It was early afternoon by the time Mitch reined in his mount at the hitching post in front of the Bull's Head. The better part of his day had been spent making the rounds of trail herd camps on the range outside of town where he'd talked to more trail bosses and drovers than he cared to count. All he'd accomplished was to end up with no answers and more questions than he had when he started.
At a couple of camps, he'd found the trail bosses evasive and the drovers to be downright surly. It didn't take a brilliant legal mind for Mitch to conclude something underhanded was going on.
Upon his return to town, as tempted as Mitch had been to head directly to Katlin at the saloon, he'd gone to the room he'd secured at the Drover's Cottage before leaving town this morning. He had hoped a hot bath and change of clothes would help to relieve some of his frustrations caused by his less than productive day.
Now, after accidentally overhearing a conversation while leaving his hotel which linked the Westfield name with the trouble brewing out on the range, Mitch was feeling more frustrated than ever.
"What the hell are you up to this time, Rick?" Mitch muttered under his breath as he dismounted. He looped the reins of his Appaloosa over the hitching post then repeated the process with Katlin's mare which he'd picked up at the livery stable.
Although the Westfields were the closest thing to family Mitch had, he wasn't blind to Rick's faults nor to the old man's shortcomings. While they were growing up, he'd bailed Rick out of more scrapes than he cared to remember. Even then Mitch had known his actions had been motivated more by his desire to protect Rick's mother from worry than it was to keep the young hothead out of trouble. With Rachel Westfield's death years ago, Mitch's sense of responsibility toward Rick had ended. Rick was now a man. It was high time he began taking responsibility and accepting the consequences of his actions.
Still, for the sake of the good times they'd shared as children, Mitch couldn't help hoping he had misunderstood the conversation he had overheard. He couldn't help hoping Rick had grown up enough to become the man Rachel wanted him to be, the husband Sarah deserved, and the kind of father his child needed. If he hadn't changed, Rick would soon discover that Mitch was no longer inclined to turn a blind eye to his activities.
As much as he was looking forward to spending the evening with Katlin, Mitch couldn't help wishing they'd be spending it elsewhere. All in all, it did have the potential to be an enlightening evening.
All Mitch had to do was think about Katlin, and he found himself grinning like a love sick adolescent. Unfortunately, the stirring in his groin was never far behind. Tomorrow, Katlin KcKinnen would become his wife, and he'd finally be able to take care of his uncomfortable affliction with a clear conscience. Who was he kidding? Mitch suspected a lifetime wouldn't be enough to cure him of his desire for her.
All day long he'd been distracted, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and if Ben was able to keep her out of trouble.
When he first joined the Texas Rangers, one of the veteran rangers warned him against emotional involvements. He had claimed a ranger in love could easily end up a dead one, insisting that love dulled a lawman's instincts, clouded his focus, making him careless. Worst of all, it made him afraid of dying and leaving someone behind. Until today, Mitch hadn't recognized the wisdom behind that warning.
Since Kat came into his life, picking up the reins of the family business he'd inherited from his father was holding more and more appeal. He hadn't left home because he disliked the business. He'd left because he didn't like the man who ran it.
Mitch found Ben standing at his usual spot at the end of the bar, but he wasn't wearing his usual fancy gambler duds. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when Mitch left town this morning. In his hand was a glass of Red Eye whiskey.
Joining him at the bar, Mitch glanced toward the glass in Ben's hand before eyeing his friend speculatively. Until last night, he'd rarely seen Ben drink. When he did drink, Mitch had long ago begun to suspect the contents in Ben's glass held nothing more intoxicating than plain water or sarsaparilla. "That good a day was it?"
"It was different," was all Ben said before he tossed back his drink then signaled Tom for another, indicating that he bring Mitch one as well."
"Am I going to need a drink?" Mitch asked, feeling more uneasy by the moment. "Damn it, Ben. What happened today? Is Katlin in jail?"
Ben threw back his head and roared with laughter. Noting Mitch's frustration and the warning glint in his eyes, Ben decided to take pity on him and fill him in on the day. That is, everything except the things Katlin had made Ben promise he wouldn't share with Mitch.
"She's not in jail. But the girl does need a keeper. I hope you're up to the task, pal."
"Oh Lord," Mitch groaned. He picked up his drink wondering what Katlin had done to drive Ben to drink so early in the evening.
"Let's see," Ben began, deliberately drawing out Mitch's suspense. "We went shopping, and Katlin picked out a dress for the wedding."
"Money. Damn, I should have thought of that," Mitch interrupted.
"It's already been taken care of." Ben then proceeded to relate the incident in his office with the calculator and the price Katlin requested. Mitch was secretly pleased by Katlin's insistence on paying her own way and her refusal to take a handout from Ben.
"My mistake," Ben continued, "was in convincing her she might need to pick up a few other things. She purchased a couple of blouses at the dress shop, then decided we needed to go to Karatofsky's to try on men's britches." Mitch had a strong suspicion where the story was headed, but he was enjoying it too much to interrupt. "Actually, it went pretty well until some of the wives in the store noticed their husbands ogling Katlin with silly grins on their faces while she checked out the fit in the mirror. One of the women smacked her husband up the side of his head with her reticule and stomped up to the counter demanding britches for herself. Needless to say, the husband protested strongly, only to be smacked up the other side of his head. That's when the other women in the store decided to follow suit. Damn near caused a riot," Ben muttered.
Silently congratulating himself on his ability to keep his mirth under control, Mitch lost it with Ben's final comment. "I'm telling you, Mitch, I don't find the prospect of seeing some of the big assed females in town jiggling around in britches all that appealing."
Mitch laughed until he was forced to put his hand against the catch in his side. Then, noting Ben's grimly martyred expression, he made a real effort to control his laughter. "I'm sorry, Ben," Mitch apologized with a grin that wasn't the least bit apologetic. "But you have to admit, it could have been worse."
"Oh, it gets worse. Believe me," Ben warned, but, despite himself, he couldn't resist the rueful grin tugging at his lips. "After we left Karatofsky's, we stopped for something to eat, which proved thankfully uneventful. Though with the image of big bottoms in blue jeans in my head, I can't say I had much of an appetite. Then we saddled up and rode a piece out of town. Katlin wanted to take Bart out so he could have a good run." That was true up to a point. What he neglected to mention was the main purpose of the ride was to see Jenny safely onto the stage.
"What I wasn't prepared for was for Katlin to strip down to her unmentionables so she could run."
That sobered Mitch in a hurry. "She did what?"
"She ran."
"What the hell was she running from?" Mitch demanded.
"She wasn't running from anything. She just wanted to run."
"What in tarnation for?"
"Damned if I know. She said she ran everyday back home. Said it was good for the heart and cardiovascular system, whatever the hell that is."
At this point, Mitch didn't know whether he should be amused or pissed off at the idea of his bride stripping down to her unmentionables in front of his friend so she could run half naked across the prairie. "And you just sat there on your horse and watched?"
"Well, actually," Ben began hesitantly, not sure he wanted to confess
the most humiliating part. But he suspected if he didn't fess up, Katlin would probably say something which would make him look like even more of a fool than he already felt.
"Ben?" Mitch repeated with quiet emphasis, his tone indicating that he was not a happy ranger at that moment. "You just watched, didn't you?"
"Damn it, Mitch, what would you have done? The little minx had the audacity to challenge me, then called me a pussy."
"So you got off your horse, and you ran with her."
"You did ask me to stick close to her," Ben reminded him.
Mitch decided amusement was winning. Still slightly ticked that Ben was there to witness Katlin's scantily clad form racing across the prairie and not him, Mitch couldn't resist needling him a little. "Did you win?"
"Win what?" Ben asked.
"The race Kat challenged you to."
"She left me choking on her dust," Ben admitted with a wry grin, his own sense of humor rearing its ugly head. "What she neglected to tell me was, on these runs of hers, she tries to get in five miles a day." Without warning, both men were laughing uproariously, drawing curious looks from the customers beginning to fill the saloon.
When he was capable of speech, his hand once again holding the catch in his side, Mitch couldn't resist one final dig. "Hence the need for booze, to drown your embarrassment over being beaten in a foot race by a mere slip of a female?"
"No," Ben insisted. "It's to deaden the pain. My blisters have blisters, and I hurt in places I didn't even know I had."
Taking note of Ben's slow, deliberate movements for the first time since hearing of Kat's inclination to run, even with no one chasing her, Mitch was thankful it was Ben who Katlin had challenged.
"So, where is she now?" Mitch asked.
"She went upstairs about an hour age to have a bath. And speaking of baths, before this night is over I intend to soak in a tub of hot water and have me a good massage." It hadn't been necessary for Ben to mention the most likely place for Ben to receive those desired pleasures was at Randi's place. Mitch didn't miss the barely discernible stiffening of Ben's body and the subtle clenching of his jaw, as if he had just remembered something unpleasant. Nor did Mitch fail to note that Ben's words were tight, nearly clipped as he added, "She should be down anytime now."
After waiting all day for the pleasure of holding Katlin in his arms, he had no intention of waiting for her to come to him. Mitch felt a tingling sensation in the center of his back, a surefire warning that he was being watched. His gun hand flexed instinctively, his body tensing, he turned, ready to make his move should it become necessary. He froze when he realized the saloon had become unnaturally quiet, and every male eye in the room was focused on the stairs. His eyes were involuntarily drawn to the foot of the steps then upward until he was caught and held captive by the compelling green gaze that was trained upon him from the top of the stairs.
Mitch caught his breath, and he felt a responding tightening in his groin, as if she had the power to reach out and stroke him across the distance of the crowded room. She had left her hair loose to fall past her shoulders and down her back like a shiny curtain of vibrant red silk. Tucked into the waistband of obviously new, figure-hugging Levi's, she wore an ultra feminine blouse of fine emerald green silk which emphasized the color of her eyes. Katlin had replaced her shoulder rig with a smaller version of his own gun belt. Riding low on her right hip was a holster strapped to her shapely thigh.
His eyes rose again to clash with hers. Mitch swallowed on a gulp.
Without breaking eye contact across the room, a knowing, almost taunting, smile curved her lips. With the ever faithful Black Bart at her side, she slowly descended the stairs and walked unerringly toward him, stopping only when the tips of their boots met. Despite the fact that every table and nearly every chair in the saloon was occupied, Mitch felt as if they were the only two people in the room.
Without hesitation, Katlin placed her hands on his chest and raised her lips for a welcoming kiss. Uncaring that they were the center of attention, Mitch hastened to comply.
The sound of Ben deliberately clearing his throat jerked them, however reluctantly, back to awareness that they had an avid audience. "You two want to step on the stage and provide a real floor show?" Ben teased.
Always uncomfortable with public displays of affection, Mitch stepped back and tossed a grin in Ben's direction which could only be described as sheepish. What irritated the blazes out of Mitch was the fact that Katlin had apparently recovered from their kiss instantaneously, with no noticeable side affects, while he was forced to turn to the bar to hide the erection that was embarrassingly obvious. She calmly sidled up to the bar to stand between him and Ben and caught the eye of the bartender.
"How about a sarsaparilla, Tom?" she requested.
"Sure thing, Miss Katlin," Tom replied, then hastened to supply the nonalcoholic drink.
"Damn it, McKinnen, you should have known better," Katlin scolded herself silently. She'd spent the entire afternoon attempting to resurrect the Ice Princess, and one kiss, which she had intended to be innocent, had nearly blown to hell the control she managed to reestablish. She now found herself uncomfortably wet and sorely tempted to drag Mitch upstairs and seduce him into finishing what he'd started this morning.
Mitch watched as Katlin picked up the glass Tom had placed on the bar in front of her and took a sip. Something was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but it was there in the way she was holding herself, in her almost deliberate movements. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror behind the bar that it hit him. It was back. The emotionless mask Katlin had worn when he first met her, the mask which he had hoped never to see again was back.
Riding northwest out of Abilene, it didn't take Mitch and Katlin long to leave the town and the great masses of Texas Longhorn cattle far behind. It was as if the Kansas Pacific Railroad tracks were the end of the line and not to be crossed by the trail herds.
The day had become swelteringly hot, the air heavy and oppressive. Looking around her, Katlin wasn't able to detect the slightest breeze stirring to ruffle the tall prairie grass. Everything was so still, so silent, as if the countryside was in suspended animation waiting for something to happen. Katlin shook off the eerie sensation which tickled at her spine, telling herself she was becoming fanciful.
Katlin hadn't missed the confused glances Mitch had been casting in her direction when he didn't think she was looking. For the first time since they'd met, the silence between them wasn't a companionable one.
She'd spent the better part of the day agonizing over the knowledge she possessed. Information which could well get Mitch killed or save his life. He had a right to know, and she loved him too much to keep something so important hidden any longer. Once she'd reached the decision, Katlin had felt as if a gigantic weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Now all she had to do was find the right time to tell him.
Even so, old insecurities died hard. When she told Mitch everything she knew and suspected, would he feel he was being forced to choose between someone he saw as family and the woman who loved him? Was his love for her strong enough that they'd be able to face the potential outcome together?
The evening was going to be uncomfortable enough without the strain between them. Unwilling to allow it to continue, Katlin was more than willing to be the first one to attempt to breach the gap growing between them.
Katlin turned her head to look at Mitch, and, seeing the grim set of his lips, she found herself swallowing before asking, "What’s bothering you, Mitch?"
Mitch's hands tightened his hold on the reins as he pulled the Appaloosa to a halt. He tipped back his Stetson, pulled out his kerchief, and blotted the perspiration dotting his brow before responding. AI could ask you that same question. What happened in town today that Ben didn't tell me about?"
Reining her mare around so she was facing Mitch, she rode up so close to him their thighs touched. He'd just given her the opportu
nity she needed to tell him about Rick Westfield, but she didn't take it. There was something even more important she wanted him to understand before she dropped that particular bomb shell.
"Mitch, when I'm with you, I feel there is nothing we can't accomplish together. But when we're apart, like we were today, I can't help thinking about why I'm here and remembering there are so many obstacles against us, so many unknowns."
Katlin saw the movement of Mitch's Adam's apple and realized he'd been compelled to swallow before speaking as well. "Kat, if you're having second thoughts about us," he began reluctantly. AI won't love you less if you want to call off the wedding."
"Is that what you thought?" Katlin gasped in dismay. "Never, Mitch. The only thing I am absolutely certain of in this weird situation, is that you are the part of me that I've been missing my entire life. I love you."
Expelling a deep sigh of relief, Mitch's clenched jaw began to relax as he reached out to trace Katlin's lips with the tips of his fingers. AI feel the same way, Kat. But we can't let the what ifs spoil the time we do have." When Katlin kissed the tips of his fingers, Mitch pulled his hand back. "The truth is, darlin', no one knows what tomorrow might bring."
"That’s just it . . . I do know. About some things anyway," she explained. "Something did happen today that upset me. It made me realize that as much as I might wish it otherwise, there are some things I can't change."
"What happened, Kat?"
"Phil Coe returned to town, and Ben introduced us."
"What does Ben's partner in the Bull's Head have to do with us?" Mitch asked.
"He doesn't have anything to do with us. He has something to do with me. With the fact that I liked the man."
Mitch wasn't sure he liked the direction this was headed, but he prompted nevertheless, "And?"
"And, I know on the fifth of October a gunfight will break out on Texas Street somewhere between the Bull's Head and the Alamo Saloon. Wild Bill Hickok will shoot and kill Phil Coe." After telling Mitch this much of the story, there was no reason not to tell him the rest. "In the confusion, Hickok will turn and fire, killing his young deputy, Mike Williams, by accident."
The Bond Unbroken Page 18
