Sam’s Creed (2 page)

“I had yet to join them.”

It was his turn to blink.

“That’s not your stuff tossed about?”

She shook her head. “They were going to sell it.”

“But you were joining up with them?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you join them in town?”

“My joining was a secret.”

“A secret? As in you were running off with one of these yahoos?”

She looked hopeful. “Would you believe that?”

He didn’t even have to think about it as he reholstered his revolver. “No.”

She sighed. “I did not think so.”

The silence stretched. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be thinking up a lie to spin me would you?”

“Isabella.”

“What?”

“My name, it is Isabella.”

It was a very pretty name and when her lips shaped around the syllables, it made a man think of other things that sexy little mouth could ease around. His cock, which had been twitching ever since she’d backed out from under the wagon, filled in a low pleasurable ache. She ran her tongue over the full curves in a nervous betrayal. She was more worried than she was letting on.

“Nice to meet you, Isabella. Now, what’s the real truth?”

“I
was
supposed to meet up with them.”

He looked around. They were a good four miles out of town. He crossed the few feet to where the pistol lay and picked it up. “Why am I still not finding that any more believable the second time around?”

“Perhaps you are a man of suspicion?”

He was that. A check of the chamber revealed two bullets. He glanced over. “You weren’t planning on putting up much of a fight.”

“I grabbed the
pistola
when I heard you come.”

He looked up the slight rise. It was possible she’d heard him coming. “Next time grab some bullets, too.”

Isabella eyed the gun in his hand with an ill-disguised hunger. “I will remember.”

He just bet she would. “You’re planning on there being a next time?”

“I need to get to San Antonio. There is much trouble between here and there.”

She had that right. Pretty much certain death for a woman alone. Tucking the gun into the back of his waistband, he moved onto the bodies. “You got family there?” “No.”

The first man had nothing of value. He let him roll back to the dirt. “What’s the draw then?”

“I have heard it is pretty.”

“Are you expecting me to believe you hooked up with these four because you thought San Antonio was pretty?”

She shrugged. “It is the truth.”

Maybe part of it. “A gently reared woman would have to be pretty desperate to join a bunch like this.”

“What makes you think I am gently reared?”

Sam shook his head. As if he didn’t know when quality and innocence was looking at him. “Come clean. You weren’t planning on traveling alone with these men.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I had no choice.”

At least that made sense though the why needed exploring. “You do now.”

She blinked. “I am not traveling with you.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You were eager enough to go with them.”

“They were not dangerous.”

Interesting she felt he was. “I think about a mile out you’d have changed your mind on that.”

About a mile out the men would have had the clothes stripped from her body and that sexy mouth too full to scream.

“You do not know that.”

“True.” He checked the next body. “They might not have waited to leave the campsite before raping you.”

Those full lips pressed into a flat line. “I do not believe that.”

“Then you’re a poor judge of character.”

There wasn’t anything left on any of the bodies worth scavenging except for a broad-brimmed hat. He grabbed it. The woman might need it. Skin that creamy wouldn’t hold up well under the sun.

“The padre made them promise to give me safe passage.”

He shook his head, rolling the third man onto his back, glancing up at her smothered gag as congealed blood slid off. “And that’s all it took for you to leap trustingly into their arms?”

She pressed her hands to her lips a second before answering, “A man would not break a promise to a padre. It would mean his soul.”

Sam straightened. “I’d be willing to bet these men lost their souls long ago.”

“You will not say such things.” The fingers of her right hand clenched in the fabric of her skirt. “They lost their lives because of me.”

“You weren’t even here.”

She shook her head. “It is still because of me.” Her gaze met his. There was no mistaking the anguish in the depths. “If you force me to go with you, you will lose yours, too.”

He’d heard that before. “What makes you think I’m so easy to kill?”

“Easy or hard, when
he
finds you, you will still be dead.”

“He?”

Her lips clamped closed.

“You might as well tell me.”

“You do not need to know.”

He liked the way she spoke, the syllables coming together in a melodic flow, the accents falling in the wrong places in such a way that made a song out of normally harsh words.

“Since we’ll be traveling together, I’d like to know who’s going to be on my tail.”

“I will not allow it.”

“You don’t have a say.”

“Yes. I do.”

Because she thought he couldn’t figure it out. There was only one man in this territory powerful enough to be labeled
he.
When Sam combined that with the fact that San Antonio was the first large town outside Tejala’s territory, it wasn’t hard to figure out who had her running scared.

He reached for her arm. She stepped back. “I cannot let you be hurt.”

Damn, what happened to thinking he was dangerous?

“Anybody ever tell you you have strange notions?”

From the way she immediately drew her pride around her like a shield, he’d say yes.

“That does not make the ideas wrong.”

No, but it did make them hard to hold on to. “Do you have any belongings?”

She pointed under the wagon bed.

He flexed his shoulder. Shit. “Figures.”

“If I am holding you back, you may just leave.”

“When I leave you’re coming with me.”

“Not unless it is to San Antonio you go.”

Kell growled again. She turned on the dog, pointing her finger. “You, you will behave.”

Kell, being Kell, ignored the command.

Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wagon wheel. “You figure out how to make him do that, I’ll take you straight to San Antonio.”

She shielded her eyes against the sun and frowned at him. “He is your dog.”

“Not exactly.”

“He’s not your dog?”

Sam shrugged. “We’re working it out.”

“I do not understand.”

“He showed up a few days ago on the trail. We’ve shared a few meals but nothing’s permanent.”

“It seems permanent to me.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

She nodded. She took another step, not toward Kell, but apparently he thought she was taking liberties. He lunged. Sam jumped forward. He was too late. With a rapid spate of something in Spanish, Isabella cracked the dog across the nose. He yelped and dropped back. Hands on hips, she glared at the dog. “No more out of you.”

Sam shook his head. If that didn’t beat all. “I think he likes you.”

Isabella bent down and worked her arm under the wagon. “Why do you say this?”

“Because the last man who tried that got his throat ripped out.”

She didn’t even blink, just scrounged deeper. “Then it is good we have reached an understanding.”

Sam supposed it was. The view she was unwittingly giving him of her rear was also good. So much so she had to repeat herself when she needed his help. Bracing her palm on the bed, she said, “You must lift the wagon again. I cannot get my bag out.”

Her bag. The wagon. Shit. He couldn’t afford to be this distracted. “Got it.”

In a matter of seconds she had the small satchel out. She’d packed light. Too light to plan on having more than one change of clothes. Too light to have any resource once she arrived at her destination. “Who’d you say you were running from?”

“I did not say I was running.”

He reached down and helped her to her feet. The top of her head came to the center of his chest. She just seemed bigger. “But you are. And a little thing like you needs all the help she can get.”

“I am not little.”

“Petite then.” He tugged her toward Breeze, who was patiently waiting. Kell fell into step beside them.

“I am not this petite either.”

“You’re taking two steps to my one,” he pointed out.

“You are a giant.”

He took her satchel and hooked it over the saddle horn, hiding a grin. Her height, or lack thereof, was obviously a sore spot, “How about tiny? Can you live with tiny?”

“No.”

Her nails dug into his wrists just atop his gloves, the gloves he resented because they kept him from feeling the softness of her skin.

“Wait. We have to bury them.”

“Duchess, whoever did this is probably still around. That being the case, we don’t have time to dig holes.”

Her lips flattened. “You must.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“I owe them.”

“I thought the padre arranged the deal.”

“But I was to provide money.”

For all her high manners she didn’t look like she had two coins to rub together. “Did you have any?”

“No.”

She said it as if those four men would have traveled anywhere with something as sweet as her without taking their payment out of her hide. “They would have been ticked when they found out.”

“Yes.”

“You’d have probably ended up on your back working the cost off.”

She didn’t look shocked. “It was a possibility.”

A woman would have to be seven kinds of desperate to take off with those odds staring down at her. She headed toward the front of the wagon where there was a gap between the ground and the sides. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up short.

“What the hell kind of trouble are you in?”

She looked at him with big brown eyes that were the color of warm chocolate. Eyes that forgave him ahead of time for the desertion she expected. “Tejala wants me as his intended.”

“Interesting phrasing. I take it you are not in agreement?”

“No.”

From what Sam knew of Tejala, Isabella’s objections would mean nothing. “So what are you going to do after you reach San Antonio?”

“That is not your concern.”

She was right. It wasn’t. She likely wasn’t even a Texas citizen. He could walk away and no one would hold him accountable. Tension arced between them, extending from his shoulder down his arm to his grip. Beneath his hand, her muscles jerked, sending the tension right back. She was a strange mix of courage and desperation. Innocence and sass. A smart man would leave her and her problems to her people to sort out. She licked her lips again, the gesture leaving the bottom one invitingly wet and pink. Vulnerable.

He swung up on Breeze. “Maybe not, but I’ve decided to make it mine.”

And maybe her right along with it.

T
he woman was as infuriating as all get-out. Sass, spit and fire with an autocratic manner that was bred into her bones, she didn’t shake an idea once she had hold of it. And the only idea she had her teeth sunk into right now was that San Antonio was her safe haven. She was determined to get there, by herself if Sam wouldn’t take her. On the hard-used nag they’d come upon about a half mile from the massacre. As if he’d let that happen. The woman would be raped or dead within minutes of striking out. But she didn’t see it that way.

“There are laws against capturing a woman against her will,” Isabella pointed out in that logical tone in which she’d been presenting all her arguments for the last few hours.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to where she rode just behind. “You don’t say.”

“Yes.” She kicked her horse, an animal who wore its hard life in the scars on his hide, to force it to catch up. “I believe it is a hang by the neck offense.”

“Damn. Guess I’m in trouble then.” He motioned to the horse with his cigarette when she kicked it again. “You’re hurting him for no reason. He’s got bad knees. It pains him just to walk.”

His opinion of her went up a notch when she immediately stopped kicking and started petting and crooning to the animal. It took a nosedive when she stopped the animal and dismounted. It was more of a slide and tumble than a dismount, but since she landed on her feet, he’d call it that.

“What are you doing now?”

She pushed the too-big hat back from where it flopped over her face. “Walking.”

Kell growled. She cut him a glare. He didn’t stop growling but he did sit with a look at Sam that clearly said he expected him to handle the crazy woman so they could be on their way.

“If I thought the horse couldn’t carry you, I would have shot him when you brought him forward.”

She gasped. “You would not shoot Sweet Pea!”

If that didn’t add insult to injury. “You named the poor thing Sweet Pea?”

She bristled and patted the black’s shoulder. “It is a good name. He is very sweet.”

“Well, being sweet isn’t something a man wants shouted to all and sundry, so you might want to not call him that in front of the other horses.”

For a split second she looked concerned and he wanted to smile, but then she caught on with a shake of her head.

“You make fun, because I do not want to hurt him.”

He made fun because she was sexy as all get-out when those deep brown eyes gathered sparks and anger drew that full mouth further into a pout that naturally had a man wanting to lean in and kiss it soft again. “Just a little.”

How a woman so short standing so far beneath him could manage to look down her nose at him was a mystery, but she managed it. “This makes you not so nice as a person.”

“I never said I was nice.”

“No,” she sighed. “You did not.”

He dismounted and came around to her side. Her whole body went taut.

“What do you do?”

“I’m going to help you back up.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you think you can get up by yourself?”

The horse might be broken down, but he stood sixteen hands easily, too big for her to just hop up.

If looks could kill he’d be dead but she was gracious in her defeat. “Thank you.”

He ground his smoke out in the dirt.

She frowned at the gesture. “You smoke too much.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It would be good that you do.”

Turning, she raised her arms and waited. He probably should tell her she just needed to present her foot. He admired the line of her back, the dramatic flare to her build, but since he’d already admitted he wasn’t nice, there wasn’t actually a
need.

Her waist easily accepted the span of his hands. Damn, the woman was built for a man’s pleasure. With a heft he had her up. For a second her hips were mouth level. His mouth watered. The complete unawareness in her “thank you” as she grabbed hold of the saddle horn and fumbled for the stirrup was like a splash of cold water. He was lusting after an innocent. After checking her stirrups and unwrapping the reins from around her palms while she stared at him, oblivious to the havoc she wrought, he headed back to Breeze. Kell chuffed as he passed.

“You want to deal with her?” he asked under his breath. The dog walked away. “That’s what I thought.

“Town is just over the next rise,” he said as he got back in the saddle. He reached for his makings.

Isabella frowned. He pulled the pouch out. She sighed and shook her head. He smiled and pulled out a paper. “There might be a hotel. You’ll be able to take a bath.”

Her mouth set tighter and her chin went higher. She clearly wasn’t in a mood to be placated.

“Everything’s bound to look better when you’ve got yourself set to rights.”

“Even being dead or captured by others?”

She did have a dramatic turn. “The word you’re looking for is kidnapped.” He tapped tobacco into the paper. “But being all cleaned up would save time for the undertaker.”

She clearly didn’t appreciate his sense of humor.

“I would prefer he have to work.”

Even with promise of an honest-to-goodness bath, a luxury every woman had to crave after time on the trail, Isabella was being stubborn. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that. A woman not getting excited about a bath was downright unnatural.

Not that he’d spent a lot of time with women outside the bedroom. There just hadn’t been the opportunity. Nor, he admitted in a moment of honesty, the inclination. At least on his part. He wasn’t a man who liked ties though plenty of women had attempted to tie themselves to him. He rolled his smoke and put his makings back in his pocket.

They topped the rise. The town, such as it was, came into view. Ten ramshackle buildings formed an uneven cross in the middle of nowhere. It was doubtful a town so small had a hotel. He hoped to hell Kell had town manners.

“You might be right about that bath.”

“I am right on many things.”

He smiled, struck the sulphur and lit his smoke. She did stick to her guns. The ride to the edge of town was completed in tense silence. As they cleared the first building a sign on the third one down caught his eye:
Hotel.

“Looks like you might get that bath after all.”

Isabella’s response was a harsh gasp. He’d heard that sound too many times before to mistake it for anything but fear. Looking over his shoulder, he had a clear view of her. Not her expression as the hat had slipped over her face, but he was able to determine the direction she was looking. Her attention was focused down the street to where five horses were tied outside the saloon. One of them was a paint with distinctive markings.

As if his glance was a cue, five men came stumbling through the doorway of the saloon, spilling onto the dirt street in a drunken roar of laughter. Breeze whinnied. Kell snarled and dropped his head, ears flat to his skull in warning. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Sweet Pea’s head jerk as Isabella yanked him to a halt.

The men looked their way then dismissed them as yet another couple of saddle bums blowing into town on the good weather. As long as no one looked too closely, they’d be fine, but Sam wasn’t going to hinge Isabella’s safety on a hope that flimsy.

Backing Breeze up until he could reach over and grab Sweet Pea’s reins, he tugged them out of Isabella’s hands. It wasn’t hard. She was still staring at the men, her face a chalky white. Keeping his voice low and soothing, he ordered, “Duchess, I want you to throw your leg over to this side and slide on down.”

The shake of her head was barely discernible. He was tired, hungry and even if she didn’t want that bath, he sure did. And the sooner he settled this, the sooner he could set about enjoying the pleasures of town. “Do as I say.”

The order had no more effect on her than the last. Leaning over, he handled the matter by grabbing her forearm and giving a tug. Instinct had her grabbing for the saddle horn with a high-pitched, undeniably feminine squeal as she listed to the side. Fortunately, Sweet Pea stood solid. Unfortunately, the men heard, stopped and looked back. They exchanged words. Pointed. Retraced their steps.

Sam untied his shotgun from its sheath, double-checking to make sure it was loaded before sliding it back in. He pulled his revolver from its holster and rested his arm across the saddle as if he had nothing better to do on a hot, sunny afternoon but sit in the middle of the street. “Isabella, go on into the hotel.”

For once she didn’t argue with him, scooting behind the horse and up onto the wooden walk. The glances the men shot Bella as she stood at the door provided a good clue to the topic of their conversation.

“Get inside, Bella.”

“It is locked.”

Shit.

“Knock.”

The bandits were an ugly-looking bunch, none too clean, but colorful in their assortment of clothing. Their spurs clinked softly as they swaggered forward. That swagger worried him. It meant they felt pretty comfortable doing whatever they planned on doing.

He nodded to the leader when they got to about twenty feet away, “Howdy, boys.” In case they mistook his greeting for an invitation, Sam centered his revolver on the leader’s chest. “That’s far enough.”

The man ran his hand over his full moustache, his fingers lingering on the straggling ends of the right side. “The woman you have with you looks familiar.”

“Who rides with me isn’t any of your business.”

Two of the bandits fanned out in a loose flanking maneuver. Sam glanced around the streets. The smattering of locals that had been walking about had disappeared inside buildings faster than he could wave his hand. Down the street a door slammed shut.

“Isabella, I thought I told you to get inside.”

“You did.”

“Then why are you still standing out on the street?”

“Because the people of this place seem to want me outside.”

A lanky man with a black hat, dirty chaps and shiny guns headed toward Isabella. Sam adjusted the point of his revolver. “Mister, you take one more step, and it will be your last.”

“You’re awfully unfriendly for somebody who just came to town,” the leader said with deceptive civility.

Sam gave him back an equally civil smile. “Consider it a character flaw.”

He glanced over at Isabella standing on the walkway. She was too exposed. “Duchess, I want you to go around to the alley over there.”

She waved toward the man at the edge of the walk between her and her goal. “How?”

“Just walk on by.”

Her tongue flicked over her lips. Not a single man missed the provocative sight. Damn, that woman had a mouth made for loving. “But—”

“If he moves I’ll put a bullet in his brain. You can trust me on that.”

Two breaths and then she turned those eyes on him. “You promise you will shoot him?”

“I promise.”

“You will not miss.”

“Not likely.”

“Likely is not a guarantee.”

“Get moving.”

“Fine, but if you miss I will be unhappy.”

Even from here he could see her hands shaking at the thought of passing by the bastard.

“Then for sure I won’t miss.”

With a short nod she headed toward the alley. Sam waited until Isabella disappeared around the corner of the building, and then he straightened, settling easily in the saddle, letting the coldness that preceded battle cloak him. “Now that she’s gone, we can talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“Fine, then I’ll just lay it out for you. It’s been a bitch of a day. I’m hungry, tired and been stuck on the wrong end of that woman’s tongue for the last four hours.” From the alley came the faint echo of a gasp. He smiled. He thought that would get her going.

“If the woman is such trouble, my friends and I would be happy to take her off your hands.”

He just bet they would. Leather creaked as he shifted his weight in the saddle. “And who would you be?”

“Juan Zapatos.”

“Well, Juan, I only mentioned that because pretty much all I want is a couple shots of whiskey and a soft bed.”

The man near the walkway moved. Sam met his gaze and gave a small shake of his head. He settled back.

“There’s no reason you can’t have what you want,” Juan said.

“As long as I give you what you want?”

Juan nodded.
“Sí.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“The woman is Tejala’s.”

“Then Tejala is going to be disappointed.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s mine stays mine.” He nodded toward the alley where Bella hid. “And the woman’s mine.”

Another gasp.

“And who are you to think you can take what is Tejala’s?”

Centering the revolver on Juan, Sam answered. “Sam MacGregor. Texas Ranger.”

There was a murmur from the man near the walk. A whisper of unease spread through the group. A little of the starch left Juan’s stance. But not all of it. After all, Sam’s reputation notwithstanding, they had him six to one.

Juan spat. “Your badge means nothing here.”

Sam shrugged. “A badge means nothing anywhere. It’s the man behind the badge you’ve got to be afraid of.” He smiled. “And quite frankly, y’all are wearing on my last nerve. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this over with.”

“And what is ‘this’?”

“
This
is me either peaceably passing through or plugging a hole in some of you.” He turned the revolver on the bandit closest to the alley. The shotgun he lined up with Juan’s midsection. He didn’t need accuracy with a shotgun. “Which way I go is entirely up to you.”

Metal slid across leather in an audible hiss as Juan’s men drew their guns. Behind him, the unexpected scuff of a boot on sand. Sam dove to the ground, turning and pulling the trigger as he fell, swearing as he saw his target jerking the gun to the left just in time. The bullet whizzed past Isabella’s head. She screamed and crouched down, covering her head with her arms.

“Son of a bitch!” She must have circled around the building.

He rolled under the horses’ hooves toward the center of the street, taking the line of fire away from her. At least he knew why Kell hadn’t given a warning.