Give Me A Texas Outlaw Bundle with Give Me A Cowboy

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  “Settle down, ma’am. Don’t need you to do my job for me.”

  “Meaning?”

  Sheriff Barnett sighed deeply. “As soon as I get my rifle and a fresh horse, I’ll head out. Good enough?”

  She jutted her chin. “It is. Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “Fine. Then I reckon I have things to do.”

  With that accomplished, Tempest wandered back to her post at the hotel, dodging horses and sidestepping all the newcomers who’d come for the rodeo. Wagons by the drove turned onto Main Street. And in the distance she could see tents already dotting the countryside. If this bore any indication, the Independence Day celebration would be a resounding success.

  Tempest beamed with pride at the banner stretched above the street with the word RODEO in bold letters.

  It was her finest hour, but she couldn’t relish it.

  Then she swung around to see if Sheriff Barnett had saddled up yet and that’s when she saw Ace High jogging up the street as if the horse marched in a parade.

  She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare to get a clear look.

  A sharp intake of air hurt her lungs.

  The tall figure perched in the saddle bore no resemblance to the dashing figure of McKenna Smith.

  Chapter 6

  But the rider was him.

  Tempest could only tell McKenna by the throng he’d attracted since he turned on to the main thoroughfare.

  Her heart pounded, slamming into her ribs.

  She raised her skirts and raced to meet the Texas legend, afraid to blink or swallow, afraid he was a mirage.

  A crowd of adults and children alike ran alongside the horse, whooping and hollering, trying to touch whatever part of McKenna they could, be it his britches leg, his boot or the horse. She watched in amazement as dogs scampered into the mix, yipping with excitement.

  Sheriff Barnett burst from the jail with rifle in hand.

  As Tempest drew closer to McKenna she was appalled. One sleeve had been ripped almost off and barely hung by a thread. Lord only knew what’d happened to his vest with the fancy silver conchas.

  Layers of dirt and filth covered his dark clothes so that she was hard-pressed to recall the shade they’d been.

  And then she spied the blood staining his shoulder.

  A quick breath hissed through her teeth. Dear God! What on earth had he suffered on their behalf?

  Tempest grabbed a young boy by the arm. “Get the doc.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The child bolted for the doctor’s office.

  Satisfied she had help on the way, Tempest turned her attention back to the heartbreaking sight.

  That’s when she noticed the outlaw stumbling behind the horse, tethered by a rope tied to the saddle horn. The robber appeared to have gone through the far backside of hell. But she spared no sympathy for anyone who’d try to steal her daughter. She’d hang him herself if she could lay hands on a good rope.

  Reaching them, Tempest stroked her bay’s powerful neck and stared into McKenna’s weary, golden gaze. She took special note of the haggard lines etching his face.

  “Mrs. LeDoux.” McKenna tipped the brim of his hat.

  “Mr. Smith.”

  He’d performed a miracle for them exactly like she’d known he would. His name was synonymous with justice and right, a noble shepherd who defended and protected the innocent.

  Even dirty, bloody and bruised, he was more man than any she’d known.

  She followed McKenna to the jail where he swung with fluid ease from the saddle, looping the reins over the post. Untying a burlap sack, he tossed it to the sheriff.

  Sheriff Barnett accepted the bank loot with a nod. “Reckon you’re the missing Mr. Smith. I was just fixin’ to head out searching for you.” The burly lawman’s gaze flicked to Tempest. “Mrs. LeDoux threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t. She was convinced you were dead or hurt.”

  From under the shadow of the tall-as-sin cowboy’s hat, he gave her a bone-tired flicker of what she almost took for a smile. “Appreciate your concern, ma’am.”

  “Wasn’t near enough for saving Alaine.”

  “Just doing my job.” McKenna swiveled back to the sheriff. “Hope you’ve got room in your jail for Cherokee Bill Bartlett. Last report has him wanted for a whole string of robberies from Galveston to the Oklahoma Territory.”

  “Happy to take him off your hands. Sorry I was gone when all the hullabaloo took place.”

  McKenna pulled Bartlett forward and handed him over. “He admitted to watching the bank for a few days. Seized the opportunity when you left town.”

  “Guess he didn’t figure on you being here.”

  McKenna’s face darkened. “A mistake on his part. But then he also miscalculated on his hostage’s fierce will. Alaine LeDoux alerted us and bought some time. Without that, Cherokee Bill might’ve gotten away.”

  “That girl’s always been wild as a March hare, just like her mama.” The lawman wagged his head and vanished into the jail with his prisoner.

  “Thank goodness you’re alive.” Tempest’s voice cracked with pent-up emotion. “I was afraid…”

  “Makes two of us. My saddlebags?”

  “They’re in the hotel safe. Didn’t want anything to happen to them.”

  “Knew I could trust you.”

  A warm flush swept from the soles of her feet. “I’ll take care of my horse. Don’t worry about Ace High. Will I—?”

  “McKenna Smith,” Tazwell Redgrave interrupted her. “I’m Kasota Springs’ mayor. Let me shake the hand of a true hero.”

  “Nice of you to say, Mayor, but I didn’t do much.”

  “There are no words to express our gratitude.”

  Just then Doc Mitchell pushed through the crowd that pressed around McKenna. “Tazwell, all this hoopla can wait. This man needs medical attention.” Doc waved his arm. “Now everyone go about your business and let me tend to him. Mrs. LeDoux, that means you too. Now skedaddle.”

  An hour later, McKenna finally escaped the doc and his fanatical need to bandage each little nick and scrape. He waited until just outside the door before he ripped off the gauze that wrapped him from stem to stern and wadded it up. It left big brown splotches of some concoction the doc had mixed up.

  There was an epidemic in Kasota Springs all right…an infestation of bedbugs in the brain.

  Cherokee Bill’s bullet only did minor damage. No need for panic or telegraph for McKenna’s coffin measurements yet.

  For God’s sake, all he needed was a bath and forty winks.

  Intent on that, he weaved his way through the crowd still gathered outside the doctor’s office and strode toward the public bathhouse. After he scrubbed the last traces of Panhandle dirt from him, he’d collect his saddlebags, get a bed to fall into, then head for Horse Creek bright and early.

  He’d lost a day’s ride. Didn’t want to waste more.

  Mayor Redgrave approached, cutting McKenna off. “Mr. Smith, may I have a moment of your time?”

  “I’m dirty and tired and my stomach’s gnawing on my backbone.”

  “Won’t take long. Say ten minutes?”

  “Make it fast then.”

  “Step this way, sir.”

  The mayor threw open the double doors of the Opera House that sat next to the Springs Hotel.

  McKenna stared at the packed place that couldn’t hold another person. “Mayor, I don’t have time for some type of theatrical performance. Thought I made that clear.”

  “This isn’t what you think.”

  Before McKenna could wrest himself from the mayor, burly arms hefted him into the air. Men carried him to a podium and set him down. Tempest LeDoux stood beside the mayor.

  “Mr. Smith,” Mayor Redgrave said, “to show our gratitude and deep appreciation for saving the town’s money, we’d like to offer you the keys to our fair city. Not only that, the dance kicking off the rodeo tomorrow night will be in your honor.”

  Redgrave held out a large key that had a b
lue ribbon tied around it.

  “I can’t accept. Really. I have to be moving on.”

  But the mayor had already pressed the key into McKenna’s hand. To refuse it would cause a lot of hurt feelings.

  Tempest stepped up. “That’s not all, Mr. Smith.” At her signal two men joined them.

  “I’m throwing in free board at the hotel long as you want it.” The proprietor pumped McKenna’s hand as if trying to get water from a spout. He’d evidently thrown on his best Sunday suit in a hurry because the buttons were in all the wrong holes.

  The second man cleared his throat. “And no need to worry about your vittles during your stay in Kasota Springs. You’ll have all you want free of charge at the Red Rooster Café.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” McKenna stared out at the sea of thankful, grinning faces. Each pair of eyes let him know the dire straits their lives would’ve been in had they’d lost what little they’d accumulated in the bank.

  He needed to head out. He had things to do. Hell! But it meant a lot to these people to show their gratitude. And Tempest LeDoux…he couldn’t exactly turn his back on her.

  Clearing his voice, he quipped, “I usually work a lot cheaper.”

  A smattering of laughter ran through the crowd.

  Tempest beamed. “We haven’t forgotten your horse, Mr. Smith. I’m providing feed for the animal until you leave us.”

  McKenna lifted his dusty hat and waved it. “Thank you. Thank you all very much. It’ll be my pleasure to accept your kind hospitality.”

  His head swam with the town’s benevolence as he hurried toward a bath, a hot meal and a bed. Muscles that weren’t stretched or bruised throbbed, and the ones that were told him he was too old to wrestle bears and wily outlaws. Capturing Cherokee Bill had taken all the cunning McKenna had.

  “Yoo hoo, Mr. Smith!” a female voice called.

  Without looking, he knew it belonged to Tempest LeDoux. He kept going. He was in no mood for socializing at the moment. Quickly gaining entrance to the bathhouse, he was greeted by the smell of soap and cleanliness.

  A hot bath and shave would go a long way toward improving his mood. Then he’d tackle the widow. He owed her proper thanks, no two ways about it. She’d been the driving force behind the town’s collective generosity.

  The persistent woman seemed to have a finger in every pie. Not that they wanted her to; she just plunged in both fists and dared ’em to object.

  And she’d watched over his saddlebags. That alone was worth a lot. He owed her and he’d see to that. Later.

  But if he thought to escape her, he was sadly ill informed.

  Tempest marched into the men’s establishment behind him like Custer intent on making a last stand. “Mr. Smith, I must have a word.”

  Men in varied states of undress grabbed for their clothes.

  McKenna groaned aloud and faced her. “I see you’re not going to let go of the bone between your teeth. I give up.”

  A ruddy-faced man stormed from a back room with his apron flapping. His muttonchop sideburns twitched with indignation. “Ma’am, you cain’t…women ain’t allowed in here. Ain’t decent.”

  The widow’s dark eyebrows arched. She cast a wide smile at the patrons who tried to shield themselves with their shirts or britches. “You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen before, boys. Wouldn’t win any prizes that’s for sure.”

  Saving her from a second lynching since arriving in town, McKenna grabbed her arm and hustled her toward the door.

  “If I hear you out, do you promise to give me some peace?”

  “Certainly. I’m a perfectly reasonable woman.” Her voice dripped with sugar. “I only wanted to invite you to the weekly poker game at the ranch since you’ll be staying and all. It’s tonight at six sharp.”

  McKenna seethed. There would be no way he’d get a long, quiet soak unless he agreed. “I’ll be there, now go.”

  “Don’t be late. Ask anyone for directions. They know.” With her head held high, she sashayed from the building.

  “Uh-oh. She’s got it bad for you, Mr. Smith,” said Mr. Muttonchops. “You ain’t got a prayer; you gotta go. She don’t take no for an answer. Truth is no one’s ever had the nerve to turn her down and live to tell it.”

  “He’s right,” confirmed a patron. “Ask anyone.”

  “Do tell.” If McKenna hadn’t been so desperate to get shed of her, he’d never have agreed. He was far more interested in checking the back of his eyelids for leaks.

  But surely the men exaggerated.

  Tempest LeDoux was just a small thing he could toss over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  A little package of dynamite that understanding could diffuse.

  No reason for a grown man to fear her.

  A game of poker wouldn’t take long. He could leave early.

  Chapter 7

  In the kitchen at Jacks Bluff, Tempest dug out her mother’s old recipe books that’d been passed down for generations and blew off the dust. She wasn’t sure she had all the ingredients that might help assure her plan’s success.

  She’d not only charm McKenna but keep him healthy as well.

  From jars of herbs, roots and berries she measured exact amounts into a pot. While it simmered, she carefully took down pieces of cut crystal from the carved china cabinet.

  A bit fancy, but sure to impress the rugged Texan.

  McKenna Smith would see that she wasn’t some uncouth, blackwater Cajun. She might’ve been once, but the swamps of Bayou Goula were a long way from the Texas Panhandle.

  Spreading a cloth of old lace on the poker table, she stepped back to view it. Much too formal. She gently folded it up and wrapped it back in the tissue paper. Didn’t want to have him laughing at her.

  Flowers might add a nice touch though. A dozen vases of her Seven Sisters roses would give the room a pleasing fragrance and cheer. With snippers in hand she hurried to the garden.

  A few hours later she had everything ready.

  Alaine always disappeared on poker night and this would be no exception. The girl usually stayed in town or hung out with Teg Tegeler and the boys at the bunkhouse.

  But maybe Alaine was busy with that Eastern popinjay—Morgan or whatever the hell his name was. Tempest chewed her lip. For once, she prayed Alaine would go shoot at targets or practice knife throwing or something.

  Tempest glanced through the window in time to see riders pass under the high crossbar and enter the Jacks Bluff compound. She adjusted the mass of dark ringlets that cascaded down the right side of her head and onto her shoulder. The gentlemen were here. Four to be exact. Three she summoned at the last minute just to make her interest in McKenna a tad less obvious.

  She groaned, recalling the scandalous way she’d barged into the bathhouse after him. All these years and she still had the social graces of a lop-eared mule.

  Hurriedly lighting the kerosene lamps, she pulled aside the finest lace curtains money could buy and scanned the horsemen. Though too far away yet to distinguish their faces, she knew without a doubt the broad-shouldered one who sat more erect, more proud was McKenna. He rode natural and easy, the flow of a river following the curvature of the earth.

  He also appeared healthy as a new calf too.

  Her heart beat faster when she whispered his name.

  McKenna dismounted in front of a ranch house that seemed more suited to a lush southern plantation than the high plains of Texas. Every outbuilding, animal and blade of grass was well maintained. He admired the lonely widow’s handiwork.

  “Well, we might as well get this show over with,” drawled the tallest of McKenna’s three companions, a man named Curtis.

  “Yep, shore wisht I would’ve had the gumption to turn her down.” Doc Mitchell scratched his bald head. “More fun to watch the moon rise and bet on how many stars’ll pop out.”

  “Least that way we wouldn’t have to worry which one of us would draw the short straw,” said the short squatty owner of
the land office, Phinneas something.

  McKenna was still trying to decipher the meaning of the short straw remark when Tempest threw open the door. Every thought flew from his head as he stared, stunned by her transformation into a southern belle. The wide skirts of her dress must’ve required miles of fabric.

  But he was more focused on her ripe breasts, the way the clingy federal blue bodice molded them, and the delicate pink rose peeking from the plunging vee.

  Tempest LeDoux wore more costumes than a troupe of actors. And wore them very well, he decided.

  “Come on in, boys, make yourselves at home.”

  “Mrs. LeDoux.” McKenna touched his lips to the back of her hand.

  “I see I was right.” Dimples in her cheeks winked.

  “About what, ma’am?”

  “It’s Tempest, remember?” Humor crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I made a bet with myself that you’d still have a dark shadow no matter how often you shaved.”

  Kasota Springs was sure a town fond of wagering. Seemed the whole kit and caboodle of them placed any number of bets on an endless variety of subjects. He’d learned about the pot the men got up after he lit out after Cherokee Bill and how Tempest won it. Again he wondered how the name of the Jacks Bluff Ranch came about. It certainly had something to do with betting.

  “You have a beautiful ranch here. You’ll have to tell me what prompted the name.”

  “Perhaps I will. If you share the details of what happened between you and the outlaw.” The barest brush of her hand on m his arm was more enticing than a full embrace by most of the women he’d known.

  Through the fog in his brain, he recalled a certain spider that lured a fly into her web with the promise it wasn’t sticky.

  Her heady fragrance swirled up his nose, battering against his defenses. She smelled of dark woods full of moss and fern and musky secrets.

  Tempest LeDoux was a whole lot of woman for any one man. But then she’d had at least five he reminded himself.

  “Ah, me and Cherokee Bill…not much to say other than he was convinced he wasn’t coming back to face justice and I convinced him he was. Now he’s in the hoosegow. And I’m in the home of the most beautiful woman in Texas.”