My Desperado (3 page)

Silence.

"You're the damnedest whore I've ever met."

"I see no reason for you to be rude just because I'm..." Katherine sputtered, flapping her hands as she searched for the proper term.

"You're the one who loved him?" Ryland asked abruptly, toning down his speech for the girl's apparent sensibilities.

She'd hate to claim to have loved the man. Indeed, she'd never actually seen him alive. "Well he seemed like a nice enough gentleman, but I wouldn't say I actually loved—"

"Goddamn it, woman, did you sleep with him or not?" Ryland gritted, stepping up close to her in one fluid motion.

Katherine's jaw dropped. "Yes, I did," she whispered faintly.

“Then he must have paid you." The giant man was bent over her, growling into her face. "Did he take the money from the satchel?"

"Pay?" Katherine squeaked. The moon had probed beneath the brim of his hat, faintly lighting his face. It was bearded and hard-looking.

"Did he pay you from the satchel?" he asked again, his voice dropping another notch.

"Ahh." Katherine glanced over her shoulder at Daisy's paled face. "Ummm..."

"Not till after," Daisy squawked suddenly.

"What's that?" asked Ryland.

"The gents—they pay after."

Absolute stillness held the street, but suddenly Ryland grasped Katherine by the front of her nightshift, lifting her to her tiptoes. "That's just as well," he growled, "since you'd already taken far more than your share." He shook her lightly, and she felt like an abused rag doll.

"I didn't," Katherine managed. "I promise you I didn't."

For a moment she was sure she would die, but his fist loosened as he settled her back to her feet.

"Ladies," he said quietly. "I don't mean to be unpleasant, but there's a happy dead man lying in the street, a dead man who seems to be short about six thousand dollars."

"But we didn't take it," Katherine breathed, to which Daisy shook her head in emphatic agreement.

"Then where might it be?"

"I wouldn't know," piped Katherine.

"Listen, ladies. I learned a few things a long time ago. The first is never to draw a gun when the sun's in your eyes. The second is that generally folks are mostly understanding about murder in this sort of town." He shifted his weight slightly and wiggled his gloved fingers near the butt of his holstered gun. "But take their money..." He shook his head slowly. "Take their money and they'll hound you till you're dead and damned. You catch my drift?"

No answer.

"Do you?" he snapped.

Katherine jumped, gasped, and shook her head.

"I'm saying the good folks of Silver Ridge scraped their money together to pay me to kill Delias," Ryland explained patiently. "Now the money's gone. The mayor's dead and Delias ain't. Who do you think they're going to blame?"

"You?" Katherine guessed timidly.

"No." He shook his head again, more slowly yet. "Not me. I've done enough deeds to damn me without taking credit for things I didn't do." He stood quietly for a moment, then dropped the stack of papers into the bag and tossed the thing to the ground. "Good luck, ladies," he said, and turned away.

"Where're you going?" Katherine gasped.

He stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "Where does Thomas Grey live?"

"South side of town. On Aspen Street. Big white house with green shutters," Daisy babbled.

He turned again.

"Who's Grey?" Katherine asked.

Travis didn't answer, for his long strides were already taking him quickly down the darkened street.

"Thomas Grey," Daisy whispered. "'E's a rich duffer. They say it was 'is idea t' 'ire The Ghost. But I didn't think they'd really dare. Not 'im!" She nodded toward Travis's broad retreating back. "'E's killed more men than the plague." She shivered. "I didn't think they'd get 'im."

Katherine's mind spun. If there had indeed been more money in the satchel, someone would be accused of theft, and if Ryland convinced Grey he was innocent, she was likely to be accused.

"We can't let him go," she whispered.

"What?" breathed Daisy in shocked disbelief.

"If he tells Grey about this..." Katherine's words quivered to a halt. "Wait!" she called to Travis.

"Miss Katherine," gasped Daisy, gripping her arms from behind. "Are you off yer crumpet? What're you thinkin'?"

"We have to convince him we're innocent."

"Convince The Ghost we're innocent?" Daisy whispered dazedly.

"Don't you see? If he tells Grey what he saw, it'll seem as if we killed the mayor and took the money. We have to stop him. Wait!" she called a bit louder, stepping forward to follow Ryland, but Daisy now gripped her nightgown in a tenacious hold.

"No, Miss Katherine! Don't go!" Her bare feet were planted on the outsides of Katherine's as she was dragged along the dirt course. "No! 'E's a mindless killer. Kills just fer fun. Y' make 'im mad, 'e'll croak y' without even blinking."

"But we're innocent."

"I know we's innocent, but let's not be dead," Daisy pleaded, dragging along behind. "Please, Miss Katherine. I got me some friends. We can 'ide out in New Prospect. Work at the Red Garter till I make 'nuf money t' send you back east. Please, Miss Katherine."

"But we're innocent!" cried Katherine, and suddenly she broke free of Daisy 's grip and was sprinting down the street, her bare feet pattering like raindrops beneath the hem of her uplifted nightshift.

Chapter 3

"Wait!"

Ryland had already mounted his horse when she reached him.

"Wait," she gasped, coming to a halt a safe distance from him. "Mr. Ryland. Please. I didn't mean to kill him. And I didn't take the money."

"It's not my problem, lady." At his nudge the horse turned away.

Katherine watched him. What was she to do with a satchel of paper bills and a smiling corpse? "Mr. Ryland!" She scurried after him, running to keep up with his mount. "I tell you I didn't do it."

He refused to look down. "And I tell you it's not my concern."

"But..." She was panting slightly. The horse had begun to trot in long, smooth strides, and Katherine reached out, grasping Travis's pant leg with desperate strength. "If he asks who killed the mayor, what will you tell him?"

"I might try the truth."

"Then he'll think I killed him. And he'll think I took the money."

"Better you than me, lady." Ryland clicked to his mount, and Katherine's grip tightened as panic overcame her.

"But I didn't do it," she yelled, desperate to convince him of her innocence.

"Life's hard." The horse shifted into a slow lope.

Katherine was running full tilt now, her night rail billowing behind her. "You can't do this."

His leg was pulled from her grasp, but desperation made Katherine clutch frantically for a new hold. Her fingers found his stirrup leather and wrapped tenaciously about the thing. Her legs pumped wildly, and she gasped for air. "I'm..." she rasped, but suddenly she stumbled, half falling beside the loping stallion, but refusing to loosen her grip as she was dragged along beside."Oh! Oh!" she shrieked.

"Damn it, woman!" Travis gritted, hauling his mount to a sliding stop. "Who the devil are you?"

Katherine scrambled for footing then grappled her way up his leg, struggling to an upright position and drawing in shaky breaths. "Katherine." She brushed away the wisps of midnight hair that had come loose from her braid and tried not to tremble. "Katherine Amelia Simmons."

Despite her fear there was a hint of pride in her tone, and Travis bent slightly nearer to stare down into her upturned face. "Katherine Amelia Simmons," he growled, "you're the biggest nuisance of a woman I've ever met."

She blinked twice. The tears came nevertheless, squeezing from beneath heavily forested eyelids. "But I didn't kill him," she choked, her voice rising into hysteria.

"Quiet!" he ordered. Hysterical women made him nervous, and this one was blubbering herself toward a real fit. "Hush."

"I didn't e-even know I was inheriting... I mean, how was I supposed to know? And then all the girls... and then poor G-George expired, and I was just trying to... to..."

"Hush. Hush." Travis's voice had softened as he glanced nervously about. "Shhh."

"I didn't know what to do," she babbled. "I couldn't abandon the girls, and Mother would die if she knew and—"

"Lady," he whispered, seeing a flame flicker to life in a nearby window and thinking it would look bad for him if poor George was found toes up on the street while he was being screamed at by a hysterical woman dressed in a flimsy nightshift. "I ain't saying you killed him. But I sure as hell didn't kill him either."

"But Mr. Grey will deduce that I did. After all, it might seem somewhat suspicious, what with Daisy and I dragging him out into the street and the money being gone."

"You think so?" Travis asked wryly.

"So I have to go with you to prove my innocence."

"I ride alone, lady," he said, straightening slightly and nudging his horse.

"But Mr. Ryland," she pleaded, walking again as she found her former hold on his pant leg, "who knows what the townspeople will think? I need to talk to Grey—tell him the truth."

"The truth?" he scoffed, not looking down at her. "Like you told me?"

"I did tell you the truth," she said, her voice squeaking again as it always did in a lie.

He lowered his face now. She could feel his hot gaze on her.

"Sure you did, lady," he said, and clicked to his stallion again.

Fresh panic showed in Katherine's face, but Travis Ryland knew far better than to care. Caring for another human being was the single most efficient way to get oneself killed. He pressed his horse into a canter.

"Mr. Ryland," she gasped, running along again. "Just listen!"

They were picking up speed.

"Let go!"

"Mr. Ryland!"

"Let go!"

Her legs were giving out. Still holding on, she yelled out to him, desperation forcing the words out on a windy gust. "I'll tell them you killed him."

The horse skidded to a halt, nearly plowing over Katherine's legs, but suddenly Travis reached down, grasped her by her nightshift, and snatched her effortlessly across the pommel of his saddle.

"All right, lady," he gritted. "You want to go. We'll go."

The saddle horn burned like fire as it dug into Katherine's abdomen, but it was the humiliation of her present position, with her bottom wriggling practically in his face, that made her gasp. "Wait. I can't go like this. Not in my nightshirt. It's indecent."

The big horse shifted into a trot, a pace which Katherine was certain would cause her death.

"Let me get this straight. You say you sleep with men for a living. Only this time you were a bit too enthusiastic and your customer wound up dead. So you dragged him out in the street by his heels, and now you're worried that going around in your nightshirt is indecent?" He shook his head, steadying her with a large hand on her bottom as he shifted the buckskin into a lope. "Lady, you're about one bean short of a full pot. You know that?"

He heard her grunt of pain as Soldier jolted ahead and with a mental sigh eased her over the horn until she was pressed against his abdomen for safekeeping. The nightgown had crept upward a bit, he noticed, revealing slim, pale legs that kicked rhythmically.

"Let me down," she demanded.

Travis had to admit that she sounded as if she was nearly ready to die from sheer embarrassment, and he knew without looking at her that she was blushing from head to toe.

"You said you wanted to come, lady."

They jolted into a rut in the road, jamming her sharply against the most private part of Ryland, which Katherine absolutely refused to contemplate. "I can't go like this. I can't!" she insisted. "Take me back. It'll only take me a minute to dress. We can talk about this like adults."

Her bottom was round and soft beneath Travis's hand, reminding him just how adult she was, despite her childish antics. "Lady," he said in a tone harder than he'd planned. "If we go back, I got me a whole helluva list of things I'll do with you before we talk."

Katherine could only be grateful he couldn't see the hot blush that infused her face. They hit another hole, but she swallowed her grunt of pain and hoped she'd faint before she had to face him again.

It seemed like hours before they finally stopped. Katherine's feet were numb when they hit the ground, and she tumbled backward, her bottom striking the earth with a thud.

"It looks like we're here," Travis said, throwing his leg over the cantle to dismount with more dignity than she.

Katherine wanted to glare at him, but first she had to make certain her nightshift covered all the essentials.

"Are you sure?" She scrambled to her feet, staring at the house. It was huge and somehow seemed foreboding, with the windows looking like large eyes watching them with malevolent curiosity. "Are you sure?" she asked again, but in a whisper now.

"I'm sure, lady," replied Travis, reading her fear with ease, for he himself felt the same apprehension as a nagging pain ground at his ribs—a pain he'd like to believe was nothing more than the scrape of an old pellet against his bones. He had no use for premonitions. "So you just march yourself up to the door and tell Grey how the good mayor died."

Katherine took an involuntary step backward, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Alone?"

"You wanted to tell him how you killed old Patterson. Remember?"

Katherine's bravery was ebbing away, and the small hairs along her arms stood on end. The truth was she didn't know how poor George had died. And she had no wish to try to explain that to anyone that would live in the looming mass of that darkened house. "I've been thinking," she said. "There'd be no reason for me to speak to Grey if you'd promise not to—enlighten him about my part in the incident. You could simply say you found the mayor on the street. That he must have tripped on the broken stair. Bumped his head. Died naturally," she suggested quickly.

"There's nothing more natural than—"

"Please," she whispered. "Don't tell."

Travis stood perfectly still. He couldn't see her clearly in the darkness, but could tell she was a pretty thing. Her hair was dark, long, and braided, her eyes huge and luminous.