The Bond Unbroken

by Bond unbroken (NCP) (lit)

  "It wasn't necessary to show you these things, Mitch. You had more compelling physical evidence to convince you."

  Ben's eyes rose reluctantly from the photograph to meet Katlin's gaze. "This is . . . ."

  "My Uncle Ben, your great great grandson and name sake." Katlin's wistful smile was as much for the man in the photograph as it was for the man behind the desk. "The photograph was taken about five years ago, so he would have been forty-five years old at the time."

  "This is insane," Ben muttered to no one in particular.

  "That it is," Mitch agreed heartily as he reached down and picked up the case containing her badge and identification. "I'm still having trouble accepting it all myself, but I can't ignore all the evidence. And all the evidence points to the fact that she is really your niece, from over a hundred and twenty years in the future."

  Giving Ben a little time to absorb everything, Katlin returned to the chair, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Never being much of a drinker, she was sure the alcohol was responsible for the sudden bone weary tiredness which seemed to drag her down. "I'll just close my eyes for a minute and let the men sort everything out between them," she told herself.

  Katlin didn't know how long she had been asleep, not long she was sure, but she woke with a start to find Mitch and Ben arguing.

  "She's my niece, and she's staying here," Ben insisted.

  "Like hell she is," Mitch countered.

  "I have a family responsibility to see that Katlin is protected."

  "An hour ago you thought we were both loco, and now you think you have the right to play heavy handed guardian?"

  Katlin kept her eyes closed, listening to the heated exchange, knowing she would have to intercede if it got out of hand.

  Ben sighed in frustration. "Look Mitch, unlike you, I haven't had several days to come to terms with all this. The simple truth is, with all the trail herds that have arrived in town, all the decent hotels and boarding houses are full up. You'll be lucky to find one available room much less two. And I'm telling you now, my niece is not sharing a room with you."

  "That isn't your decision to make." Mitch insisted.

  "Maybe not," Ben agreed. "But with no other family here to protect her honor, I'm it."

  "Next you'll be asking me what my intentions are," Mitch accused with a laugh that held no mirth.

  "The thought had crossed my mind."

  "And I'm telling you, it's none of your damn business."

  "I'm making it my business."

  Katlin was preparing to rip into both men who were behaving as if she had no say in the matter when Mitch laughed. "Hell, Ben, this whole situation is making me crazy."

  "That's understandable," Ben agreed. He was questioning his own mental stability at the moment. Then, remembering the part of Mitch's story that had almost caused him to lose control, he had to ask, "You were really riding a headless horse?"

  Mitch chuckled, a deep resonate sound that made Katlin feel warm all over. "It was the strangest thing I've ever seen. You know me, Ben. I don't scare easily, but I don't mind admitting, I was scared witless. And Kat was calm, cool, and collected, as if things like that happened to her every day."

  "Which brings us back to our problem," Ben pointed out. "We both agree that Katlin needs to be where one of us can watch out for her. Am I correct?"

  "Agreed."

  "She's already told the marshal she's my niece come to visit. With the hotels full up, everyone will expect her to stay right here in the Bull's Head, in the room my brother Billy uses when he's in town."

  Mitch looked over at Kat, sleeping peacefully, sitting up in the big leather chair. He'd lost count of the drinks she'd belted down. Considering all she had been through, he couldn't say he blamed her. In her position, he'd want to get drunk too. In fact, it was an almost irresistibly tempting idea, except for the fact that persons unknown were gunning for him. If he wanted to stay alive, he needed to stay alert.

  Ben was right. The safest place for Kat to stay was right here at the saloon. There were few men living who would knowingly cross Ben Thompson by doing harm to his niece. That didn't mean he had to like the idea of leaving her here. Mitch didn't doubt that Ben would protect Kat with his life. What concerned him was, who was going to protect Katlin from Ben?

  "I don't like the idea of Katlin staying at the saloon any more than you do," Ben said, intruding into Mitch's thoughts. "A saloon is not a respectable place for a lady, but, under the circumstances, it is the wisest choice."

  Katlin took Mitch's resigned sigh to be his reluctant agreement to Ben's insistence that she stay in his brother's room. She continued to feign sleep only because she went along with the idea. With Ben she had immediately felt the same comfortable warmth and security she had felt with her uncle. With Mitch she spent most of her time wanting to be in his arms with his lips on hers, leaving her feeling frustrated, unsettled, and more than a little frightened by the power he had over her senses and emotions. The possibility of sharing a room with him left her in no doubt as to how the night would end.

  Katlin freely admitted she had fallen helplessly and hopelessly in love with Mitch. For her peace of mind, she needed to put some thinking space between them. She had a job to do here, and she couldn't allow her own wants and needs to interfere.

  Listening to the approach of Mitch's booted footsteps against the wooden floor, Katlin was nevertheless startled to find herself lifted into his strong arms. Her slightly glazed eyes opened to lock with his.

  "Time for bed, darlin'," Mitch told her with a heart stopping smile.

  Lord, didn't she wish . . . instead, she began to struggle in his arms. "Put me down, Mitch. I'll go to bed when I'm damn good and ready."

  Katlin's lips said one thing, her eyes told him something else, and, if Bart's warning growl hadn't brought him to his senses, Mitch knew he would have kissed her, despite the fact that Ben was watching. Not for the first time, Mitch was grateful for the dog's intervention. Maybe he didn't have to worry so much about leaving Katlin here after all. He'd forgotten how diligent the hell hound was in his duty to protect Katlin. If Ben or anyone else got out of line, they would get more than they bargained for.

  Mitch removed his arm from beneath Katlin's legs, allowing the lower part of her body to slide against his until her feet touched the floor. He held her against him until he was sure she was steady on her feet, leaving no doubt in Katlin's mind of the effect her body against his was having on him. Where Kat was concerned, the damned thing had a mind of its own.

  Unwilling to allow Ben to see the evidence of his desire for the woman in his arms, Mitch turned and walked from the room, slamming the door behind him with a resounding smack that vibrated the windows.

  * * * *

  Looking around the room on the second floor of the saloon, Katlin found it surprisingly charming, in a bed and breakfast sort of way. There was a full-size four poster bed made of genuine oak with a feather tic mattress covered by a handmade quilt that would bring a small fortune in her own time. Against one wall was an oak armoire with a lock in which Ben had stored everything that should not be seen by prying eyes. Next to that was a dresser with a mirror on which sat a lovely ceramic water pitcher and matching wash basin, hand painted with a delicate leafy green vine. In the corner, next to the fireplace, sat a green cloth covered overstuffed chair with matching foot stool. At the opened window hung gauzy lace curtains which let in a gentle evening breeze.

  Eyeing with longing the lightweight copper bathtub which Ben had ordered one of his men to fill, Katlin shook her head. "I won't take your room, Ben. The one next door is fine."

  "It's a done deal. My things have already been moved," Ben insisted. This was one of the few times in his life that he was determined to be a gentleman, and he wasn't going to let her change his decision. "The door to this room is sturdier and the lock more secure. Besides, everyone knows this room is mine, and no drunk is likely to stumble in here looking for one of the girls. I'll rest ea
sier with this arrangement."

  The hot bath waiting so temptingly and the thought of the cozy bed won the argument with her conscience. She'd been through too much in the past couple of days, and she was so tired she could barely think straight. There would be time enough to try to sort things out tomorrow when she had the energy to be Miss Controlled.

  Without reason, she started to giggle. Finding herself in Mitch's arms down in Ben's office, with the evidence of his arousal pressed against her, the Ice Princess had melted into a huge puddle on Ben's office floor. Katlin closed her eyes and pressed her hand to the spot where she could still feel his erection pressed against her, as if the impression had been branded into her with a hot iron.

  "Kat, how many drinks have you had?" Ben asked with a grin.

  "I lost count," she answered, moving to the decanter on the table beside the bed to pour herself another.

  "You're drunk, darlin'."

  "Not drunk, Ben. It's jet lag," she responded. If one suffered from jet lag by crossing mere time zones, surely the muddled state she was in could be excused after crossing one hundred and thirty plus years. Still, part of Katlin recognized the truth in Ben's words. She'd never been much of a drinker, she hadn't eaten since early afternoon, and she'd already had four, maybe five whiskeys.

  Although confused by many of the terms Katlin had used during their long conversation after Mitch left his office, he'd been able to figure most of them out. This jet lag sounded like some disease he'd never heard of. "Jet lag? Are you ill?" Ben asked with obvious concern.

  "No," she chuckled. "Jet lag is a term we use for the fatigue you feel after you fly a great distance."

  "That one is pushing credibility a bit too far," he said with a skeptical grin. "You expect me to believe that people in the future can fly?"

  "Actually, we do, but not the way you're thinking. I haven't told you about airplanes yet, have I?"

  "No you haven't, but I don't think you're up to a lengthy explanation at the moment." As much as he would like to hear how she would explain that one, Ben recognized that she was plumb tuckered out. He also wanted to know how Mitch Cameron fit into the scheme of things. She'd closed up, refusing to discuss Mitch. If and when she chose to talk about it, he'd be ready to listen. What Katlin needed now was something to eat and a good night's sleep. He already knew her well enough to suspect she'd be back in control tomorrow.

  "Why don't I take Bart and go get us all something to eat?" At the word eat, Bart was at his side in a flash.

  Just the thought of food caused Katlin's stomach to lurch. She sat the glass in her hand aside and went to the armoire. After rummaging around in her food supply, she came up with a couple of packages of crackers with peanut butter in between and a small package of dehydrated mixed fruit.

  Holding up the only dinner she felt her stomach would tolerate, Katlin insisted, "Don't worry about me. All I want is my bath and bed."

  "You're sure? You really should eat more than that."

  "Playing Uncle Ben to the hilt are we?" she asked, amused yet secretly pleased by his concern. "But," she added, "Bart does need to go out for a while, and he can always eat."

  "Okay, you win," Ben conceded. She was clearly exhausted. Considering what she had been through the past couple of days, Ben thought she had coped extremely well. He didn't think he could have handled the situation with as much courage and acceptance. Who was he kidding? He knew he couldn't. As for her tying one on, in her place he'd have found himself several bottles and stayed drunk for a week.

  "Looks like it's you and me, pal," Ben told the dog, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. Besides, he had some business to attend with his old friend, Mitch Cameron. Not the least of which was to personally deliver a friendly warning. Ben walked to the door connecting their two rooms, turned the key, and removed it from the lock.

  Pausing in front of her, Ben extended the key toward her. Katlin took the key from his hand. "Lock the door after me," Ben instructed as he went out the door into the hallway, her dog at his heels.

  Katlin went to the door and knew he was standing on the other side waiting for the sound of the key turning. The key turned with a distinctive click. "Satisfied . . . Uncle Ben?" she asked through the door. She heard his deep chuckle before his booted footsteps retreated down the hallway.

  Realizing she was more than a little unsteady on her feet, she leaned back against the door with a sigh. This was the first time she'd been totally alone in days. She looked longingly toward the bed, then toward the tub, knowing if she didn't take her bath soon, the water would be cold. She was sure she smelled like horse, mingled with the scent of cattle that seemed to permeate everything in Abilene.

  Katlin retrieved her scented bath soap, deodorant, tooth brush and tooth paste, her shampoo, and her moisturizer from her back pack before she went to the oil-filled lamp Ben had showed her how to light. She turned down the flame until the room was bathed in a soft warm glow. Like her twentieth century food supply, her cosmetic luxuries wouldn't last long. She would have to use them sparingly in order to make them last as long as possible. Picking up her drink, she carried it with her to the dresser where she washed and moisturized her face and brushed her teeth. It was a known fact that women aged rapidly in these harsh times. After spending days on horseback with the sun and wind on her face, it already felt as dry as an apple that had been left on the tree too long.

  Carrying her drink with her to the tub, she couldn't resist the giggle bubbling up inside of her, "1871, mouth wash." Sitting the glass on a table within easy reach, she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the tub. The water had cooled some, but it was still blissfully warm.

  * * * *

  Mitch stopped in the alley behind the Bull's Head and looked up toward Ben's room, noting the soft light at the window. Ben had been right about the availability of rooms in town. He'd been lucky to find one flea bitten less than clean room in a less than reputable boarding house not far from the bawdy houses just outside of town. It was definitely no place for Kat to stay, and, since he planned to spend his nights at Randi's Place, the condition or location of his actual room didn't really matter. He had, however, left word at the Merchant's Hotel and the Drover's Cottage to put him down for the first available room.

  He pulled his cigarette makings from his pocket, poured a small amount of Bull Durham tobacco onto the paper, rolled, and sealed it with the tip of his tongue. He pulled the lighter Kat had given him from his pocket and, after a couple of failed attempts, managed to get it lit. Shielding the flame with his cupped palm, he lit the end of his smoke and inhaled deeply. Watching the white smoke rise as he exhaled, he followed the misty cloud until his eyes settled on the window of the room next to Ben's. No light. Considering the drinks Kat had downed, she was no doubt out cold by now.

  He needed to talk to Ben alone, to see if he had any information regarding his father's murder and the bounty on his head. If he were honest, any information Ben might have could wait until tomorrow. His curiosity about how things had gone between Ben and Katlin after he had left them alone together wouldn't. Did Ben actually see her as a member of his family and as such off limits? He supposed it was possible, but somehow he doubted it. Katlin was just too damned beautiful and too much of a temptation for her own good. What amazed Mitch was the realization that Kat was totally unaware of the effect she had on men. Which brought him back to Ben. The worst case scenario would be if Ben's interest in Kat had become something other than what an uncle should feel toward his niece. At best, if he saw her as his niece, Ben's protective instincts could probably get ugly.

  When Bat Masterson was quoted as saying, "It was doubtful that there was another man living who could equal Ben Thompson with a gun in a life and death struggle," he hadn't been exaggerating. Mitch had seen Ben in action, and, although he was fast himself, he wouldn't want to put his speed to the test against his friend.

  He would just pay Ben a little visit and see what direction the wind was blowing
. The way he figured it, Ben was probably expecting him anyway. His visit would also serve another purpose. If Ben were in his room, Randi would most likely be free for the rest of the night. If she couldn't scratch the itch that had been plaguing him for the past two days, no one could. Well, there was someone else who could, but that wasn't an option at this point.

  Mitch dropped the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with his booted foot as he carefully scanned the alley. When he was sure there was no one around, he walked to the back of the building and pushed on the fourth wood panel from the end. The panel gave beneath his hand, and he slipped through the opening of Ben's secret exit. Once the panel closed behind him, he reached for the rail on the stairway which would take him up to Ben's room.

  * * * *

  Katlin had drifted into her old familiar dream. She was bathing in a pond beneath a full moon which bathed the night in a warm glow. The water, reflecting the light, shimmered and sparkled around her nude body. Stars filled the night sky, and lightning bugs twinkled all around, giving this special place a magical quality . . . as she waited for her lover . . . for Matthew.

  Then he was there. She stood in the center of the pond, water only to her waist as she watched him remove his clothing. The sight of him never failed to send her senses spiraling out of control. He was a man who could have been sculpted by a sexually frustrated female artist in the throes of an erotic sexual fantasy. He was tall, dark, and well muscled. His face was heart stoppingly handsome, yet his features were strong, finely etched for the most erotic effect.

  Matthew walked into the water, looking more predator than lover as he moved toward her. The cool night breeze rippled over the water beading her breasts, hardening her nipples in readiness for his touch. Despite what the world might say, there was no sin to their joining. He was her love, her heart, her soul mate through lifetime after lifetime. Without him, she would be doomed to wander eternity a mere shell of a woman with the most vital part of herself missing.