Authors: Connie Mason
“Very well,” Baker said, whipping out a legal document with a fancy gold seal. “Both your signatures are required on the lines I have indicated with an X.” He handed the pen to Chloe. “You first, my dear.”
Chloe signed, then handed the pen to Desperado. He signed his own name and handed the document back to Baker.
“Would you like me to hold onto this for safekeeping or would you prefer to keep it yourself?” Baker asked.
“I prefer to keep the deed in my possession,” Desperado said. “There’s a safe at the ranch; it should be secure there.”
“I’ll file a copy at City Hall,” Baker said as he handed the deed to Desperado and watched as he folded it in half and placed it in his inside pocket. Then Baker pulled a second document from a drawer and placed it on his desk. “Call your witnesses. We can have that wedding now.”
Desperado’s reply was forestalled by the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs. Moments later Cory burst into the office. “Desperado, Tate Talbot sent me up to get you. He wants to meet you out in the street in five minutes. You’re not going to do it, are you?”
“Desperado! No!” Chloe cried, clinging to his arm. “This is our wedding day!”
Desperado gave her a look filled with desperate appeal.
“I should have known this would never work. Happiness is for other men, not me. I have to meet him, honey. And I’ll probably kill him. I don’t know how the town will react to that. Everyone knows the town marshal is in Calvin Talbot’s pocket. I won’t drag you down with me.”
He shook free of her grasp. “Wait here with Cory and Mr. Baker. I don’t want you getting hurt. Look on the bright side,” he said with a grimness that belied his words. “Everything could turn out just fine and we’ll still be married today.”
Chloe didn’t believe him for a minute. “If you walk out now, Desperado Jones, I’ll never forgive you.”
“If I don’t, honey, I’ll never forgive myself. This showdown between me and Tate Talbot has been a long time in the making. I can’t forget what he did to you.”
He pulled her against him, kissed her hard, then shoved her toward Cory. “See that she stays out of trouble, Cory.” Then he was gone.
Chloe rushed out the door to the landing, but Cory, following Desperado’s orders, wouldn’t let her dash down the stairs after him.
The street was deserted except for Tate, who stood in the middle of the road. Desperado walked out into the street and stopped ten yards away from Tate. Desperado’s gut roiled. He smelled a trap and wondered what Tate had planned for him. His cool gaze swept the length of the street, paying special attention to the storefronts and pillars. He found it difficult to believe Tate was foolish enough to challenge him when he knew he would lose. He had to have something diabolical up his sleeve.
Then Desperado saw sunshine reflect off an object on the roof across the street and suddenly everything became clear. A shootout wasn’t what Tate intended. Tate’s scheme was to distract Desperado while a second gunman drew a bead and cut him down from his vantage point on the roof. Desperado smiled grimly and planned his own strategy.
Desperado’s raspy voice echoed ominously through the empty street. “What’s the meaning of this, Talbot?”
“It’s time we settled our differences once and for all, Jones. You’ve got something I want, and the only way I’m going to get it is if you’re dead.”
“You don’t have a prayer, Talbot,” Desperado sneered. “You can’t outdraw me. You’re writing your own death warrant.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Desperado watched through narrowed lids as Tate glanced up at the man stationed on the roof and nodded slightly. Years of experience ruled Desperado as he reacted with the kind of lightning precision that had earned him his name. From the corner of his eye he saw a head pop up on the roof across the street. Desperado didn’t wait for the man to get a bead on him as he dropped into a crouch and cocked his gun at the same time he pulled it from his holster. He squeezed the trigger. He didn’t need to look to know his bullet had found its mark.
Even as the gunman fell from the roof, Desperado rolled on the ground to escape Tate’s bullet, which whizzed by the place where he had stood moments before. Quicker than the eye could follow, Desperado cocked his six-shooter, found Tate in his sights and fired. The bullet shattered Tate’s collarbone, hitting exactly where Desperado had aimed.
Screaming, Tate fell to the ground, cradling his shattered shoulder. “Get him, Curly!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Desperado hadn’t noticed the man peeking out from an alley between the saloon and the barbershop, but Chloe saw him from her vantage point on the landing outside Thadeous Baker’s office. She cried out a warning, but Desperado failed to hear as the gunman aimed his pistol. Chloe knew he wouldn’t miss at such close range and reacted spontaneously. She drew her gun, fanned back the hammer and fired twice in rapid succession. The assailant’s bullet went astray, missing Desperado by a full yard. Chloe’s bullets were dead on target.
Desperado whirled around to face this new danger. He saw a man writhing on the ground near the alley; then he looked in the direction from which the shot originated and saw Chloe clutching her smoking pistol.
People were beginning to spill out into the street now. Calvin Talbot was one of the first to reach Tate. “Damn you, Desperado Jones!” he cried, punching his fist in the air for emphasis. “Look what you did to my son!”
“This one’s dead,” someone said, pointing to the gunman who had fallen from the roof.
“This one ain’t going nowhere,” another reported as he bent over the second gunman lying near the alley.
“You’ll pay for this, Jones,” Talbot promised. “You can’t kill men in cold blood and expect to escape the law.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” Desperado rasped. “Your son called me out. His cohorts were waiting to ambush me. That’s not what I’d call a fair fight, or killing in cold blood.”
“That’s not how I saw it,” Talbot snarled, “and I’m sure the town marshal will agree. I’m not without friends in powerful places. I’m taking my son to the doctor now, but you can expect to hear from me soon.”
“Suit yourself,” Desperado drawled as he slapped his gun into his holster and turned away. The danger was over for the time being and he wanted desperately to be with Chloe.
“Good shooting, Desperado,” Rowdy crowed as Desperado rushed up the stairs past him. “I saw it all. Those bastards were waiting to ambush you.”
Desperado did not reply in his eagerness to reach Chloe. Questions and answers would come later. Chloe still stood where he had last seen her, on the landing with the gun dangling from her right hand. Her face was ashen and she appeared to be in shock.
“Thank you,” he whispered as he gently pried the gun from her fingers.
“He was going to kill you. I had to shoot.”
“Of course you did. You probably saved my life.”
“I want to go home.”
“I thought we were going to get married.”
“I…” Her eyes held the glaze of shock, and Desperado knew better than to press her.
“Very well. We’ll come back in a day or two, if that’s all right with Mr. Baker.”
“Any time you two decide to get married is all right with me,” Baker said. “I saw what happened. Tate Talbot certainly intended to kill you.”
“Come on, honey,” Desperado said as he guided Chloe down the stairs. “I tried to tell you what to expect as my wife. Perhaps you should rethink your decision to marry me.”
Desperado let out a long, sad sigh. Any woman fool enough to let herself love him was in for a rough time. He couldn’t blame Chloe if she changed her mind.
Chloe’s mind ran in a hundred directions. She recalled Desperado’s expression when he faced down Tate. It was a mask of hard lines, taut cheekbones, flattened lips and cold eyes more deadly than the gun he held. She didn’t know that man.
They rode home in silence. Cory and Rowdy brought up the rear, whispering back and forth about what they had seen and commenting on Desperado’s prowess with a gun. They had nothing but praise for Chloe, who had proven her worth by shooting the man who had threatened Desperado’s life. They speculated on whether or not they would have had the guts to do the same had they seen the hidden danger. It was mutually agreed that Chloe’s eyes were much sharper than theirs.
Before they reached the ranch, Desperado called the pair aside and told them to ride ahead and tell the others there would be no celebration. Not today, anyway. Maybe never, he thought grimly.
The hands were subdued when Desperado and Chloe rode into the yard. No questions were asked; obviously Cory and Rowdy had explained, embellishing the tale with grisly details. It was just as well. Desperado was in no mood for lengthy explanations. He helped Chloe from her horse, placed an arm around her shoulders and led her into the house. Once the door was closed behind them, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?” Chloe asked, finally gaining her wits.
“Up to your room to rest. This couldn’t have been pleasant for you.”
She stared at him. “What about you? Did you enjoy killing a man?” She clutched his shirt with a desperation that shocked him. “I shot that man and didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. I’ve pulled my gun on quite a few men since I learned to shoot, but I never knew if I actually could pull the trigger. Now I know. That man deserved to die.”
Desperado perched on the edge of the bed with Chloe in his lap. He kissed the top of her head. “You saved my life.”
“You saved mine more than once.” She shuddered against him and his arms tightened around her. “That man would have killed you before you knew what had hit you. You were magnificent out there. I never realized how fast you were until I saw you in action. No wonder people are in awe of you.”
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to marry me,” Desperado said. “It’s the wisest decision you’ve ever made.”
“Are you always so cynical?”
His laugh held no humor. “I find it helps to ease the disappointments in life.”
“I never said I didn’t want to marry you. I just felt it best to postpone it a day or two. Everything happened so fast I was in shock. When we marry I want to be fully aware of what’s going on.”
“Sweetheart, I think you should give our marriage serious thought. The Talbots want me dead and will stop at nothing to accomplish the deed. That ambush today is probably just the beginning. Lord only knows what will happen next. You are co-owner of the ranch now. I’ve given you all the protection I can, short of marrying you. Perhaps marriage wasn’t a good idea. Better yet, perhaps I should leave.”
Chloe leaped off his lap and glared at him, her face set in stubborn lines. “Just try to leave, Mr. Jones! You promised me a wedding and that’s exactly what we’re going to have.”
“Chloe,” Desperado began. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Leaving me would hurt,” Chloe contended. “Now, let’s go down and tell the hands the wedding is merely postponed until tomorrow. With luck the feast Randy prepared will keep for another day.”
“Will nothing I say change your mind?”
She gave him a saucy grin. “Nothing.”
The following day dawned as fair and clear as the previous one, which boded well for their wedding plans, Chloe thought as she sat up in bed to study Desperado’s handsome features. In sleep he looked younger. Less fierce, almost too handsome with his dark features, full lips and high cheekbones. Naked, he looked bigger, more muscular, even with his body in repose. His longish black hair curled damply against his nape, and his ridiculously long eyelashes looked like inky butterfly wings against his lean cheeks.
This was the man she was going to marry, Chloe thought happily. She didn’t care what he had been in the past; it was the future that mattered. She stretched contentedly and smiled, recalling their lovemaking the night before.
Thinking about their loving made her long for more and she bent down to tease him awake with kisses. But she never completed the kiss. Footsteps. Pounding up the stairs. Chloe pulled the sheet over both her and Desperado seconds before Sonny burst into the room.
“Miss Chloe! Desperado! You gotta wake up. I rode into town early this morning to get more nails from the lumber yard and saw the marshal with Calvin Tate. They were hiring drifters and no-accounts to ride with a posse they were forming. I rode off before they saw me. They’re coming after Desperado. They claim he killed a man in cold blood and wounded two others. You gotta leave. They’ll be here any minute. There was talk of a lynching.”
Desperado was fully awake now as he leaped out of bed and began pulling on his clothing. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna run. I was the victim and have witnesses to prove it.”
“They don’t care about witnesses,” Sonny said, gasping for breath. “They’re gonna hang you from the nearest tree, before the townspeople can come to your defense.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Go!” Chloe urged. “We can straighten this out later. Those men have little to lose by hanging you.”
Desperado didn’t want to go, but the odds were stacked against him. He was only one man. And he didn’t want to endanger Chloe’s life or the lives of the hands, who he knew were likely to do something rash if they thought it would help him.
“Very well. I’ll ride north to Amarillo. There’s a Ranger outpost there. Maybe they can straighten this out. Saddle my mustang,” he told Sonny, “and throw some provisions in my saddlebags. I’ll be down directly.”
Desperado turned to Chloe, his expression softening. “I’ll be back,” he promised, taking her into his arms. He kissed her hard, then started to kiss her again, but Chloe pushed him away.
“Just go, we don’t have time for this! I love you, Desperado.”
Sonny’s voice came to them from the foot of the stairs. “Hurry, Desperado. I can see the dust from the posse’s horses.”
Desperado spared one last glance at Chloe before bounding down the staircase.
Ominous dark thunderheads rolled in from the north, the direction in which Desperado rode. The morning that had started out with such promise had become a nightmare. Desperado had ridden from the yard scant minutes before the posse arrived. They had seen his dust and taken off after him, and now they were hard on his heels. Desperado guessed that Talbot wouldn’t rest until the posse caught up with him. And once they did, his life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel.
The rain came in torrents, a real gullywasher, but Desperado plunged on until he realized that continuing would endanger not only his life but that of his faithful mustang. He knew he had to hole up somewhere until the downpour abated, and he searched the barren landscape for a likely place. He rode on, through rock formations and towering buttes, finding little in the way of protection from the storm.
The lightning was fierce; jagged streaks of eerie light illuminated the sky and earth. One particularly bright flash revealed a crevice between two rocks, and Desperado turned the mustang in that direction, grateful for any protection, no matter how meager, from the storm. The rain was icy cold and he was chilled to the bone. He’d been riding all day; both he and his horse needed rest.
The crevice was large enough to ride his horse into, but not totally protected from the raging elements. Rain dripped onto him from where the rocks formed an inadequate roof, but at least it kept him out of the lashing rain and violent lightning.
Desperado unsaddled his horse and rubbed him down with his blanket, grateful that he’d had the foresight to roll it in his slicker to keep it dry. Then he dug in his saddlebags for something to eat. He sat down on the soggy ground and chewed on jerky and hardtack. Then he munched an apple, washing it down with water from his canteen. He’d have to thank Sonny for the provisions, if he ever saw the young hand again. Which at this point in time seemed highly unlikely.
Though Desperado couldn’t see the posse, he knew they were still out there somewhere. Closer than he’d like, for he could practically smell the danger. His survival depended upon reaching the Ranger outpost before the posse caught up with him. After he had eaten, Desperado rolled up in the damp blanket and tried to sleep, an almost impossible task with the roar of thunder in his ears and lightning illuminating the night sky.
Before sleep claimed him, Desperado’s thoughts were of Chloe. With Chloe at his side he could have brought the Ralston ranch back to its former splendor. He would have settled down nicely to a life of babies and rocking chairs. To waking up each morning with Chloe in his arms. He should have known better than to want things that were out of his reach. Such commonplace things as home and hearth had no place in the life of a gunslinger.
Rain was still falling when Desperado awakened the next morning. The blanket had provided scant protection against the torrential downpour, and he was wet to the skin and so cold his teeth were chattering. There was nothing available to make a fire and he wouldn’t have made one even if there had been dry wood. Alerting the posse to his hiding place was the last thing he wanted to do.
Desperado chewed on another piece of jerky, drank some water and was ready to ride. He saddled his mustang and headed out into the rain. Amarillo was two days away and he still had a fork of the Red River to cross. That worried him some. After the gullywasher yesterday the usually placid stream could have dangerous currents seething beneath the surface. No matter, he had no choice but to cross the river when he came to it.
Desperado found shelter that night beneath a rocky overhang. It had rained intermittently throughout the day but nothing like the gullywasher of the previous day. He ate sparingly and slept fitfully in his damp clothing. The following day he came to the river.
Desperado viewed the raging river from a ridge with growing horror. He feared that forcing his mustang into the seething water was tantamount to suicide. He turned away to find another, less dangerous crossing, when he spied the posse coming up on him from the rear. Caught between the devil and the turbulent, rain-swollen river, he had but a moment to decide which he preferred. He chose the river.
A shot whizzed past his ear and Desperado realized he hadn’t a moment to lose; the posse was within shooting range. He whispered a soft apology to his horse and urged him down the slope and into the water. He dared a brief glance over his shoulder and saw the posse skidding down the slope behind him.
Without a second to spare, he kneed his mustang forward. Bullets flew around him and he ducked low. But it wasn’t good enough. His body jerked violently as a bullet tore through his back, but he managed to keep his seat. Then a second bullet ripped into his thigh. He hung on valiantly, but despite his best efforts, he slid from the saddle into the water. He must have blacked out then, for when he revived he was floating in the river. He suspected the icy bath had jolted him awake. Then all thought ceased as the current whipped him into the middle of the river and carried him away.
“I think we got him,” Marshal Townsend said as he halted at the water’s edge.
“Grab his horse,” Calvin Tate ordered tersely. One of the men broke away from the posse and grasped the mustang’s trailing reins.
“There’s blood on the saddle,” the man reported.
“At least one of our bullets found their mark,” Townsend said. “If the lead didn’t finish him off, the river will. No man, not even Desperado Jones, can survive that raging current.”
“I don’t like it,” Talbot muttered. “The man has more lives than a cat. I want to see his lifeless body before I’ll believe he’s dead.”
“You wanna cross the river, then go ahead,” Townsend said. “I ain’t gonna do it, and neither are any of these men you hired off the streets. I’m just the town marshal. I don’t get paid enough to risk my life.”
Talbot scanned the river where he’d last seen Desperado. “Has anyone seen the bastard resurface?” he asked.
No one admitted to having seen Desperado since he’d fallen from the horse. “Any of our bullets could have killed him,” Townsend said.
“We’ll wait around a few hours,” Talbot told the men. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go into the river to look for a body. “Spread out along the bank and call out if his body washes up.”
“Hell, he’s probably miles downriver by now,” Townsend grumbled. “I’m cold and wet and hungry, and so are the men. I say we go back now.”
“I’m the one paying you,” Talbot growled. “A few hours more isn’t going to kill you. Now do as I say or no one gets paid. One thing more,” he said while he still had the men’s attention; “a bonus to the man who finds Desperado’s body.”
That night the posse camped on the riverbank. The next morning they saddled up and rode back to Trouble Creek. A disgruntled Talbot finally allowed that Desperado Jones was dead, and he had the gunslinger’s bloodstained saddle to prove it.
Death wasn’t so bad, Desperado decided as he gave up the fight to hold his breath. It was peaceful beneath the water, and the pain from his wounds was not so bad. Contrary to belief, his life didn’t pass before his eyes during his final moments. He saw only Chloe. Chloe smiling at him. Chloe poking that damn six-shooter into his gut. Chloe stripping off her clothing for him and letting him love her. Chloe telling him she loved him.
Chloe…Chloe…Chloe…
He had to breathe. The pressure on his lungs was excruciating. He was still lucid enough to know that he need only take a couple of breaths of water into his lungs to end his life. Not that his life was so important. Before he’d met Chloe he’d had little to live for.
Suddenly something plowed into him, forcing him to take that fatal breath. Instinct prompted him to clutch the object and hold on with what little strength he had left.
He must have hit his head on the rock-strewn river bottom when he’d fallen from his horse, he thought, for blood was gushing from a cut above his eye, blinding him to his murky surroundings.
I can breathe under water
, was Desperado’s next thought as he dragged in a breath of what felt suspiciously like fresh, cool air.
I’m hallucinating
, Desperado decided as he dragged in another life-giving breath.
He wiped the blood from his eyes on his wet sleeve and forced them open, expecting to see the bottom of the river whirling past his eyes. Instead he saw dripping gray skies and the opposite river-bank. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The scene remained unchanged.
It took him a few minutes to realize he was being carried downstream by a pile of floating debris. He recalled being hit by something that had knocked the breath from him. The will to survive must have beat strongly within him, for he had held onto the debris by instinct alone.
Desperado rested against the debris, fighting to remain conscious as his body convulsed in agony. In control of his wits now, he knew with grim certainty that Talbot wasn’t going to give up the chase until the river gave up his body. He had to get himself out of the water to safety.
Using the last of his meager strength, he hoisted himself atop the floating debris and let the rushing current carry him where it would. The devil and Talbot would have to fight for his soul.
Desperado was unconscious throughout the long night. He remained blissfully unaware that Talbot and the posse had left the area at daybreak to report his death. He didn’t see the Indian tipis set up along the bank of the river, nor did he know that he had drifted miles downstream. He didn’t hear the woman’s cry that brought the inhabitants of the village to the river’s edge. He didn’t feel himself being lifted out of the water and carried to a brightly decorated tipi. Had he seen the elderly Indian couple bending over his body with tears in their dark eyes, he would have been rendered speechless. Indians did not show emotion.
Chloe’s days were pure hell as she waited for word from Desperado. Mechanically she supervised the barn-raising and issued orders to have the cows brought closer to the ranch in anticipation of winter. When everything seemed to be progressing well, she decided to tackle the house. It needed a good cleaning. But she had no heart to begin the onerous chore, having little liking for housework.
While she was deciding what to tackle first in the house, a young Mexican woman approached the ranch, asking—no, begging—for work. She was barefoot and had walked a great distance. She also had dark purple bruises on her face and arms and walked as if she were in pain. Chloe hadn’t the heart to turn away a woman so desperately in need, so she hired her on the spot. While Ted was alive he had employed a housekeeper/cook to run the household. But after Ted passed on and money became scarce, they had let the elderly woman go with a small pension.
Chloe gave Juanita the small room off the kitchen as living quarters. Though the woman was something of a mystery, and rather reticent about how she had sustained her injuries, Chloe was glad for another woman’s company.
With the house in good hands, Chloe had more time to worry about Desperado. If he didn’t return soon, or send some word that he had reached Amarillo safely, she was going to ride out and look for him. She prayed that he had survived the terrible thunderstorm that had ravaged the area shortly after he left.
The storm had been a harbinger of winter, ushering in colder temperatures. The hands were working feverishly to finish the barn and bring the animals in from the farthest pastures before the first snow arrived. Up until the rainstorm, the fall had been exceptional, with crisp, sunny days and cool nights. But even then Chloe knew it couldn’t last. Where in the devil was Desperado?
Two weeks after Desperado rode away, unexpected guests arrived at the ranch. Calvin Talbot and Marshal Townsend. The hands paused in their labors to await the next development in the macabre game the Talbots were playing with Chloe and Desperado.
Chloe saw something that turned her blood to icewater as the pair rode through the gate. Calvin Talbot held the leading reins of a riderless horse.
Desperado’s mustang.
The hands closed ranks around her to lend their support as the riders rode up to the porch and drew rein.
“Miss Sommers,” Calvin Talbot said curtly, dispensing with formalities.
“What have you done to Desperado?” Chloe cried, unable to turn her gaze from the sweat-drenched mustang.
“Nothing more than the gunslinger deserved,” Marshal Townsend answered. “The man was a menace to society.”
“How would you know?” Chloe shot back. “All you’ve ever seen of society is whoever happens to be inside the saloon and whorehouse.”
“Now wait just a damn minute,” Townsend lashed out. “I was appointed by the town council to keep this city free of scum.”
“Then why are
you
still here?” Chloe challenged.
“Did you hear what she just said, Mr. Talbot?” Townsend whined. “The bitch insulted me. Are ya gonna let her get away with calling me scum?”
“Calm down,” Talbot hissed. “We’re not here to exchange barbs.”
Chloe’s chin raised to a defiant angle. “Why
are
you here? What happened to the rest of your posse?” She was afraid to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue.
What have you done to Desperado?
Never had she been so afraid to hear the truth in her life. There was only one way Talbot could have gotten Desperado’s mustang. But she refused to believe what common sense told her had happened.
While Chloe and Talbot were talking, Sonny edged over to the mustang to examine his shiny coat. What he discovered must have shocked him for he suddenly cried out, “There’s dried blood on the mustang’s saddle! And more smeared on his withers.”
“Damn you, Talbot!” Chloe shouted. “What have you done to Desperado!”
Talbot tossed the mustang’s reins at Sonny. “I thought you might want to keep the horse to remind you how short the life of a gunslinger can be. Desperado Jones is dead.”
“No! You’re a liar. Where is his body? Even a scoundrel like you wouldn’t leave him to the buzzards.” She flew at him, grabbing his jacket and pulling him from his horse. They grappled on the ground a few minutes before Townsend dismounted and pulled her off of Talbot. Bruised but undaunted, Chloe did what came naturally for Chloe. She pulled her gun on Talbot.