“Good morning, sir,” a mustached teller called. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, indeed,” Jack said. “I’d like to speak to the manager about opening an account here.”
The clerk hurried forward. “I can help you with that.”
“No, I have a large sum to deposit.”
“Mr. Dresser! A customer to see you, sir!”
A portly, balding man appeared in the office doorway. “I’m Mr. Dresser, the bank manager. Can I help you?”
“You can,” Jack said. Boone whipped a sawed-off shotgun from under his coat and pointed it at the bald man. Smiling, Jack opened his leather satchel. “We’ve changed our minds, gentlemen. We want to make a withdrawal.”
Billy rushed in from the street with his forty-five drawn and ready. “Street’s clear,” he said.
“Grab a handful of clouds!” Boone ordered.
The clerk blubbered and reached for the sky. Dresser’s face turned red, and he glanced back toward his open office door.
“Now.” Jack didn’t raise his voice. Shouting made Boone nervous, and bad things happened when Boone got spooked.
“Robbery!” Dresser yelled. “Get out, Mrs. Rivers! Run!”
Jack threw Boone a warning glance, but it was too late. Boone’s shotgun roared, deafening them and cutting down the manager in the expensive suit.
A woman screamed.
“Damn it all. Didn’t I tell you not to go and do that,” Jack said. He pushed past the trembling clerk and began to scoop money off the vault shelf as Billy plunged into the dead man’s office and dragged out a heavily rouged woman by the hair.
“Let me go,” she wailed.
“Please.” The teller’s eyes were big, and he was sweating. “Here. Take my wallet,” he began as he reached inside his coat. “Take the money and—”
Boone’s second barrel silenced him.
Jack began to swear as he grabbed the last of the bills and started for the door. Billy put his pistol to the female’s head, and Jack slapped it away. “Bring her along,” he ordered. “We may need her.”
Outside, the horses were waiting, and Tom was already in the saddle, eyes scanning the street for trouble. A rifle fired from inside the saloon as someone took a shot at them through the window. Glass shattered, but the slug went wild.
A small man came out of an alley, both pistols blazing. Bullets flew around Jack’s head like angry bees. Then Carlos’s rifle cracked, and the shooter toppled facedown.
Billy tossed the shrieking hostage in the red dress over his saddle horn and swung up on his horse. Dust rose as Tom spurred his pinto down the street with Jack and Boone right behind him.
At the first corner, they turned left and circled to meet Carlos. They were out of Goldsborough before half the citizens dared to show their faces.
A mile away, Jack signaled a halt. “Split up. We’ll meet where I told you tomorrow night.”
“What about her?” Billy demanded, shoving his sobbing captive onto the ground. “Want me to finish her off now?”
Jack looked at his brother. “Boone? What do you think?”
“No!” the woman moaned. “Don’t kill me.”
“She ain’t nothin’ but a whore,” Boone said.
Jack glanced down at her long legs and low-cut dress. Her scarlet cheeks and too yellow hair proclaimed her trade. “Are you?” he demanded.
“Yes, yes. I am.” She sobbed. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want.”
“What were you doing in a bank so early in the morning?”
“Mr. Dresser was … was a customer,” she gasped. “He was a regular every Tuesday morning.”
Boone laughed. “Got his self blowed away for you, didn’t he, bitch?”
Billy slid a pistol from his holster. “She seen our faces, Jack. What’s your rule? No witnesses.”
The woman covered her eyes and sobbed hysterically.
Jack shrugged and looked at his brother. “Up to you.”
“Hell, let’s take her,” Boone replied. “We can always kill her tomorrow.”
Jack smiled. “My thoughts exactly. You keep stretchin’ that brain of yours, and there’s hope for you yet, big brother.”
Chapter 18
When Ash appeared at Jacob’s cabin four days after he’d left her, Tamsin didn’t know whether to kiss him or push him off the cliff. “Damn you,” she shouted at him. “Damn you! I thought you were dead. I wish you were dead.”
Ash grinned at Jacob. “Told you what she was like.”
The trader chuckled. “Spoke the truth, too. Thought I’d have to chain her to a tree to keep her here. ’Course I’m use to that. My woman’s either lovin’ me or tryin’ to kill me.”
Ash went to the spring and splashed cool water over his face and head, then drank deeply.
“Well?” Tamsin demanded. “Did you catch your outlaw?”
Ash shook his head. “Didn’t see hide nor hair of him.”
Jacob drew a long puff on his pipe. “Some days is like that, son. Reckon you had a long ride for nothin’.”
“At least I found out where they weren’t.”
Jacob laughed. “Truth to that, too.”
Ash and Tamsin rode away from Jacob’s cabin the following day. The horses were rested and full of ginger as they rode east down the mountain. They found a stream and followed it until dark. Ash was afraid to risk a fire, so they ate cold rations.
It was an uneasy night. Tamsin dozed fitfully in his arms, often tossing and crying out. Once, she woke, soaked with sweat and trembling, but couldn’t remember what had frightened her. And despite his fatigue, Ash snapped awake at every rustle of brush or call of a night bird.
Morning broke soft and misty. They ate and were in the saddle in minutes. They drove the horses hard all that day and the next, stopping only to skin and dress a deer that he shot in midafternoon.
That night, Ash was too restless to sleep. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and his skin stretched drum tight over his body. Once, he thought he heard a cougar cough, but it was far off and he couldn’t be certain enough to worry Tamsin about it.
Ash was concerned about her. She didn’t complain, but dark shadows formed under her eyes, and she seemed unnaturally subdued. The long days in the saddle sapped strength from a man, let alone a woman, and he knew she was tired. But he wouldn’t rest easy until he’d put the wilderness behind them, and they reached the white settlements.
Late the following afternoon, Ash called a halt at the sulfur springs where Tamsin had stolen his supplies. “We both could use a hot bath and some rest,” he said. “The horses need a day or two to graze. They’re getting thin.”
Tamsin wrinkled her nose as she stared at the rising columns of steam that dotted the rocky meadow. “You expect me to wash in that scalding water?”
He laughed. “It’s not that hot. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Tamsin looked doubtful.
“Think of the horses. Their feet are sore. Fancy threw that shoe this morning.” The animals were bone weary. Of the five, the stallion seemed the strongest. Despite what he’d said about the thoroughbreds not being able to take rough country, Dancer had thrived on the high game trails and stony ground. “Suit yourself, woman,” Ash said with what he hoped was an endearing grin. “But I intend to scrub myself to some semblance of a human being.”
“Meaning I’m not?”
He shrugged.
Once the animals were unsaddled and hobbled to graze, Ash led Tamsin across a sloping green field strewn with multicolored wildflowers: purple prairie smoke, pink and white cat’s paws, brown-eyed Susans, and golden-tinged broadleaf yucca. They circled a half-dozen rock outcrops and bubbling springs to reach a larger pool near the edge of the pine forest. Here the mineral water was clear enough for them to see the clean sandy bottom and the natural stone ledge along one side that formed a perfect bench.
Tamsin felt the blood rush into her cheeks as Ash stripped and lowered himself in. As the sulfur wat
er rose over his legs and hips, he groaned with pleasure. He closed his eyes, lay on his back, and let himself float.
“You expect me to take off my clothes and swim stark naked?” A true Tennessee lady would have refused to join him in such a shocking venture. But it was hard to remember what a Methodist girl should do when a man like Ash Morgan wore nothing but a self-satisfied smile.
He opened one eye and grinned devilishly at her. “Is there anything I’ve haven’t seen, darlin’?”
“I guess not.” She chuckled. He was right, she thought. After what they’d been through, there was no need for false modesty.
And Ash was a stirring sight with his coal black hair floating around him, and his shoulders as wide as a farrier’s.
She loved him, she realized. She loved this beautiful, dangerous man who wanted to take her back to face a hangman’s noose. But how far could she trust him? And how long before he ran off on her again?
Ash had promised that they’d camp here tonight. She’d be a bigger fool than she was to give up what he was offering her here and now because of what might happen tomorrow.
“Are you coming in, or are you chicken?”
“We’ll see who’s chicken.” Quickly, she pulled off her clothing and leaped in.
The water closed over her head, not icy cold like all the creeks she’d bathed in for the last few weeks, but deliciously warm. “Oh,” she sighed. It was heaven. “I thought it would be boiling.” Reaching down, she picked up a handful of sand and began to scrub away the sweat and grime.
“Some of the pools are,” Ash said, “but this one has two springs feeding it, one mineral, and another surface water. That keeps the temperature from getting too warm.”
“It’s perfect,” she answered. “Perfect.” When every inch of her skin that she could reach was pink and glowing, she rinsed her hair over and over again. “All I need is soap for my hair.”
“I can fix that,” Ash offered. He climbed out of the pool and walked a short distance away to pull up several flowering plants by the roots. “These are yucca,” he explained when he returned and began to crush the roots on a rock. “Native shampoo and soap in one.”
When she looked hesitant, he beckoned her closer.
“Let me,” he said. She jumped in over her head and let him rub the sudsing plant material into her tresses. “It feels good,” she murmured. What felt better was Ash’s strong fingers massaging her scalp, lathering, and rubbing her hair, her neck, then her shoulders, breasts, and belly. And all the while he washed, his dark eyes never ceased to caress her.
Somehow, once he’d rinsed out the shampoo, it seemed only fair that she do the same for him. Her initial shyness faded away as they laughed and touched and swam together beneath the vast blue Colorado sky.
She had known from the first moment Ash entered the water that he wanted to make love to her. She’d expected him to kiss her and pull her down under the soothing water. But she’d not guessed at how the bright sunlight would add fuel to her desire.
One kiss and she was lost. The second … oh, the second kiss … They clung together, rolling underwater, embracing, wrapping arms and legs around each other, then rising to catch a breath and begin all over again.
Something about the water and the sunshine and the dangers that they’d lived through in the past few days drove her to a height of passion she’d not realized possible. She wanted to run her hands over his shoulders, neck, and chest, and down over his flat belly to tangle in the mat of hair below. She wanted to feel the power in his length and breadth. She wanted to taste him and give him the rapture he’d shown her.
And deep inside, she knew that this would be the last time. She’d given him her word to turn herself in, but with her life in the balance, what difference did one more lie make?
I’ll love you now, she thought with bittersweet determination. But later … later, Ash, my glorious man, I’ll do whatever I have to do to survive.
Ash was not content to let her do all the work. He gave as good as he got, and finally, when she’d lost all sense of time and place, they came together in the way that men and women have since the beginning of the world.
I want to remember every touch and every kiss, Tamsin thought when she lay floating in the water wrapped in his arms. With a contented sigh, she opened her eyes and stared into his face.
I think I’m in love with you, Ash, she thought. I hope you never forget me.
“Why that worried look, darlin’? I said I’d take care of you, and I will. My lawyer is the best. No one is going to hang you. And …” His dark eyes narrowed. “After I finish what I have to do, I want …” He shook his head. “I can’t make you any promises, Tamsin. Not yet.”
“I’ve never asked you for any,” she said, but the hurt she felt kept her from falling under his spell again.
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I do, Ash,” she lied. “I have to.”
He kissed her again. “Hungry?”
“Always.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
She swam over to the underwater slab of rock and sat on it while Ash dressed and went to see about dinner. The warm bubbling spring eased her sore muscles and drained away her fatigue, but nothing could heal the ache in her heart.
All her life she’d dreamed of a strong, loving man like Ash. And now that she’d found him, she knew that for her, there’d never be another.
She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but here in this magical pool, at the moment of fulfillment, she’d felt a spark of life. She hoped they’d created a child today. Then she’d have a piece of him to hold close and cherish forever. And if it was true, that was all the more reason she had to make certain that she didn’t die for another man’s crime.
If she was pregnant, Atwood MacGreggor would do more for her dead than he ever had alive. He’d provide a name and respectability for Ash’s babe. No one needed to know when she had been widowed. She’d concoct a sad tale of her husband’s demise on the journey to California. Something courageous would do nicely, so that her son or daughter would have proud memories.
As I will, she thought. No matter what happens, I’ll always cherish Ash’s memory and this time we had together.
Her reverie was broken by his return with firewood and a handful of false Solomon’s seal, a lilylike flower that grew along the edge of the wood. Tamsin recognized the plant as one Ash had picked before. The leaves and shoots were not unpleasant and made a welcome addition to the venison.
She started to climb out of the water, and he waved her back. “No, stay where you are,” he ordered. “I’m preparing this meal. Grilled deer steaks, green stuff, and—” Dramatically, he produced a dead bird resembling a partridge. “Roast chicken!”
She laughed. “That’s close enough, I suppose, but don’t expect me to pluck feathers. That’s one job I hate worse than chopping their heads off.”
He raised a dark eyebrow suspiciously. “I doubt you chopped many chickens—with all those servants around the plantation.”
“It wasn’t a plantation. I lived on a horse farm.” She sighed. “Yes, the cook did do the chopping and the scalding. But I didn’t like watching.”
He chuckled. “Sounds more like it.”
“I didn’t hear gunfire. How did you acquire our main course?”
Ash grinned. “For your information, Mrs. MacGreggor, I am the best stone thrower west of Austin. I once threw a stone that killed a grizzly bear, bounced off the bear’s skull, and brought down an antelope, then stunned the biggest trout—”
“The biggest liar, more likely,” she teased. Pushing her sorrow to the farthest corner of her mind, she resolved to make the most of this precious time together. She’d not spoil it for either of them by sulking over things that couldn’t be changed. “Will you bake buttermilk biscuits to go with that chicken?” she teased him. “And I’d dearly like fresh churned butter, strawberries, and—”
“Strawberries, I can do. I saw som
e ripe ones back near where the horses are grazing. Just let me get the fire going and—”
“I’ll build the fire. You prepare the bird and pick the berries,” she replied. “If I stay in here any longer, I’ll shrivel up and float away.” She rose and held out her hand to him.
Ash helped her up the bank. “Hmmm,” he said with an admiring gaze. “Maybe I’m not as hungry as I thought.” He bent and kissed her. “Have you ever made love in a berry patch?”
“No.” She laughed. Then he whispered something so wicked in her ear that she gave him a small shove. “Ash Morgan! Wherever did you …”
He dropped the bird and swung her up into his arms. “Best try it before you complain,” he said. He kissed her again, and this time she forgot everything but the sweet sensation of his lips against hers, and her naked breasts pressed so tightly against him that she could feel the beating of his heart.
It was dark before they shared the partridge and the rest of the meal. Then, when they couldn’t eat another bite, they swam again in the mineral pool to wash off the sticky remains of crushed strawberries. Afterward, as they dried off, Ash doused the fire.
“By daylight, it’s safe,” he explained. “Any hostiles who saw the smoke would assume it was steam from the hot springs. But in the dark, the flames will show a long way. I’m sure that Buffalo Horn’s friends have given up on us and returned to their camp, but they aren’t the only hostiles in these mountains. There’s no sense in taking unnecessary chances.”
I can’t understand you, Tamsin wanted to say. You insist you want to protect me from the Indians, but you’re willing to turn me over to a crooked sheriff and a murdering judge.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tonight, she’d have to make her move. Somehow, she’d escape Ash. She couldn’t go back toward the Cheyenne, so she’d have to backtrack, ride near Sweetwater, and take another route. She might even have to go north and join one of the wagon trains moving west.
Judith E French Page 18
