Chuck's expression was no friendlier than the last time he'd faced J.D. The only difference was some noticeable swelling and a hint of bruising on the side of his face where his older brother's elbow had struck earlier that morning.
Without preamble, Chuck said, "You're trespassing on Braedon land. And you ain't welcome here."
"Don't you get sick of spouting the same line?" J.D. said tightly. "I know I'm getting pretty sick of hearing it."
"You don't like it, quit coming around. Pretty simple solution. What's more, I really don't give two squirts of green apple shit what you're sick of."
"Appreciate it," J.D. responded, "if you'd watch your language around my wife."
Chuck sneered. "Yeah, I can see she's a real delicate flower. Packing iron just like the 'slinger all those stories claim her to be. You expect me to believe she's gunned down anywhere near the number of men she's supposed to have, yet I have to be careful of not saying a couple cuss words in front of her?"
"No, I don't expect you to believe it," Kate spoke up. "You know why? Because you look too mule stubborn and stupid to take a piece of friendly advice, that's why."
"You're right about one thing," said Chuck, both his tone and expression hardening. "I'm plenty damn stubborn. That's the real reason I'm here. I heard you two were planning to go after whoever it was shot old Sam. That's why I've been on the lookout, figuring you'd try to pick up sign where the shooting took place. Me and him"—he jabbed a finger to indicate J.D.—"have got a piece of business to finish, and I'm stubborn enough to want to get it done."
"Best be careful what you wish for, Chuck," advised J.D. "Your big brother ain't around this time to save you from getting serious hurt."
"Yeah. That's the whole idea."
Chuck swung down from his saddle. The other two men stayed where they were.
"How many kinds of fool are you?" Kate said. "You ever stop to think that the man we're going after might be the same one who killed your father? And by interfering with us—out of pride or stubbornness or whatever you're calling it—you're also interfering with us catching up with him?"
"I figure the law will take care of running down my pa's killer. If they don't, me and my brothers will see to it ourselves." Chuck wagged his head. "None of that matters to what's about to happen here."
He stepped around in front of his horse and planted his feet wide. His curled hand hovered over the six-shooter holstered on his right hip. Over his shoulder he said to the wranglers still in their saddles, "You know your role in this. I'm out for a fair fight. You two get involved only if the woman tries to join in. She does, go ahead and cut her down."
"We've already lost too much time getting started on what we came here for," said J.D. He settled into his own stance. "Ain't got none extra to waste on a jackass like you...Whenever you're ready to die, Chuck, go ahead and make your play."
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty showed in Chuck's eyes. But it was gone as quick as it had appeared and then all that was left was his determination to go through with what he'd set in motion.
The blinding-fast draw that came next, however, was from the hand of neither Chuck nor J.D.—it was Kate's Colt leaping into action. Three times the gun spoke, the shots crowded so close together it sounded like a single echoing report. All three slugs tore into the holster and gun on Chuck's right hip, ripping apart leather, spanging off the cylinder and handle of the Remington that had been secured there, jarring it loose.
The ruptured holster coughed out the gun like a sick dog upchucking a piece of bad meat. The Remington hit the dirt. Chuck staggered a half step backward, twisting slightly at the waist, reaching with both hands to clutch his hip where the destroyed holster had hung. He dropped to one knee.
Kate lifted her Colt higher, sweeping it in an arc that covered the two stunned wranglers still on their horses, then bringing it back down to where it was loosely aimed at Chuck once again. "I got three shots left, one for each of you," she announced. "I pull this trigger again, it will be with intent to kill."
Chuck lifted a hand from his hip and the palm was smeared with blood from where a bullet had ricocheted off the Remington and plowed into meat and bone. "I'm hit, boys," he wailed. "That bitch shot me!"
J.D. took a step toward him. "I warned you about swearing in front of my wife—that damn sure includes swearing at her." He swung his leg in an upward arc and drove the toe of his boot to the point of Chuck's chin. Spewing a mini-geyser of bloody spit, Chuck flopped back and down, landing heavily on his shoulders and then sprawling there, motionless.
Now J.D. spun to face Kate. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "That was my play all the way!"
"Tut-tut," cautioned Kate. "Now you're the one swearing at me."
"Because you deserve it! What right did you have to horn in?"
Before answering him, Kate wagged her Colt at the two wranglers. "Shuck your guns," she ordered them. "Then climb down and go stand over by your boss. Stand real still until I say otherwise."
The men complied, sullen-faced but without comment.
"I'm waiting for an answer," J.D. said to Kate, showing some sullenness of his own. "You had no call to get involved."
"Yes I did," Kate replied calmly. "If I hadn't, you would have killed him."
"Just as sure as the rising and setting of the sun. I left him alive the last time, and look where it got me." J.D. scowled. "Come to think on it, we're starting to make a dangerous habit of leaving too damn many people alive in our wake. We left those three jaspers alive on the ridge yesterday morning, and what did that lead to? It got us bushwhacked and then Sam ended up nearly paying with his life."
Kate's lush mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. "Okay. Maybe you're right about that part," she allowed. "But that still wouldn't have made killing this fool a smart idea. No matter what else he is, he packs the name Braedon and there's no denying that name carries a lot of weight in this valley. If you'd gunned him—fair fight or not—you know damn well that would have made things sticky for us."
"We've been there before...and still did what we needed to."
"Sure. That's fine for us. But what about Belle?" Kate's eyes searched J.D.'s face. "You and I can always ride away. Blast our way out if need be. Only Belle don't have that option. Everybody will continue seeing her as linked to us, to what we do. I don't know if she plans on staying around here or not. But whether she does or doesn't...does she need the added grief of what you gunning Chuck would heap on her?"
J.D. tried to hold Kate's eyes. But couldn't. He looked away, instead fixing a glare on where Chuck lay, still unmoving. "You two," he growled at the wranglers standing on either side of the fallen man. "Get him on his feet and then on his horse. Then the lot of you beat it the hell out of here. When he comes around, tell him that if I see him coming at me again, I'll just flat open up on him. No questions, no talk. No nothing but I put him down permanent-like."
"What about our guns?" one of the wranglers asked uneasily.
"Leave 'em. You can come back for them tomorrow...Now make dust, before I change my mind."
Chapter 15
J.D. and Kate had no trouble picking up Hiram's trail on the creek bank down at the bottom of the drop-off. It led off to the north and for the most part remained easy to follow inasmuch as it stuck closely to the meanderings of the creek. In a handful of instances, where the rippling water cut a narrow passage through upthrusts of jagged rock, the tracks would swing out wide to one side or the other, only to converge again when the creek's path ran through easier terrain.
After three hours of this, with the long shadows of evening thickening fast as the sun began to sink behind the higher peaks of the Rockies, the trackers decided on a likely spot to pitch night camp.
"You figure he's headed for some particular place," Kate asked as they stripped down and picketed their horses, "or just fleeing blindly?"
"At first I thought that—that he was just bent on getting clear of where he shot Sam and away f
rom me in case I'd given chase right away. But after this far, he should have figured out I wasn't on his heels. That being the case, I'm surprised he hasn't swung out to more open country, where he could travel easier and faster." J.D. wagged his head. "I'm beginning to reckon now that he is headed for a particular place."
"Where would that be? His familiarity with the area has to be pretty limited. How could he know a place to aim for?"
"He's been around long enough to hear talk," J.D. pointed out. "It could have even come from those two he had riding with him—we don't know where he took them on."
"You mean he may have hired them from around here?"
"Not impossible, I'd say." J.D. made a sweeping gesture with one hand. "There's mining camps all through here, all along the front range. You know what you find in mining camps...In addition to the hard-working miners, you find the dregs who flock in to try and take advantage, looking to make easy money off their back-breaking work. Gamblers, prostitutes, con artists, pick pockets and petty thieves, flim-flammers of every stripe."
Kate nodded. "Even some who'd hire out for gun work. I see what you're driving at."
"The nearest mining camp I know of to the north—the way Hiram is headed—is Silver Dog. Been around a while, ought to have considerable size to it by now." J.D. shrugged. "I ain't saying that's where Hiram hired those first two rowdies. Hell, I got no way of knowing that. But it don't really matter. Silver Dog is still a place he could have heard about. And he'd fit right in there, whether he's looking to just lay low for a while or wanting to hire some more guns to back him up."
"I guess his trail will tell the story when we pick it up again in the morning," allowed Kate. "But you've got me convinced where it probably is going to lead us. How far is this Silver Dog?"
"Only a handful of miles, if I got my bearings right. We should be there easy by noon tomorrow."
"And then what?" Kate said. "I mean, exactly what is our intent if and when we do catch up Hiram?"
"Why, we're going to stop him from going around shooting at people—namely us and those around us."
"By killing him, you're saying."
"Surest way I know of. It's what he's been asking for."
"But what about the question of whether or not he was responsible for ambushing Oliver Braedon? We kill Hiram, we'll never get the answer to that—not out of him. And we've already done for those two who were riding with him."
J.D. scowled. "Damn, girl. Don't you ever run out of questions?"
"I'm just saying there's more than tracking down and killing to take into consideration here," Kate said stubbornly. Then her own fine features darkened with a scowl. "And here's another...If we leave Hiram alive to say whether or not he killed Oliver, then that means he'll also be alive to blab about why he's in these parts to begin with. In other words, he'll reveal Belle's past in San Francisco."
J.D. looked at her. "For somebody who, in the beginning, despised Belle for being a floozy I had a tumble or two with in the past and then somebody who'd likely only married Oliver for his wealth, you're sure showing a lot of concern for her well being."
"In case you never heard, bub," Kate responded, "it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Besides, I already explained how I'm a sucker for an underdog who keeps showing spunk, even when the odds are stacked higher and higher against them. You saw how Belle barked back at the sheriff and his deputy. I wish you could have also seen how she tore into those Braedon brats and their slick-tongued lawyer when they all thought she was only going to cower and cave in to whatever they wanted...No matter what she might have been in the past, there's a lot to admire about the gal Belle is now. And I mean for us to help her through to the best results possible."
Neither of them said anything more for a minute or two.
At length, J.D. puffed out his cheeks and then released a gust of breath. "All right. You've given us plenty to keep in mind. Part of it, though, is going to come down to what kind of hand we get dealt when we catch up with Hiram. If possible, we need to try and get out of him whether or not he had a hand in shooting Oliver. But we can't take it past a sensible point of risk. He may give us no choice but to kill him...Or, if he's good enough, he may get lucky with his next ambush and take it all out of our hands, permanent-like."
Once the horses were taken care of, they set to preparing the campsite for their own needs. A fire was soon crackling, with a pot of coffee brewing over it and strips of bacon sizzling in a frying pan. While Kate was busy with the meal, J.D. spread out their bedrolls and stocked in more wood to keep the fire stoked through the coming colder hours of the night.
As full darkness settled in, they sat close together by the fire, enjoying cups of rich, strong coffee and eating the bacon along with some delicious biscuits Kate had coaxed out of the kitchen staff at the lodge. After the discussion on a final confrontation with Hiram, conversion had been sparse, each of the Blazes lost in their own tense thoughts. Now, however, with food and drink warming their stomachs and drowsiness after a long, eventful day starting to overtake them, their moods once more began to relax.
"I've got to hand it to you, J.D.," Kate said around a bite of biscuit. "You really know how to put together a relaxing vacation. We've got an already paid-for luxury suite sitting empty back at the finest lodge in the territory, and here we are getting ready to spend our night on the hard, cold ground in the middle of the mountain wilderness."
"Yeah, but look at those stars starting to shine through up there," J.D. said, gazing skyward. "By midnight, up here in this clear, thin air, they'll look so bright and shiny and close it will seem like you can reach out and touch 'em...You can't find that in no lodge suite, not even the finest one anywhere."
Kate gazed at him instead of the sky. "Will you pluck one down for me, J.D.?"
He turned his head to meet her eyes. "I sure would if I could, darlin'. I wish I could pluck great big handfuls of 'em and sprinkle them over you like the for-real diamonds you deserve."
Kate smiled a smile even more dazzling than diamonds or the stars. "What do I need with a bunch of clinking, rattling ol' diamonds? I've already got everything I want...you."
Their heads tipped together. What started as a tender, affectionate kiss soon intensified into something more.
Something much more.
They set aside their coffee cups and scooted back away from the fire, their lips parting only briefly and only as much as absolutely necessary. When they reached where J.D. had spread the bedrolls, side-by-side, they lay back, embracing.
"You are a shameless hussy," J.D. murmured against Kate's hungry lips and probing tongue as she unwrapped one of her arms from around him and unerringly moved her hand elsewhere. The fingers slipped under the waistband of his pants in front and began doing some probing of their own.
"If that was supposed to be a protest, it sounded like a mighty weak one," Kate murmured in return. "What's more, a certain part of you"—inside his pants, her hand closed around the throbbing shaft of his rock hard manhood— "seems not to be protesting at all."
"You can't pay no attention to that ol' rascal down there," J.D. told her. "You know he's never shown much in the way of good sense."
"You'd better get settled on the notion that I intend to pay a great deal of attention to 'that ol' rascal down there'. For what I want from him, good sense isn't required. Instinct will do just fine...and, if memory serves, his instincts in that department have proven just fine in the past."
As their kisses grew more heated, J.D. shifted his own hands down between their bodies in order to unbutton his pants. When he'd opened the trousers sufficiently to give Kate's busy hand more room, she began pumping him in long, increasingly insistent strokes. J.D. moved his hands back up, as far as Kate's breasts. He cupped the firm globes, thumbing their nipples through the thin fabric of her blouse and the chemise worn underneath. Kate groaned, nipples hardening immediately.
When J.D. stopped fondling her breasts and started to unbutton her blouse
, Kate pushed herself to a sitting position and then lifted her hand out of his pants to nudge away his fumbling fingers. "Let me do that," she said breathlessly. "You get your own clothes off. Hurry! Baby, I want you so bad I can't wait."
First their gun belts were hurriedly, awkwardly unbuckled and set aside. Then, in no time at all, Kate's blouse and waist-length chemise were removed. As was J.D.'s shirt. Each of the lovers displayed splendid physical conditioning. J.D. was all hard muscle, with a curly pelt of chest hair and a flat, ridged stomach. Kate was a wondrous landscape of creamy skin rising and falling in a flow of delicious hills and valleys. Her smooth, flawless skin seemed to glow silver in the moonlight. And her generous, uptilted breasts swelled proud and inviting, capped by pinkish-brown tips that jutted out, begging—no, demanding—to be kissed and tongued...which J.D. wasted no time doing, with starving, aggressive abandon.
"Oh, God! You're driving me crazy," Kate gasped.
Frantically, they began baring themselves below the waist. Both left their boots on. J.D. merely shoved down his already-unbuttoned trousers. His fully engorged member sprang free like a predator ready to strike. Because she was wearing a split riding skirt that could not be simply lifted, as a more conventional skirt or dress might have been, Kate also shoved her lower garment down, revealing a tuft of pubic hair a little darker than the lustrous blond spill that swirled about her head and face.
While his mouth clamped over one of her breasts, J.D.'s hand dove between Kate's legs. His thick middle finger found her already moist and ready as he probed with vigorous expertise.
Kate arched her back in ecstasy. "Sweet Jesus, lover man...That feels wonderful, but you know what I want down in there instead. Don't keep me waiting any longer!"
Seconds later, they were coupling with the practiced movement and rhythm of lovers who are very familiar with one another. Slowly at first, with low murmurings of affection. Then gradually faster and harder. Then at a slower pace once more, but only briefly. Finally, they built to a pounding, passionate frenzy that climaxed in an intense mutual release that left both of them gasping and sweating and spent.
Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels Page 27
