by Sarah Hegger
There was no good reason for the pain his words caused. Cole was not, nor had he ever been, hers. Just because she’d gotten used to thinking of him in an intimate capacity, it didn’t make him any more hers now either. Really, she ought to be glad he loved this Victoria. It would make matters so much easier between them.
“You didn’t marry her?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was a wild one, kicking out against the world, my father, whatever felt like it was tying me down.”
Ellie could see that. She still remembered the first day he’d wandered into the Four Kings, so handsome and devil-may-care, wearing his capacity for violence and danger like a cape swirling behind him. Their eyes had met over the length of the bar, and for once, Ellie had considered taking the money and the man to her bed.
She edged closer to him. “What happened?”
“I did some stupid stuff, got myself into a stupid situation, wasn’t accepted in polite society.” His smile was rueful as he stared out at nothing. “My father was furious and threatened to disown me. Of course, I had to push that to its conclusion.”
“He disowned you.”
Cole turned to her. “Yep. Tossed me out with the clothes on my back and the money I had in my pocket.”
“How did you end up out here?”
“I went to the train station and bought a ticket for as far as my money would take me.” He smiled at her. “And it brought me here.”
“And Victoria?”
His smile faded. “She married somebody else.”
“I’m sorry.” It must have broken his heart for him to still be wanting her back after all these years. “And that’s why you’re going back to New York.”
“I’m going back because it’s where I belong.” Cole shrugged. “I’ve lived here and done well for myself, but it’s not home. I’m reaching that point in my life where I want home. I want to settle.”
That wasn’t the Cole she knew, but she kept her thoughts off her face.
“Victoria’s free now,” he said. “Her husband died six months ago. The time is right.”
Ellie had no words, so she nodded. Lucky Victoria to have a man like Cole pining for her.
“To be honest, I’m not sure Victoria is the reason I’m going back.” Cole cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time, and people change. It’s more like everything is pointing me that way.”
“I’ll miss you,” Ellie said. So much more than she dared express. “We’ve been good friends over the years.”
“Yeah, friends.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Of a sort.”
Yeah, and it was that of a sort part she wanted to talk to him about, but another time.
Chapter Twenty
Cole left Ellie and an exhausted Bridget, still happily clutching her catch, at the hotel and went out. His conversation with Ellie had left him feeling antsy.
All these years he’d lived in Colorado, he’d never told anyone about Victoria until today. When he’d first arrived, keeping to himself had been a life prolonging strategy. Staying to himself had become a habit, broken only by his trips to the Four Kings.
He had never put the pieces together before, but he went to the Kings for Ellie. She was the closest thing he had to a friend out there, and he would miss her too.
Like any other time he was troubled, his path took him into a saloon. He didn’t bother to get the name. They were pretty much all the same, some rougher than others. This one sat squarely between blink-and-somebody-will-shoot-you and don’t-want-no-trouble.
He bellied up to the bar and tapped it for the keep’s attention. “Whisky.”
“Comin’ up.” The barkeep stopped and stared at him. “You ain’t Whisky Mansfield, is ya?”
Cole nodded.
The cowpoke next to him sidled a few steps away from him. A young tough at the far end eyed him with interest. Jesus, Cole wasn’t up for one of those glory seekers tonight. They had a nasty habit of crawling out of the shadows when you least wanted them.
There was no Whisky Mansfield in New York, just plain old Cole Justin Mansfield. And how his parents’ set would stare at the six-shooter strapped to his hip.
Cole met the glory seeker’s stare and held it. “I’m gonna give you some free advice, son.”
“Yeah?” The kid sneered. He couldn’t be older than nineteen. Way too young to die.
Cole downed his whisky and motioned for another. “Don’t do it.”
While watching the interchange between Cole and the kid, the barkeep filled his glass.
The kid scoffed. “I don’t know—”
“Right now, you’re thinking you’ve heard the name Whisky Mansfield,” Cole said and downed his whisky. He held up his hand to stop the keep from pouring another. If this went the wrong way, he needed a clear head. “You’re thinking that being the one to shoot Whisky Mansfield dead would make a name for you.”
The kid coughed. “I—”
“But that’s not how this is going to go.”
The saloon had fallen dead still around them. A fly buzzed against a glass, loudly, as all attention was now focused on their conversation.
Cole kept talking. “You’re going to pick a fight with me. At first, I’m going to try not to react because you’re a kid.”
“I ain’t a kid.” The tough puffed out his chest. “I’m twenty-six.”
“Nineteen.” Cole shook his head.
The kid blushed. “Twenty.”
“Close enough,” Cole said. “And still too young to die.”
“Who said I’m gonna die?” He got his swagger back.
“I do.” Cole let that sink in. “You’re going to start something with me, and I’m going to finish it.” He eased his coat away from his gun. “And when I shoot, my bullet’s going to take your life. A man only has so much luck, the way I see it. If I don’t kill you today, you might like your chances another day, and that might be the day my luck runs out.”
The kid swallowed but kept coming. “Who’s to say you ain’t the one who gets dead?”
“It could happen.” Cole shrugged. “But that’s not likely. I earned the reputation you seem so intent on trying to end.”
“You ain’t so tough.” But the kid was on the back foot now, and Cole motioned the keep to pour that third whisky.
“Now.” He sipped his drink. “We can either start fighting and let the bullets fly, or we could get ourselves a bottle of this fine whiskey, play a few games of cards and enjoy our evening.”
The kid flushed. “You’d drink with me.”
“Rather do that than kill you.”
“Well, hot damn!” The kid laughed. The tension in the saloon eased, and a few chuckles joined his. “If I can’t kill you, I can at least tell the story of the day I drank you under the table.”
“You can try.” Cole grabbed his bottle and headed for a table. “You can certainly try.”
Cole chose a table that gave him a full view of the room and kept his back to the wall. His habit of a lifetime served him well as the saloon doors opened and Patrick and Paul walked in. Seeing Ellie’s twin brothers got his blood pumping.
They hadn’t seen him yet. Shoulder to shoulder, they strode to the bar, cocks of the walk and sure nobody would take the pair of them on. They were right about that. Nobody but a fool took on the Triggers. A fool and the young and stupid. Cole glanced at his new, young friend.
Damn, the kid had already noticed the brothers and looked ready to start up where he and Cole had left off. Pushing back his chair for room to move, he hollered, “Well, look who found their way here.”
“Mansfield.” Patrick barely paused as he changed direction and charged for him. As always Paul flanked him, the quieter and more dangerous of the two.
Cole got to his feet.
Patrick got toe to toe with him. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Cole would be damned before he backed down. “You want to know where Ellie is?”
“You took her, and we want her back.
”
“I didn’t take her anywhere.” Where had these two assholes been when Jake hatched his sick plan? “She came to me, and she didn’t like your little plan for her.”
Patrick flushed. “Weren’t our plan.”
“But you didn’t oppose it either.” Cole let them see his derision. “Which in my book makes you partly responsible.”
Paul’s dead-eyed stare made Cole even angrier. These were her brothers, and they showed less emotion than they would have for a poker hand.
“We didn’t do nothing.” Patrick crowded into his space.
“Yeah, you did nothing.” Cole wasn’t inclined to back down. They wanted to take him on, fine. He was going to carve a piece out of both of them for their trouble. “And that’s my biggest problem with you.”
“You got a lot of opinions about our sister.” Patrick shoved his shoulder. “That, and the fact you were seen leaving town with her, tells me you know where she is.”
Cole stared at Patrick. “You put your hands on me again and you’d better be ready to take this outside.”
Patrick shoved him again.
Cole breathed deep, hauled back and punched the son of a bitch in his smirking mouth.
Staggering back, Patrick lost his balance and crashed into a table behind him. The table held but the men sitting at it scattered. Cards, glasses and the whores trying to ply their trade went flying.
Paul moved, and Cole locked eyes on him. “You gonna keep this fair?”
“He’s my brother.” Paul shrugged and threw a punch.
Cole ducked the first, but Paul’s meat hammer fist landed in his gut. He breathed deep past the need to puke.
Patrick was back on his feet, wiping a thin trickle of blood from his chin. “You’re gonna regret that.”
Yeah, Cole didn’t think so. What kind of dumb, cruel fucker auctioned their sister off to the highest bidder? Who did that to any woman, for that matter?
The metallic cock of a hammer sounded from the bar. The keep shouldered his rifle. “Take it outside, boys, or the next punch gets answered with a bullet.”
The kid tucked himself behind Cole’s shoulder. “Two against one ain’t fair. Let’s even those odds some.”
Dear God, befriending the kid could get him hurt more than facing him down on the street.
“This isn’t your fight.” Cole trailed the Pierce twins to the street. “This has got nothing to do with you.”
The kid grinned. “I aim to make it so.”
With a whoop, he launched himself on Paul’s back, surprising the bigger man into dropping to his knees on the street.
Patrick turned, swinging and Cole saw stars as he landed his punch.
A red haze dropped over Cole’s vision and he lost track of the kid, Paul, the street—anything but the need to make these fuckers pay for what they’d done to his Ellie.
He felt no pain as he rained down vengeance on the Pierce twins. Every shot he landed came with a visceral thrill. He craved violence, and the fight thrummed in his blood and clouded his mind.
“Cole! Whisky!” The kid shaking him brought him back. He was astride Patrick in the dusty street, turning the bastard’s face into a meaty pulp.
The kid shook him again. “It’s over, Whisky. You gonna kill him if you carry on.”
The temptation hovered on the outskirts of Cole’s awareness. If he finished him, Ellie would be safe from at least one of her bastard brothers.
“Stop.” Paul staggered toward them and threw himself down beside his brother. “Stop, Mansfield. It’s done.”
Around them, spectators had gathered, their fascination ranging from delight to horror. The crowd parted and the sheriff crouched beside him.
The sheriff eyed his fist. “A fight is one thing, and don’t got no problem with a bit of reckoning between folks, but this is heading someplace else.”
Cole lowered his fist. It took every vestige of civilization to force himself to stand and step back from Patrick. “I haven’t seen your sister.”
Paul helped Patrick to his feet. “You were seen with her.”
“I helped her get out of town.” He wiped his chin and his fingers came away bloodied. Now that the blood lust was subsiding, aches and pains made themselves known. Patrick must have gotten a few good licks in to his ribs. Something wet trickled down his spine and Ellie was going to take up where her brothers had let off if he’d split his stitches. As satisfying as the fight had been, he needed to make sure they stayed away from him. “And I’d do it again to get her away from what Jake had planned for her.”
Paul flinched. “Yeah, that weren’t good.”
“Really?” Cole loaded as much sarcasm as he could into that one word. He had the sudden desire to start the fight up again. “But I left her with a trapper who took a shine to her.”
“What?” Paul scowled at him. “Why would you do that?”
“He liked her.” Cole shrugged and regretted it as his ribs squealed at him. “He liked her, and she wanted to stay.” He got one more verbal punch in. “And even a dirt-poor trapper is doing better by her than you assholes.”
He was done with them, and Cole turned and managed to contain his limp all the way back to the hotel.
The clerk stared at him as he got inside the doors. Cole’s knees almost gave in and he leaned on the wall for support. Jesus, he hurt in places he didn’t even know it was possible to hurt. And he still had to make it up those stairs.
The kid pushed through the hotel doors and eyed him. “Need some help?”
“What do you think?”
The kid laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m glad you stopped me from picking a fight with you.”
Pounding on her door ripped Ellie out of sleep and had her staggering to the door. She stubbed her toe on the bed leg on her way. “Ow, dammit!” She yanked the door open. “What?”
“Ma’am?” A handsome young stranger stood outside her door blinking at her. He had Cole hanging off his arm.
“Is he drunk?” Ellie couldn’t remember ever seeing Cole the worse for whisky.
“Nah.” The stranger grinned at her. “This is what’s left after he handed out the best beatdown I’ve ever seen.”
Cole looked up then. He sported a developing black eye, his lip was split, and his nose looked like it might be broken. “Hey, Ellie.”
“Ellie?” The stranger blinked at her and then looked at Cole. “Goddamn crazy man. All the time you knew where she was?”
“Wasn’t going to let those assholes know,” Cole said.
And Ellie recovered from her shock of seeing Cole looking so beat up for long enough to listen. “Who was looking for me?”
“The twins.” Cole winced and eased in a short breath. “I threw them off your trail, but I could sure do with your help right now, Sugar.”
“My brothers are here?” Ellie’s heart jumped into her throat. Even knowing Cole wouldn’t be standing in the hall if her brothers were there, she still had to look left and right down the corridor.
“I wouldn’t be worrying about them, ma’am.” The stranger winked at her. “If you think Whisky looks bad, you should see what we handed out.”
Ellie struggled to clear the fear from her thoughts. “We?”
The stranger looked bashful and shrugged. “I helped a mite.”
If he’d survived her twin brothers, he’d helped more than a mite. Ellie needed to get her head together.
Bridget sat up in bed. “Ellie?”
“It’s okay.” Bridget needed to stay where she was. They didn’t need another smitten admirer on their hands. “You stay there. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay.” Bridget snuggled into her blankets and rolled over.
“Right.” Ellie grabbed a shawl and motioned the stranger. “Let’s get him taken care of.”
The stranger gave her a slow perusal and his smile got rakish. “You sure are pretty enough to get a man’s fighting blood up.”
“Kid?” Cole scowled at his friend
. “What’s your name anyway?”
“Will. William.”
“Let me give it to you straight, William.” Cole grimaced. “I’m obliged for your help with Ellie’s brothers, but that gratitude don’t extend to watching you flirt with my girl.”
Ellie almost tripped over her feet as Cole called her his girl. Part of her really wanted that to be true. That part wanted it to be true so bad that Ellie needed to remind herself Cole wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his. Their paths would cross for as long as it took to get her to Denver. After that happened, Cole was getting himself on a train to New York and going back to the woman he’d loved from afar all these years.
But did he still love her? She must have changed.
Not her business. Ellie followed Will and Cole into Cole’s room.
First she looked at Will. “Do you need fixing up?”
“Nah.” Will winked and chuckled. “Whisky will hand me my ass if I ask you to take care of me.” He grinned. “Might be worth it though.”
Cole sat hard on his bed. He was looking pale and she needed to look at his back. If he’d been in a fight, she was willing to bet he’d opened those wounds up again. “Thanks for helping him.”
“Kid? Will?” Cole stared at him through his functioning eye. “You didn’t see anybody when you brought me back to the hotel, you follow?”
“Whisky, I didn’t see nothing but the whore who’s going to make my hurting go away as soon as I get myself back to the saloon.” He let himself out the room with a wave. “Pleasure making your acquaintance, Whisky.”
Ellie shut the door behind him and helped Cole ease his coat and then his shirt off. “What were the twins doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Cole hissed in a breath.
Like she’d suspected, Cole had reopened his stitches. “I’m going to have to restitch you and it’s going to hurt.”
“Hand me that.” Cole motioned the whisky bottle by his bed.
Ellie handed it to him. “How did they know I was with you?”
“Someone saw us leaving town.”
“Damn.” Ellie fetched a cloth and wiped away the blood so she could see what she was doing. If the twins had found her, Jake might not be far behind.
