Give Me A Texas Outlaw Bundle with Give Me A Cowboy

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  More tears filled her eyes, although she was much too prideful to let the weakness show. She blinked hard. “My mother and father died of the black fever in the swamps of Louisiana. I’ve been on my own since I was ten.”

  “I’ve found life doesn’t stand hitched. You’ve gotta ride it like you find it. It bucks and paws and snorts. Sure isn’t for a sissy, that’s a fact. You’ve had a hard row to hoe.”

  “It threw me more than once, but I did it and the trying made me strong enough to weather the storms.”

  “It certainly did. At least I was right about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Took you to be from the south. Sometimes you wrap your words in dogwood and magnolia blossoms. Knew I recognized that mellow accent.”

  Tempest sighed and wrinkled her nose. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve worked to get rid of it. People here would never accept a girl who came from the swamps. Bad enough they know I’m from Louisiana. They just don’t know how deep.”

  “You try too hard to fit into this town. Can’t force respect.”

  “I’ve never gotten a blasted thing I didn’t have to bulldog my way into, wrestle it to the ground and take.”

  McKenna’s eyebrow lifted. “My point exactly. And you never got to keep any of it other than material things that don’t mean a damn, did you?” His sigh ruffled her hair. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Life kicked you in the teeth and I’m no one to criticize the way you turned out.”

  Tempest didn’t trust her voice to speak. Truth be told, he was right. She always ruined everything by trying too hard.

  He twirled her under his arm. The man was no stranger to dancing so she wondered why he’d been adamant, refusing to do it. A wisp of jealousy rose.

  How many women had he held like they meant something?

  The music ended. McKenna steered her away from the dancers. “Let’s sit a spell.”

  His big hand on the small of her back made her tremble as he led her to one of the bales of hay that had been scattered around the perimeter of the dance floor. She noticed the one he directed her to was half hidden from view of the dancers. She watched him bend his lean, lithe form and seat himself beside her.

  “None of us here are the people we planned to be, McKenna.”

  “I reckon I own that. Know better than most.”

  She twisted her hands in her lap and chewed her lip. “I’ve never had real peace inside. Seems I was born worrying about one thing or another. But you have this way about you. You make people…me…believe the impossible. I didn’t mean to settle down in the Texas Panhandle. I intended to go to Montana, but I gave up on it.”

  McKenna leaned and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “What’s stopping you?”

  “Alaine. The ranch. I have obligations…” Her voice trailed when he moved closer and tilted her chin toward him. She grew weak with longing.

  His kiss seared the air around them and every denial lodging in the far corners of Tempest’s soul.

  “Let’s say good-bye like we said hello,” McKenna murmured against her ear.

  “With clothes or without this time?”

  “Darlin’, I want to crawl inside you and love you like you’re the last doggie out of the chute and the world’s gonna end tomorrow.”

  Chapter 11

  McKenna rose as the first blush of dawn crept through the window of his hotel room. He quietly dressed. Kissing Tempest’s bare shoulder, he gave her lush form a long stare, threw his saddlebags over his arm and closed the door.

  Damn, he hated leaving her.

  If she hadn’t still slept, he’d never have been able to.

  Wanting for her was a heat that threatened to consume. The desperate need wound itself around his heart and pulled tight.

  If only they lived in a perfect world, where a man could reach for those desires and be confident he deserved them. In a perfect world, he could count on people and know they wouldn’t disappoint. And in a perfect world, love would last a lifetime.

  The livery was a short walk. Although McKenna had to admit he had fond memories of Kasota Springs, he itched to keep his promise to a friend.

  If not for that, he might hang around just to watch the fireworks that popped when the fetching widow was around.

  But he had to put distance between him and Tempest LeDoux.

  For now at least so he could do some thinking.

  She’d left her brand on him and it’d take ’til doomsday to scar over. He didn’t even have a rustler’s running-iron to brand over it and try to erase her mark. He might not want to.

  The woman with a sensitive heart full of caring tempted him in a million different ways to forget who he was, why he could never take a wife.

  Damn Lacy Lorena! And damn the Colt sheathed in his holster. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he stepped into the livery.

  Hard Tack’s stall seemed unusually quiet. When he reached it, his curse rent the early morning stillness. The dun gelding lay listless on the dirt floor. McKenna didn’t have to be told the horse likely had colic. He had to work fast.

  Hell and damnation! He knelt, tugging on Hard Tack’s neck.

  “Get up now, boy. You have to stand up.”

  Hard Tack lifted his head. Pain filled the gentle brown eyes. Then the horse let his head fall back to the stall floor.

  McKenna grabbed the tack and carefully slipped it over the gelding’s head. He dug in his heels and pulled. At last he got the animal on his feet and out into the corral. Around and around they walked. Then giving Hard Tack a little rest, he walked him some more.

  The sunrise came as an orange ball of heat by the time the beefy liveryman stumbled from his bed, wild-eyed and suffering the effects of too much rotgut the night before.

  “The gelding colicky, Mr. Smith?” the stout farrier asked.

  “Yep.” McKenna whirled. “What have you been feeding him?”

  Scratching his head, the liveryman frowned. “The alfalfa Miz LeDoux’s been sending from her ranch and a few oats.”

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  “Well, Timmy’s been coming around right regular. He’s the boy you paid to bring him here.” The liveryman’s eyes grew wide. “I recollect Timmy always has this burlap bag with him.”

  McKenna left Hard Tack’s exercise to the farrier and made tracks for Timmy. Scaring the boy out of a year’s growth wasn’t his intention, getting to the root of the problem was all McKenna was after. A few minutes later, he had his answer. The cause of the colic was sweet feed and green apples. Timmy didn’t know Hard Tack had problems digesting those when given too much. The poor boy had thought he did McKenna a favor.

  At least it hadn’t been worms as McKenna feared. A day or two and the horse would be good as new.

  Traveling was out for now. He didn’t even consider leaving without Hard Tack. The gelding was family. They’d both stay.

  After breakfast at the Red Rooster, McKenna returned to the stables and spent the rest of the morning with Hard Tack, thankful for signs of improvement. For all his slackard appearance, the beefy farrier showed diligence in his care. McKenna would add extra to the bill when they settled up.

  Deciding to take a stroll, he made for the Slats and Fats Saloon. A beer might be just the thing.

  He might even have one or two of those hardboiled eggs they kept on the bar in a big jar full of vinegar.

  On this particular day, the barkeep was the one everybody called Fats. Half the height of his partner, Fats was so short he’d have to climb a ladder to kick a gnat on the ankle.

  Seeing McKenna, Fats hustled behind the bar and stepped up on something in order to peer over the polished wood. A second later, he slid a cool beer in front of McKenna. “Mr. Smith, you gonna ride in the wild bronc competition?”

  “Nope. For the last time, I’m not here for the rodeo.”

  Angus Murdoch crowded around. “Bet you could tame the wildest, meanest bronc in the chute.”<
br />
  “I’ve done my share of competition riding,” McKenna replied. “Don’t see much sport in getting busted up just for the pure hell of it.”

  “Ain’t meaning no disrespect, but you’re riding a mighty mean back-breaker already,” Angus cackled.

  Everything went quiet inside McKenna. His narrowed gaze raked the sign-hanger. “How you figure that?”

  “Well, you’re still breathing and unhitched after the Widow LeDoux’s most determined assault.”

  “It’s early yet,” laughed Fats. “She’s not done.”

  McKenna fixed the pair with a piercing stare. “Only fools know to keep running their mouths. I’d keep quiet about Mrs. LeDoux unless you’d like me to show you what happens to men who forget how to treat a lady. When you mention her, I suggest you use a heap of respect or you’ll answer directly to me.”

  Angus flushed, hastily paid for his beer and left. Fats found pressing business in washing dirty glasses.

  McKenna returned to the livery to check Hard Tack’s progress. The gelding wasn’t as lethargic. The tight bands about McKenna’s chest loosened a bit. The horse would be okay.

  Currying a handsome buckskin, the farrier paused with his brush in midair. “You fixin’ to head over to the churchyard for the box lunch before the bronc riding starts, Mr. Smith?”

  “Didn’t plan on it.”

  “I’d go if I had a lady to cotton to. Guess it’s just as well. Cain’t get interested in anyone since the missus died.”

  “How long has it been?” McKenna asked quietly.

  “Almost a year. You might as well take part. Who knows, you might get lucky.” The man grinned, leaving McKenna to wonder if the town had started taking bets on Tempest and him. He wouldn’t doubt it. But the thought aroused anger. He wasn’t going to marry her. Wasn’t gonna happen.

  Against his better judgment, he walked to the church, his silver spurs clinking with each step.

  He looked forward to glimpsing Tempest, who’d be busier than a weathervane in a stiff wind. She was determined to fulfill every last one of her rodeo committee duties. Including some that weren’t covered under that responsibility.

  They’d said their good-byes. Facing her again would make leaving that much harder…on them both.

  Some things were too much to resist he found.

  And Tempest strained his will to the breaking point.

  McKenna stood at the back of the enthused crowd where he could watch in secret. He drank in the widow’s beauty, remembering the feel of her skin that was soft as the full bolls of Delta cotton.

  People of all shapes and sizes, from near and far packed the churchyard. A mess of children chased each other around a big cottonwood tree, the only shade around in the whole blamed town. McKenna stood in the shadows as men shyly bought up the ladies’ pretty boxes that were tied with fancy bows and the like.

  All except one. The box that remained was the best looking of the bunch.

  He wondered why it was left but soon got his answer. A pinched-faced woman he’d heard everyone refer to as Jabberjaws Dewey leaned and whispered to another. “Ain’t nobody gonna buy Tempest LeDoux’s. Ain’t a man alive who’ll touch it. Lord only knows what she put in it.”

  Anger swept him like a raging river, swollen from heavy rain. A searching gaze located Tempest at the front near the lonely box. Waiting.

  Even from the shadows, he could see that her shoulders were fiercely straight and her eyes stared straight ahead. If he’d been close enough to tell, those eyes the color of freshly plowed earth would likely glisten with unshed tears.

  “Well, reckon no one’s gonna step up and buy this last box,” announced Mayor Redgrave. “Sorry, Mrs. LeDoux.”

  How dare they treat Tempest with such open scorn.

  “I will.” McKenna raised his hand, pushed through the tangle of bodies and darting children. “I’ll buy the lady’s box. I’m sure it’s the tastiest of the whole lot.”

  A wave of snickers drifted aimlessly among the onlookers.

  Of course, they kept it low, mindful of McKenna. But he’d heard and it didn’t exactly make him all that charitable.

  Claiming the fancy lunch, he shot the cacklers a withering scowl. Heads ducked and feet scurried.

  “You don’t have to do this to save my stupid pride,” Tempest murmured, trying to hide the red flush in her cheeks.

  Capturing her sweaty palm, he tugged her toward the bank of a small creek behind the church.

  “What if it so happens I want to?” The corner of his mouth quirked. “And I’m not saving your pride or anything other than my growling gut. I happen to be starved. Besides, this smells like fried chicken, my favorite.”

  Finding a smidgen of privacy amid the nearby trickling stream, McKenna let her choose the first piece of chicken.

  Tempest selected a drumstick. Framed by long dark lashes, her brown gaze met his, creating a wave of smoldering heat where they touched. “I thought you left town.”

  “Found Hard Tack listless in his stall with a bad case of colic.”

  “How serious?”

  “Should keep me here a couple more days. What do you have to say about that, Lady Tempest?”

  Her eyes twinkled and dimples flashed. “I certainly know how we can fill the time.”

  Chapter 12

  The day was heavenly despite a dark cloudbank building in the west that promised rain. Tempest grinned and nibbled on the drumstick. Yes, she could fill his days and every single night, even Thanksgiving and Christmas, if he’d stay.

  She’d looked for a man like McKenna Smith her whole life.

  He was number six. He just didn’t know it yet.

  The potion seemed to be protecting him from taking dangerous risks and keeping him healthy. Could’ve been what kept him from leaving, not that she wished ill on the gelding.

  She still had the little vial in her pocket.

  If something distracted him long enough, she’d pour the last of it into his cider. A small amount had worked very well. A lot should get even more amazing results.

  Her mind drifted to the previous night they’d spent making love. His hotel room had smoldered with a heat they couldn’t put out. Lord help her need to be in his arms, entangled in the sheets, hopelessly, impossibly in love. He hadn’t ridden out of her life just yet. She had a second chance. Maybe.

  She chewed her lip. After McKenna witnessed the matter with her box lunch, would he think her too damaged? Few men would want to hitch themselves to a ridiculed woman like her.

  She couldn’t offer him very many advantages beyond a ranch.

  “I’m sorry about that incident back there.”

  “You mean at the church?”

  She nodded. “If you didn’t see the majority of the town’s dislike before, you saw it blazed across the entire Panhandle.”

  McKenna gently kissed her cheek and winked. “One thing you’ll learn about me—I form my own opinion about things. Never been one to follow the herd.”

  “I admire a fearless man. More cider?” she asked.

  “Don’t mind if I do. It’s mighty good.”

  With one hand holding a wishbone, he picked up a small pebble with his left and threw it into the creek. He looked around the ground for another. Seeing her chance, she added the rest of the potion to the contents and handed it back.

  “May I ask something personal, McKenna?”

  The shadow of his dark hat hid the glisten of his eyes, but she sensed a darkening. He cleaned the meat off a wishbone and held it up. “Get the long piece and I’ll tell you anything.”

  Game for the fabled lucky charm, Tempest grasped her end and tugged. She grinned, waving the longer piece of bone.

  “Looks like you lose again, McKenna.”

  “Nothing new in my dealings with you.” He dropped the short piece of bone into the box and licked his fingers. “What is it your pretty, inquiring mind wants to know?”

  “What’s so important that you left me guarding your saddleba
gs? And what’s in Horse Creek?”

  “When I was born, my mother, and I use the word loosely, left me behind in a dirty hotel room. Lacy Lorena was an actress in a traveling show. A newborn son didn’t quite fit her lifestyle.”

  “Did they put you in an orphanage?” Her throat tightened. Damn. She struggled to swallow a hard lump, her chest aching for the unwanted baby boy.

  “An acquaintance of Lacy’s took me to raise. Martha Wren was also an actress, but she had a heart big as the sky and a stable life. I grew up around the stage. When she died early of a lung disease, I came west. Got mixed up in the Colfax County and Lincoln County wars and learned how to stay alive.”

  He jerked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair before he jammed it back on. “If there was a fight, I found it. Couldn’t abide rotten land-grabbers taking from honest folks.”

  “I can see how you became the Guardian of Justice.”

  “Someone had to do it. Reckon I appointed myself. Started hiring out my services.” McKenna parted with a wry smile. “This is a long way to get to the bunkhouse, but I’m getting there. In my hell-raisin’ days I met up with John Two Feathers. He became the father I never had. Part of me died when he recently passed on. I gave him my word I’d take his amulet and medicine bag to Horse Creek, bury them on the sacred land of his ancestors.”

  “Oh, McKenna, no wonder you guarded the saddlebags with your life.” Her heart swelled with love.

  “Yep. I’d severely hurt anyone who messed with them. Or you,” he added quietly with a measure of gritty calm.

  Not knowing how to answer or trusting her voice if words had come, Tempest’s heart swelled as she wrapped up the leftover chicken and put lids on the jars of butter pickles and beets.

  McKenna was stuffing the contents into the fancy hatbox that generally held her wedding hat when Doc, Angus Murdoch and Phinneas Jenkins approached. The three could be sold as a matched set. Where one went the other two were close behind. Tempest rose and eyed them warily, in no mood to tolerate them.

  “Mr. Smith,” began Doc. “Can we have a word?”