Gunslinger (5 page)

“I’ll get her,” Desperado volunteered before he realized what he was saying. For a moment he’d forgotten who was paying him. But he couldn’t stand aside and let a helpless animal perish in the fire.

“Be careful,” Chloe called as he dashed inside the burning barn.

Desperado immediately dropped to the floor where the air was less polluted and crawled on his belly toward the screaming horse. Apparently the fire had been set in the loft and was quickly spreading throughout the entire barn. The air was so thick with smoke he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. He felt sparks burn through to his skin as part of the loft dropped down, missing him by mere inches. Undaunted, he crept forward, inch by slow inch. The heat was nearly unbearable. Flames licked at him, searing his eyebrows and hair, and he came close to giving up. Then he saw the badly frightened mare thrashing around in a stall and he reached up to unlatch the gate. The mare reared, pawed the fetid air and leaped over Desperado in a desperate lunge toward the door.

Suddenly a beam fell behind Desperado, sending a flurry of sparks in all directions, and he knew he was a dead man. His escape route had been blocked. Desperado had faced death many times during his professional career and he’d always assumed he’d die with a gun in his hand. Somehow burning to death seemed an ignominious end for a gunslinger of his illustrious reputation. Then he thought of Chloe and realized he didn’t want to die. He hadn’t even bedded the tempting spitfire yet.

Piles of straw blazed all around him and Desperado realized he must think of something soon or perish. He glanced upward and realized that the entire roof was about to cave in on top of him. Then, out of the blue, he recalled something from his childhood. He was about twelve years old when a fractious stallion, having caught the scent of a mare in heat, had kicked out the side of a stall. His father had nailed a couple of boards over the hole. If he could remember the right stall, he knew he could easily kick the boards out.

Desperado let his mind wander backward in time, then he laughed aloud when he remembered which stall his father had hastily repaired. Damned if he wasn’t going to beat the devil of his due yet! He just hoped his father had never made permanent repairs to that hole.

Inch by grueling inch he elbowed his way toward the next to last stall at the far end of the barn. Flames were licking at his heels. His lungs were burning and his throat clogged with choking smoke as he crawled into the stall and ran his hands over the rough boards, frantically searching for the hole. Just when he feared he’d entered the wrong stall, he found the hole, still crudely patched, just as he remembered.

He rose unsteadily to his feet. He was dizzy and slightly disoriented but determined to escape this burning hell. He kicked with all his might against the boards nailed across the hole. All he got for his effort was a jarring that rattled his teeth. He tried again, dismayed when he realized that inhaling large quantities of smoke had sapped his strength. Then he saw a pitchfork sticking out of the hay and thanked his lucky stars.

Using the handle of the pitchfork as a lever, he was able to pry off both the boards. And just in time. He squeezed through the hole seconds before the roof caved in. He rolled over and over until he was clear of the shooting flames and flying sparks. He lay sprawled on the ground, unable to move, his lungs burning, sucking in huge gulps of air.

He lay there for a long time. Then he surged to his feet and staggered to where Chloe and the cowboys milled helplessly around, watching the barn disappear in a solid wall of flame. He spied Chloe standing beside Cory, her head buried in her hands while the cowboy clumsily patted her quaking shoulders. As he walked over to join them he heard Cory say, “Crying ain’t gonna bring that gunslinger back, Miss Chloe.”

Chloe was crying? Over him?
No one had ever cried over him. He felt something stir inside him, but couldn’t put a name to it. The thought that someone cared enough about him to mourn his passing was a new and thrilling concept.

Suddenly one of the cowboys saw him and let out a yelp of surprise. “He ain’t dead! Damned if the gunslinger don’t have more lives than a cat. Only a wizard could escape that inferno.”

Chloe raised her head and stared at Desperado. He read disbelief in those expressive green eyes, and something else. Joy? He stood rooted to the spot, staring at her and she at him. Then his legs started to buckle and he heard her cry out.

“Help him!”

Immediately two cowboys sprinted forward to support him until he felt strong enough to stand on his own.

“How did you escape the fire?” Chloe asked, dashing away her tears. Her gaze slid over him, as if to reassure herself that he had indeed escaped unscathed.

Desperado gave in to a fit of coughing. When he’d cleared the smoke from his lungs, he said in that sandpaper voice of his, “I found a patched place in one of the stalls and kicked out the boards.”

Chloe stared at him. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “
I
didn’t even know about the patch.”

“I was lucky.” One side of his mouth kicked up into a smile. “I couldn’t die before I collected my first paycheck.”

Chloe gave him an exasperated look. “There’s nothing more anyone can do here. There’s still time before sunup to catch a few hours’ sleep. I suggest that everyone go back to bed. We’ll clean up this mess in the morning.”

The cowboys must have agreed for they began drifting back to their beds. Desperado hung back, hoping for a private word with Chloe.

“That goes for you, too, Mr. Jones,” Chloe said crisply.

“There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

“Tomorrow. Rest is what we need right now. Good night, Mr. Jones.”

Desperado watched her walk away, thinking he’d never known a more stubborn woman in his life. Or a more determined one. After tonight’s fire Desperado realized that Talbot would stop at nothing to own this land, and he wondered why. “Accidents” like this could turn ugly and lead to the loss of lives. He had no idea why that bothered him but it did.

Chloe could become an innocent victim to Talbot’s greed, and Desperado knew he couldn’t let that happen, no matter how much he resented the fact that she called herself owner of his property. Somehow he had to convince her to give up the trail drive and sell her herd in Texas for less money.

After the hands had gone about their chores the next morning, Desperado heated water in the cookhouse and took a bath in the big wooden tub kept there for that purpose. The stink of smoke had saturated his hair, his body and his clothing, and he soaped and scrubbed until the odor no longer offended him. Then he washed his dirty clothes in the bath water, hung them to dry over chairs and donned the clean shirt and trousers he had carried along with him.

Feeling more like himself now, Desperado headed toward the house to try to talk Chloe out of undertaking a demanding trail drive that hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding. Not with a man like Talbot determined to stop her.

Chloe answered his knock and invited him into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was the first time he’d been inside his childhood home since he was twelve years old, and he was immediately assailed by painful memories. He looked at the wood-burning stove and pictured his mother standing beside it, stirring a pot of something delicious. He saw his father entering the kitchen and giving his mother a hug.

Desperado knew his parents had been happy and he could never understand why Ted Ralston had married a self-centered woman like Norie Sommers after having had a loving relationship with Dancing Star. Desperado had heard the story many times of how Ted Ralston had met and then married his Indian mother despite outraged citizens of the community who had advised against it. But he couldn’t think about that now. He had a mission to accomplish this morning and he wasn’t going to let anything deter him.

“Sugar and cream, Mr. Jones?”

Desperado jerked his thoughts back to the present, to the woman whose mother had been instrumental in turning him into a gunfighter with nothing to look forward to but an ignominious death at the hands of some trigger-happy young punk with a fast draw.

“Black,” he answered. He watched with avid interest as she bent to pour cream in her own coffee. Her silk shirt gaped open at the neckline, revealing a wedge of creamy flesh with just a hint of cleavage. He had to force himself to look away. Instead he stared at her curvy hips, enticingly encased in tight trousers, which did damn little to restore his sanity or ease the throbbing between his legs.

Chloe set the cream pitcher down and searched his face. “Your eyebrows are singed.”

“They’ll grow back.”

“Your hair is singed, too.”

He brushed his long fingers through his thick, dark locks and felt the charred ends against his fingertips. “I’ll trim them off later.” He sipped his coffee, watching Chloe from beneath eyes fringed with indecently long black lashes.

Chloe flushed beneath Desperado’s intense perusal. She wondered what he wanted to say and why he didn’t just spit it out. When he looked at her like that, she wanted to dive into those fathomless black eyes and forget to come up for air. Danger lurked in his eyes, in the proud thrust of his chin, in the implied power of his honed muscles. Something about Desperado Jones disturbed her deeply. He was too much. Too much pure animal magnetism and too much sexual awareness.

“What did you wish to talk to me about?” Chloe asked while she still had the presence of mind to form the words.

“I think you should give up your plans for the trail drive,” Desperado said.

Chloe’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “What? Give up the trail drive? Never! What in blazes made you suggest a ridiculous thing like that?”

“For one thing, the fire last night. We both know who started it and why.”

Chloe did know but it made little difference. She wasn’t going to give up, not for anything. “I meant to ask you about your whereabouts last night,” she said, cocking a golden brow at him. “Where were you when the fire was being set? Rowdy told me you weren’t in your bed. If you recall, I’m paying you to stop this kind of harassment.”

Desperado gave her a searing look. “Are you accusing me of something? For your information, I heard a noise outside and went to investigate. I saw someone riding away and gave chase. I lost him near the ravine behind the house. I didn’t know the barn was on fire until I started back and saw the red sky. I got back as fast as I could.”

Chloe was in a quandary. Desperado sounded and looked sincere, but she knew how untrustworthy men could be. This time she decided to trust him. She needed Desperado too much to let him go. Not only was Calvin Talbot determined to get her land but Tate Talbot was stalking her. Because of that terrible night two years ago, he thought he owned her. “I want patrols out every night until the trail drive.”

“I’ll see to it,” Desperado acknowledged. “But I think you should listen to my advice. Sell your herd in Texas and save yourself the heartache of losing them on the drive.”

“I can’t get enough money for them in Texas.”

“You might lose your land to Calvin Talbot, but you’ll still have your life and enough money to live on until you find a husband.”

“I’ll never marry,” Chloe gritted out. “Nor will I sit meekly by and let Talbot claim my land.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You’re not going back on your word, are you?” Chloe charged. “We had an agreement.”

Desperado took a long time to answer, and Chloe feared he was going to quit, leaving her without the protection she so desperately needed. Anger built inside her until she thought she’d explode from it. Did he want more money? She decided to find out.

“Every gunfighter has a price, Mr. Jones. Name yours.”

Chapter Four

Desperado sent Chloe a smile charged with sexual innuendo. He seriously doubted she’d want to know his price. She’d run screaming if she knew he wanted her naked beneath him with her legs spread and his name on her lips.

“What makes you think my price is anything other than what we’ve already agreed upon?” he rasped in a low, provocative voice meant to tease the senses.

“Why else would you try to talk me out of undertaking this trail drive?” Chloe charged. “You want more money, it’s as simple as that. I’ll go sixty dollars a month, but that’s all I can afford.”

“What if more money isn’t what I had in mind?” he taunted.

Chloe stared at him. “What else could you…” Comprehension suddenly dawned. “Oh. You mean…” A telltale red crept up her neck. Her voice hardened. “Money is all you’re going to get, Mr. Jones. Take it or leave it.”

“Keep your money,” Desperado rasped. He didn’t know what in the hell got into him every time he was around the trouser-clad temptress. He wasn’t here to play games with the gun-toting beauty. He was being paid handsomely by Calvin Talbot to sabotage a trail drive.

“You’re leaving?” Chloe asked, clearly stunned.

“No, I’m staying. If you have any sense you’d take my advice and sell your cows in Texas.”

“Are you afraid of the Talbots?” Chloe challenged.

He gave a derisive snort. “Me? Not on your life. But you should be.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Chloe said defiantly. “Besides, I’m paying you to see that my herd reaches the railhead safely.”

Desperado said nothing. What could he say when he and Chloe were on opposite sides, working against one another?

“Is that all you wanted, Mr. Jones?”

“Are you dismissing me?”

She rose and so did he. “I’m sure you have better things to do than to try to convince me to sell my herd in Texas for the ridiculous price of five dollars a head. Shouldn’t you be patrolling the area or something?”

She moved toward the door and he trailed behind, his gaze following the enticing sway of her hips with avid appreciation. Few women could wear trousers and carry it off the way she did. She opened the door, but he was so engrossed in tracing the curves of her sweet little body that he plowed into her. His arms came around her and his body reacted so violently he couldn’t suppress the groan that slipped past his lips.

Turning in his arms, Chloe brought her hands up to push against his chest. “Remove your arms, Mr. Jones.”

Her face was so close to his that the urgent need to taste those luscious red lips became a physical ache. His head dipped and his mouth closed over hers. She whimpered a protest, moaned a denial, but Desperado was too aroused by her taste and scent to stop now. His tongue gently prodded the seam of her lips, and to his astonishment she opened her mouth. He was unaware that her intention had been to scream a protest. His tongue swept inside. His passion was so quick to ignite that he scarcely felt her struggle.

He belatedly realized she wasn’t a willing participant when he felt cold steel digging into his belly. With great reluctance he broke off the kiss and backed away.

Chloe looked into Desperado’s fierce gaze and saw within his eyes the feral heat of an animal deprived of its right to mate. Anger warred with desire inside her. Fury with pleasure. She’d never felt desire before, and no man had ever given her pleasure. It was humiliating to know that a half-breed gunslinger could spark these incendiary emotions in her.

Her first instinct had been to melt into his arms. Her second had been to draw her gun and stop this sidewinder from working his wiles on her. Her second instinct had won out. Though her body wanted his kisses to go on forever, her mind knew better than to allow a man, any man, to manipulate her through seduction.

“You pulled a gun on me,” Desperado rasped, pushing her away as if she had bitten him. “I warned you once about that.”

“And I warned you about taking liberties with my body. I hired you for one purpose, Mr. Jones. All I require of you is that you perform the job you’re being paid for. If I suddenly find myself in need of a man, I’ll find someone whose reputation isn’t quite so unsavory.”

The sound Desperado made was more of a growl than a word as he grasped her wrist and removed the gun from her hand with so little effort she wondered why she had bothered to threaten him with it. She had known he was strong, but the ease with which he had disarmed her utterly dismayed her. She was still gaping at him when he thrust her gun back in her holster.

“I strongly advise you to keep your gun in the holster where it belongs, Miss Sommers,” he drawled, “and leave the shooting to me. Keep that in mind the next time I kiss you.”

“There won’t be a next time!” Chloe called after him as he turned and strode through the door.

Desperado smiled to himself as he walked to the still-smoldering barn to see what could be salvaged. Chloe Sommers didn’t know it, but she was ripe for bedding. Desperado strongly suspected that Tate Talbot had bedded Chloe. Maybe he still did. But Desperado was experienced enough to know that Talbot must have been a terrible kisser, if Chloe’s reaction to his kiss was any indication. Most men feared her temper and her guns, he supposed, but she was exactly the kind of woman that appealed to him. Spunky and full of vinegar. Bedding her was bound to give him one helluva ride.

Desperado soon learned that Chloe wasn’t going to let the loss of a barn or Calvin Talbot’s threats stop her from driving her herd from northern Texas to the railhead at Dodge City. The branding continued. A chuck wagon was outfitted and stocked for the drive, which would take from a month to six weeks, barring inclement weather and accidents.

Still determined to stop Chloe from putting her life in danger, Desperado began to explore ways to sabotage the trail drive without endangering lives. Though he was on Talbot’s payroll, he didn’t want to see Chloe hurt.

Two days later a gate was found open on a pen holding cows still needing to be branded, and about a hundred head had wandered off. Naturally Chloe was livid. Work had to be stopped while the cattle were rounded up. Three days after that, all the branding irons had mysteriously disappeared and a run had to be made to town to order new ones from the blacksmith. It took two weeks for replacements to be made.

Desperado grew desperate as the target date to begin the trail drive approached. Nothing seemed to faze Chloe. Most women would be a nervous wreck after a series of “accidents” like those she’d had to endure. Desperado’s admiration for the little spitfire grew by leaps and bounds. And it lasted about as long as it took him to remember that Chloe now claimed the land that should have been his. How could he admire a woman spawned by Norie Sommers? It was almost too much to ask. He could desire her. Want her in his bed even, but that didn’t mean he had to like her. But dammit, that was just what was happening.

Liking the various women he’d bedded had never been a priority for Desperado. He took his pleasure where and when he found the time and thought little about the women whose names and faces he forgot soon afterward. However, there was something about Chloe Sommers that caught his fancy. For one thing she wasn’t like those other women he’d bedded. She was strong, vital and independent…and too damn stubborn for her own good.

The days passed with alarming speed. Little by little the cowboys were coming to trust him. Almost losing his life in that burning barn had made him one of them. With the exception of Rowdy, who still had a chip on his shoulder where Desperado was concerned, the young cowhands had come to respect him. Desperado felt guilty for pulling the wool over their eyes and suspected they would hate him as much as Rowdy did when they learned he’d been paid to sabotage the trail drive.

Desperado had never experienced guilt before and it bothered him. Hell, Chloe felt no guilt for taking land that didn’t belong to her, so why should he feel bad about sabotaging her operation?

Desperado heard someone calling his name and waited up for Cory to join him. Desperado liked the young cowboy. He liked Rusty and Duke and Randy the cook, too. Though he knew forming attachments could be dangerous to a gunslinger, he felt a grudging admiration for these hardworking boys. He made a silent vow to do all he could to protect these youngsters from becoming Talbot’s victims. He didn’t consider saving lives a betrayal of his promise to Talbot. In his long career as a hired gunman Desperado had never deliberately taken a life. He’d scared the hell out of a lot of men; he had that down to a science. But actually shooting someone in cold blood wasn’t his style.

“Miss Chloe wants to see you,” Cory said as he sprinted up to join him.

“Do you know what she wants?”

“She didn’t say. You’ll find her in the chuck wagon, checking supplies.”

“Thanks, Cory.”

“We’re branding the last of the cows today,” Cory said in parting. “We sure could use your help if you aren’t busy with something else.”

Desperado couldn’t stop the smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. Not long ago these same cowboys would barely speak to him. For the first time in his adult life he felt as if he was appreciated for something other than his skill with a gun.

“It all depends on Miss Sommers. She might have some chore for me. If not, I’ll be happy to lend you a hand.”

Cory answered Desperado’s smile with one of his own and hurried off as Desperado headed over to the chuck wagon parked beneath a shade tree.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked as he poked his head inside the chuck wagon.

“Yes,” Chloe said crisply. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

It was obvious to Desperado that Chloe wanted to keep their association as businesslike as possible. He wondered whom she trusted less, him or herself.

“I don’t want the others to hear our conversation. That’s why I asked you to meet me here.”

“Is there something you want to say to me that you don’t want the others to hear? Maybe you’d like another kiss.”

She ignored him. He laughed. She stared at his dimple, then cleared her throat. “I want your advice about something,” she said crisply. “I don’t want the hands to think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Desperado sobered immediately. It must be serious if a proud, stubborn woman like Chloe wanted
his
advice. “I’m all ears. What do you want to know?”

Chloe stared off into space, as if reluctant to ask for advice, especially from someone like Desperado Jones. Suddenly her gaze drifted back, clashing with his, and he felt as if he’d been gut shot. Her eyes were so intensely green he felt hypnotized by them. He shook his head, cursing himself for harboring foolish thoughts about a woman who considered him dirt under her feet. A woman he had every reason to hate.

A woman he’d been hired to ruin.

Chloe stepped down from the chuck wagon and faced him squarely. “I’ve never been on a trail drive before.” Desperado knew how much it cost her to admit her lack and felt grudging admiration. “Neither have any of my drovers. I wonder if you would look over the provisions and tell me if anything is missing. And perhaps you can advise the others about the gear they’ll be needing.”

“You’re still determined, aren’t you? Talbot hasn’t frightened you at all, has he? Why do you insist on placing your life in danger?”

“My life is my own to do with as I please,” Chloe returned. “All I need from you is a little advice, and of course, your gun. I don’t intend to fail, no matter what Talbot does to stop me. Now, will you look at the supplies or shall I find someone in town to come out to advise me?”

“If I can’t discourage you, the least I can do is make sure the boys eat well,” Desperado grumbled sourly. Damn, what an onerous chore this was becoming. He’d had no idea when he’d taken this job that he’d have to deal with such a headstrong little fool.

Desperado had been on trail drives a time or two and knew what insufficient food and inadequate clothing could do for the drovers’ morale. He was also aware of how long certain foods lasted and which were depleted before others.

With that in mind he made a thorough inspection of the contents of the chuck wagon, making mental notes as he tallied the supplies in his head. When he finished he had a pretty fair idea of the additional supplies needed to keep the drovers happy.

“You need at least one more sack of flour and another of cornmeal,” he enumerated. “And another rasher of bacon. Plan on cutting two or three cows from your herd to provide fresh meat for the drive, and include some spices to pep up the stews Randy will be making.” He poked into a large covered tin. “There are plenty of beans, but I’d include some dried apples for pies and cobblers. The pots you’ve included seem adequate for your needs, but I’d recommend another barrel of water. Some tins of canned fruit would make your hands mighty happy.”

“Is that all?”

“I’m partial to peppermint sticks.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Chloe said dryly. “Thank you.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

Chloe regarded him warily. Oh, yes, there were many things she wanted to know about the mysterious Desperado Jones. Curiosity bubbled up inside her and she blurted out, “What is your real name?”

“Among the Apache I am known as Fast Hand.”

Chloe smiled despite herself. The name fit him. “I mean your real name. Is it something you’re ashamed of?”

He gave her a withering look but Chloe remained undaunted. “Are you wanted by the law under your real name?”

“I’m not a wanted man by any name,” Desperado rasped.

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Why are you interested?” he shot back.

“Curiosity. Why did you decide to become a gunslinger?”

“Nosy today, aren’t you? Very well, I’ll tell you that much. I decided to hire out my gun because it was what I did best. I’d just left the Apache village, with nothing to my name but my horse and my guns. I’d learned many useful skills from the Apache and decided to use them to earn my keep. I kind of fell into my first job, and the others came easy once my reputation as a fast gun grew. There, are you satisfied?”

“Was your mother or father Indian?” Chloe asked, eager to know more about the mysterious Desperado Jones. Her appetite for information had just been whetted.