Lois Greiman

by My Desperado

  Katherine watched in breathless terror. One moment Travis was there before her eyes, and the next he was not. She was twisted backward, then tossed away, and in an instant she lay half against the wall, staring at the scene before her.

  As if by magic, the stiletto had changed hands. Travis held it low, cutting edge down as he gripped the man by his constricted throat. “Want her, you say?” Ryland growled, his face contorted with rage. “Want her?”

  Only a strangled whine came from the other.

  “Huh?” Travis shook him by the throat, lifting him from his feet to pin him like a squirming sausage against the wall. “Wanna see what it’s like to never want a woman again?”

  Travis’s captive whimpered as the stiletto swept downward. It missed his nether parts by a hair’s breadth, skimmed the inside of his thigh to cut lower, slicing through his pant leg.

  Travis’s hand poised again, but the man’s head drooped in a dead swoon. Travis shook him once, but when there was no response, he loosened his grip, letting the body drop lifelessly to the floor.

  It took Travis only a moment to cut the remainder of the ropes from his wrists. He reached for the man then, pulling a knife sheath from him. In an instant the knife was stuck securely into his waistband. “Lady.” He turned quickly and knelt, gathering her into his arms. “Are you hurt?”

  Katherine buried her face against the strength of his chest, feeling cold trembles shake her. It had been so close. If Ryland hadn’t come… She shuddered again, too terrified to cry.

  “Did he hurt you?” Travis asked, touching her hair beneath the starched whiteness of the veil.

  Katherine shook her head, not able to speak. Travis relaxed slightly, willing the tension to leave him.

  “It’s all right, lady.” He stroked her like he might a fine thoroughbred. “You did good.”

  Somehow she found the strength to put her wooden arms around the width of his chest. Travis closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and swearing in silence. He knew better than to hold her, but found he could not let her go, for her scream still echoed in his mind.

  Seconds ticked by. He soothed her gently, failing to notice the tenderness of his touch, the quietness of his voice as he felt her relax slightly.

  “Katherine,” he said finally, shifting her away slightly. “We have to go.”

  She stiffened again. “But—your leg.”

  “My leg’s fine,” he lied, for the entirety of his right side burned with pain. “We can’t stay now.” He nodded toward the unconscious form. “He’ll tell what happened. Lacy’ll have a lynch mob planted on her doorstep by morning, if not before.” He pushed her to arm’s length now, watching her carefully. “Unless I kill him.”

  “No!” She gripped his arms frantically, and he nodded finally, rising to his feet and drawing her up with him.

  “All right. Then we’ll leave. I’ll need a shirt. Boots. And”—he glanced at his abused denims—“new pants.”

  “All right,” she agreed, but still clung to his arms, too frightened to leave his strength.

  “Go on now. And hurry. I’ll see what I can find in the way of weapons.”

  She drew from his embrace finally, her body stiff as she skirted the downed fellow by a wide margin.

  Travis remained still only until she’d rounded the corner. There was a moan from the floor, and Travis gripped the man by the front of the shirt.

  “It’s better than you deserve,” he murmured, and, pulling back his fist, sent Katherine’s attacker back into oblivion with a twitch. “Bastard,” Travis finished, and hurried off in search of a more refined weapon.

  Chapter 12

  “You painted my horse!”

  Katherine and Travis stood inches apart. A tiny flame flickered over a low wick inside the globe of a hurricane lamp, throwing shadows and light against the huge horse in the enclosed stall.

  “Lacy was sure he’d be recognized,” she said in a quick, apologetic tone.

  “You painted my horse,” he repeated.

  “I saved your life,” she reminded him, wondering suddenly if he might, indeed, be as dangerous as Daisy had always thought.

  “You painted my goddamn horse! How could you pull such a damned fool stunt on an innocent animal?” He threw up his hands, pacing abruptly, his strides short and quick in the narrow space.

  “Fool stunt!” Katherine’s fists were planted on her hips as her own temper began to rise. “How dare you!”

  “How dare you paint my horse?”

  “Well, he’s big as a barn. How were we supposed to keep him hidden?” She hissed the words at him as she leaned forward from the waist.

  “Hell…” Travis lifted his arms in wide irritation. “Not by painting him like some goddamn lamp shade.”

  “Well, I beg your pardon. Perhaps I should have left him waiting on the boardwalk until you were well enough to make the decision yourself. But as it was, you weren’t even coherent.”

  Travis leaned closer, glowering at her. “Co—what?”

  “You weren’t even—” Katherine began again, but Soldier had stuck his nose between them for the third time and doggedly refused to be pushed aside. “I thought you were in a hurry,” she finished, pulling a hair of the stallion’s stray forelock from her mouth.

  “Damn!” Travis swore aloud then continued to grumble as he slung blanket and saddle aboard the animal’s broad back. His saddlebags were still tied before the pommel, and he straightened them efficiently as they settled against the stallion’s withers. “Leave it to a woman….” His voice trailed off. “Poor damn horse gotta…” He cinched up quickly then checked his saddlebags. “I can’t believe they’d…” Slipping the bit between Soldier’s gargantuan teeth, Travis shook his head and patted the horse’s dark nose in solemn commiseration. “Paint.”

  “Good heavens! You whine like a baby. It’s just a little black walnut dye.” She turned away, fumbling in the darkness. “You’d think a big…” Her voice faded off as she retrieved a small white bundle from a dark corner.

  “Let’s go,” she said abruptly, stuffing a small lump of cloth inside the large bundle. “I thought you wanted to go.”

  “Jesus!” He cut short his glare to grab her by the shoulder and press her toward the stallion. “I shoulda run like hell the first second I seen you.”

  “And I should have spit in your eye,” she hissed as he tossed her effortlessly into the saddle.

  “Slide back.”

  She did so, but her impractical gown had not been designed for riding astride. An eerie sound of ripping seams filled the stall. “Now look what you’ve done,” Katherine scolded. “You’ve ruined my gown.”

  “That’s not a gown,” Travis argued, trying to ignore the shocking amount of skin exposed as he blew out the lamp and pushed open the door. “It’s goddamn trouble on the hoof.”

  They kept to the darkest of shadows and the muffling grass whenever possible. It was Saturday night, and although the town was at its liveliest, luck was with them. They saw only two people, both of whom were hurrying toward some destination of their own and not interested in a dark horse carrying a double load.

  At the edge of town Katherine breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the tenseness of her muscles and a cramped feeling in her chest. Travis urged Soldier into a canter, heading west. In less than ten minutes they intersected the river, where Soldier lowered his head to taste the cold, swift-running water, and then they were off again, but going northeast now, traveling slowly down the center of the river.

  It seemed to Katherine like a page of history she’d already lived through. Water splashed up from Soldier’s big hooves, wetting his riders’ feet and legs.

  A mile or so slipped beneath them. The moon painted wavering shadows and glistening pictures of light upon the melodious waves, and Katherine found herself being soothed by the quiet. It was the kind of night one dreams about in the dead of winter, when harsh cold grips the earth and all the world waits for the warmth of spring.

 
; For a time she tried to maintain some distance between herself and Ryland, but there was nowhere to put her hands without touching him, and so, with a mental sigh, she slipped her arms about his sturdy waist and rode along in continued silence.

  In less than an hour they left the river. Soldier lurched out of the water, seeming glad to have solid rock beneath him again.

  “Where are we going?” Katherine asked, gripping Travis more tightly to maintain her seat.

  “The ranch,” Travis said laconically.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “No!” he snapped irritably.

  Katherine tried to ignore him, but there was no escape from his closeness. She was offended by his words and his foul mood, and wondered grimly what would happen if she accidently hit him on the thigh she’d so carefully bandaged. She’d found pants for him, but they were considerably too small, stretching tightly over his bandaged thigh. It must burn like fire with that fabric pressing hard against the bullet wound, she reasoned, and was honest enough to admit she hoped so. He was, after all, an ungrateful lout.

  It seemed an eternity had passed when Katherine’s nose bumped Travis’s back for the umpteenth time. She woke with a start, her stiff fingers fumbling for a hold on his shirt as she realized the situation through her numbing fatigue.

  They were still moving. There was a hint of light above the farthest mountains, and Soldier’s steps were slow.

  Glancing down, Katherine realized they had left the faint trail they’d been following and were now winding their way through the trees. The going was much harder here, slowing their progress, but she saw the wisdom of keeping under cover with the coming of day.

  Hours passed. They climbed and descended, only to climb again. Sometime after noon on Sunday Katherine informed Travis she’d brought the food she’d not eaten for supper. They stopped not far from the river, where she untied her bundle. No words were spoken as they ate the Red Garter’s sumptuous fare. The water from the river was icy cold as they splashed it on their faces and filled the canteen.

  They continued to ride all day, eating nothing, speaking little. Katherine ached with fatigue. How long had it been since she’d had a full night’s sleep? How long since she’d been able to lay her head on the pillow and know all would be well in the morning?

  Her hair had been brushed and left unbound for what had turned out to be her final performance at the Red Garter. It strayed over her shoulders now, blowing into her face or feeling heavy and hot against her back, which ached from the endless hours on horseback.

  Her head hurt. Her bottom was raw. And there was a crescent line of dirt beneath each fingernail.

  “We’re going to have to stop.” Ryland’s voice was low and blunt. “Horse is tired.”

  Thank the Lord, Katherine thought, and taking the arm Travis offered slid stiffly to the ground. He dismounted after, his movements no more graceful.

  There was a large red circle in the center of his right thigh, and Katherine grimaced, gazing at it, and bent to tend his wound.

  “It’s fine,” he said, and turned away from her. “I’m gonna scout around, try to hunt up something to eat.” He walked to his horse. “Sorry, old man,” he crooned, patting the horse’s heavy neck. “Gotta leave the saddle on.” The horse was already grazing on the spiky grasses that grew in dense bunches beneath his feet, and didn’t seem bothered by his master’s words.

  To Katherine, Ryland said, “Get some rest,” in a tone much less gentle, and walked away.

  Katherine pushed a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “What about you?” she asked, feeling fidgety and uncertain.

  “Told you, I’m gonna try to find something to eat.”

  She took a quick step after him, realizing suddenly that her high-heeled slippers were not well suited for this rocky terrain and finding the thought of being left alone there made her nervous. He did not seem, however, to appreciate her reminder that he was in a weakened state, so she gripped her hands together and asked, “Should I build a fire?”

  “Fire?” He turned slowly. His head was bare. His pants were two inches too short. There were no guns at his hips, and his hands, which he lifted now palms upward were empty. “Lady,” he said with a stilted shake of his head. “You must think I’m one helluva hunter. Cuz I ain’t got no gun.” His scowl deepened. “And I ain’t got no rifle. Hell! After you ladies at the dance hall got through with me, I’m lucky to be left with my hide in tact. Fire,” he snorted, turning away. “What does she expect me to do, run down a buck or something?”

  Katherine sat beside the small flame. Despite her fears, she had fallen asleep in Ryland’s absence, and watched now as he turned the rabbit on a long spit over the fire.

  It would be dusk in less than an hour, and Travis had insisted that they roast their meal now, before darkness, for they could not chance a fire at night, even though they were high up and surrounded by gray, jagged boulders on all sides.

  He was a cautious man. Katherine watched him now. His features were sculpted and lean. His hair was fair and swept back from his brow and ears, with streaks of dampness that attested to the fact that he had found water somewhere, perhaps even bathed. The thought made her jealous, for she felt grimy and itchy.

  Curiosity, however, was her major foe. But despite that fact, she was not about to ask how he’d gotten the rabbit, though the question nagged at her. While it was fairly simple to deduce that he’d used the knife taken from Lacy’s, and now stuck in his boot, to skin the hare, she had a bit of difficulty imagining him running the bunny down. So how had he procured their supper? She had no idea, but neither would she give him the satisfaction of asking. No. Not after his earlier boorish attitude.

  “Did you find some water?” She had promised herself she would not speak to him. But that vow seemed childish now, for if she didn’t talk to him, her options were sadly limited—Soldier being a fair listener, but not much of a conversationalist.

  “Yep.” Ryland nodded once, not taking his eyes from the fire.

  “I’d like to wash up,” she said, watching him. Every move he made seemed to have a purpose. Nothing was wasted.

  “We ain’t going to no Sunday social, lady.”

  She frowned, reminiscing about the days when he’d been comatose. “You washed,” she reminded primly, to which he raised his eyes to hers, leveling a bland expression on her grubby face.

  “It’s good of you to notice.”

  She blushed, because she couldn’t help it, although she would have given the night’s meal to stop the color and deprive him of the satisfaction. She lowered her eyes, feeling suddenly hot in the stained satin gown, and pushed back a few stray hairs. “I didn’t notice,” she grumbled, feeling her nerves fray with his direct stare on her face. “I just thought something smelled better.”

  There was silence for several seconds, during which time she dared not look at him. And then the laughter started, low at first, and then louder.

  It rumbled out from Ryland’s chest until his head was thrown back and his shoulders heaved. “Lady…” he said finally, his voice low again between chuckles. “You been a peck a trouble.” He shook his head slowly, his grin showing a partial row of straight white teeth. “But damned if you ain’t full of surprises.”

  “And you’re full of insults.” She’d meant to snap the words at him, but instead the denunciation sounded frail and near tears, and she blinked once, wishing she were a man. A big man, with hard fists, and quick right jab so that she might punch Ryland right in his straight, sun-browned nose.

  Silence settled between them, broken only by the stomp of one of Soldier’s big hoofs and the sound of a distant woodpecker.

  Katherine sat like a small child, hands curled softly in her lap. She felt foolish about her weak tone and hoped against hope that she would not cry, for surely she could not bear the humiliation of weeping in front of this insensitive clod.

 
“I didn’t mean to be insulting.” His voice was quiet.

  She refused to look at him.

  “I just don’t know how to act around a lady.”

  She swallowed hard, still angry at him. “I’m not a lady.” Even to her ears the words sounded prim and perfectly modulated.

  “Yeah.”

  She heard him turn the rabbit.

  “I forget,” he added, and let the silence fall again.

  It was almost dark. Supper had been eaten, and Travis rummaged around in his saddlebags now, momentarily forgetting what he was looking for as he stared at Katherine’s back.

  It was nearly bare and looked smooth and soft, gently curved as she hunched before the flame, and slightly pinkened by the sun.

  This was not good. His leg hurt like hell, he was exhausted, and his stomach still rumbled with hunger. Yet Katherine Amelia Simmons was all he could think about.

  Damn it all, he should have taken advantage of all the nights on that comfortable bed he’d occupied at the Garter.

  He should have slept day and night. But the truth was she’d distracted him then, too.

  Before the fire she shifted her weight slightly, momentarily showing her profile.

  Damn, she was beautiful. But too good for him.

  His loins ached.

  Or was she too good? She swore she was not. In fact, she proclaimed herself to be a dove. Would a woman do that if she was not one? In his fairly limited knowledge of women he had found whores more likely to proclaim themselves ladies, than ladies to say they were whores.

  Travis took a deep breath, drawing his extra shirt from his saddlebag before untying his bedroll and straightening.

  Who was this woman?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Striding around the fire, he stood before her, shirt in one hand, rolled blankets in the other.

  Katherine lifted her face to his, seeing his serious expression, and found she was holding her breath.

  Their eyes met and caught.

  “It’s gonna be a cold night.” He said the words stiffly.