The Texan's Bride (43 page)

Katie pushed away from Branch and sat up. “Daniel? Shaddoe? Here for me? Keeper too?”

“Yep. And by the way, in the future I expect you to keep your number of gentleman admirers to a bare minimum. Like one.” He pulled her back down and began to circle her breasts with his tongue. His fingers stroked her thighs.

“Where are they?” Katie asked.

“Out layin’ a false trail—four different directions. Ought to keep the law busy and off our backs. We’ll stay here until nightfall and then head out. Now, enough conversation, Sprite, feed me.”

Katie buried the niggling fear and opened her heart to the man she loved. Stretching sensuously, she smiled and asked, “And what will be your pleasure, sir?”

Branch lifted himself above her, his weight resting on his hands. He licked his lips and said, “I’ve a mind to start with dessert.”

TRAVELING AT such a furious pace in the darkness was dangerous, Branch knew, but it couldn’t be helped. They had waited through a long day up in the hotel room, loving and sleeping, resting for the rigors of the journey ahead.

Periodically, he had left the room, checking on the posse’s movements and purchasing supplies. The mood in town was ugly; people had dressed for a party that wasn’t taking place. St. Pierre, sneaky Indian that he was, had encountered Branch in the mercantile, and quickly and quietly they made arrangements for a rendezvous in two weeks’ time at the spot on the Neches River where the Cherokees had met their defeat back in ’39. There Branch would meet his son for the first time.

During the early hours of the morning, Branch and his bride escaped the hotel without detection, heading east toward the canebrakes. Many a Texian criminal had lost his pursuers in the thick, wide expanse of cane that grew along the Louisiana border. With luck, they could do the same. The crescent moon provided a mixed blessing; less light in which to be seen, but also, less light by which to see.

They retrieved Striker and the quick palomino filly Branch had bought for Katie. They’d traveled two hours before Branch heard the sound he dreaded.

Dogs. Somehow, someone had picked up their tracks. With each minute, the barking grew closer.

Branch peppered the trail, hoping that would hold them off. An hour later, he heard the dogs again, closer this time. Dawn cast a rosy glow in the eastern sky, and he could see the terror reflected in Katie’s face at the sound of the animals. Damn dogs, he thought. Somehow he’d have to get rid of them.

“What are you doing?” Katie asked incredulously when he began to take short detours from the trail.

“Sprite, the horses are whipped. The dogs will be on us quick unless we figure a way to lead them away. There’s got to be water or something else around here to get them off our trail.”

“What can I do?”

Branch pursed his lips, then nodded. “You check the right, I’ll take the left. We’ve got fifteen minutes at best. Good luck.”

She veered off the trail and found just what they needed almost immediately. But it didn’t make her one bit happy. She continued to search desperately and unsuccessfully for water. Turning back to look for her husband, she begged, “Please, Branch. Please find water.”

The rustle of brush announced his return. A worried frown etched deep lines in his face. “Not a lousy thing,” he said, pulling up next to her.

Katie sighed heavily. He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, all right,” she said. Turning her mount around, she led Branch to the uprooted tree, saying, “Where’s a river when you need one?”

Exposed roots of a huge old oak tree stretched toward the sky like an elderly widow’s gnarled fingers. The tree had crashed to the ground some time ago, felled by a storm, most likely. Dirt clung to the roots that remained in the ground, while vines, poison oak, and poison ivy guarded the entrance to the depression in the earth left by the stripped roots. An unmistakable scent clung to the area.

Katie dismounted and gave him a sickened, grim smile. “I counted on you to find water. I should have known I’d have to depend on myself; I should have kept looking for a creek. When am I going to learn?”

He was already unloading necessities from his horse: a little food, water, blankets, clothing for himself—Katie had no extra—coin, guns, and ammunition. “Now, love, you did a fine job. Nothing could be more perfect”

“I know,” she moaned.

Branch grinned. “Settle on in, sweet I’ll get rid of the horses.”

Katie shook her head. “Huh-uh. You first.”

The dogs’ barking grew louder. Branch hurried the horses back to the trail and slapped their rumps, sending them off. Quickly he returned to the downed tree.

“I don’t think they’re in there now,” Katie said, wrinkling her nose. “At least none have stuck their heads out.”

“Oh, well, if they are, they’ll just have to make room for us.” Branch shrugged and used the barrel of his shotgun to poke the hole. Immediately, the air filled with the odorous announcement that indeed, the hole was currently occupied.

Katie and Branch jumped back as a flash of black and white scampered away. Luckily, a nice breeze blew away from them at the time, so they were not sprayed directly. Still, their eyes watered and Katie choked and coughed.

Branch prodded the hole again. Nothing. Turning to Katie, he handed her his extra shirt. “Wrap this around your hair. I’d hate to have to cut it off due to the stink.” He bowed and said, “After you, madam. Your bower awaits.”

“Oh, my heavens,” Katie wheezed, but she settled into the hiding place, just big enough for the two of them and the pungent essence of skunk.

“This really is good, you know,” Branch said squeezing down beside her. He pulled the vines over them and continued, “The dogs won’t come near this place. They’ll have lost our scent, and they’ll be useless to whoever’s sending them out. And after a while, we won’t smell anything.”

“And to think I thought my guardian angel wasn’t paying attention,” Katie marveled sarcastically.

Branch wrapped his arm around her and settled her comfortably against him. “Why do you need a guardian angel? I’m here, aren’t I?”

Katie didn’t bother to reply. They waited silently, she doing her best to retain the contents of her stomach.

Yap, yap, yap, yap
. The dogs bounded toward them. They slowed just beyond the skunk hole. She stiffened in fright.

Branch kissed her cheek. “Quiet now, darling,” he whispered in her ear.

Through the vines, she could see the hounds darting to and fro, tracing the steps she and Branch had made in their efforts to find sanctuary. The sound they made chilled her and she shivered. Branch squeezed her tight.

Then the dogs were off, following the riderless horses, away from them. Katie heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief and began to rise.

“Kate,” Branch snapped. “What are you thinking? Those dogs aren’t out here on their own. Sit still and hush.”

“Sorry,” she muttered beneath her breath.

He patted her thigh absently, his gaze intent as he watched for the man who tracked them.

Branch’s muscles flexed. She heard his soft, hate-fed whisper, “Bastard.” She stared through the cover until she, too, made out the figure of the lone man on horseback who approached.

Judge Jack Strickland.

Branch’s expression turned hard, evil. He reached ever-so-quietly for his gun. Katie’s eyes widened as he pointed the barrel.

The hounds had doubled back. Branch cocked his Paterson and the trigger dropped. Strickland was in spitting distance. Katie’s gaze locked on the sight of Branch’s finger wrapped around the trigger.

He’d do it. For me, not just for Rob. Rumors of her attack on Strickland had been bandied about. Branch would have put it together. It all could end right here, right this minute. Vengeance taken.

“No, love.” She pushed the gun, disrupting his aim. She whispered in his ear. “I can’t allow it. I’ve been there, I’ve learned. This won’t bring them back. It’s dishonorable, and it would haunt us both for the rest of our lives.”

A muscle twitched above Branch’s clenched jaw. He aimed the gun once more. Strickland had passed them now, his back a perfect target.

Katie watched Branch’s finger tighten on the trigger. For a long moment, she held her breath.

His hand dropped. He turned a tortured expression toward her. “Why? You know who he is, what he is, what he’s done. Why, Sprite? Why shouldn’t I end it now?”

Katie touched his face, smoothing the angry furrows in his brow, and quoted, “Vengeance is mine, and requital for the time when they make a false step. For it is close, the day of their ruin; their doom comes at speed.”

He looked puzzled. “Shakespeare again?”

She kissed his cheek. “No, my love—the Bible.”

FOUR DAYS later, they could almost live with themselves again. Branch found himself thanking Katie’s guardian angel that the wind had been blowing right when the skunk sprayed.

Striker had shown up at their camp sometime during the second night, and Branch had bought another horse for Katie from a farmer later that day. The farmer’s wife had sent clothes for his bride with instructions not to set a foot closer to the house.

They’d cleaned the fellow plumb out of the last of his summer tomatoes, squeezing them and bathing in the juice. That had helped some—been pretty fun, for a fact. With Katie he was always doing something new. He’d never taste a tomato again without thinking of his bride.

He sat with his back to a cottonwood tree, watching her step from the spring. Beautiful. But as much as he loved the sight of her naked, this stopping to take a bath at every bit of running water was slowing them down something fierce.

Dressed in only her chemise and pantalets, she knelt beside him and cuddled against him. She combed her long auburn hair with her fingers. He wiped a droplet of water from the tip of her nose.

They sat quietly for a few moments, then Branch leaned away from her. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a stick of peppermint he’d acquired at the mercantile in Easton, where they’d stopped for food. He snapped it in two and waved half before her face.

She snatched the candy with glee, then shut her eyes and licked the stick, savoring its sweetness. At times, she could be such a child. He said softly, “Don’t ever disappear on me again, Sprite.”

She stopped mid-bite and slowly took the peppermint from her mouth. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

“You have a funny habit, Sprite, of not staying where I put you. I want you to promise me you’ll break that little practice.”

Katie looked down at the candy, suddenly sick at her stomach. Had he guessed that she’d been thinking of leaving him? “What do you mean?”

“It’s not like you, wife, to refrain from asking about our future plans. Somehow it gives me the idea that you’ve some of your own.”

Tossing the peppermint into the stream, Katie searched her mind for a plausible diversion. “I’m worried about Gallagher’s, Branch,” she finally said. “What’s going to happen to it? When I was in jail, I sent a letter to Mr. Trahern explaining the circumstances. I suggested he allow Martha and Rowdy to continue running the inn, but there wasn’t time to hear back from him.” She paused and nodded as a new thought occurred. “But maybe now that Daniel’s back, he could help.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sprite,” Branch interrupted, frowning at the hunk of red and white lying at the bottom of the clear stream. “Shelbyville’s not all that far from the inn, and I hate to think of Daniel anywhere near Jack Strickland. Actually, I think Keeper McShane has decided to try his hand at inn-keeping. And Kate,” he added, “next time you don’t want your candy, give it to me, all right?”

Katie’s eyebrows rose. “Keeper?”

“I talked to him a bit in town. The boy’s done a lot of growin’ while he’s been with the Cherokees.”

She sighed heavily and tugged at a clump of grass at her feet. “I guess that with both Keeper and Andrew there to help, Martha and Rowdy will be able to keep Gallagher’s running.” She pitched the grass away with a short, violent motion. “But I didn’t even get to
see
Daniel, Branch. Where is he going? What’s he going to do?”

A squirrel played on the high branches above them, leaping from limb to limb before scampering halfway down the trunk to take a flying leap at low-growing brush. Her heart was heavy as she watched the bushytailed critter disappear with the sound of kicked leaves.

Branch took her hand. “Listen, Kate, don’t worry about Daniel or Trahern or Gallagher’s, everything will be just fine. I promise. Now, let’s talk about what
you’re
gonna do.”

“Don’t you ever tell me not to worry about my brother, Branch Kincaid,” Katie fussed, snatching back her hand. “I can worry about him all I want. And stop trying to change the subject.”
Really
, she thought,
the man had a one-track mind
. He was determined to ferret out her plans, and she simply wasn’t up to discussing them yet. Just a few more days of happiness—that’s all she wanted—at least until they met Shaddoe and picked up Johnny.

Flashes of silver in the stream caught her attention as a school of minnows darted back and forth above the melting candy. She asked, “How do you know everything’ll be fine at Gallagher’s, Branch? We owe Mr. Trahern a substantial amount of money. He may just decide to take the inn itself as payment and Daniel will lose his property!”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Branch said, testing the point of his peppermint stick with his tongue.

Katie folded her arms. “And how can you be so sure?”

Through hooded eyes, Branch watched her. He took a long, slow lick of his candy, then flashed his wicked wolf grin. “Because Trahern has another method of payment in mind.”

Now Katie was distracted. The man could start a prairie fire with that look. Her blood began to hum in response, and unconsciously, she licked her lips. He had definitely lit a fire in her.

“Well,” his voice purred, his hand slipping beneath her chemise and sliding up her bare back, “aren’t you gonna ask what that payment is?”

She shrugged. She couldn’t care less about Finian Trahern at this particular moment. Branch kneaded the muscles in her back. Her toes curled.