said.

Dade nodded. “Allis Carson made a sizable reward off them.”

Saddle leather creaked as the old man shifted his position. “Carson made an enemy too, one who will track him to hell.”

Maggie caught the quick set of the old man’s jaw and angry curl to his upper lip and knew he was in pain. But it was the flash of awareness in his cold eyes that stole her breath.

Clearly the outlaw was after the bounty hunter hired to find her. Did that mean Carson was in this area as well?

“You on his trail now?” Dade asked, as if reading her thoughts and fears.

“Not sure. I lost his trail outside La Junta a day back. But I heard he was heading to Eminence to round up a horse thief.” Clete Logan stared at Dade for a long uncomfortable moment, as if silently challenging him. “I need your help cornering him, boy.”

“I want nothing to do with him or you.”

Dade turned his back on the outlaw and stowed the provisions in the pannier that Maggie had gathered up. Clete Logan’s eyes went so black and angry they looked like flint, and for one moment she feared he’d draw his gun on Dade just for the hell of it.

With a curse, the outlaw kicked his horse’s flanks and rode off. But Maggie had the uneasy feeling they hadn’t seen the last of Clete Logan or the bounty hunter he’d vowed to kill.

They reached the outskirts of Ravanna late that afternoon, and Dade was mighty grateful that they hadn’t met up with anyone else on the road. Still, he kept his eyes peeled and his senses honed for any sign of Allis Carson or Clete Logan.

With his old man dead set on finding the bounty hunter and extracting his brand of vengeance, Dade was more determined than ever to keep Maggie hidden. That meant keeping her name secret.

He reined up and looked her over. Her shoulders tended to droop and her mouth was pursed, but her eyes were alert. Likely her worries ran alongside his own.

“I’d planned for us to pass ourselves off as brother and sister,” he began, “but with Allis Carson this close to us, we’d best change plans.”

“Yes, I’ve used that identity too much now for it to still work as a disguise,” she said. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He shook his head. “Pick a name that don’t stand out.”

“Ann,” she said. “It’s my middle name, though I doubt many folks know it.”

“Ann Morris it is.”

Her big blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “And what is your alias, dear brother?”

He gave her mare’s line a tug to bring her alongside him, then leaned over and stole a kiss, no more than a quick peck, but one he felt sizzle through his veins all the same.

“As in my wife,” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing desire flare in her eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone at night and the one decent place here won’t rent a room to a couple who aren’t married.”

That stole the color from her cheeks. “There’s no need to explain.”

Damn, did she think he was using that as an excuse to bed her? “I won’t force you, Maggie.”

“I know,” she said, color returning to kiss her cheeks and nubbin nose. “It’s all right, Dade.”

He hoped to hell she felt that way when their time together ended and he delivered her to St. Louis. He sure didn’t want her pining for him or worse, to leave her with a baby swelling her belly.

That meant he either had to leave her alone or use utmost care each time he took her. For damn sure he couldn’t be with her without having her again. So he had to keep a clear head around her.

That wasn’t easy to do. He’d never given up control of his thoughts and body before, but it had nearly happened twice last night. Both times he’d just barely remembered to pull out of her before spilling his seed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Yep, he’d surely lost himself in this woman. “Nope. Just getting a feel for the place.”

He forced his gaze from her questioning one and took another gander at Ravanna. The drawback of a small town was that most folks would remember them. But their only other choice was bunking down on the plains,and that would leave them sitting ducks for anyone who happened by.

“Miss Jennean’s foreman said they have a hotel. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do for the night.” He picked it out among the structures and resumed his perusal of the other buildings.

There were several shops, churches, a bank, a livery, and a big courthouse. Houses ranged from small shacks to fine homes. The whole town was laid out well.

It looked peaceful and welcoming. But Allis Carson could already be here.

He could be inside a shop jawing with whomever would pay him the time of day. He could be hiding in the livery, just waiting for the unsuspecting to pass by.

Dade wouldn’t know until they rode in–until it was too late. But he couldn’t stay out here on the plains either. Nope, they had to take the chance.

Clete Logan seemed to think the bounty hunter was headed to Eminence, a rival town some miles from here. He believed his old man about as far as he could throw him. But the fact that the outlaw seemed to be headed to Eminence cinched Dade’s decision to ride to this town.