Wild Texas Flame

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “You surely didn’t take me seriously. This is the bank’s money we’re talking about. If it was my own money, that would be different, but I can’t extend someone else’s money to a young lady with no experience.”

  “At this point my experience has nothing to do with it. My father would have sent the herd north with someone else, and you would have waited until the money arrived. That’s what I’ve done.”

  Baxter frowned. “What? Sent your herd north? I didn’t know Conklin was here yet.”

  “I didn’t wait for Mr. Conklin. In light of all the—what was it you called them, accidents?—I decide it best not to wait. The next time the cattle ran straight for the cliff we might not have been able to stop them in time. So I sent them north with an experienced trail driver. My experience, or lack of it, has nothing to do with it now.”

  Baxter pursed his lips and studied her. “I can see you’ve thought of just about everything,” he said slowly. Then he smiled. “We might make a rancher out of you yet, young lady.”

  “Does this mean you’ll wait on payment until my men get back with the money?”

  “Your men?” He sat up straighter, his attention peaked.

  “My hands, yes. Tom Wilson is bossing the drive, and he’s got the experience necessary to do it right.”

  Baxter sighed. “All right, I’ll agree to wait until May.”

  Sunny shook her head. “That’s not enough time for them to get to Kansas, let alone get back with the money.”

  A flicker of admiration crossed Baxter’s face, then changed briefly to something that looked suspiciously like irritation before he schooled his expression. He nodded. “All right, the end of June.”

  Sunny felt like sagging in her chair. He’d done it. He’d agreed, in front of the sheriff and Ash, to leave her alone. Thank God.

  “Oh,” she said. “Here’s the receipt I told you about.” She held it out for Baxter to see, but kept a grip on it. She wasn’t about to let him keep it.

  Baxter leaned forward, glanced at it and frowned. “What happened to it?”

  Sunny smiled. “My youngest sister got hold of it and took a liking to the fancy ‘R’ and cut it off. But you’ll notice it’s dated the day before the…robbery.”

  It was still hard for her to say that word. It brought pictures of guns and flashing hooves. And blood.

  Baxter sat back in his chair, apparently satisfied. But she wasn’t going to leave it at that. She turned and showed the receipt to Sheriff Jamison.

  Jamison looked at it, then at Baxter. “You weren’t sure Thornton made a payment, so you told Miss Sunny she had to find this receipt?”

  “That’s right.”

  Jamison chuckled. “Gettin’ old, Ian. The darn thing’s got your signature on it.”

  Sunny stood and thanked Baxter and the sheriff. Just before she opened the door, Ash spoke.

  “Just for the record, I’d say Miss Sunny’s had about all the bad luck due any rancher. If something happens to the herd on the way north, or to the money before it gets back, or to Sunny, well, I’d have to call that something other than bad luck. I’d have to think somebody was trying to pull a fast one.”

  Baxter placed both hands flat on his desk and glared at Ash. “And who better than the man who thinks Cottonwood Ranch should still belong to him?”

  “Who better?” Ash leaned on the edge of the desk and faced Baxter squarely. “How about the man who’s been trying to get his hands on that same ranch for more than five years? Watch out, Ian,” he added softly. “Your greed will be the death of you.”

  Baxter’s face turned mottled. “Are you threatening me, you back-shooting scum?”

  “We both know how my bullet ended up in your back, don’t we? We both know I don’t waste my breath on threats. Keep away from Cottonwood Ranch.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jamison and Ash followed Sunny out into the street. He’d called her a rancher. Ash McCord had called Sunny Thornton a rancher.

  Ian Baxter had said almost the same thing a few minutes earlier, but what did he matter? It was Ash’s opinion that counted. And Ash had called her a rancher!

  Thunderation, she felt good.

  There’d be no more trouble now. She sensed it, knew it. She wasn’t going to lose her ranch. Not now, not ever. She was safe, her sisters were safe, and Ash McCord was beside her.

  Isn’t life wonderful!

  They met Ella on the sidewalk. The woman was delighted to see Sunny and Ash. She invited them, along with the sheriff, to lunch. “The roast is cold, left over from yesterday, but the bread is still warm from the oven.”

  Unable to resist, the three of them followed her down the street toward her boardinghouse. Sunny started to step off the boardwalk. Ash grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

  She hadn’t paid any attention to the sounds around her. If Ash hadn’t stopped her she would have been in the middle of the street and the noon stage would have barreled right over her.

  The sheriff, she noticed, had no such worries. He stood his ground in the middle of the road as the stage bore down on him.

  The driver shouted and waved. “Out of the way, you fool!”

  Jamison pulled his pistol and aimed it at one of the lead horses.

  The driver cursed and sawed on the reins. The vehicle skidded sideways. A passenger screamed. Another swore. The horses came to a snorting, stomping halt mere inches from the sheriff.

  He lowered his gun. “I’m not tellin’ you again, Riley. Slow that blasted thing down when you come into town. You don’t do it, I’ll do it for you.”

  Riley cursed again.

  “And watch your damn language,” Jamison warned. He holstered his gun and, making the stage wait, ushered Ella and Sunny, followed by Ash, across the street.

  Ella clucked her tongue. “The chances you take, Jedediah.”

  Another pencil snapped in Ian Baxter’s fingers. He would have beat his head against the desk if he hadn’t thought the noise would bring someone running.

  “Damn that bitch!” What the hell was he to do now?

  She’d had to go and bring the sheriff with her. If she’d come alone, he could have taken the receipt away from her and torn it up.

  McCord. He’d put her up to this.

  He wheeled his chair around and stared out the window. Look at them out there, walking along like they were the best of friends. Since when could Jamison even stand the sight of McCord?

  Things were changing in town. The sheriff didn’t seem to think it odd to be asked to witness that damned receipt.

  He idly watched Jamison bring the stage to a halt in the middle of the street. Damned shame the team hadn’t run them all down. His troubles would have been over if McCord hadn’t held Sunny on the boardwalk.

  Damned interfering son of a bitch.

  The stage finally pulled up at the depot two doors down from the bank.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could put William Davis off somehow.

  In the next instant, he knew that wouldn’t be possible. Stepping out of the stage in his dapper black suit, with a scarred face and black eye patch, was none other than William Davis himself.

  He’d come for his money. There was no doubt about it.

  The five thousand Ian had lost to Davis in that first hand of poker down in San Antonio last February wasn’t the problem. Ian could have come up with five thousand.

  No, it was the thirty thousand he’d lost as the night had progressed. And all of it owed to William Davis.

  Was there any way to put the man off?

  That sensation was back again. That feeling that kept telling him he knew the man from somewhere. If only he could remember where, it might give him some leverage, some bargaining power.

  Davis collected his bag and crossed to the hotel.

  Ian wheeled his chair from behind his desk and left the office. “Booker,” he said to his assistant, “I’m not feeling too well. Think I’ll call it a day. Don’t be surprised if I don’t show
up tomorrow.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll be having any more trouble out at your place, Miss Sunny,” Sheriff Jamison said.

  Sunny swallowed her bite of roast. “You mean you believe us? That the mayor was behind it all?”

  The sheriff sighed. “From what you said in the bank, it sure looks that way to me. I know he was pressing your pa for money, and I know he pressed Nathan McCord. What I don’t understand is why. What could he want with that ranch?”

  “That’s something we may never know,” Ash said, frustration plain in his tone.

  “Do you think Sunny’s safe, then?” Ella asked.

  The sheriff shot Ash a dark look. “I think she’d be a whole heck of a lot safer if a certain party would move back to town.”

  Sunny dropped her fork. “Now wait just a minute. You can’t possibly think Ash had anything to do with the fire and the stampede!”

  “Jedediah!” Ella said.

  “Besides,” Sunny said heatedly, “those things only started happening after I turned down Baxter’s proposal. He—”

  “His what?” Ella cried. “He asked you to marry him?” Ella’s brows rose in outrage. She turned to Ash. “And just where were you, young man, while all this proposing was going on?”

  “Don’t pay her any mind,” Jamison said. “She’s got a burr under her saddle about men who ask women to marry them. Seems to think there’s something wrong with the idea.”

  Sunny stared first at the sheriff, then Ella, a grin forming on her face. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”

  “Oh, pooh.” Ella waved a hand toward Jamison. “I’m too old for such nonsense.”

  “Too old for marriage?” Sunny asked, astounded at the turn of the conversation.

  “Of course.” Ella spoke as though any simpleton should have known.

  Ash reached out and patted her hand. “Of course you’re too old, Ella, we all know that. What are you, fifty maybe? Why, you’ve only got another ten, twenty years. Thirty, forty at the most. You’re right. With so little time left, I can see why you wouldn’t want to waste it trying to break in a new husband.”

  In the hushed silence that followed Ash’s words, Sunny studied the faces around the table. Ella wore a stubborn look. Ash was fighting a grin and trying to look sympathetic. The sheriff looked at Ash with a hint of startled…respect? Gratitude? That was what she saw in his face. And she also saw that he didn’t like the feeling, either.

  “Oh, get on with you,” Ella finally said. “We weren’t talking about me, we were talking about Sunny, and why you didn’t put a stop to Ian Baxter’s outrageous proposal.”

  Ash’s expression went blank. “Because I didn’t know it was happening.”

  “That’s right,” Sunny spoke up. “He was flat on his back in bed, still unable to walk. Which is exactly where he was later that night when the barn caught fire,” she said to the sheriff. “And the night of the stampede he was in the bunkhouse with Pecos and Larry.”

  Jamison looked like he wanted to argue.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sheriff,” Ash said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m back on my feet and Sunny’s safe. I’ll see her home this afternoon and get my gear. Be back here in the morning. If I still have a room?” he said to Ella.

  Ella looked at Sunny, then Ash. “You always have a room here. You know that.”

  Sunny felt a tightening in her chest. He was leaving her? “But I hired you—”

  “You don’t need me any more, Sunny. You proved that today. If you don’t want to fire me, I quit.” He put down his napkin and pushed back his chair. “I’ll be at the livery when you’re ready to leave.”

  The front screen door creaked as it closed behind him. Sunny bit her tongue and fought to control the gathering tears.

  Ella sighed. “Men can be such stubborn fools.”

  On the way home, Ash rode just far enough back to be out of Sunny’s line of vision. He needn’t have bothered. She couldn’t have looked at him if he’d been directly in front of her. She didn’t dare look at him. It would hurt too much.

  She stared straight ahead and watched thunderheads pile up along the western horizon. She’d always thought it odd that clouds could roll in from west to east, while a stiff, damp wind blew south to north. And she knew, when the clouds arrived, the wind would shift—but not logically, not west to east, the direction the storm traveled. The wind would shift and blow north to south. And it would turn cold. As cold as she felt when she failed to keep a tight rein on her thoughts and allowed herself to remember that Ash would leave tomorrow. For good, this time.

  Not a word was spoken between Ash and Sunny on the way home, nor once they got there. Sunny couldn’t have gotten a single syllable out through her closed throat if her life had depended on it. Not without sobbing like a baby, which was exactly what she felt like doing.

  I will not cry, she told herself. She’d known the time would come when he would leave. He’d told her often enough. And she’d known it would hurt.

  But she’d had no idea how much.

  “Why are you doing this?” Sunny’s softly spoken words sounded like a shout in the quiet house. Supper was long past, Erik had returned to the bunkhouse, and the girls were in bed. She addressed her words to Ash’s back as he headed for the door. It was the first time one had spoken directly to the other since leaving Ella’s that afternoon.

  Ash paused. “Doing what?”

  “Leaving,” she said, her heart in her throat, her pride all but gone. “Why, Ash?”

  “Because it’s time. Past time.”

  “How can you say that after what we shared? Turn around and answer me, damn you.”

  “Don’t, Sunny.”

  “Don’t? Don’t? Even you said what we had together that night was—”

  He whirled to face her, the lamplight playing across his clenched jaws. “I know what I said. I also said I was leaving.”

  “But you didn’t. You stayed.”

  “I had to, dammit! I couldn’t go off and leave you here unprotected, not knowing what Baxter would do next.”

  “Why?”

  He raised a clenched fist. “Because I didn’t want to see anything happen to you. I didn’t want you hurt!”

  “Why?”

  He lowered his hand to his side. “You’re starting to sound like Amy. It doesn’t matter why. I know what you’re trying to get me to say, and you’re wasting your breath.”

  She wanted to take another step, and another, until she ended up in his arms. Only in his arms would things be right again. But she didn’t move. Couldn’t. “What am I trying to get you to say?”

  His eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared. “You’re trying to get me to say I love you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “But it doesn’t matter, Sunny. Even that wouldn’t change things. I’m leaving.” He started to turn away.

  “You said you didn’t want me hurt. Don’t you know how much I’ll hurt if you leave?”

  He turned back to her with a sad little smile that nearly killed her. His hands hung limp at his sides. “Not nearly as much as if I stay, Sunshine.”

  Oh, Lord, why did he have to call her that? It was the name he used only when he held her in his arms. But this time he wasn’t holding her, he was leaving her. She couldn’t let him do that. She had to stop him. Somehow. What was pride in the face of a lifetime without him? “Your leaving is killing me! How can your staying hurt worse?”

  He clenched his fists again. “Sunny, I’ve got a prison record. I shot a man in the back. In town, old men spit when I walk by. Women pull their skirts aside and stick their noses in the air like I was something foul. Little kids run screaming if I look at them. If I stay with you, it wouldn’t be long before they started treating you the same way. You’d come to hate me for it.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t stay, Sunshine.”

  Then, without a touch or a good-bye or even a final look, he left her there in the parlor and walked out the door. />
  She wanted to call him back, convince him he was wrong. He was exaggerating about the people in town. She’d seen firsthand that they didn’t treat him nearly as bad as he said. She wanted to convince him that between the two of them, they could get Maria to tell the truth. Then his name would be cleared.

  She wanted to run to him and fling her arms around him. Wanted to cling and beg him to stay.

  But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She knew, even if Ash didn’t, that it wasn’t other people’s attitudes about him that sent him away, but his own attitude about himself, along with his bitterness toward the friends who’d believed the worst about him. That, and his misguided conception that Sunny might actually care what anyone else thought.

  Until he realized that what they felt for each other was stronger than anything either had ever known before, stronger than any trouble that might lie ahead of them, he wouldn’t give them a chance.

  The irony was, for a man who hated prisons, he was surely locking himself and her in the loneliest separate prisons of all. She wondered when he would realize it.

  The wind buffeted the house; thunder rumbled in the distance. Sunny couldn’t sleep. She stared through the darkness toward the ceiling and wondered what had ever made her think she could. Once before she’d lain in bed, believing Ash would leave in the morning. She’d gone to him then. The mere memory of that night in his arms took her breath away. Her skin felt hot and prickly. Her eyes burned from trying to hold her tears in.

  This time was different from that other night. This time, she couldn’t go to Ash. And this time, he really would leave in the morning.

  She kicked the twisted covers aside and left the bed. She would walk outside. Maybe the roaring wind would blow through her mind and take thoughts of Ash with it. Maybe the violence of the approaching storm would calm the deep ache in her soul.

  And maybe, she thought, stepping out onto the back porch, maybe the sun would come up in the west.

  She stood there under the wide overhang and let the rain-scented wind mold her nightgown flush against her skin and sweep her hair straight out behind her. But she was too restless to stand still. The old cottonwood waved its branches in the wind, beckoning her.