Love's Bounty

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Hell no!” He moved down and licked at her nipples, then kissed her belly before moving back up to nuzzle her neck. He moved his lips to hers, tasting her mouth hungrily, then kissing her eyes.

  “You’re something, Christian Mercy.”

  “How’s that?” He kissed her mouth again.

  “Not many men I allow in this bed bother with kissing and affection. It’s usually just quick and hard and done. You stay around afterward and treat me like I mean something.”

  “You do mean something.”

  “Hell, I know better. I know that in your own way you respect me more than other men do, but I also know I don’t mean anything to you emotionally. But you’re nice enough to give me some extra time anyway. You, a man who hunts men and sometimes kills them for money. I can tell you used to be a damn nice man.”

  He grinned. “I am a damn nice man.” He kissed her once more before relaxing beside her. “And I don’t hunt those men for the money. I don’t kill them for the money, and I don’t bring them in and watch them hang for the money. I have other reasons.” He felt the humor and the relaxation of the moment leave him. “And none of them has anything to do with money.”

  Lisa traced a finger down the center of his chest and circled it around his belly button. “You’ve never told me what they are.”

  “I’ve never told anybody.”

  “Well, I know it has something to do with a wife. I take it she’s dead.”

  There came the pain again, the sudden black wave that still rushed through him at the first thought of that awful night. “Please don’t bring it up, Lisa.”

  She sighed, kissing his neck. “I’m sorry. I had no right.” She settled into his shoulder, and he stroked her hair away from her face.

  “You care, that’s all. I appreciate that.”

  Lisa rose up on one elbow, resting her head in her hand and looking down at him. “Honey, I care because I know you’re a good man at heart, and I can tell you were once a family man. You’re educated, and you’re just about the most handsome specie of the male breed I’ve ever set eyes on. I see you as a terrible waste to society, someone who probably once contributed a whole lot and who now wastes all those looks and education and the love I know you have way down deep inside someplace on chasing after no-good outlaws who aren’t worth your time and talents. How long do you intend to keep this up? How long do you intend to keep hating and trying to find a way to get rid of the rage down inside?”

  Chris closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Someday I suppose it will just come to me that it’s time to end it and go on. Right now I can’t imagine how I would do that.”

  “So you’re going off with Miss Freckle-Face to who knows where for who knows how long to find men whose names you don’t know.”

  “That pretty much says it.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Raped and killed her mother.”

  Lisa frowned and wilted back down beside him. “Good God,” she muttered.

  “Yeah.”

  They both lay there quietly for a moment.

  “Seems to me like the two of you have something in common,” Lisa finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re both carrying a rage inside, looking for some kind of revenge. You think that if you find every man who does wrong and either kill him or watch him hang, you’ll feel better about whatever it is that haunts you. And she thinks that if she can find her mother’s killers, she will feel better. But it doesn’t work that way.”

  Chris turned on his side to face her, running a hand over her back and down over her bare bottom. “How would you know?”

  She smiled in a slight sneer. “Because my own father raped me, many times over, when I was growing up. I figured if I shot him, I’d feel better. So I did. And I didn’t. I fled Indiana and came here and ended up singing in a saloon and entertaining men upstairs. There aren’t a hell of a lot of ways for a woman to make money out here, and marriage is out of the question.”

  Chris frowned. “Why? You’re beautiful and talented.”

  She smiled sadly. “Well, there you go. We’re both wasting our looks and talents.”

  He moved on top of her. “Maybe so. But in your case, you’re blaming yourself for something you couldn’t help. Your father deserved to die. But you don’t deserve to never have a husband and a family.”

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and moved her arms around his neck. “You’re something, Christian Mercy.”

  “You already said that.”

  “Want to know something?”

  Chris kissed her lips again. “What?”

  “Dallas Reams has been after me to marry him for months. He’s nice-looking; not a prize, but nice-looking. And he’s nothing but a gentleman when he comes here, kind of like you are. He doesn’t care about my past, says I deserve to have a nice life. He runs the general store here in Lander. What do you think?”

  “I think you should marry him.”

  “I just don’t feel like I’m worthy.”

  “You’re as worthy as a virgin who sits in church every Sunday.”

  Chris noticed her eyes suddenly tear. “What a nice thing to say.”

  He shrugged. “It’s true. All that matters is what’s in your heart. If you’re tired of this life and think you can be true to Dallas Reams, then you should marry him. Have yourself some kids. You’d make a good mother.”

  “Well, listen to you. Here you are, telling me to marry another man, and you’re on top of me getting bigger and harder every second.”

  They both laughed again, and Chris could not resist when she opened herself to him.

  “One last time,” she said seductively, “in case I’m married the next time you come through town.”

  “Much obliged,” he answered, covering her mouth in another hungry kiss as he moved inside her again. This time he would take longer. It could be his last time for quite a while.

  Chapter Twelve

  Callie plopped her wide-brimmed hat on her head and tightened the chin strap. She studied herself in the hazy mirror above the dresser, imagining how unfeminine and plain she must look compared to the woman called Lisa. She wore a plain blue shirt tucked into denim pants that hung a little loose on her and were held up by a wide leather belt. Her boots were dusty and faded but comfortable. Her hair was tucked up under her hat again, and she wore leather riding gloves.

  Well, that old man at the livery yesterday thought she was a boy at first, and so did those men who grabbed her last night. Who cared? It was better this way anyway, considering where they were headed. She pulled a leather vest on over her shirt. That would help hide her breasts. They were too damn big for her small frame anyway. It embarrassed her. And Lord knew she didn’t want Christian Mercy noticing, not that he would, but he just might. And after a while that could give him ideas like those men last night had.

  Someone knocked on the door then, and her heart suddenly raced. She told herself she was angry with Christian Mercy because he’d called her his little sister, not because she knew damn well he’d spent the night in Lisa’s bed. She wasn’t sure how to behave toward him this morning. If she acted angry, he’d think it was because he slept with that woman, and that would make him wonder why she cared. He’d get ideas she had thoughts about him herself, and she damn well didn’t! But hell, how could she be nice to him? The thought of trying made her even more angry.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door, not even looking at him. “I’m ready,” she said, turning around and picking up both her carpetbags.

  “My things are at the livery,” he told her. “Everything else is packed and ready to go. All we have to do is tie on your bags.”

  “Good.” She marched past him and down the stairs. The front door stood open, so she walked out and down the street toward the stables, not caring to walk beside or behind Christian Mercy. He was the one always walking off ahead of her. Now she’d do the same. He wanted efficiency and timeliness, so h
e’d get it. She could tell he wasn’t right behind her. Fine. He’d probably stopped to drop off her key. She’d left it on the dresser.

  She greeted old Luke, noticing their horses and mules were tied out front. Her pa’s rifle was in its boot, attached to her saddle, which was on the back of the red mare.

  “Got Betsy all ready for you,” Luke told her. “Chris will ride Night Wind for starters. Best to let the Appaloosa there get to know you both a little before ridin’ him.”

  Callie mounted Betsy. “You said the Appaloosa’s name is Breeze?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Luke turned to Chris, who was just then approaching. “Got everything ready for you, Chris. Mules are all loaded. The little miss is mounted up and waitin’.”

  Chris made no acknowledgment of Callie. “We all square, then?” he asked Luke.

  “Sure are. Always glad to do business with you, Chris. I reckon’ Lisa is too.”

  The old man laughed, and Callie stared straight ahead, pretending not to care.

  “You watch out for Lisa, will you, Luke?”

  “Always do. She’s a nice lady.”

  “That she is.”

  Nice! Callie thought. She’s nice all right, nice enough to bring a man up to her bed just to give him his pleasure, whether he loves her or not! And Christian Mercy was crude enough to do just that.

  “You watch out for yourself, Chris,” Luke told him. “And for that nice little lady with you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  In the next moment Chris was beside Callie, handing her a set of reins. “I’ll let you take one of the pack mules,” he told her. “I’ll take the Appaloosa and the other mule.”

  “Yes, sir.” She took the reins without looking at him.

  “Don’t know when or if I’ll see you again, Luke,” Chris called back to the old man. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You’re always welcome, my friend.”

  Callie turned to wave to Luke, feeling she should at least do that much. “Bye, Luke.”

  “Take care, little girl.”

  She turned back, understanding the old man’s attitude but hating being called “little girl” in front of Christian Mercy, who’d just spent the night with what someone like Luke would probably call a “real” woman.

  Chris kicked his horse into a gentle lope, pulling ahead of Callie as he headed northeast. Callie followed, saying nothing, and they rode that way for a good two hours, until the road dwindled into nothing more than a narrow horse trail.

  They headed northwest, heading into a deep canyon, where the horses’ hooves hitting hard rock echoed through the deep crevasse. The shaded area was blessed relief from the late-morning sun that was already becoming uncomfortably hot.

  Callie could hear the sound of trickling water, then soon saw a narrow trail of water filtering down over a wall of sheer red rock, sprouting from some hidden source higher up. Chris drew his horse to a halt.

  “We’d better rest the horses,” he said. “They can get a drink here, and so can we. That way we preserve the water in our canteens.”

  Callie reined Betsy to a stop, then dismounted, leading Betsy and the extra mule to the waterfall. Farther up, the water glittered from sunlight, and she thought how pretty it was. A gentle wind made a groaning sound as it moved through the canyon. “It’s pretty here,” she said almost absently. “Down in here it seems like we’ve left the rest of the world behind.”

  Chris removed a glove and leaned forward, cupping his hand and letting the palm fill with water. He splashed it over his face, and Callie noticed only then that he’d also removed his hat. He ran his wet hand through his thick hair before facing her. “You finally talking to me?”

  She met his eyes for only a moment, then looked away again, petting Betsy’s neck as the horse began slurping at the waterfall. “Who said I wasn’t talking?”

  Chris sighed. “Your silence was somewhat of a hint.”

  Callie shrugged. “I just didn’t have anything to say. You seem like a man bent on timeliness and efficiency, and you did tell me more than once that I talk too much anyway, so I left you alone. I figure you have plenty to think about, figuring where we’ll go first and all.” She took off her riding gloves and reached out to scoop up some of the water for herself, also splashing it over her face. “Where the heck are we going first anyway? You never said.”

  The horses and mules nuzzled one another out of the way to get a drink. One mule and Betsy turned to nibble at some yellow grass that managed to grow out of cracks in the rock.

  “Hole-in-the-Wall,” Chris answered. He sat down on a flat rock and took a cigarette from his pocket that he had rolled for himself earlier. He lit it and took a deep drag from it before continuing. “It’s becoming an outlaw hangout and is almost impossible for the law to penetrate. It’s hard to get to and a good place for lookouts to draw a bead on anybody they don’t want there.”

  Callie sat down a few feet away. “You think they’ll shoot us?”

  He shrugged. “Chance we have to take.”

  Callie could not help her apprehension. “Lordy, we could get killed before we even get started.”

  He smoked quietly a little longer. “Well, it’s like this,” he told her then, studying the cigarette as he rolled it between finger and thumb. “Some of them will know me. Some won’t. Those who do won’t care that I’m there as long as it isn’t them I’m after.” He glanced over at the horses, then finally looked at her. “These men are a strange breed, Callie. They live by a code all their own. Some aren’t all that bad, rustlers mostly. Most respect proper women, even respect whores in their own way.” He took another long drag from the cigarette.

  Callie looked away. “Like you respect that Lisa woman?”

  He exhaled smoke as he laughed lightly and shook his head. “I suppose. Something like that.”

  She wanted to ask him how on earth he could respect a woman like that, but she didn’t feel like getting into another yelling match. “What’s that got to do with us getting shot?” she asked. She picked up a little stone and tossed it against the opposite canyon wall.

  “What I’m saying is that not all the men we’ll come up against are killers, and some might even help us once they know why we’re looking for the men we’re after. Some will be just as pissed off over what your mother’s attackers did as you are…and as I am. We won’t be in too much trouble at first going in there, even though some might know me. They’ll wait to see what it is, or, rather, who it is I’m after. Some will even keep it quiet if I ask them to. But you have to let me do the talking, and you have to stay put when I tell you to stay put. If I can’t trust you to do that, I’m not going any farther, because if I have to worry about what you’re doing, I might lose my concentration at a time when it’s important I keep it. Otherwise I could end up with wind blowing through my back and out the front. Understand?”

  Callie sighed in resignation, staring at the ground and leaning down to pick up another rock. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I can’t lie to most of these men and tell them you’re my sister, because they’ll know better.”

  Callie studied the rock, which glittered a pretty pink color. “At least you said sister, not little sister.”

  He took one last drag from the cigarette and threw it down to step it out, grinning. “Is that what made you so mad last night?”

  She still refused to look at him. She hated him. She liked him. He was nice. He was ornery. He was kind. He was bossy. He respected women like her and her mother, but he slept with whores. He had compassion, but he killed for money. What a strange man he was.

  “Mostly, I guess. And those men scared me and made me mad, and then that Lisa woman was watching and smiling, like I was a little kid to be laughed at.” She stuck the rock in her vest pocket. “A woman like that has no right laughing at me.”

  Chris leaned back against a large boulder behind him. “Well, now, you’re right. She had no right laughing at you. And I guess I had no ri
ght yelling at you, considering the scare you’d just had. That should have been enough to teach you to stay put when I tell you to.”

  She met his eyes again. Damned if he wasn’t so handsome, he made a woman want to change her mind about…things. “Thanks for saying that.”

  He removed his hat again. “Well, we’ll be spending a lot of time together. No sense spending it not speaking. Just don’t take that as meaning you can jabber the whole time we’re together and keep asking questions I’d rather not answer.”

  Callie found herself smiling. “Yes, sir.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Get a little rest.”

  “What about the horses?”

  “They’ll be all right. They’ll stay near the water. Besides, they can’t exactly spread out in all directions here, and they’re too tired to bother taking off. We’ll rest off the noon heat here, have a bite to eat before going on, just some jerked meat and a biscuit or two. No need for a fire, not that there’s anything around here to make a fire with anyway.”

  Callie moved to sit down in a sandy spot nearby, also leaning back against a rock. “What about outlaws?”

  “What about them?”

  “What if some come through here?”

  “Lord knows we’ll hear them a mile away in this canyon. Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to stay too alert till we get closer to Hole-in-the-Wall.”

  Callie closed her eyes. “If you say so.”

  Nothing more was said for several minutes. Callie opened one eye to see if Chris’s were still closed. They were. He was a man of experience in things like this, making her wonder if he was really sleeping or if he was one of those men who could close his eyes for hours and still really be awake.

  “Mr. Mercy?” she said in a near whisper.

  His eyes popped open instantly. “What?”

  “Oh, I’m…I’m sorry. Never mind.”

  Chapter Thirteen