Lois Greiman

by My Desperado

  Despite her fear there was a hint of pride in her tone, and Travis bent slightly nearer to stare down into her upturned face. “Katherine Amelia Simmons,” he growled, “you’re the biggest nuisance of a woman I’ve ever met.”

  She blinked twice. The tears came nevertheless, squeezing from beneath heavily forested eyelids. “But I didn’t kill him,” she choked, her voice rising into hysteria.

  “Quiet!” he ordered. Hysterical women made him nervous, and this one was blubbering herself toward a real fit. “Hush.”

  “I didn’t e-even know I was inheriting… I mean, how was I supposed to know? And then all the girls… and then poor G-George expired, and I was just trying to… to…”

  “Hush. Hush.” Travis’s voice had softened as he glanced nervously about. “Shhh.”

  “I didn’t know what to do,” she babbled. “I couldn’t abandon the girls, and Mother would die if she knew and—”

  “Lady,” he whispered, seeing a flame flicker to life in a nearby window and thinking it would look bad for him if poor George was found toes up on the street while he was being screamed at by a hysterical woman dressed in a flimsy nightshift. “I ain’t saying you killed him. But I sure as hell didn’t kill him either.”

  “But Mr. Grey will deduce that I did. After all, it might seem somewhat suspicious, what with Daisy and I dragging him out into the street and the money being gone.”

  “You think so?” Travis asked wryly.

  “So I have to go with you to prove my innocence.”

  “I ride alone, lady,” he said, straightening slightly and nudging his horse.

  “But Mr. Ryland,” she pleaded, walking again as she found her former hold on his pant leg, “who knows what the townspeople will think? I need to talk to Grey—tell him the truth.”

  “The truth?” he scoffed, not looking down at her. “Like you told me?”

  “I did tell you the truth,” she said, her voice squeaking again as it always did in a lie.

  He lowered his face now. She could feel his hot gaze on her.

  “Sure you did, lady,” he said, and clicked to his stallion again.

  Fresh panic showed in Katherine’s face, but Travis Ryland knew far better than to care. Caring for another human being was the single most efficient way to get oneself killed. He pressed his horse into a canter.

  “Mr. Ryland,” she gasped, running along again. “Just listen!”

  They were picking up speed.

  “Let go!”

  “Mr. Ryland!”

  “Let go!”

  Her legs were giving out. Still holding on, she yelled out to him, desperation forcing the words out on a windy gust. “I’ll tell them you killed him.”

  The horse skidded to a halt, nearly plowing over Katherine’s legs, but suddenly Travis reached down, grasped her by her nightshift, and snatched her effortlessly across the pommel of his saddle.

  “All right, lady,” he gritted. “You want to go. We’ll go.”

  The saddle horn burned like fire as it dug into Katherine’s abdomen, but it was the humiliation of her present position, with her bottom wriggling practically in his face, that made her gasp. “Wait. I can’t go like this. Not in my nightshirt. It’s indecent.”

  The big horse shifted into a trot, a pace which Katherine was certain would cause her death.

  “Let me get this straight. You say you sleep with men for a living. Only this time you were a bit too enthusiastic and your customer wound up dead. So you dragged him out in the street by his heels, and now you’re worried that going around in your nightshirt is indecent?” He shook his head, steadying her with a large hand on her bottom as he shifted the buckskin into a lope. “Lady, you’re about one bean short of a full pot. You know that?”

  He heard her grunt of pain as Soldier jolted ahead and with a mental sigh eased her over the horn until she was pressed against his abdomen for safekeeping. The nightgown had crept upward a bit, he noticed, revealing slim, pale legs that kicked rhythmically.

  “Let me down,” she demanded.

  Travis had to admit that she sounded as if she was nearly ready to die from sheer embarrassment, and he knew without looking at her that she was blushing from head to toe.

  “You said you wanted to come, lady.”

  They jolted into a rut in the road, jamming her sharply against the most private part of Ryland, which Katherine absolutely refused to contemplate. “I can’t go like this. I can’t!” she insisted. “Take me back. It’ll only take me a minute to dress. We can talk about this like adults.”

  Her bottom was round and soft beneath Travis’s hand, reminding him just how adult she was, despite her childish antics. “Lady,” he said in a tone harder than he’d planned. “If we go back, I got me a whole helluva list of things I’ll do with you before we talk.”

  Katherine could only be grateful he couldn’t see the hot blush that infused her face. They hit another hole, but she swallowed her grunt of pain and hoped she’d faint before she had to face him again.

  It seemed like hours before they finally stopped. Katherine’s feet were numb when they hit the ground, and she tumbled backward, her bottom striking the earth with a thud.

  “It looks like we’re here,” Travis said, throwing his leg over the cantle to dismount with more dignity than she.

  Katherine wanted to glare at him, but first she had to make certain her nightshift covered all the essentials.

  “Are you sure?” She scrambled to her feet, staring at the house. It was huge and somehow seemed foreboding, with the windows looking like large eyes watching them with malevolent curiosity. “Are you sure?” she asked again, but in a whisper now.

  “I’m sure, lady,” replied Travis, reading her fear with ease, for he himself felt the same apprehension as a nagging pain ground at his ribs—a pain he’d like to believe was nothing more than the scrape of an old pellet against his bones. He had no use for premonitions. “So you just march yourself up to the door and tell Grey how the good mayor died.”

  Katherine took an involuntary step backward, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Alone?”

  “You wanted to tell him how you killed old Patterson. Remember?”

  Katherine’s bravery was ebbing away, and the small hairs along her arms stood on end. The truth was she didn’t know how poor George had died. And she had no wish to try to explain that to anyone that would live in the looming mass of that darkened house. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “There’d be no reason for me to speak to Grey if you’d promise not to—enlighten him about my part in the incident. You could simply say you found the mayor on the street. That he must have tripped on the broken stair. Bumped his head. Died naturally,” she suggested quickly.

  “There’s nothing more natural than—”

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t tell.”

  Travis stood perfectly still. He couldn’t see her clearly in the darkness, but could tell she was a pretty thing. Her hair was dark, long, and braided, her eyes huge and luminous.

  “You might have guessed I ain’t the kind of man who does something for nothing,” he said quietly, not moving.

  Katherine grasped her frazzled braid in a clammy fist, a nervous habit from childhood. “What do you want from me?”

  Travis smiled. She had the throaty voice of a born seductress, but her eyes were wide with innocence. Stepping nearer, he noticed how each lace of her nightshift had remained tied, making it seem as if she’d done nothing more than step out for a breath of fresh air. Her braid, however, was coming loose, fraying away from confinement as if in testimony to the ordeal she’d come through. He noticed the set of her shoulders, her stiff stance, and passed her by to circle behind.

  There was a light breeze blowing out of the east, and it flattened the woman’s nightgown against her tidy body, outlining it perfectly. She had a sweet little bottom, Travis thought with a mental sigh of longing, knowing, no matter what she said, that she was out of his reach. “What can you give me?”
he asked, nevertheless.

  Katherine’s mind spun. “I don’t have any money with me,” she whispered.

  Ryland shrugged. “Bartering’s a time-honored tradition in these parts.”

  It took her several seconds to realize his implied meaning. He was referring to personal favors, she thought in fresh panic. She didn’t… She wouldn’t… Well, she just couldn’t! Could she?

  But her choices were so few and very unfavorable. “I could…” she began, but found she didn’t even know the right words to say.

  “You know, lady,” Travis said, stepping casually before her again, “most doves I’ve known have been real bold talkers. Have you always been so tongue-tied?”

  “I’m not tongue-tied,” Katherine denied, offended. “My diction is exemplary.”

  He was silent for a moment, then, “Right. What’s your offer?”

  “A kiss!” she spat out before it could catch on her tongue.

  He laughed. “A kiss?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother would simply die if she knew what her daughter had come to, but her mother wouldn’t be particularly pleased to learn Katherine Amelia had been hanged for murder either. “But just one…” She held up a singular finger.

  “A kiss?” he repeated, and shook his head as if unable to believe he’d heard properly.

  Have I been too forward? Katherine wondered dismally. Had she shocked him? “I’ve got no money,” she whispered.

  The street was as silent as death.

  “Is it a deal?” Katherine breathed, feeling all her blood had drained to her feet.

  “It’ll depend on the kiss.”

  “No!” she said, knowing she couldn’t kiss worth a hoot, for in truth, she’d never tried, and did not wish to be hanged for lack of ability in that arena. “You have to agree first.”

  He tilted his head sharply. “It seems to me I got the upper hand in this bartering business, lady. You’ll have to kiss first. I’ll decide if it’s worthy.”

  She had no choice, Katherine thought dizzily. She’d have to go through with it.

  The distance between them seemed the longest she’d ever traveled. Her knees felt weak, her head light, and when she reached him, he seemed to tower above her like a mountain.

  She hesitated for a moment, and then, using every ounce of willpower she possessed, she rose to her toes, brushed her lips to his cheek, and jumped back.

  Travis Ryland remained perfectly still. Katherine waited, breath held.

  And then he laughed, the sound floating out in rich, deep timbre from the massive breadth of his chest.

  “What are you laughing at?” Katherine scowled, knowing he was making fun of her and worrying what the consequences of a bad kiss would be. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” he said, unable to control his chuckles.

  Her scowl deepened, and she placed her fists on her hips, thinking him quite rude, even for an outlaw. “Then is the bargain met?”

  “Lady…” He chuckled again, lifting a hand and seeming to wipe at his eyes. “If your worst crime was spreading gossip about the preacher’s wife, I might consider that little chicken peck enough to buy my silence.” He shook his head, finally attempting to still his laughter. “But the mayor was… Well he was loved to death, and I’m afraid you ain’t got what it takes to keep me quiet about that.”

  “Well!” Why she was so offended Katherine wasn’t certain, but apparently this oversized lout was insulting her feminine appeal—something she’d spent very little time worrying about in the past. “So you think I can’t kiss?”

  “No,” he said quickly, lifting a hand as it to ward off any zealous advances. “It’s just that I thought old George was overstimulated. But now I see he died of boredom.”

  Katherine narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth. Died of boredom, indeed! How dare he! She’d give him a kiss that would fuse his boots to his feet.

  “Hang on to your hat,” she growled, and stepped forward again.

  Lightning struck her lips as they touched his. A trail of flame sizzled down her neck, crackling along her arms to burn at her fingertips. His hands had somehow settled around her waist, heating her body with inexplicable fire as his lips moved across hers.

  He smelled of wide open places and leather. His tongue touched her lips, and suddenly her mouth was open, too, allowing her own tongue to taste him in heated, first-time exploration.

  Her head swam. The world shifted, and she lifted her hands, steadying herself against his chest.

  His beard tickled her chin, and his hands moved upward slightly, blazing a trail up her back as he pulled her closer.

  For the first time in her life Katherine was fully alive, each fiber of her body alert, every nerve vibrating with awareness. So this was a kiss! Her tongue touched his again, shocking her with a new jolt of sizzling excitement. So this was why George was smiling.

  George! The memory of him blasted through to Katherine’s brain. The mayor! She drew away, pushing on Travis’s chest with trembling hands and trying to remember her mission.

  “Well?” she asked foggily.

  He was absolutely quiet for a moment, then, “Any other sins you’d like me to keep quiet about?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “No.” She shook her head slowly, her lips parted and burning. “This is my first.”

  “Lucky George.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “It might be worth it.”

  She blinked at him, not comprehending his words.

  “See that grove of trees?” Travis asked, not raising his eyes from hers. “I want you to take Soldier in there with you. Wait ten minutes. If I don’t come out, you get on Soldier and you ride back to wherever it is you came from.”

  “But I can’t go back to The Watering Hole.”

  “Lady!” His fingers tightened against her back. “I ain’t talking about the saloon. You ride east till you can’t even remember Colorado in your dreams.”

  “But what about—”

  He shook her slightly, stopping her words. “Promise me!”

  “But what about you? What are you doing to do?”

  “I swear to you, lady, if you don’t hightail it, I’ll make them damn rumors come true and haunt you for eternity.”

  Her mouth fell open as she realized the implication of his words. Not only was he expecting trouble, he was expecting big trouble. “But I can’t ride,” she whispered.

  “You can’t ride?” He glowered into her face. “Then what the hell are you doing in this kind of country?”

  Tears formed without warning and she sniffed. “I inherited—”

  “Don’t!” He changed his mind about hearing her explanation and held a hard palm toward her. “Don’t tell me. Just remember. Ten minutes. If I’m not out—head east.” He stepped back. “And…” His voice dropped a notch. ‘Take care of old Soldier.”

  Panic tasted bitter. “You’ll be back.”

  His ribs ached. “Promise me.”

  She hesitated wondering which way was east then nodded.

  He was gone in a moment, swallowed by the darkness.

  Within the quiet copse, the horse nibbled at nearby leaves as Katherine fidgeted. Five minutes passed, then ten. Katherine tightened her grip on the reins, glancing at the big animal. Ryland would be back. She was sure of it. What could happen? He was innocent of George’s death.

  She waited as ten more minutes dragged by. Her heart cramped within her chest. A long gun lay nestled in its leather case near the back of Ryland’s saddle. How far could that gun shoot? Which way was east? And if she called for help, who would come? Daisy had said Silver Ridge had lost its sheriff.

  A clatter of hooves sounded. Katherine spun about in her leafy enclosure but could see nothing through the foliage.

  “Mr. Grey!” The words split the night as running footsteps thundered toward the house. “Mr. Grey! George’s been killed. Stabbed—clean through the heart.”

  Chapter 4

  Trav
is’s first conscious thought was that his hands were tied behind him. He was laying facedown on a hard, cool surface, and when he tried to move, his skull protested with loud clanking throbs that sent pain echoing through his entire being.

  He lifted his head, nevertheless, and the pain increased. He closed his eyes to the ache and found the room was no darker with them shut, which had to mean there was no window nearby.

  Pieces of memory floated through his mind like milkweed seeds in the wind, with none of them settling long enough for him to grasp a firm hold. Rolling over slowly and pushing himself to a sitting position, Travis tried to concentrate.

  The woman! Her shadowed face appeared to him through a haze of pain and darkness. The girl with the soiled dove’s voice and the lady’s speech. He’d kissed her. Where was he? Facts filtered back quickly now, slamming into his stunned brain with painful impatience.

  He’d entered Grey’s house, had spoken hardly a word—then darkness. His revolvers were gone. He must have been dragged into this room. How long had he been unconscious? Had the woman fled? Had she taken Soldier? She didn’t seem like the kind to take orders well. What if she had stayed? How was she connected to Patterson’s death? Why was he tied?

  Questions crowded in, increasing the ache in his head, but the only answers he could imagine were horrid and immobilizing. So he shoved the thoughts from his mind and rose unsteadily to his feet. The room swam. His ribs ached.

  Turning carefully, he searched for a way to escape. Off to his right there was a faint line of light that seemed to outline the bottom of a door. He stumbled toward it trying to be quiet, but the sounds of his own footsteps seemed to clatter loudly in his ears.

  Reaching the portal, he leaned against it for a moment, listening. Travis could hear voices, but couldn’t discern the words or guess who spoke them.

  Perhaps he should just wait. For a moment weakness overtook him, and his knees buckled, threatening to spill him to the floor.