Only You

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “I didn’t see any new graves when I passed by Canyon City’s graveyard on the way in, but you said the Lyons were killed by Raleigh King.”

  Eve said nothing in response to the implied question.

  “You know, gata, sooner or later I’m going to break you of lying.”

  “I’m not a liar,” she said tightly. “I buried the Lyons at our campsite.”

  “When?”

  “Last week.”

  “How?”

  “With a shovel.”

  With a speed that startled Eve, Reno straightened and grabbed one of her hands. After a single look at her palm, he released her.

  “If you handled cards that deftly with a mess of broken blisters,” Reno said, “I’d hate to take cards in a game with you when your hands heal.”

  Saying nothing, Eve went back to tending breakfast.

  “You should wash them with soap and hot water,” Reno added.

  Startled, Eve looked up. “The biscuits?”

  He smiled unwillingly.

  “Your hands. Jessi says washing wounds prevents infections.”

  “I washed before I went to bed last night,” Eve said. “I hate being dirty.”

  “You used lilac soap.”

  “How did you know? Oh, you found it when you searched my saddlebag.”

  “No. Your breasts smelled like spring.”

  A wash of pink went up Eve’s cheeks. Her heart turned over as she remembered the feel of Reno’s mouth on her breasts. The fork she had been using on the bacon jerked, and hot grease spattered on the back of her hand.

  Before the pain of it registered on Eve, Reno was there, looking to see how badly she had burned herself.

  “You’re all right,” he said after a moment. “It will smart for a bit, that’s all.”

  Numbly she nodded.

  He turned her hand palm up and looked at the abraded skin once more. Silently he took her other hand and glanced at the palm. There was no doubt that her hands had been hard used, and recently.

  “You must have worked a long time to chew up your hands like that,” Reno said.

  The unexpected gentleness in his voice made Eve’s eyes burn worse than the skin that had been scored by hot grease. A wave of memories swept over her, making her tremble. Preparing the Lyons for burial and then digging their grave was something she would not soon forget.

  “I couldn’t leave them like that,” she whispered. “Especially after what Raleigh did…I buried them together. Do you think they minded not having separate graves?”

  Reno’s hands tightened over Eve’s as he looked at her bent head. The acute sympathy he felt for her was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. No matter how often he reminded himself that she was a saloon girl, she kept sliding beneath his guard as easily as the fragrance of her lilac soap was absorbed into his body with every breath he took.

  He took a deep breath, trying to control his physical reaction to Eve. The breath didn’t help. Her soft, golden hair smelled of the same lilac soap that her breasts did. He had never been especially fond of scent—any scent—but he suspected that lilac would haunt him almost as much as the memory of her nipples rising eagerly to his mouth.

  Reno wanted Eve more than he had any woman in a long, long time. But if she discovered his weakness, she would make his life a living hell.

  Reno dropped Eve’s hands and turned away to the fire.

  “Tell me more about my mine,” he said curtly.

  Eve took a deep breath and banished the Lyons from her mind as Donna had taught her to banish all things she couldn’t control.

  “Your half of the mine,” Eve said, and waited for the explosion.

  It wasn’t long in coming.

  “What?” Reno asked, spinning around to face her.

  “Without me deciphering the symbols along the trail, you won’t be able to find the mine.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  “I have no choice but to bet on my skill,” she said. “And neither do you. Without me, you’ll never find the mine. You can have all of nothing or half of the gold mine that rightfully belongs to me.”

  There was the kind of silence that precedes thunder after the arc of lightning from sky to ground. Then Reno smiled, but there was no humor in the thin curve of his mouth.

  “All right,” he said. “Half of the mine.”

  She let out a soft rush of air in relief.

  “And all of the girl,” Reno added flatly.

  Relief congealed into a lump in Eve’s throat.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You heard me. Until we find the mine, you’ll be my woman whenever I want you, however I want you.”

  “But I thought if I told you about the mine, you would—”

  “No buts,” Reno said coldly. “I’m getting damned tired of bargaining for what is already mine. Besides, you need me as much as I need you. You wouldn’t last two days out in that desert alone. You need me to—”

  “But I’m not what you think I am, I’m—”

  “Sure you are,” he interrupted. “Right now you’re wriggling like a worm on a hook, trying to find a way out of keeping your word. Only a cheat would do that.”

  Eve closed her eyes.

  It was a mistake. The tears she had been trying to hide slid from beneath her lashes.

  Reno watched, savagely shoving down all feeling of sympathy, telling himself her tears were just one more in the arsenal of female weapons. Yet it was nearly impossible for him not to soften. The longer he was with Eve, the more difficult he found it to remember what a conniving little tart she really was.

  For the first time in his life, Reno was grateful for the past’s cruel lessons in the ways a woman managed a man. There had been a time in his life when he would have believed Eve’s silver tears and pale, trembling lips.

  “Well?” he said roughly. “Is it a deal?”

  Eve looked at the dark, oversize gunfighter who was watching her with eyes as hard as jade.

  “I—” Her voice cracked.

  Reno waited, watching her.

  “I was wrong about you,” Eve said after a moment. “I’m not strong enough to fight you and win, so you’ll take what you want from me, just like Slater or Raleigh.”

  “I’ve never taken a woman by force in my life,” Reno said flatly. “I never will.”

  Eve let out a long breath. “Truly?”

  Despite himself, Reno felt a wave of compassion for Eve. Cheat or not, saloon girl or not, no girl deserved the kind of rough usage she got from men like Slater and Raleigh King.

  “You have my word on it.”

  Reno saw the relief in Eve’s golden eyes and smiled thinly.

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t touch you,” he continued. “It just means that when I take you—and I will—you’ll be screaming with pleasure, not pain.”

  A tide of crimson replaced the pallor of Eve’s face.

  “Do we have a deal?” Reno asked.

  “You won’t touch me unless I—”

  “I won’t take you,” he corrected instantly. “There’s a difference, saloon girl. If you don’t like that bargain, we can go back to the first one—I get all of the mine and all of the girl. Take your pick.”

  “You’re too kind,” Eve said through her teeth.

  “Doubtless. But I’m a reasonable man. I won’t keep you forever. Just for as long as it takes to find the mine. Deal?”

  Eve looked at Reno for a long moment. She reminded herself that he had no reason to trust her, many reasons not to respect her, was quite capable of taking what he wanted and to hell with her protests; yet he was willing to treat her better than any inhabitant of the Gold Dust Saloon would have, given the same opportunity.

  “Deal,” she said.

  When Eve turned away to tend breakfast, Reno moved with his customary speed. She froze as his hand closed over her wrists.

  “One more thing,” he said.

  “What?” Eve whispered.

  “This.” />
  She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the heat of his mouth over hers.

  Instead, she felt Don Lyon’s ring sliding from her fingers.

  “I’ll keep the ring and the pearls until I find a woman who loves me as much as she loves her own comfort,” Reno said.

  Then he added sardonically, “And while I’m at it, I’ll find a ship made of stone, a dry rain, and a light that casts no shadow.”

  Reno pocketed the ring and turned away. “Get saddled up. It’s a long way over the Great Divide to Cal’s ranch.”

  “Why are we going there?”

  “Cal is counting on the winter supplies I’m bringing. And unlike some people I’ve met, when say I’ll do something, I do it.”

  5

  B EYOND the Great Divide, the massive wall of mountains slowly changed, breaking into chains and clusters of ragged peaks rising in stone waves against the endless blue sky.

  Even in late August, the peaks were streaked with glittering snowfields. Creeks rushed down steep folds in the sides of the mountains, combined forces on the flats, then wound down long valleys and through basins like ropes of liquid diamonds beneath the sun. The vivid green of aspens and the darker greens of fir, spruce, and pine made a velvet robe across the mountain flanks. In the clearings, grasses and shrubs added their own bright shades of green to the land.

  Once Reno and Eve had ridden through the first pass beyond Canyon City, there were few signs of men traveling over the land, and even fewer marks of permanent residence. Wild animals abounded. Mustangs fled like multicolored clouds before a storm wind when Reno and Eve rode into lonely valleys. Elk and deer glided out from cover to browse along the margins of the clearings.

  Though wary of man, the deer weren’t as quick to flee as the wild horses. The pure, keening cries of eagles floating on the wind were woven like bright threads through the day.

  Reno was more wary than any of the animals. He rode every moment as though expecting attack. He never cut across a clearing unless it would take them miles off their course to circle along the margin where forest and grass met. He never crested a rise without pausing just below the rim to see what was on the other side. Only when he was satisfied that there were no Indians or outlaws nearby did he reveal himself against the skyline.

  He never rode into a narrow canyon if he could avoid it. If avoidance was impossible, he slipped the thong on his six-shooter and rode with his repeating rifle across the saddle. Often during the day he would retrace part of their back trail, find a vantage point, and simply watch the land for any signs that they were being followed.

  Unlike most men, Reno rode with the reins in his right hand, leaving his left hand free for the six-gun that was never beyond his reach, even when he slept. Every night he checked his weapons for trail dust or moisture from the afternoon storms that swirled through the peaks.

  Reno didn’t make a fuss about his precautions. He didn’t really even notice them anymore. He had lived alone in a wild land for so long that he was no more aware of his skill at it than he was of his skill in riding the tough blue roan he called Darlin’.

  Eve didn’t think the mare was anyone’s Darlin’. She was a hardy mustang with the temperament of a wolverine and the wariness of a wolf. Should anyone but Reno approach the mare, she flattened her ears to her skull and looked for a place to sink her big white teeth into flesh. With Reno, however, the mare was all nickers and soft whuffles of greeting.

  Darlin’ was constantly testing the breeze for the scent of danger. At the moment her head was up, her ears were pricked, and her nostrils were flared as she drank the wind.

  Out in the sunlit meadow a bird called sharply and cut aside to fly into the forest. The silence that followed the bird’s retreat was total.

  Eve didn’t wait for Reno’s signal to go into hiding. As soon as the bird veered aside, she reined Whitefoot deeper into the cover of the forest and waited. Breath held, motionless, she watched the meadow through the screen of aspens and evergreens.

  A solitary mustang stallion walked warily into the clearing. The half-healed wounds of a recent fight were clear on the horse’s body. He lowered his muzzle into the creek and drank, stopping every few moments to raise his head and sniff the breeze. Despite his wounds, the stallion was fit and powerful, just coming into his full maturity.

  Compelled by the young horse’s muscular beauty, Eve leaned forward in the saddle. The faint creaking of leather carried no farther than Whitefoot’s ears, yet the stallion seemed to sense her presence.

  Finally the wild horse drank again, looked up, and walked slowly away from the stream. Soon he began cropping grass. His vigilance didn’t end while he ate. Rarely did a minute go by that the stallion didn’t pause, lift his head, and test the breeze for enemies. In a herd his constant checking wouldn’t have been necessary, for there would have been other ears, other eyes, other wary horses to scent the breeze. But the stallion was alone.

  It occurred to Eve that Reno was like the mustang stallion—ready for battle, wary, trusting nothing and no one, completely alone.

  Eve sensed movement behind her. When she turned in the saddle, she saw the catfooted blue roan coming through the forest toward her.

  A breeze wound through the evergreens, drawing a sigh from their slender green needles. Whitefoot stirred, made uneasy by the scent of the stallion on the wind. Silently Eve stroked the gelding’s neck to reassure him.

  “Where are the packhorses?” Eve asked in a low voice as Reno rode alongside.

  “I left them tied up the trail a piece. They’ll raise a fuss if anything tries to creep up on us from that direction.”

  Reno stood in the stirrups and looked across the meadow. After a moment he settled back into the saddle.

  “No mares,” Reno said quietly. Beneath his mustache, his lips shaped a thin smile. “From the looks of his hide, that young stud just learned the first lesson of dealing with women.”

  Eve looked questioningly at Reno.

  “Given a choice between an old stud that knows where to find food and a young stud so crazy for a woman that he doesn’t know which end is up,” Reno drawled, “a female will take the old stud and comfort every damned time.”

  “A female that trusted the promises of every young stud with rutting on his mind wouldn’t last through the winter.”

  “Spoken like a true woman.”

  “Imagine that,” Eve shot back.

  Unwillingly, Reno smiled. “You have a point.”

  Eve looked at the stallion and then back at Reno, remembering what he had said as he pocketed the emerald and gold ring he had taken from her finger.

  “Who was she?” Eve asked.

  One of Reno’s black eyebrow’s lifted in silent query.

  “The woman who chose her own comfort over your love,” Eve said simply.

  The line of Reno’s jaw tightened beneath the stubble that had grown over the days on the trail.

  “What makes you think there was only one?” he asked coolly.

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who has to learn something twice.”

  The corner of Reno’s mouth kicked up. “You’re right about that.”

  Eve waited, saying nothing, but her intent golden eyes asked a hundred questions.

  “Savannah Marie Carrington,” Reno drawled finally.

  The change in his voice was almost tangible. There was neither hate nor love in the tone, simply a contempt that was chilling.

  “What did she do to you?” Eve asked.

  He shrugged. “The same thing most women do to men.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You should know, gata.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Because you’re damned good at the kind of teasing females use to get men so hot and bothered they’ll say or do almost anything to get what they want.”

  Reno’s eyes narrowed as he added, “Almost anything, but not quite.”

  “What wouldn’t you do? Love her?”
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br />   He laughed humorlessly. “Hell, that was the one thing I did do.”

  “You still love her,” Eve said.

  The words were an accusation.

  “Don’t bet on it,” Reno said, giving her a sidelong glance.

  “Why?”

  “Are you always this nosy?”

  “Curious,” Eve corrected instantly. “I’m a cat, remember?”

  “That you are.”

  Again Reno stood in the stirrups to check the surrounding land. The stallion grazed on hungrily, undisturbed by anything he could scent or sense. Birds called across the grassy clearing and flew from tree to tree in normal patterns. Nothing moved along the vague trail the horses had left at the margin of the meadow.

  Reno reined Darlin’ around, ready to resume the ride to Caleb and Willow’s home in the San Juan Mountains.

  “Reno? What did she want you to do? Kill someone?”

  He smiled rightly. “You could say that.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  “What?” Eve asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  He said something profane beneath his breath and looked over his shoulder at the girl whose golden eyes, soft breasts, and lilac scent haunted his dreams.

  “Savannah Marie wanted to live in West Virginia, where our families had farms before the war,” Reno said, dipping each word. “But I had seen the true West. I had seen places no man ever touched, drunk from streams as pure as God’s smile, ridden over passes that had no names…and I had held the solid gold tears of the sun in my hands.”

  Motionless, Eve watched Reno as he spoke, wondering at the emotion that made his voice both resonant and husky when he talked about the land.

  “The first time I left Savannah Marie,” Reno said, “I missed her so much I damn near killed two horses riding back to her.”

  He said no more.

  “But she hadn’t waited for you?” Eve guessed.

  “Oh, she’d waited,” he drawled, but there was no warmth in his voice. “At the time, I was still best catch for a hundred miles around. She came running up to me with her blue eyes all sparkling with tears of happiness.”

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “The usual. Her family threw a party, we went for a walk in the garden, and she gave me just enough to make me wild for her.”