Scotsman Wore Spurs

by Potter, Patricia;

  She sighed with the warm, deep joy of lying next to him. She spent the past few hours wrapped in Drew’s arms, humbly grateful to be there. It was so much more than she’d expected, dreamed of, hoped for. They had ventured to the brink of paradise time and time again, their lips meeting and melding and searching, their bodies clinging to each other. Even thinking about it, she ached to feel him within her once more.

  How could one love so much, so deeply, so intensely? She didn’t know, didn’t want to question it; she simply wanted to feel every wonderful wondrous second. She did exactly that, then finally, reluctantly, opened her eyes. The sky had visibly lightened; the stars were fading fast, and the crescent moon had already fallen below the horizon. It was time to get back. Ha’Penny would wake soon and need to be fed, though she knew one fretful cry from the infant would bring every drover rushing to the wagon.

  She stirred, rousing Drew who mumbled sleepily. He stretched, and his cheek brushed hers. His face was rough with stubble, but she loved the feel of it anyway, loved the intimacy of sharing the night with him. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked; her hair a tangle of curls and her shirt completely rumpled.

  But Drew grinned at her, reminding her of a boy who’d just played hooky from school to go fishing and had made his biggest catch ever. Her heart somersaulted at seeing him so obviously happy.

  “I think we need to rise,” he said lazily, his hand stroking her arm from shoulder to wrist.

  “Probably,” she agreed reluctantly.

  He took her hand and raised it to his mouth, nuzzling it. “You taste delicious.”

  “It must be the peppers I put in the beans,” she teased.

  “’Tis not peppers I taste,” he disagreed with a smile, “though you have become a passable cook.”

  “Passable?”

  “Fair, then?” he amended.

  “I’ll ban you from my bean pot,” she threatened.

  He groaned. “I vow I’ll never eat another bean after this drive.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever cook one, either,” Gabrielle agreed heartily.

  “Do you know how to make decent tea?”

  For some reason, his question made her heart pound faster. Was he alluding to a future together? Or was she simply jumping to conclusions?”

  “You don’t like my coffee?” she ventured.

  “Muddy brew from a tin pot is utterly uncivilized,” he exclaimed.

  “I thought you liked uncivilized. I thought you wanted an adventure. Now you tell me that you want tea!”

  “I also like good brandy,” he chuckled. “And a good cigar.”

  “What else?” she said, knowing she was fishing shamelessly for words of affection.

  His fingers traced her cheek. “A game of chance. A sunrise.” He sighed. “Ah, lass, I fear I’m a poor prize. I’ve little to show for my life but what’s on my back and a name I’ve all but destroyed.”

  “I don’t care about a name,” she pointed out. “And I don’t care about your lack of money. I have a little myself.” She felt his hand tighten around hers.

  “I won’t be taking any money from a lass,” he said.

  “Oh, you won’t?” Anger stirred in her. “You’ll just take a roll in the hay, is that it? And here I thought—No.” She fought her way out of his arms and rose to her feet. “No, maybe I didn’t think. I believed you were different. But it seems you’re just an arrogant ass.”

  She searched the ground for her trousers. She couldn’t stomp back to camp in righteous indignation without her clothes.

  “Looking for these?” Drew had stood and slipped on his own trousers, and he was dangling hers from his fingertips.

  “Yes,” she said primly as she reached out to grab them.

  He moved, holding them out of her grasp, “An arrogant ass?” he asked ominously.

  “An arrogant Scottish ass,” she agreed.

  “I didn’t know you had such a temper, Of course, Gabe had one, but sweet Gabrielle? My, my, my.”

  “You inspire me,” she shot back.

  He chuckled. “What a termagant!”

  “Better a termagant than the backside of a mule,” she countered.

  “I have a partiality for termagants,” he admitted. “Might you have one for asses?”

  His eyes were twinkling, and his voice had turned lazy and warm. She clenched her fists, trying to hold out against his irresistible charm. He used it to avoid certain subjects, to defuse and confuse, and for once she refused to succumb to it.

  “I do not have any such partiality,” she announced, reaching again for her trousers. It surprised her that he allowed her to snatch them.

  “It wasn’t a roll in the hay,” he said quietly, all amusement gone. “I’ll not have you believing that it was.”

  “Then why …?”

  “I’m not sure I can be what you deserve,” he said.

  “I want what you are,” she replieds fiercely.

  “Ah, lass, you don’t even know me.”

  Exasperated, she exclaimed, “You keep telling me that, and it isn’t true. I do know you! I know all I need to know. I know your kindness, your gentleness, your loyalty. And I know that everyone looks up to you because of what you do so naturally, without thought.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I thought I was an ass.”

  “That, too,” she agreed. “It sort of balances things out. One wouldn’t want too much of a good thing.”

  His arms came around her, holding her tightly. Fiercely. “I don’t think I could bear seeing disappointment in those blue eyes of yours.”

  She stopped the words with her fingertips pressed to his lips. “I love you, Drew Cameron. I don’t think I could ever love anyone else the way I love you.”

  A choked sound came from his throat. “I—”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t answer. Not now. But know that I love you and I want you. And I don’t give up easily.”

  She fled then, her trousers in hand, her heart quaking at her own pronouncement. She knew she could have stayed and tried to drag a similar declaration out of him, but she didn’t want it that way. She wanted him more than life itself. But as deep and strong as that emotion flowed within her, she had to know that he wanted her the same way, loved her with the same uncompromising strength. Next time, he would have to come to her.

  “I’m going back to Texas with you,” Drew said as he rode out with Kirby in the morning to scout the next ten miles.

  “The hell you are,” Kirby growled back. “If you go, Gabrielle will go. And I’ll not have you both risking your necks for me.”

  “No, she won’t,” Drew said. “I’ll send her to my brother-in-law’s ranch near Denver.”

  Kirby looked incredulous. “You really think she’d stay there?”

  “Not willingly,” Drew replied, “But if anyone can keep her in Denver, it’s my sister Lisbeth and her husband Ben Masters.”

  “Hmph.” Kirby scowled. “Dammit, Drew, you’re no gunfighter.”

  “Neither are you,” he replied.

  “But it’s my battle, not yours. Someone’s after me for what I did.”

  “They’re also after Gabrielle,” Drew said quietly. “And that is my battle.”

  Kirby shot him a piercing glance. “Is it?”

  “Aye,” Drew said. “It most definitely is.”

  The older man studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “I’m glad to hear it. But why don’t you just go East with her? Or even to Scotland? She’ll be safe, then.”

  “Could you ever relax your guard,” Drew asked, “knowing there was someone out there who wanted you—or someone you cared for—dead?”

  He was gratified when Kirby stopped protesting.

  “Apparently someone is prepared to go to any length to make sure you, and maybe Gabrielle, are dead. Killian probably didn’t come cheap, and whoever it is must have spent a considerable amount of money for detectives to find Gabrielle’s father and you. It seems to me the sta
kes are very high.” Preparing himself for another argument, Drew said, “I think you should tell Damien. We might need him, and he’s good with a gun.”

  As expected, Kirby shook his head. “I want to keep my family out of it.”

  “Jon could be the next target,” Drew warned.

  Kirby quickly turned toward him, and Drew saw the instant fear streak across his friend’s face. “Damn …” The trail boss’s voice was strained with tension. “Jon was outside the bank, holding the horses. He rode with us when we hightailed it out of town. Dammit, yes, Jon knows everything—and Cal Thornton knows that he knows.”

  “Then Damien should know,” Drew said. “And Terry. Whoever is behind this has already killed Gabrielle’s father, tried to kill her, and has tried twice to kill you. It seems obvious that he isn’t going to stop until everyone who had anything to do with the robbery is dead—and that includes Jon.”

  “Dear God,” Kirby said. “They think I’m already dead. Killian could be on his way right now to …” His voice trailed off.

  Drew was silent, only too aware of the implications.

  “I’ll have to resurrect myself sooner than I expected,” Kirby said.

  “We’re only two weeks from Abilene,” Drew said. “Damien can take the herd in.”

  Beside him, Kirby was riding with his gaze fixed straight ahead, his breathing heavy and disturbed. “There’re a dozen ranchers depending on me,” he said. “They’re trusting me to get them the best price. Some of them might lose their ranches if I don’t. I’m not sure Damien can handle it yet.”

  “Well, I bloody well can’t,” Drew admitted. “But I can go back to Texas.”

  “Killian has several days’ head start.”

  “But he doesn’t know we know about him.”

  “Drew, I can’t ask you to go.”

  “Try to keep me from it,” Drew said. “I’ll leave at dawn tomorrow for Caldwell and telegraph Jon, warn him to be careful. You send Gabrielle to my brother-in-law in Denver. He’s a former U.S. marshal, and he’ll make sure she’s safe. No one knows she’s with us, so she won’t be followed.”

  Kirby snorted. “Gabrielle will want to go with you.”

  “She won’t know I’m gone until it’s too late,” Drew said, knowing she was going to hate his plan. He fully expected her to be as mad as a wet hen when she found out, but both he and Kirby had bloody few choices if they were to keep the people they loved safe.

  And he most definitely intended to keep Gabrielle safe. He was still sifting through the miracle in his mind that someone loved him. Really loved him. And while he hadn’t quite assimilated that astonishing fact enough to respond to it, he wasn’t about to give up his chance of ever responding simply because he had failed to take a few reasonable precautions and, as a result, lost her. She could be as angry as she liked—as long as she continued to live.

  Kirby growled something indecipherable, then spoke in half-embarrassed tones. “Are you sure you want to do this to her? Leave without so much as an explanation or goodbye.”

  “No,” Drew said. “I’d rather be horsewhipped. And horsewhipping will probably be kinder than her reaction when I see her again. But I can’t take a chance with her life.”

  Kirby looked dubious.

  Drew gave him a dry smile. “You want to tie her up and keep her from following me? Once I’m gone long enough, she’ll be easier to persuade to go Denver.”

  “All right,” Kirby finally said, “I’ll see that she gets on that train to Denver.”

  Drew nodded. “I’ll write her a letter, explaining, and another to my brother-in-law. Explain to her how important it is that he receives it … personally. Perhaps that will help.”

  Kirby nodded. Then, gruffly, he said, “Drew, I don’t know what to say. How do you thank—”

  “You don’t say anything,” Drew cut him short.

  Kirby looked at him, and for a moment their gazes held. Then the older man held out his hand across the space between their horses. Drew reached over and took it, clasping it firmly. And no more words were needed. None at all.

  When Drew reached Caldwell, Killian was long gone.

  “And good riddance,” the storekeeper said.

  The man eyed Drew curiously when he’d asked about the hired gun. He eyed him again when Drew inquired about sending a telegraph.

  “I can do that for you,” the man said. “Town ain’t big enough for a full-time operator, so I fill in.”

  Drew passed him the message for Kirby’s brother, warning Jon he might be in danger and advising him never to ride alone, particularly into town, and to be wary of strangers. Drew signed Kirby’s name.

  When he’d left camp, he’d taken two horses, the pinto and a bay known for its endurance. He’d stowed his bedroll and told Gabrielle that he would be scouting north for the next two days, that Kirby felt he was ready for the responsibility. He’d guided her behind the wagon, out of sight of curious eyes, and kissed her, long and deeply.

  She had clung to him, as if sensing something, but she didn’t ask questions. It was one of the things he liked best about her. She never pried, simply waited until he was ready to talk. The hell of it was, now that he was ready, he had something he had to do first.

  He’d had to settle for saying to her, “Be careful while I’m gone, lass. I’ll have a lot to say to you.”

  He’d wanted to tell her he loved her then and there. But that wouldn’t be fair, not yet when his life was so uncertain. “Wait for me,” he said instead, and saw the surprise in her eyes, then a soft joy.

  “I’ll always wait for you,” she whispered.

  “And trust me.”

  She nodded.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  He kissed her, praying as he’d never prayed in his life that it wouldn’t be for the last time. Then, because he was dying inside, because he knew she really wouldn’t understand, he whirled away and mounted the pinto, forcing himself to keep a normal pace until he was out of sight. And then he spurred the horse into a gallop.

  Switching mounts periodically to keep them from overtiring, he’d made Caldwell in one day. He didn’t want to think, couldn’t think, about Gabrielle. “I don’t like lies.” How many times had he told her that?

  But he hadn’t known any other way to keep her safe. He had to find Killian before the gunman killed anyone else. And he had to find the man alive; he was the only link to whoever had hired him.

  Drew stayed in Caldwell long enough to buy a few supplies, then rode south. He had to make San Antonio before Killian got there.

  Two days passed, and Drew did not return. Gabrielle missed him more than she would have thought possible. She found herself looking for the tall, lean figure who had become her whole world.

  She had accepted his explanation about scouting because there had been no reason not to. He had been going out more and more with Kirby, and Damien had been taking more responsibility for the herd. But as night fell late on the second day of Drew’s absence, she knew something was wrong. Really, she’d known it that morning when Kirby had ridden out alone and come back late. Why would both he and Drew be scouting?

  Kirby had been avoiding her, too, now that she thought about it. She really hadn’t paid much attention to his comings and goings from camp, being kept busy herself with her chores and taking care of Ha’penny. But earlier that evening, she’d seen Kirby lead Damien away from the campsite, and, now, as she watched them return, she noted that Damien’s expression was stormy.

  She waited until the younger Kingsley stalked off, then approached his uncle.

  “Kirby?”

  He turned toward her, his eyes wary in the firelight.

  “Shouldn’t Drew be back by now?”

  A muscle flexed in his cheek. “He’s gone, Gabrielle,” he said tersely. “He left the drive.”

  Gabrielle gasped, feeling as if she’d been shot in the stomach. “I … don’t understand.”

  “He said he had so
me business to take care of,” Kirby told her. “He asked me to see you onto the train to Denver. Said he’ll meet you there.”

  Shocked, her mind a whirlwind, Gabrielle didn’t know what to think. She knew how she felt, though: hurt. Drew had asked her to trust him—made her promise to trust him—but he hadn’t trusted her at all. He didn’t want anyone lying to him, but he apparently had few scruples about withholding the truth himself.

  The loner. Whatever had made her think she could change him? He was as unable and unwilling as he’d ever been to share his emotions, his thoughts, his plans. Maybe he always would be.

  Her heart was breaking, crumbling into pieces. She turned away, not wanting Kirby to see the pain, the betrayal she felt, in her eyes.

  “Gabrielle,” he said, stopping her with his hand on her arm. “Drew loves you. He just wants to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Without asking me? Without finding out what I think or need or want?” The words burst forth in a fury as anger solidified inside her. “That’s not love!” she said. “That’s not even the honesty he talks so much about.”

  She glared at the hand restraining her until Kirby withdrew it. “Where did he go?” she demanded.

  Kirby cleared his throat. “He left a letter for you. And one for you to take to his brother-in-law, Ben Masters.”

  With deadly calm, she said, “And the two of you expect me to travel hundreds of miles to the home of strangers—while you go hunting a murderer?”

  The alarm in Kirby’s eyes told her that she’d hit the target. She wanted to hit him. Kick him. She wanted to toss the bean pot into the ashes. She wanted to take Billy Bones and gallop away as hard and fast as she could. She wanted to murder the man in front of her—to say nothing of the one who’d left her—with her own two hands. If Killian didn’t do it first. In all, Gabrielle had never been so angry in her entire life.

  “Trust me. Promise?” She wanted to throw Drew’s promises in his face. He’d known precisely what he was asking when he exacted that unfair promise from her.

  “Trust me.” Ha! She’d trust him, all right. She’d … she’d …