Texas Lucky (29 page)

But Tess was no longer listening.

She was far too busy worrying about Perry and where he was…
how
he was.

He would make it.

He had to.

Because he was all she had left in a world that suddenly seemed lonelier than ever before.

Sanchina Durand got out of bed, but despite the cold did not reach for her robe.

She was wearing a flannel gown, soft and clinging to accent her generous curves. She wanted Señor Hammond to feast on her wide hips and narrow waist that accented her very large breasts.

During the day, as his cook and housekeeper, it was necessary to wear clothes that were hardly revealing, but it was night now…and she had waited long enough for Señor Hammond to feast on all that she had to offer.

Never had he looked upon her as a man looks at a woman. His vaqueros, however, were a different story, Sanchina frowned to think as she brushed her long black hair. They were
bufons
—clowns—and it made her sick how they were always trying to get in her bed.

Luke was the worst. He would find excuses to come to her kitchen and talk filthy, and once he had even pointed between his legs and told her to look and see how big she made him.

But that was the first and only time—she smirked as she remembered—because she had slammed his crotch with a skillet and he had stumbled out, doubled over and bleating like a sick calf.

She thought, also, of the times she had subtly tried to let Señor Hammond know he was welcome in her bed, but always he pretended not to grasp her meaning.

Tonight all that would change, for she planned to do whatever was necessary to get him to make love to her.

And, when he awoke in the morning after a night of unbridled passion, he would, of course, do the honorable thing—he would marry her, and she would never have to worry about anything again.

Neither would her
madre
and
padre
and the rest of her
familia
. The Lucky 13 was a large ranch, and though it was new, Señor Hammond would make it grow, and there would be plenty of work for everyone.

But security for her family was not altogether Sanchina’s purpose in seduction. Señor Hammond was also a very good-looking man with a hard-muscled body, and
she wanted him.

Dabbing on a bit of cologne and pinching her cheeks to make them rosy, Sanchina tugged the bodice of her gown down a little bit lower.

She was ready.

Opening the door, she tiptoed into the hallway leading from her room off the kitchen to the big room at the front of the house.

She could see the soft glow from the fireplace and how Señor Hammond was sprawled on the sofa, an empty whiskey glass at his side.

She had seen him that way many times and would pull off his boots, tuck a blanket around him, then leave him.

But not this night.

She knelt beside him and unbuttoned his shirt and began to dance her fingers across his chest.

He stirred, and she dipped her hand lower while moving to gently blow her warm breath against his ear.

Boldly she touched his crotch.

He shifted his weight a bit, his buttocks wriggling ever so slightly, and she was pleased to see the corners of his lips twitch as though he were about to break into a smile.

She blew on his cheek and leaned to press her breasts against his chest. Her nipples were hard, and she moved so he could feel them.

He moaned softly, and she felt the beginnings of his erection.

His lips parted to whisper something she could not hear, and she leaned closer as a hot rush spread through her loins to think he was only pretending to be asleep to tease her. He was going to ask her to open his trousers to unleash his hardness, and—

“Tess…”

Sanchina’s fingers, already working on the buttons of his fly, froze.

“Ahh, Tess…”

Who the hell was Tess?

And then it dawned.

She had heard Pete and Caleb talking about the woman on the next range…and her name was
Tess
.

Sanchina reeled backward, rage slapping her in the face.

So now she knew the reason he had always spurned her.

He lusted for the
puta
.

Sanchina got to her feet and, with fists clenched at her sides, glared down at him, biting back the curses she longed to shriek.

It would not, she was forced to acknowledge, be as easy to seduce him as she had hoped. He was enamored of another and she would have to work harder to make him want her.

But it would happen, she vowed as she returned to her room, disgruntled and disappointed. She would make him want her…but not because his blood was already heated from drink.

She would seduce him when he was sober, so he would know it was her he was making love to and feel obliged to wed.

Not the
puta
known as
Tess.

Chapter Twenty-One

Tess and Buck stood outside the stable.

“I reckon this is it,” Buck said around the lump in his throat. “I hope you know I don’t like leaving you like this.”

Tess had difficulty swallowing as well. It was terrible to say good-bye, and it could not have come at a worse time. “I’ll miss you, Buck, but I understand how much you love Katie and want to marry her.”

“I appreciate your writing all them letters to her for me in the past, but I’m gonna learn to write myself. And read, too. Then I can send you a letter and let you know how we’re doing, and you can write me back and tell me how you are.

“And try not to worry about your brother,” he added. “He’s bound to have your grit, so he’ll turn up sooner or later.”

She gave him one last hug, and he mounted his horse and rode away.

She watched till he was out of sight, then turned toward the house. There were chores to be done before she could get away to Dallas to see if there was word of Perry.

A short while later a rider came in—a man she had never seen before, but she was not frightened, not with a loaded rifle over the door that she knew how to use.

“Miss Tess?” the rider tipped his hat to her before swinging down off his horse. “My name’s Jed Woolwright, and I work at the Circle G.”

She shaded her eyes with her hand against the sun. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jep. Come on in. I think I can rustle up a slice of pie and a cup of bellywash.” She was proud of how she had picked up the western dialect.

“I wish I had time, but I’m late gettin’ back to the ranch. Mr. Peterson was expecting me yesterday, but I had me a high ol’ time last night with some of the boys in town. He’s gonna be madder’n a wet prairie hen.

“Stopped by to give you this, though.” He turned to unbuckle a saddlebag. “I had to go by the telegraph office to send something for the boss, and the dispatcher asked if I’d drop this off to you. Said it came in last night, and he figured you’d want it quick. Can’t tell you what it says, though, ’cause I can’t read, but Bo, the dispatcher, he said it had somethin’ to do with your brother, and—”

Tess snatched the paper from his hand as soon as he pulled it from the saddlebag.

The telegram was, indeed, from Perry. He was stuck at a way station, did not have the money to make it the rest of the way, and would wait there till he heard from her.

“Thank God you got it to me,” she exclaimed, relieved, “but tell me, do you know of a place called Alamedo?”

He tugged at his mustache. “I think it’s just over the spot on the Shawnee Trail where the Cimarron River meets the Arkansas. Not much of a place. Just a stopover for stagecoaches running from Kansas City or Sedalia or St. Louis to Dallas.” He frowned. “It’s also smackdab in the middle of Indian territory, too, and I heard in town they’ve been having some trouble up that way. Renegade Apaches. The Army’s supposed to be sending out patrols to rout ’em out before the trail drives begin.

“Say”—his eyes narrowed—“you ain’t thinkin’ about goin’ there, are you?”

She held out the telegram, forgetting in her panic that he had said he could not read. “It’s from my brother. He’s at Alamedo. I have to go get him.”

“Well, don’t look at me, lady. I’m a cowpuncher. Not no injun fighter. And right now”—he swung back up in the saddle and grabbed the reins—“I gotta get back before I ain’t got no job to get back to.”

“Is there anyone at your ranch who’d be willing to go with me?” she called as he set the horse into a gallop.

“No, ma’am,” he shouted back. “Ain’t nobody that crazy.”

After hearing about the Indian trouble, she did not want Perry traveling by stage. An Army patrol needed to go after him, but she did not know how to go about arranging for that. If she had the money, she would hire armed guards and go after him herself.

She began to pace about in front of the cabin, wringing her hands, because she did not know what to do.

And then the idea struck her.

She stopped pacing and turned toward the gentle crest to the east…toward the boundary of Curt Hammond’s land.

He would know, and he would help. Hadn’t Buck told her to stop being stubborn? Well, she could sure do that when it came to her brother. She was willing to do anything, by God, to bring him to safety.

She ran to the stable.

There was not a moment to spare, and she was unsure exactly where Curt’s house was located. He had built a sign beside his road that led off from the trail to Dallas—two posts with a beam across the top proclaiming LUCKY 13. She had seen it on her last trip into Dallas before winter set in. But nothing was visible from there, only a winding trail among the cactus and mesquite and sagebrush till it disappeared around huge boulders to the slope of a mountain range beyond.

Within moments she had Saber saddled and was riding out.

An hour later, she had left the trail to ride beneath the sign and follow the path.

At last, a house came into view, but it was not built of logs like her cabin. Instead, the walls were stout adobe, with a thick sod roof.

She was at once envious and had to admire Curt for his vision. The house had no doubt been cheap to build and would be cool in summer, warm in winter. And, in years to come, when his ranch prospered, he could build something bigger, something nice.

“Why didn’t
I
think of that?” she grumbled out loud. “Why didn’t Buck?”

But they had not, and cold air squeezed beneath the logs despite the chinking mud, and rain sometimes dripped through the roof.

And, sadly, the way things were going, it might be all she could ever afford. Five hundred head of cattle was not even a starter herd, and if she did not scrape up the money to get them to market, all was lost.

None of that seemed important, however, amid the crisis at hand. She had to get to Perry, because if anything happened to him, nothing else would matter.

She admired the large barn and several outbuildings and saw chickens pecking, sheep grazing, hogs rooting, and a vegetable garden waiting to be planted.

There was a fence around the yard to keep the animals out, with a hitching post next to a watering trough.

Tess dismounted, tied Saber where he could drink his fill, pushed the gate open, and walked up the rock-lined walkway.

The door opened as she was about to knock, and she found herself staring into dark, hostile eyes.

Tess guessed the girl to be about her own age. Her shining black hair hung to her waist, and she gave it an insolent toss over her shoulder, which was bared in the peasant blouse she was wearing.

With a hand on one hip, she swished her hips in her ruffled, ankle-length skirt and rudely demanded, “What the hell do you want?”

Tess was flabbergasted. Being neighborly on the range was taken for granted. A stranger was never turned away, because, due to the isolated life, ranchers shared the opinion it was best to be hospitable—they never knew when the day would come when they might need shelter or food. Doors were not locked, and if someone happened by when no one was home, they would walk right in, help themselves to whatever was needed, then go their way after cleaning up.

But as Tess looked the girl up and down, she doubted anyone would stop by the Lucky 13 a second time.

“My name is Miss Partridge, and I’d like to see Mr. Hammond,” Tess managed politely, despite the affront. “Is he here?”

Sanchina gave her hair another toss and shifted her hips. “And I am Sanchina. What you want with him?”

Tess’s patience was being stretched. “I’d prefer to discuss that with him, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah? Well, I think you are nothing but a
puta
.”

Tess did not know what a
puta
was, but from the way the girl had said it, she knew it was something bad. “I am not whatever it is you called me. I am Mr. Hammond’s neighbor, and I need to speak with him. Would you call him, please?”

Sanchina stepped out on the doorstep and shook her fist, red lips curling back in a snarl as she warned, “You’d better leave. I don’t want a
puta
after my man. I am all the woman he needs. Pah!” She spat at Tess’s feet, and Tess jumped back. “You better go before I rip your hair off your head.”