by Tamara Gill
She shoved the bedroll away and sat up. “No, I don’t know. You could what?”
He dragged his palm down his face. “I could . . . take care of you.”
“Oh, Lord.” Despite the agony on his face and the state of her body, she burst out laughing. “No, marshal, you don’t have to take care of me.” She lay back down and rolled to her side, facing away from him. “I’ll be fine. Just fine.”
“Mo chreach! Ye two sure are a couple of chatterboxes,” MacClan shouted from his spot in the corner.
***
The next morning, Anna and Wes left Jaime at the cabin and headed further into the woods to continue their search. Wes was finding it hard to concentrate after last night’s disaster. Why the hell he started what they couldn’t finish irritated him. He knew nothing about Anna, aside from the mystery surrounding her. Yet despite his natural suspicion, and years of keeping everyone at arm’s length, he’d been ready to drop his drawers and take her on the floor of the cabin like an animal. With Jaime snoring away in the corner. He must have been mad. Or possessed. Possibly Anna Devlin was a witch, and she’d cast a spell over him. He snorted, wondering how he’d gotten so tied in knots over this woman.
“You all right over there, marshal?” Anna cast him a glance, her full lips in a slight smile.
Wes took a deep breath. “About last night—”
Anna held up her hand. “No. Let’s not go there. I’m prepared to forget it, if you are.”
“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice low. “I’m not sure I want to forget it.”
With a scowl, Anna pulled up on her reins. “Well, I am. It was a mistake. We were tired, we both had some whiskey and our libidos took over.” She shrugged. “It’s all good.”
“There you go again with those words.”
“Sorry. In your lingo, our lust took over.” She grinned and pressed her heels to her horse’s side. “Better?”
Wes watched her ride away, her lush bottom in those tight trousers bringing his body back to the state it was last night. I’ve got to get away from this woman.
***
A couple of hours after they’d ridden from the cabin, they broke through the woods and entered a town. A weather-beaten wooden sign had been haphazardly nailed to a decaying oak tree.
Devil’s Dunjon – Enter At Yore Own Rysk
She shivered slightly, pretty sure this wouldn’t be her salvation, a modern town with cars, gas stations and a McDonald’s. They started down the street and she sighed. No Big Mac for her.
“Let’s stop at this café and have something to eat. Maybe someone saw the outlaws.” Wes nodded toward a small restaurant nestled between the undertaker and a saloon.
It might have been the close proximity to the saloon, or maybe even the undertaker, but the men huddled around the few tables in the café had the scruffy look of those who lived on the wrong side of the law. The men in Denton had the demeanor of cowhands and farmers, ready to start their day’s work, and then return to their families in the evening. She took in this group and shuddered, glad to have her handgun tucked into her waistband.
Wes led them to a table in the corner and immediately took the seat against the wall. This left her facing away from the room, and the police officer in her screamed, ‘turn around!’ Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her chair and set it alongside Wes, no longer presenting her vulnerable side to a bullet.
“Good move,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the room.
“Yeah?” A middle-aged woman, missing most of her teeth, with her greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail, walked up to the table.
“What’s good?” Wes asked.
“Nothin’. Whatcha want?”
Wes glanced to the table next to him, where a man bent over his plate, pushing food into his mouth. “What’s that?”
“Beef stew.”
“We’ll have two bowls of the stew. And bread.”
She shuffled away.
“Are you sure we should eat here?” Anna had to look away from their neighbor, who ran his tongue around his mouth and burped loudly.
“Everyone here seems to have no problem with the food.”
Anna leaned in closer. “Did you think maybe that’s why the undertaker is next door?”
They both jumped as the woman slammed two cracked bowls in front of them. A hunk of bread stuck out from either side of each bowl. “That’ll be fifty cents.”
Wes reached into his pocket and handed the coins to the woman. She grunted and hobbled off.
Anna ate a few bites of the stew, which had never seen a piece of beef in its life. The bread was surprisingly good, so she filled up on that. Being of a braver sort, Wes finished all of his meal.
“Now what?” Anna pushed the bowl away, and leaned her forearms on the table.
“We find the local sheriff and see if he knows anything.” He glanced around. “Although from the looks of things, that’s not a promising start, but we’ll try.”
It took them twenty minutes to find the sheriff’s office, since it wasn’t labeled, and no one they spoke with seemed clear as to where it was. Wes opened the door to a wiry man, his feet up on the desk, his hat covering his face, snoring away.
“Hey!” Wes shouted, knocking the sleeper’s feet off the desk.
“What the goddamn hell!” The man shouted, scrabbling for his gun.
Wes had his drawn and pressed against the man’s chest before his fingers reached his holster. “You shouldn’t sleep on the job.”
The sheriff raised his hands. “Whataya want? I ain’t got no money here, it’s all over at the bank.” He gestured toward the window.
Wes pushed the gun again, driving the man back. “Well, aren’t you the helpful sheriff.”
“The town don’t pay me enough to get shot at,” the sheriff groused.
“And it apparently doesn’t pay you enough to stay awake, either.”
The man shrugged as if it wasn’t a problem.
Wes shook his head in disgust, shoving his gun back in its holster. He placed his hands on his hips. “I’m Marshal Shannon from Denton. I’m tracking four men who held up the stagecoach in this area a couple of days ago.”
The sheriff waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“Well now, sheriff, I sure don’t want you to overwork yourself.” Wes glared at him.
“I told ya, I don’t get paid enough.” He stuck out a belligerent chin.
The muscle in Wes’s jaw tensed, but after a minute when the sheriff didn’t add anything more, Wes turned. “Let’s go.”
Anna had to hurry to keep up with him. “Wow. That was sure some sheriff.”
When he only grunted his answer, she added, “What do we do now?”
He turned, a glint in his eyes. “You tell me. I thought you were the trained police officer?”
“Not in this century,” she shot back without a thought. And snapped her jaw shut. Oh God, what did I just say?
Wes came to an abrupt halt and caught hold of her arm. “What?”
Anna wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Nothing.”
He grasped her chin, and turned her face toward him. “It sure sounded to me like you said not in this century.”
“You misunderstood me. I said I wasn’t trained to be a sentry.”
He contemplated her answer for a moment. “We need to start questioning some of the shopkeepers, but this conversation will resume when we get back to Denton.”
Anna shrugged. “Where do you want me to start?”
Wes nodded toward the other side of the street. “You take that side, I’ll take this one.”
When she turned to go, he reached out and grasped her arm. “Keep that gun tucked away. I don’t like the looks of this town, and the sheriff is anything but competent. If things get dangerous, come find me.”
Anna huffed. “I can—”
“Take care of yourself. I know. Just do what I said.”
She felt Wes’s ey
es on her back until she entered the dry goods store, the light tinkle of a bell announcing her arrival.
***
Wes continued to stare at Anna as she opened the door and disappeared inside. More confused than ever about the woman, he headed to the livery for what would no doubt be a huge waste of time.
After two hours of nobody knowing anything, seeing anything, or for that matter, caring about anything, Wes met up with Anna, and they headed out of town.
“I’ve never seen so many surly people in my life,” Anna grumbled as they entered the wooded area that would lead them back to Denton.
“Something about this place makes me sure our outlaws are either holed up here right now, or will be sometime soon.”
Anna glanced at him and nodded as she kicked her horse’s sides. “I imagine we’ll have to camp out tonight?”
“We can probably find another abandoned cabin.” Wes wasn’t sure spending another night with Anna under the same roof was a good idea. Determined to uncover this woman’s mystery, he also found his attraction to her disturbing. She rode beside him, the wind whipping strands of her ink black hair that she’d let hang free. Her cheeks were flushed, and a slight smile tugged at her lips. Lips that he would love to cover with his own, right before he kissed his way down that stubborn chin to the tops of her rounded breasts he’d gotten a glimpse of the day she’d arrived in that strange shirt.
He sighed and attempted to restrain his thoughts. Anna was a problem he didn’t need and he had no right to act on his attraction to her. He didn’t dare drag a woman into his dark world. Until he got himself under control, it would be best to stay as far away from her as possible.
Not goddamn likely.
The rest of the day brought them into the deep woods where they passed a couple of cabins. They’d been riding single file, and the sun setting behind them would soon disappear completely. “Let’s stop at the next cabin we see,” Wes called out to her. Anna nodded, weariness visibly dragging her shoulders down.
Within a half hour they came upon another of the squat-roofed cabins that had housed trappers years before. In front of him, Anna veered off to her left and rode up to the hut. She slid off the horse, and placing her hands on her lower back, stretched on her toes, attempting to ease her muscles. With her breasts shoved forward, her nipples stood prominent against the shirt she wore. Wes’s mouth dried up, his blood racing to his groin.
“I’ll take care of the horses.” He turned away swiftly. “Why don’t you see about getting our things inside?”
***
Anna watched Wes pull the saddlebags off his horse and drop it on the ground. He’d been in an odd mood all day, almost as if he was mad at her. She pushed open the warped wooden door and entered the cabin. If possible, this one was in worse shape than the one they’d stayed in last night. Cobwebs decorated every corner and the distinct sound of the scurrying feet of unknown small animals startled her. She gingerly moved toward the cold fireplace. Someone had left a few logs next to it. What she wouldn’t give for a good old gas fireplace that would blaze at the flip of a switch.
She spread the bedrolls on the floor and pulled out the food they’d purchased in town. Chilled, she rubbed her palms up and down her arms. With the dense forest around them, the dampness crept into her bones, bringing shivers to her body. The door opened, and Wes stood there, just staring at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Wes glanced at the bread, cold chicken, cheese, and fruit laid out on her bedroll. “Supper ready?” He attempted a smile.
Anna curtsied. “Yes, my lord. The only thing missing is champagne.”
Wes remained aloof throughout their meal, seeming to be deep in thought. Since she’d expected him to question her again about her background, it was with a certain amount of relief that they finished the meal, and settled into their bedrolls.
Anna propped herself on her hand and regarded him, lying across from her. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve been very quiet all day.”
Instead of answering her, he reached across and cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb over her lips. “I’m trying to stay away from you.”
“Oh.”
Despite his words, he scooted over and brought his mouth to hers. Her insides fluttered, and she stroked his cheek, her fingers running over the roughness of his stubble. She was lost in his scent, his warmth and taste.
He eased back and kissed each finger, his gaze never leaving hers. Anna’s breath caught and she closed her eyes, the sensual play of his lips heating her blood.
“I wish . . .”
She opened her eyes at his words, meeting his gaze, filled with longing and sadness. He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Good night.” Then to her amazement, he turned his back to her, the only sound in the room the skittering of little feet.
Anna thumped her fist on the bedroll. The man was driving her totally crazy. He heated her blood, making promises with his touch, and then drew back. If he wanted to stay away from her, she wished he would do it, and stop torturing her. She huffed and lay back down, arms crossed over her chest as she eyed the patchy ceiling. From the heavy breathing coming from Wes, he’d been left as frustrated as she.
Her weariness fought with frustration, and soon fatigue won out and she fell into a deep slumber.
It seemed only minutes later that Anna was jolted out of a sound sleep by a loud voice shouting, “No!” Her heart slammed against her chest as her eyes flew open and she shot up, fumbling for her gun.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wes tossed his head back and forth, sweat beading his forehead. He gripped the edges of his bedroll and groaned, “No. Please, sir, let her go.”
His eyes popped open, and he stared at Anna leaning over him, shaking his shoulder. “Wes. Wake up, you’re dreaming.”
He’d been back in the woods, on that terrible morning. The girl’s pleas and the sound of the grunts coming from the animal who raped her resounded inside his head in rhythm with the pounding of his heart. He sat up and ran his palm down his face, wiping away sweat.
Anna pulled her bedroll up, closer to her neck, slight shivers shaking her body.
“Are you cold?” His voice was raspy. How much had she heard? Would she be disgusted if she knew what a coward he’d been?
She hugged the bedroll closer. “A bit. More startled, I believe.” Her small hand covered his. “Are you ready to tell me about it?”
Wes shoved his cover away, then stood. “There’s nothing to tell. We all have bad dreams once in a while.”
Anna nodded. “That’s true. But this wasn’t just a bad dream. You were reliving something terrible.” She reached up and tugged on his hand. “Oftentimes it helps if you talk about it.”
He glanced down at her, the care and concern in her eyes tightening his gut. In all the years since he’d kept silent, he’d hoped for the memory to fade. But each and every time he lived through it again in his dreams, it felt as if it had happened yesterday.
Another tug from Anna and he sat, his elbows resting on his bent knees. He raked his fingers through his hair, wishing he could squeeze his skull until the memory fled.
“Where I come from, people pay other people to listen to things that are troubling them.” Anna’s voice was barely a whisper.
“In Tulsa?” Wes snorted. “Remind me once you find that place, to never go there. Everyone wailing about their miseries must make for a strange town.”
“It’s not like that.” She pulled her knees up, and rested her chin there. “These are trained professionals that patients go to. They know how to help a person deal with their problems.”
He turned to her. “Men?”
She nodded.
“Tulsa is indeed unusual. Women attend academies where they learn how to wrestle a man to the ground and hunt outlaws, and the men sit around crying about their problems.” He grinned. “No thank you. The day I have to pay someone
to listen to me talk is the day I quit chattering.”
“All right, so tell me. You’re not paying me, and I want to know what that dream was all about.” She reached over and took his hand. “Please?”
Despite her talk of men from her imaginary place, he didn’t want to watch the concern in her eyes turn into loathing when he told her his story.
“Please?”
He stared at her for a minute. How he wished he could unburden himself. Not to seek forgiveness, because there was none, but the peace of saying the words out loud, letting them leave his mouth, flee his mind.
Wes closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Years ago, at the end of the war, I witnessed the rape and murder of a young girl.”
A slight intake of breath was the only reaction Anna gave him.
“Go on.” She nodded.
Wes stood and paced. He started out slow, describing the girl, her terror. Within minutes the words burst forth, stumbling over each other, disjointed. He couldn’t stop himself now if someone put a gun to his head. All the agony of the girl and the revulsion he’d felt washed over him, sending fire to his gut, and drops of sweat to trickle down his chest and back.
Once again his nightmare stood front and center. The way the woods smelled, the whimpers of the girl, the grunts of his commanding officer. And, the final sound that lived in his mind for years. A single gunshot to the girl’s head that had echoed in the still morning.
Eventually, the words lessened to a trickle. The heat in his middle turned to an icy lump of fear. Now he had to face Anna. This brave, although reckless, woman. He would see coldness in her eyes as she realized what a coward he truly was. Any respect she’d gained for him would be lost. True to his cowardly nature, he kept his back to her, facing the rising sun peeking over the windowsill.
He jumped when he felt her warm hand on his arm.
“Wes?”
His muscles tightened, but he didn’t turn. Not to be thwarted, she scooted around him, and cupped his face in her hands. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “You don’t understand.”
“Of course I do. How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
