by Connie Mason
SEDUCTIVE INNOCENCE
“I’m leaving,” Chad said, hardening his heart against Sarah’s helplessness. “I’ve already stayed longer than I intended.”
Chad tried to avoid looking at Sarah but seemed unable to turn his eyes away. Even wrapped in her voluminous nightgown she looked seductive in an innocent sort of way that contradicted everything he’d been told about her. He recalled with clarity her nude body, her womanly curves, and her long, supple legs. She’d felt so damn good in his arms; he could still recall the incredible heat of her lithe body pressed against him. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he felt himself thicken with desire.
Despite his resolve to get the hell out of here while he still could, he. seemed rooted to the spot. “How will you survive without help?” he heard himself ask. Would he never learn to stay out of other people’s business?
TO TAME A
RENEGADE
CONNIE
MASON
© 1998, 2011 Connie Mason. All rights reserved.
Prologue
Dry Gulch, Montana
1880
“Don’t go!” Pierce pleaded as Chad packed his belongings into his saddlebags. “Things will look better tomorrow.”
Chad gave a bitter laugh. “How can you say that after what we just witnessed? My God, Pierce! Four deaths! Hal deserved what he got but old man Doolittle didn’t”
“Ed Doolittle was a sick old man who hadn’t long to live. You can’t blame yourself for the chain of events that led to his death. I’m more to blame than anyone.”
Chad continued as if Pierce hadn’t spoken. “I know Cora Lee was a liar and completely without morals or conscience, but I understand that she was duped and intimidated by her brother. She can’t be held solely responsible for her actions in this mess. God knows she shouldn’t have died in childbirth. And the child was innocent in all this.”
“Chad, listen to me. All that aside, Ryan needs you here on the ranch.”
“He can manage without me. Don’t you see? I have to get away from Dry Gulch, away from the tragedy. I never wanted to marry. I only did it to save your skin. And look what came of it My life is a shambles. I can’t even trust myself anymore. Don’t try to stop me. Pierce. Neither you nor Ryan would like living with me if I stayed here.”
“When will you come back?”
Chad glanced off into the distance, his expression hard and determined, his eyes bleak. “I don’t know.”
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Carbon, Wyoming
1882
“Yer mama’s a whore and yer a bastard!” A group of ragtag boys shot out into the dusty street ahead of Chad, their cruel words aimed at the small boy they were chasing.
Chad Delaney had lost count of the number of towns like Carbon he’d passed through during the past two years. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. The one distinction between Carbon and any other Wyoming town was that Carbon was the coal production center on the Union Pacific Railroad line. Chad reined his spirited black stallion down the rutted road, noting the vast number of saloons on the main drag. A general store, bank, barber shop, feed store, hardware store, and dressmaker’s shop stretched along either side of the street, interspersed with saloons and dance halls.
Clusters of houses were scattered in haphazard fashion down the side streets, with a church rising against the horizon. On the other side of the tracks running through the north edge of town, Chad saw rows of ramshackle shanties that he assumed housed the coal miners and their families. Coal dust permeated the air and rested upon the buildings and houses like a dirty blanket It collected in Chad’s eyes and he dashed it away.
“Yer mama’s a whore! Yer mama’s a whore!”
Chad was almost upon the boys now. They had caught up with the hapless lad they were chasing and brought him to the dusty ground. Chad watched dispassionately as the larger boys began pummeling him with their fists.
“Where’s yer pa? Why ain’t ya got no last name?”
The boys were getting vicious now and Chad could no longer ignore them. The little fellow taking the beating hadn’t uttered a cry and Chad was impressed with his valiant but futile effort to defend himself. The mother’s sins weren’t the child’s fault, Chad thought Chad may have grown callous, and lost the spark of compassion he’d once possessed in abundance, but he wasn’t completely heartless when it came to children.
Bringing his horse to a halt, Chad leaped from the saddle and one by one began to pull boys off the small lad.
“What do ya think yer doin’, mister?” one of the bigger boys asked. “This ain’t none of yer business.”
“It is now,” Chad said, facing the assortment of boys squarely. “Go on home where you belong. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, picking on someone too young to defend himself.”
“He’s a bastard. He don’t even know who his pa is,” the bigger boy said defensively. “His ma’s a whore.”
“Go on! Get!” Chad said, making as if to reach for his guns.
The outspoken boy’s eyes widened in fear as he glimpsed the pair of walnut-handled single-action Colt .45 Peacemakers riding low on Chad’s hips. Combined with Chad’s forbidding expression, the guns were enough to frighten most grown men.
“Come on,” the boy shouted, motioning to his friends, “I ain’t tangling with no gunman.”
One corner of Chad’s generous mouth angled up into a crooked grin as he watched the boys skedaddle away. Then he turned his attention to the lad sitting on the ground, who appeared dazed and somewhat bruised from the beating he had received. Chad squatted down beside him and lifted him to his feet.
“Are you all right, son?”
Huge blue eyes shiny with tears stared back at Chad. “I’m okay, mister.” He wiped the moisture from his cheeks with a grubby fist, the gesture belying his words. “Most times I run faster than they do.”
“Has this happened before?”
The boy nodded solemnly. “It’s okay, mister, I’m used to it.”
Chad studied the bruises on the boy’s face and arms, deciding they weren’t as bad as they looked. He’d received worse just scrapping with his brothers. He, Pierce, and Ryan had gotten into numerous scrapes during their youth, and their reputation as hellraisers was well earned. But all that was behind him now. His life had taken a turn he hadn’t expected.
“How old are you, son?”
“Five.”
Chad stifled a smile. “That old, are you? What’s your name?”
“Abner.”
“Come on, Abner, I’ll take you home.”
Abner balked, giving his head a vigorous shake. “Mama said I wasn’t to go off with strangers.”
At least his mother did one thing right, Chad thought, wondering who cared for the boy while his mother plied her trade as a whore. He held out his hand. “I’m Chad Delaney. Now we’re no longer strangers.”
Abner stared at Chad’s large hand, and after giving it considerable thought placed his smaller one in it. As Chad’s hand closed around Abner’s tiny one, he felt a twinge in the vi
cinity of his heart. Chad didn’t know much about small children, had never been around them, in fact, but this brave little boy made him feel things he thought he’d lost that tragic day two years ago when he’d watched an innocent babe die.
“Where do you live, Abner?”
Abner pointed toward the rows of shanties squatting at the edge of town. Whores must not earn much in this town if that’s the best Abner’s mother could afford, Chad thought disparagingly as he eyed the rundown shanties critically.
Chad lifted Abner onto his horse and climbed up behind him. He felt the boy stiffen and guessed at the cause of his fear. “Do you like to ride?” Chad asked conversationally as he aimed his horse toward the poor section of town.
“This is the first time I’ve been on a horse,” Abner said in a shaky voice. “He’s awfully big, mister. What’s his name?”
Chad patted the big gray gelding, his favorite of all the horses bred and raised on the Delaney ranch. “I call him Flint.”
“I never saw you before. What are you doing in town?”
“I’m a bounty hunter,” Chad explained. Abner gave him a puzzled look. “Do you know what that is?”
“No. Tell me.”
Chad laughed. “You sure are inquisitive. It means I hunt bad men for money.”
“What do you do with them when you catch them?”
“Take them to jail.”
By the time Abner sorted through Chad’s explanation, they had crossed the tracks into shantytown.
“Which house is yours?” Chad asked. All the shacks looked alike to him. All were in desperate need of fresh paint and overdue repair.
“Put me down here and I’ll walk the rest of the way,” Abner said. “If I sneak into the house and clean up before Mama sees me, maybe she won’t find out what happened. She worries about me.”
“I’ll bet,” Chad said with a hint of sarcasm. The boy’s mother was probably sleeping after a hard night of entertaining men, letting her child fend for himself. He could feel anger building up inside him on Abner’s behalf. From what he knew of women, they were greedy, wanton creatures and he wanted nothing to do with them. His own father hadn’t been worm a damn after his mother ran off.
“Point out your house, son. I think I’ll have a word with your mother about taking better care of you.”
Suddenly a woman came flying out of one of the shanties, calling Abner’s name.
“Mama!” Abner tried to slide from Flint’s back but Chad held him securely in the saddle.
Seeing her son restrained by a stranger brought the woman rushing toward Chad like a virago, ready to snatch her son from the devil on horseback. Her black hair swirled behind her like a dark cloud and her face was like a thundercloud.
“Put my son down, you—you child molester! Look at him! What have you done to him?” She reached for Abner, tearing him from Chad’s grasp and hugging him to her breast.
“Aw, Mama, I’m all right,” Abner said, shying away from his mother’s overprotective arms. “Put me down.”
Sarah Temple reluctantly set Abner down on the ground, but she clutched his hand tightly, refusing to let him run off as she glared up at Chad.
“I’m Sarah Temple, Abner’s mother. Who are you? What are you doing with my son?”
Chad shoved his hat to the back of his head and returned Sarah’s glare. He couldn’t recall seeing eyes that particular shade of violet before. Like huge pansies. Sarah Temple was a shapely little thing with the face of an angel. Why would a beautiful woman like that choose such a degrading occupation?
“The name’s Chad Delaney. I pulled Abner out from beneath a pile of older boys. I’m afraid they were getting the best of him.” His face hardened. “You should take better care of him.”
Red dots of rage exploded behind Sarah’s eyes. “How dare you criticize me!” She eyed his guns, her disdain evident. “I rarely take advice from a gunslinger.”
“Mr. Delaney is a bounty hunter, Mama,” Abner said in a rush. “He gets money for catching bad men.”
“Why don’t you go into the house and clean up, honey,” Sarah said to Abner. ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She eyed his bruises with misgiving. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“He’s fine, Mrs. Temple,” Chad assured her. “I chased the boys off before they could do him real harm.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said stiffly as she watched Abner run off. “And it’s Miss Temple. I’m not married.”
It wasn’t necessary for Sarah to enlighten Chad concerning her single state but she didn’t want him to have any misconceptions about her. She’d never tried to hide from the truth and never would. Carbon’s respectable citizens had been quick to condemn her for bearing a child without benefit of marriage. They had labeled her a whore though she’d done nothing to earn the name. Even her own parents considered her a fallen woman. They had listened to her explanation, called her a liar, and promptly disowned her.
Chad gave Sarah a hard look. “Abner’s a fine boy. You really should take better care of him. A woman of your—er—calling must know how the townspeople feel and take measures to protect innocents like Abner from their vicious gossip and cruel acts.”
Sarah bristled defensively. Chad Delaney was a stranger in town yet he had judged her on rumors alone. “You men are all alike. You’re self-indulgent, conscienceless creatures who take what they want and to hell with the consequences.” Unfortunately Sarah was all too aware of the consequences. Abner was the result of a domineering man’s lust and she wasn’t going to let her child suffer because of it.
“You have a harsh opinion of men,” Chad taunted. “Experience has taught me it’s women who can’t be trusted.”
“Experience taught me just the opposite. What right have you to jump to conclusions?” Sarah blasted. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. As for Abner, have you ever tried to keep tabs on an active five-year-old?”
“Does the boy know what you do for a living?” Chad asked harshly.
A brief flare of anger lit the centers of Sarah’s violet eyes. “He most certainly does. He often helps me empty the tubs.”
Her words utterly baffled Chad. What had tubs to do with anything? “I beg your pardon.”
“I take in laundry for a living. Not a glamorous occupation but at least it’s an honest one.”
Chad gave a shout of laughter. ‘Take in laundry? You? Now I’ve heard everything. Those boys hounding your son referred to another occupation, one much less respectable.”
A flush of bright red crawled up Sarah’s neck. “Do you always believe everything you hear, Mr. Delaney? Children aren’t terribly reliable sources of information. Thank you for helping Abner.” Whirling on her heel, she stomped away.
Chad watched her through narrowed lids, admiring the slender curve of her back and the way her black hair tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of springy curls. The frayed hem of her skirt swished enticingly about shapely ankles and vaguely Chad wondered if her legs were as enticing as the rest of her. He reckoned he wasn’t the only man to wonder, nor would he be the last.
Chad saw her disappear behind her shanty and suddenly realized there was much more he wanted to say to the woman. Abner’s sad plight had made a small crack in the wall Chad had erected around his heart, and he wanted to make sure Sarah Temple knew that her son was being mistreated by other children. Most mothers would do everything in their power to keep their children safe.
Chad dismounted and prepared to follow Sarah, cursing Freddie Jackson, the outlaw who had brought him to Carbon. Since leaving Dry Gulch he’d not used a cent of the profit from the Delaney ranch. He hadn’t earned it and refused to accept it. Instead, he’d earned his keep by collecting bounties on outlaws. Currently he was tracking a man named Freddie Jackson, a notorious bank robber wanted by the law. The reward for his capture was a hefty one.
Jackson was an elusive bastard. Chad had been ready to give up on the man when he learned that Jackson hailed from Carbon, Wyoming,
and was reported to have relatives in town. Since Chad was in the vicinity, he’d decided to look over the town and question Jackson’s relatives. He hated to give up on the outlaw. He hadn’t counted on encountering a small lad named Abner to distract him from his job and wondered what it was about him that inspired Chad’s protective instincts.
Chad caught up with Sarah in her backyard. He stopped short when he saw a tub filled with steaming water, piles of dirty clothes, and clotheslines stretched across the backyard. His mouth fell open as he watched Sarah stir soft lye soap into the washtub filled with boiling water.
“Good God, she wasn’t lying,” he muttered to himself. Or was she? Nothing made sense. He’d never known a woman who didn’t stretch the truth when it suited her.
Sarah heard Chad behind her and spun around to face him. “What are you doing here? Have you brought your laundry for me?”
“You really do take in laundry.”
She gave an inelegant snort and held out her hands for his inspection. “Look at my hands and judge for yourself.”
Chad stared at Sarah’s hands. They were red, raw, and roughened. Certainly not the hands of a whore. He noticed other things, too. Like her scrupulously clean but neatly mended dress. And her shoes. They were scuffed and worn beyond repair. He couldn’t see the soles but he’d bet his last dollar he’d find holes in them. What he’d observed just didn’t jibe with his perception of a whore. She had freely admitted to being unmarried. She didn’t even try to hide her sinful past by claiming to be a widow as some women might have done.
Suddenly, seeming embarrassed by her red, chapped hands, Sarah pulled them away and hid them in the folds of her skirt. “I don’t have time to stand around talking, Mr. Delaney. There’s laundry to be done and little time in which to do it.”
Turning abruptly, she marched to the firepit and lifted a heavy kettle from the tripod. Chad watched a moment as she struggled with the heavy kettle, then sprang to her aid.
“Here, let me take that,” he said, grasping the handle of the kettle.
