A Promise of Roses (5 page)

"We needed the money, though, until the cattle we were raising started to turn a profit. I worked another year, but to ease Annie's fears a bit, I only went after the least dangerous bounties.

"Finally we had a large enough herd to ship east.
Got a good price per head, too.
And since it looked like the ranch would make us a comfortable living, Annie begged me again to quit bounty hunting. One last trip, I said. I promised I would lay down my gun just as soon as I brought in Ted Mercury. I'd been after him a while, and it had become kind of personal. He wasn't dangerous, just hard to find.

"I kissed Annie and Chad good-bye one morning and promised to be back in less than a week. I kept my promise,” he said, as though his honor were in question. “I was back in only five days. I had a bouquet of flowers in my hand for Annie, a hobbyhorse tied to the saddle for Chad. My rifle and pistols were all unloaded, and I'd taken off my gun belt—for good, I thought.

"I rode up to the porch and called out, but they didn't answer. So I went around back, hoping to surprise them. The kitchen was empty, which was odd, because it seemed Annie always had something in the oven—she loved to bake. I left the flowers and hobbyhorse there and started to search the rest of the house. I wasn't even worried—I just thought they were taking a nap or had gone for a walk or something.

"And then I opened the door to the dining room."

Megan saw him flinch, and she steeled herself for the rest of the story. Already she felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

"Annie was slumped over the table. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful. Even when she didn't move, I still thought everything was fine. But the closer I got, the more I realized something was definitely wrong. Her hands were behind her back, tied to the chair. I cut her loose and lifted her face in my hands. Her eyes were still open, just as soft and blue as ever. But the front of her dress was soaked in blood. There was so much, it had run down her body and pooled beneath the chair. There were so many knife wounds, I couldn't count them all.

"For a long time, I just stood there, staring at her. I don't think it had hit me yet that she was dead. And then I thought of Chad. I tore the house apart looking for him. He wasn't downstairs. He wasn't in our bedroom. I prayed so hard that he was in his room. That Annie had put him down for a nap and he'd slept through everything.

"He was in his room, all right.
Wrapped in his favorite blue blanket.
But the blanket and mattress were both covered in blood. His throat had been cut."

Megan bit down on her hand to keep from uttering a sound. She didn't want to distract Lucas, who seemed to be off in his own world, reliving the happenings of that day. Tears coursed down her face. Her sleeves were already drenched from wiping them across her face. A sob escaped her, and Lucas looked in her direction, as if only now remembering her presence.

"Why are you crying?” he asked. He sounded perplexed.

Megan shook her head. “How...” She sniffed. “How do you know who did it?"

Lucas's face turned to stone. “Scott wanted me to know. He left his wanted poster next to Chad's body. On the back, he wrote that he'd enjoyed spending the afternoon with my wife but that Annie hadn't cared for his choice of entertainment, so they'd put the baby to bed. I don't know if it was just a taunt or if he raped her."

The muscle in his jaw twitched, as Megan noticed it did whenever Lucas was angry. Right now he was furious, she could tell.

"I've often wondered if Scott made Annie watch when he killed Chad."

"Oh, God,” Megan moaned, dropping her face to her knees. “What kind of animal would do something like that?"

"Silas Scott. He wanted revenge. He figured hurting my family was a good way to get it."

Megan raised her head and waited for him to continue.

"I'd put him in jail a few years before.
For murder.
He broke out of prison and came straight for me. But then I guess he decided it would be just as easy to kill my wife and son as to track me down. Since then he's been having a fine old time crisscrossing the stale with me on his heels."

"You have to find him,” Megan said, understanding now why tracking this man was so important to him.

Lucas nodded.

"And when you do..."

"I'm going to kill him."

Megan dipped the bandanna into the stream and wrung it out, draping it over her eyes to relieve some of the pressure pounding there. She couldn't recall ever crying so much at one time. But then, she had never heard anything as heart-wrenching as the story Lucas had shared with her. And to think that it was true. He had seen it unfold firsthand, had loved the victims.

His own son.
Oh, God, how horrible.

A lump formed in her throat as she fought to keep from sobbing again.

"You all right?"

She heard Lucas come up behind her but couldn't bear to face him. He had looked dumbfounded when she broke into tears. And after finishing his story, he'd handed her his brown kerchief with a brusque order to go to the stream and wet her face before her eyes swelled. Megan imagined it was already too late to stop that from happening.

He moved to her side, crouched beside her, and lifted the bandanna. A small smile touched his lips. “You look like a raccoon."

She sniffed. “Thank you."

Lucas dabbed at two fresh tears that broke free. “I didn't mean to make you cry,” he said.

"How can I not cry?” Megan asked. “That was the most tragic, horrid thing I've ever heard in my life."

"Yeah.”
He turned away, submerging the cloth in the racing water.

"I understand now why you have to follow this man. If you want to dump me at the next town and move on more quickly, that's okay. You can even just give me some food and water and point me in the right direction."

He grinned. “You're not getting off that easily. You're coming with me."

"But won't I slow you down?” Megan thought his dedication to the railroad noble, but if he was so close to catching Silas Scott, why did he want to encumber himself by dragging her along?

"Not too much, I hope. It may be rough riding at times, but I think you can handle it."

"So where are we headed? Or maybe I should ask where you think Silas Scott is headed."

"I'm not sure. He's traveling west, veering south a bit. If I'm lucky, he'll stop in Big Springs. There's a whore there he took a liking to when he was a kid. He goes to visit her every once in a while."

"How do you know so much about him?"

"I make it a point to find out as much as I can before I kill a man."

"You've killed that many?” Megan asked. Somehow she couldn't picture Lucas as a cold-blooded murderer. Sure, he wanted to kill Silas Scott, but that was out of righteous revenge. And while she didn't agree with his idea of vengeance wholeheartedly, she could certainly understand his reasoning.

One side of Lucas's mouth lifted in a semi-smile. “Only in self-defense, and I can count those cases on one hand."

"That's nice to know. So if I upset you along the way, you won't shoot me full of holes, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it,” Lucas said. His grin widened. “I would, however, consider staking you out for the buzzards and coyotes."

Megan licked her lips.
“Oh, good.
Then I'll have something to look forward to."

Lucas chuckled and rose to his feet, holding a hand out for her. “It's getting late. We'll be breaking camp early, so you'd better get some shut-eye."

Megan accepted his assistance. She brushed the dirt off the back of her pants and walked over to the fire. She watched as Lucas shook out his bedroll and spread it on the ground.

"There's only the one blanket,” he said.

She noticed a devious twinkle in his blue eyes and knew he expected her to put up a fuss. Instead, she sauntered
forward,
swinging her hips in what she hoped was a seductive manner. She had seen other women use their feminine wiles, but she'd never actually tried it herself.

"It's so kind of you to sacrifice your own comfort for me,” she said in her friendliest voice. “I really do appreciate it.” Then, before he could so much as open his mouth to reply, she stretched out on the edge of the blanket and brought the other half over to cover her body, tucking the scratchy wool under her chin and snuggling in.

"I didn't mean for you to hog it. I thought we could share."

Lucas sounded like a little boy who'd just had his favorite toy taken away. Megan smiled, pulling the blanket higher to hide the response. She didn't answer.

"Fine,” he said. She heard his footsteps as he stomped off to settle beneath a nearby tree. “But if it gets cold, I'm coming under there whether you like it or not."

The deep, resonant sound of snoring woke Megan. At first she thought she was responsible for the racket, and even half asleep, she blushed. But when she turned her head to brush long, tangled strands of hair back from her face and open her eyes, she realized the noise continued unabated. She was on her stomach, one arm bent awkwardly beneath her body, the other resting on something warm and ... moving.

She jerked upright, her vision suddenly crystal clear. Her cheeks burned when she realized she'd been sleeping right beside Lucas McCain. Draped across him was more like it, she realized with chagrin. Thank God they'd both been fully dressed. She wiggled away from him, trying to pull the blanket from beneath his legs.

Lucas mumbled and rolled onto his stomach, pinning the blanket even more securely. His arm reached out, as if searching for something to hold.
When he didn't find it, his brows came together in a frown.
He turned onto his side and levered up on an elbow, looking at Megan through heavy-lidded eyes.

"It's not time to get up yet,” he said. “Go back to sleep."

She gave the blanket another tug, hoping to free it and move to another spot.

"Come on,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her down next to him.

Megan wiggled to get loose. Even though he really hadn't done anything untoward, she didn't think it was proper for them to sleep so close, even if she was his “prisoner."

"Settle down,” Lucas said in a stern if sleep-laden voice. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head.

Megan remained rigid, trying to keep her body from touching his. She didn't care if he had already fallen back to sleep; she was not going to relax against his long, masculine form.

It was the last conscious thought she had before drowsily snuggling closer to his warmth.

They reached Topeka late the next afternoon. The hot sun beat down, drenching them in their own sweat. Megan had long ago begun bargaining with the Devil for a bath. She would give her firstborn child for a porcelain tub and a bar of rose-scented soap. By noon she'd agreed to give up the Adams Express, her home, and all her earthly belongings for a quick dip in a shallow creek. By four, she'd promised all that
Lucas
owned for just a splash from his canteen.

And as if the heat wasn't bad enough, Lucas seemed to be in the foulest of moods. He'd done nothing but curse since a rider heading in the opposite direction told him someone fitting Scott's description had passed him a while back. What if Silas wasn't going to stop off in Big Springs after all?

"What are you going to do now?” Megan had asked Lucas.

He swore and started mumbling under his breath. She never did get an answer.

Rather than ride straight through the middle of town, Lucas had them skirt the main thoroughfare and come around to the rear of the livery. He flipped a coin to a young boy for stabling their mounts and led Megan back outside into the bright, busy street.

His grip on her arm was strong but not painful, and she had to take two steps to equal one of his long, quick strides as he moved toward the Eat ‘n’ Sleep Hotel. The man behind the desk greeted them with a broad grin. His smile faltered, however, when Megan removed her hat and smacked it against her leg to dislodge several layers of dust. She looked up to see him staring at her now-scraggly, waist-length hair.

Lucas gave her an ominous glare before turning back to the clerk. “A room for me and my wife,” he said.

The man quoted a price, and Lucas dug into his shirt pocket for the money. Megan peeked over his shoulder when he signed the register, curious when she saw him write
Mr. and Mrs. Luke Campbell
in tall, flowing letters.

"Send up a bath, will you?” Lucas said,
then
took her arm again, picked up the key the clerk slid across the counter, and started up the stairs to the third floor.

The room was larger than Megan had expected, most likely because Lucas had signed them in as man and wife. In the middle of the room stood a wide four-poster, on it a quilted bedspread covered in white eyelet lace, with several fluffy pillows stacked against the headboard. One window faced east, the other south, and in front of each sat a burgundy brocade armchair. Megan noticed that nothing in the room matched. White bedspread, burgundy chairs, sunflower-yellow curtains, blue-and-purple flowered wallpaper, and a worn, once mahogany-colored carpet. None of it went together well, but Megan liked the individual pieces.

Mainly, though, as she stood just inside the door, she wanted to fall facedown on the bed and sleep for a hundred years. Still, she was
loathe
to soil the immaculate white lace with her filthy, dust-covered clothes, and the same went for the brocade chairs. She was about to collapse on the faded carpet when a knock sounded on the other side of the door.

Lucas answered it, moving aside as several young men carried in a porcelain tub and buckets of steaming water.

Oh, she'd died and gone to heaven—she just knew it. She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if the Devil would someday come to claim her firstborn. Certainly he realized she'd made the promise under duress; she couldn't be expected to comply. Besides, she would probably never have children of her own.

And then a
mobcapped
older woman came in with a pile of fluffy white towels, and Megan didn't even care anymore.

"Anything else, sir?
Madam?” the woman asked.

"Nothing,” Lucas said.

Megan grasped the plump woman's arm before she could leave and whispered in her ear, “I'd kill for a bit of rose soap."

The maid nodded and said, “I'll see what I can do"

Lucas's brows were drawn together, and he seemed less than happy. Megan didn't waste her time trying to figure out what was bothering him. He'd been grumpy all afternoon. She felt confident he'd get over it.

"Go ahead and get in the tub,” he said. “I'll be back in a bit."

Megan had just tossed her hat onto the bureau and started yanking at her boots when he reappeared in the doorway. She lifted her head and waited.

"I'm locking the door behind me, Megan. Don't even try to run away."

"I assure you, I haven't the strength to run any farther than that bath. I intend to stay there until my skin is as wrinkled as raisins or I melt, whichever comes first."

"Good,” was all he said before closing the
door.

She heard the key turning in the lock and couldn't have cared less.

Lucas hadn't planned on leaving Megan alone so soon, but he suspected she was up to something, and he wanted to know what. He caught up to the maid as she reached the landing of the second floor.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Yes,” Lucas said, wondering how to go about quizzing her without setting her curiosity on edge. “Back in the room, my wife said something to you."

"Yes, sir,” she said, not elaborating.

Lucas shifted his weight. “What did she say, exactly?"

"She wanted a bit of rose soap is all, Sir.” Her mouth drifted down in a frown. “Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all,” he said, relief washing through his tense frame. “Is that all she asked for?"

"Yes, sir.
I'm on my way to look for it now. Should I not give it to her?"

"No, that's fine. In fact, why don't I come with you? If you find any, I can take it back up to her."

The woman turned and made her way down the next flight of steps. Lucas followed, his mind racing as it cooked up what he hoped was a perfect story to explain the oddities of their stay that the hotel staff—and other guests—might notice. If he started the rumor now, likely this maid would fill everyone else in.

"I don't mean to seem overprotective,” he began. “It's just that my wife sometimes acts ... rather strangely. It's to be expected, of course, after her terrible ordeal last year."

The woman cocked her head, and Lucas knew he'd drawn her in.

"She was kidnapped, you see.
By a band of dangerous, murdering outlaws.”
A startled gasp reached his ears. He had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. “It ... changed her. She gets confused now. Sometimes she even thinks I'm one of her abductors."

The maid stopped and turned to look at him with wide, astonished eyes.

Lucas shook his head sadly. “I'll warn you now not to go into the room if she's alone. It's best if I'm there ... in case she gets out of control. You might want to tell the rest of the hotel staff, too. Better to be safe, you understand."

She nodded, her mouth falling open.

"About that rose soap?” he said, bringing her around.