Circle Star

by Tatiana March

  “I doubt he could read,” Susanna called out, her voice fully restored.

  Garrett was holding up a silver pocket watch that he had found in the bigger outlaw’s pocket. “No engraving,” he commented. “Nothing to identify them. Nothing to tie them to Hartman. Professionals. Gunslingers.”

  “Wait.” Susanna drew away from Connor’s embrace, and he let her go. Without rising to her feet, she clambered over to the bigger man. Using both hands, she pulled his coat open and yanked the shirt out of the waist of his pants.

  “Silk,” she said as she slid her fingers over the snug garment that covered his torso. “Dr Jameson said many professional gunfighters wear silk underwear.” Her hands grew still. An odd expression flickered across her face, surprise and awareness at the same time, and Connor knew she had finally pieced it all together in her mind.

  Her voice was almost too low to hear. “You knew they’d come…?”

  Connor nodded. Tension knotted inside him as he saw the flare of accusation in Susanna’s eyes. “You used me,” she said. Her voice had gained an edge. “You used me as bait. You knew they’d take me hostage if they saw me riding alone in the desert.”

  The doubts that had haunted Connor for two weeks while he mulled over his plan flooded back. He couldn’t bear to look at her. Remaining in a sitting position on the ground, he took out one of his guns. He rotated the cylinder to shake out the empty shells and inserted new cartridges that he fished out of his coat pocket.

  “Used you as bait?” He spoke harshly to cover up his guilt.

  “Yes.” The word came out equally harsh.

  “What were my orders to you?”

  “That I must not follow you,” Susanna replied, still belligerent, but Connor could hear a trace of resignation creeping into her tone.

  “And did you promise to obey my orders?”

  “Yes,” Susanna said with a heavy sigh. “All right. I disobeyed your orders.” She peered at him from the corner of her eye. “But you knew I would…didn’t you?”

  Connor took out his second gun and repeated the process of reloading. “I was certain you’d not be in any danger,” he told her. “I’ve seen how Hartman looks at you. He’d have made it clear to the men that you were not to be harmed.”

  Crouching on her heels, Susanna picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed it at a lizard that had darted out to investigate the blood seeping into the sand. “I heard them say they wouldn’t get paid if they harmed me,” she admitted.

  Finished with his guns, Connor stood. He walked over to Susanna and reached down a hand to help her up. She seemed steadier on her feet than he had expected. He placed the edge of his hand beneath her chin to tip her head back and searched her face.

  “Tell me something,” he said. “You don’t seem terrified. Part of me fears that you’ve retreated into a fragile numbness that might shatter any moment.”

  Susanna lowered her gaze, dark lashes hiding her expression. “I was never truly afraid.” She looked up again, her eyes meeting his. “I knew that you’d never let any harm come to me,” she told him softly. “I knew you’d rescue me.”

  Connor touched her cheek. Her words sent a ray of light into the dark corners of his mind where the ugly memories lurked. “And am I forgiven, then?” he asked. “If there had been any other way, I wouldn’t have used you…”

  “You’re forgiven.” Susanna flashed a defiant look at him. “But if you think this will serve as a lesson that I must always obey your commands, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “I know,” Connor said drily and bent to press a kiss on her lips.

  Garrett’s amused voice called out to them. “Boss, if you are done courting your wife, we’re ready to go.”

  Connor lifted his head and took a survey of the scene around him. While he had been preoccupied with Susanna, Pete had captured the gunmen’s horses and Ramirez and Garrett had hauled their bodies onto the animals. Admiring the silver-studded saddle, Ramirez had insisted that they lift the bigger man on the taller horse, even though it required more effort, to avoid smearing blood on the fine leatherwork from the open wound on the smaller man’s chest.

  “Which horse do you want to take?” Pete asked, holding both Brutus and Santiago.

  “We’ll take Brutus and ride double,” Connor told him. “You can take Santiago to the blacksmith at the same time as you take the bodies to the sheriff in Cedar City.” He reached out to stroke Brutus on the nose. “Find out where those gunmen were staying and search their hotel rooms for any evidence to link them to Hartman.”

  Susanna caught his arm. “Connor?”

  He turned to look at her. “Yes?”

  “Did you take Santiago away on purpose?”

  “Yes,” he said. “For the men to capture you, the most likely way was for them to shoot the horse from under you, and I didn’t want you to lose Santiago. That’s why I told Gomez to put you on Clown.”

  “Thank you.” Susanna hesitated. “My father…I keep wondering…”

  “No,” Connor said sharply. “There’s no way your father’s death could have been anything but natural. He was not alone, and where he died there’s clear view all around. No one could have crept up on him with violence in mind.”

  “I’d like to see the place, to put my mind to rest.”

  He gestured at her dirty clothing. “Don’t you want to go home and take a bath?”

  “It’s not a big detour. If you think it’s safe to split up from the others, I’d like to see where my father died.” Her chin jutted up. “And, considering what I’ve just been through, I believe you have an obligation to grant my request.”

  Connor lifted his eyebrows. “An obligation to grant your request—is that’s a fancy way of saying that I must give you what you want?”

  Back to Contents

  Chapter Sixteen

  If there ever had been a time to give in to Susanna’s whims, Connor decided it was now. He mounted on Brutus, and waited for her to climb up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his torso, holding on tight. Pain sliced through his chest. Pretending to be adjusting the gun belt around his hips, he nudged her grip lower, to his waist where she wouldn’t aggravate his wound.

  “My gun,” Susanna said. “I almost forgot.”

  “Did you drop it somewhere?” Connor asked.

  “I didn’t drop it. Morrison shot it out of my hand.”

  Connor felt his mouth go dry. Fortunately, Susanna was sitting behind him and couldn’t see his face turn ashen. “He shot at you?”

  Susanna sounded smug. “I shot at him first.”

  Connor closed his eyes. He didn’t want to know. She was safe, her arms around him, her warm body pressed to his back. Safe. That’s all that mattered now.

  They rode a short way along the river, to where Clown lay. Three vultures clacked and flapped around the carcass, flying up with angry screeches as they approached. Connor circled upwind and brought Brutus to a stop twenty yards away. He could feel the horse tense beneath him, aware of a fallen comrade, even when the breeze swept the smells of blood and death the other way.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Connor crooned and stroked the horse’s neck.

  “I’ll go find my gun,” Susanna said, and slid down before Connor had a chance to protest. He pulled out one of his Colts and kept an eye on the landscape while Susanna scoured the ground.

  “Got it,” she called out. She crouched down to pick up something from the dust, hurried back and halted beside Brutus, turning the big silver Remington over in her hands. Puzzled, she looked up at him. “It seems undamaged. Just a scratch on the barrel. Is that possible?”

  “If the bullet just nicked it out of your grip.” Connor put out his hand. When Susanna gave him the weapon, he shook out the empty shell and the remaining bullets, then lifted the revolver to his ear. He cocked the hammer, pulled the trigger and repeated the action on every chamber. It sounded smooth. He spun the cylinder. It rolled freely. He took aim, staring down the barrel.
r />   “Seems fine,” he said. “We’ll test it later, to make sure it shoots straight.”

  “Great,” Susanna said with an air of supreme delight.

  Connor handed back the weapon. He’d almost hoped it had been ruined so he could persuade her to replace it with a small ladylike Derringer, but on second thoughts, if his wife insisted on carrying a gun and shooting at outlaws, it was better that she had something powerful enough to do the job.

  Susanna slotted the gun in the holster at her hip and climbed back up behind him. “Are you sure it’s safe to separate from the others?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Connor replied, trusting his instincts. “It’ll take a day or two before Hartman learns his hired killers are dead. Once he discovers what happened, he’ll have to lay low while the sheriff conducts an investigation. Even if Hartman escapes prosecution, he won’t dare to try anything again for a long time.”

  Connor kept Brutus to a slow walk as they made their way through the arid landscape, to the north ridge, two miles away. The well he had finished only weeks ago had flooded out to make a small pond between the barren hillocks. Muddy, fertile scents mixed in with the dry desert breeze. A coyote slunk away from the water’s edge, and other animal prints formed trails in the mud.

  An oasis of life, where a month ago there had been nothing. The precariousness of existence hit Connor with a force that drove all other thoughts out of his mind. He was alive. Susanna was alive. But a small quirk of fate an hour ago might have left one or both of them dead.

  When they came to a halt, Susanna slid down from the horse without waiting for him to assist her. She stood with her back to Brutus, letting her gaze sweep the hillside. Connor used her moment of inattention to dismount. The physical demands of the day had taken their toll, and his movements were stiff, betraying the pain he wanted to hide from her.

  He left Brutus with a ground tie and went to stand beside Susanna. Her lips were trembling, and she made a muffled sound, like a sob. It seemed to Connor that the stress and horror of the abduction and the gunfight might finally be catching up with her.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and hauled her close against him on his good side. “It’s all right,” he told her. “You can cry. You’ve been through a lot today.”

  “It’s not that.” She pulled off her glove and dashed away a solitary tear with the back of her hand. “I miss my father. I wish I hadn’t left him. I wish I remembered him better. I wish he hadn’t died. I wish my mother were here. I wish she had never left the ranch and I could have grown up with both my parents.”

  “You carry your father in your heart. That’s all that matters.” Connor reached down to stroke the loose tendrils that fluttered around her face, tucking the dark strands behind her ears.

  Susanna darted a glance up at him. “Did you carry me in your heart when you went away?”

  “Always,” he told her. “Every day while we were apart. I never let you go.”

  “I never let you go either.” She tilted her face up to him, the green eyes bright with unshed tears. “Make love to me, Connor. Right here, where my father died.”

  “What?” His brows drew together. “Down on the ground?”

  “Yes.” Susanna started to unbutton her coat.

  “You’ll burn your skin,” he warned her.

  “I don’t care.”

  “We’re out in the open.” But even as he argued against the idea, he understood what drove her. After a narrow escape from death, the urge to reaffirm life ruled stronger than anything else. He felt it too—the need to share passion, the need to bury himself in her soft warmth and feel the most intensely alive that a human being can feel.

  Susanna pushed aside his arm on her shoulders. Turning to face him, she waved one hand in a big arch. “We can see for miles around. We’d know if anyone came.”

  “I can’t take my weight on my arm yet.”

  She hesitated. “Is that why you’ve been keeping away from me at night?”

  “Partly.” He avoided her eyes. “And partly I needed to concentrate on my plan to trap the killers. I needed to keep aloof. Otherwise I would never have found the courage to risk your safety. And…” He let his words trail away.

  “And what?” she pressed.

  “I’m scared to have so much.” He stole a quick glance at her, then locked his gaze on the horizon. He’d been struggling to make sense of the anxiety that gnawed inside him—had gnawed inside him ever since Susanna had found him and brought him back to Circle Star. Now those shadowed fears took a clearer shape in his mind.

  “In the beginning, I was so intent on fighting against loving you that I didn’t really stop to think. Then things got better between us, and I got scared.” Connor released a long breath. “Every time I’m happy, something goes wrong. My parents were killed. Then I left Circle Star and lost you and the new home I had found.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “No. It was my fault. I should have stayed.”

  “I never intended to say anything to my father.”

  He turned to face her. Lifting his hand, he dragged his thumb over the soft curve of her bottom lip. “What do you think would have happened if you had?” he asked. “Do you think he would have thrown me off Circle Star the way you threatened?”

  Susanna sniggered. “Are you crazy? This is a man’s country, and my father adored you. He wanted us to be together. He would have said: Son, don’t you see that she’s a bit too young to appreciate your efforts? Leave it for a year or two and try again. Then he would have laughed at the pair of us behind our backs.”

  “I think that’s the biggest part of what’s making me so frightened. It overwhelms me to know that your father wanted you to marry me. That he trusted me enough to make me responsible for your happiness and safety. I’m scared of failing his trust.”

  Susanna drew back from him and finished unbuttoning her coat. “You’re not going to fail him,” she said in a light tone that emphasized her lack of doubt. “This morning, you proved that you can keep me safe, and now you’re going to show how much you love me.” She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and crouched to spread the coat on the ground. “I want to make love here. This is where my father took his last breath. This is where his spirit lingers. I want him to know that we are together, just as he wanted us to be.”

  Holding his left arm rigid, Connor peeled away his coat and laid it down beside hers. He could see Susanna watching him, her eyes shining in anticipation. “I want you to keep your hat and shirt on,” he told her. “That way, you won’t burn.”

  He undid his pants and pushed the fabric down his legs. Then he lowered himself to sit on top of the coats. When he had settled comfortably on the ground, his legs extended out before him, Susanna tugged off her boots and pants and cotton drawers. Wearing only her chemise and shirt and her wide brimmed hat, she stood above him, her face flushed as she waited for him to tell her what to do.

  “Kneel down over me.” His voice was husky.

  A knowing smile spread on her lips as she glanced down at his jutting erection and understood. Nimble and agile, she straddled him, propping one hand on his shoulder and reaching the other hand down between their bodies to guide him as she folded her knees and lowered herself over him.

  “Oh God, Susanna,” he muttered. “You’re making me feel like my heart is going to break apart. I can hardly bear it.” He reached his hands up along her back, curling his fingers on top of her shoulders to ease her deeper down over him.

  “Never let me go,” Susanna whispered into his ear.

  “I’ll never let you go,” Connor replied.

  She started to rise and fall over him, almost leaving him bereft and then nudging him back inside and sliding down again. He released his hold on her shoulders and swept his hands down to her waist, guiding her, lifting her, then letting her sink down again.

  “I’m riding,” she said. “When I was a child, I always wanted to ride a unicorn. This must be it.” In the shadows benea
th the brim of her hat, Connor could see a dreamy, passionate look on her face—lips parted, lashes lowered, cheeks flushed.

  He smiled. “This unicorn would like you to speed up a little.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, a deep, hungry kiss. Slowly, she began to flex and tighten her muscles around him, driving him to the brink of insanity.

  “What in God’s name are you doing to me?” he groaned.

  “I’m making love to you.” She reared up and slammed down hard over him, again and again. Heat pooled inside him, hotter and stronger, lifting his senses until he had no choice but to ignore the pain of his injury and move with her. Flexing his hips, he strained to meet her, rising and falling at the same time.

  “Soon,” he told her. “I can’t hold off much longer.”

  Susanna threw her head back. He felt her inner muscles tighten again, gripping him, stroking him, and then his mind exploded as she came down over him one final time.

  They held each other tight until the ripples of passion had faded away and their bodies grew still. Susanna leaned back and lifted her chin to look at Connor. He studied her features, his hands splayed over her spine, supporting her.

  “Do you think your father was watching?” he asked.

  Susanna smiled. “He might have averted his eyes a little, I hope.”

  “What do you think he’d say?”

  Lowering her pitch, Susanna imitated her father’s booming voice. “I’ll be damned if at that rate I won’t have myself a grandchild soon.” She nestled her face against Connor’s shoulder. “That’s what I think he would say.”

  Connor tightened his arms around her. “I had hoped you might already be….”

  She wiggled her hips against him, and to his surprise Connor felt himself growing hard inside her again. “You just keep at it,” she told him, laughter in her voice. “The harder you try, the more likely you’re to succeed.”

  He laughed out loud, a small chuckle of reminiscence. “That’s what you father used to say when he made me read all those books and newspapers.”