First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  After the tub and water were removed by the lanky black man, Nelle stayed with Calinda, who was suddenly overcome by all that had happened. She began to shake and cry softly, and her distress tugged at Nelle’s heart. Although she could be a tough businesswoman, and was stern with her working girls, Nelle was also a gentle and caring person. She just couldn’t afford to show it most of the time.

  “You poor child,” Nelle softly encouraged. “That noise’ll go on far into the nite. I brung some medicine to calm yore nerves and help you sleep. I knows you must be bone-tired and scared stiff.”

  At Nelle’s order, Calinda managed to force down a teaspoon of laudanum. “Now, you git ready fur bed. This here’s a private room; my friend won’t mind you using it while he’s away. Don’t you fret none; you’ll be fine when the sun shows its face. I’ll take you ta see the sheriff. Afore you kin think, you’ll be home safe agin.”

  Nelle left Calinda alone. As she lumbered down the hallway, she worried over the fact that she had placed Calinda in the privately rented room of a special customer, an irresistibly handsome loner who wasn’t supposed to show up for weeks. But it was the only room fit for such a charming lady. And the mysterious cowboy would never know.

  Nelle sighed as she thought about him. That golden stallion was a complex and private man, one who thrived on his freedom and daring adventures. Although she had known him for years, she really didn’t know him at all. He was a natural-born charmer when the mood struck him, but was very selective with his female companions. Nelle doubted there was a woman alive who wouldn’t give her soul to corral that untamed creature. If she were younger and prettier …She chided her foolishness; that Texan would never wed a tainted woman, if he ever wed. Not that he was arrogant or cynical, he just appeared unsusceptible to love, a man content to feed his passions when they demanded appeasement. He was a perfect specimen of a man. His appeal to women was a vivid fact, a fact he nonchalantly accepted. He was quick to reveal he made no promises to any female, nor did he take kindly to those who tried to force their attentions on him.

  It was known the cunning and clear-headed rebel feared nothing and no one. He was an expert horseman and crack shot. Few men challenged him or his ivory-handed Colts. But he was wary and mysterious, and kept to himself a great deal. Alert and agile, he had never lost a fist or gun fight. He was feared, respected, or envied by most men and desired by all women whose eyes feasted on him. He was a self-assured and easy-going devil, but the cowboy could be tough and cold when a situation demanded it. He had the money and power to come and go as he pleased. He could be a coveted friend or a deadly enemy.

  Nelle fretted over facts she wished she didn’t know, but a woman in her position often learned closely guarded secrets. Miss Braxton was here to seek her father through Rankin Cardone. What would Calinda do and say when she discovered the last man who would aid her was Rankin Cardone? Rankin was a wealthy and powerful man, a man who dealt fairly with friends and ruthlessly with enemies.

  It was obvious from Calinda’s earlier confession that there were many things the girl didn’t know. She was so naive about the perils before her. Nelle wondered if she should enlighten Calinda. She quickly decided no, since Rankin wasn’t a man she’d like to have as an enemy. If that girl knew what was hovering over her lovely head, she would run like the wind!

  Nelle also had Callie O’Hara to worry her. Callie was refusing to work! That hateful cousin of hers had a temper to match her fiery hair. But tonight, Nelle had an even more pressing matter on her mind. Her beloved trail-boss had arrived and was waiting in her room. Giggling with joy, Nelle dismissed both girls from her mind.

  The loud music and raucous laughter from downstairs drifted into Calinda’s borrowed room. Her head was spinning from the potent drug and she was tormented by thoughts of her harrowing episode. She reluctantly changed into the flimsy nightgown, tossing the red satin gown over a chair. She stumbled to the bed and slipped between the clean sheets. Crying softly, Calinda soon fell asleep.

  Downstairs, a man attired in jet black entered the saloon and casually tossed down two whiskies. He had removed his dark hat to run lean, deft fingers through a tousled mane of amber hair which blazed like ripened wheat beneath the sun. He exuded an undeniable contempt for danger and a matchless confidence. He was over six feet tall and his body rippled with welltoned, flexible muscles. His flesh had been lovingly and deeply kissed by the sun. A tangible air of brute strength and keen alertness clung to him. His violent and demanding lifestyle had honed his stalwart body and sharp mind to an impressive degree—his sole goals were success and survival. His physical prowess and intelligence made him a formidable opponent. Not even a minuscule glimmer of self-doubt could be sighted in that tawny gaze; his eyes were as perceptive and intimidating as a crafty lion’s. And to the women present, it seemed that beneath that black outfit was the form of a bronzed god.

  Several saloon girls rushed over, eagerly vying for his attention; but the distracted man wasn’t in such a mood tonight. Flashing them a beguiling and falsely rueful grin, he pleasantly refused their company. After a few words with the bartender, he took a bottle and headed to his room. As he agilely mounted the steps, he admitted he was growing weary of this secret work with the Texas Rangers with its countless sacrifices and demands. He had had enough of battling renegade Indians, Mexican bandits, and an abundance of outlaws and cutthroats. He was bored with foiling fence-cutters and rustlers, tracking train and stage robbers, dogging wanted men, living among disgusting outlaws to learn their plans and identities. If he couldn’t openly and proudly be a Ranger, why keep endangering his life? He didn’t like the reputation he was attaining as a superior gunslinger and arrogant rebel. Since he couldn’t deny his deed or give the reasons behind them, he was rapidly becoming an unsavory legend. And glory-hungry, gun-toting fools loved nothing more than unseating legends.

  After roaming around for two years, he had gone into secret service for the railroad and U.S. government at the age of twenty. When his job began to send him across the West in ’76, he had joined up with the Rangers. He usually liked being on the move, but here in Texas certain personal matters controlled his thoughts and needs, even after so many years. He had craved the excitement and distractions which his work had offered; he had needed them, still needed them. But something was going crazy inside his head these days. He was becoming dissatisfied, moody, and tense. What was this loneliness or emptiness that plagued him? What was this wild and urgent desire to find the missing element in his life? He possessed so much, had the means and talents to obtain anything he desired; what was left to win or to gain? Yet, how could even a clever and fearless man vanquish an intangible desire?

  Maybe it was time to end this work and settle down at home to face other responsibilities. Just as soon as he solved the Sam Bass question, perhaps he would. But so far every attempt to hook up with the Bass gang had failed, and he couldn’t accept that. It was clear Bass was working these parts, but the outlaw was sly and deadly. With Major John Jones arriving nearby, perhaps together they could end Bass’s career quickly and efficiently. For now, he would rest himself and his horse, then head for Dallas at first light.

  He grinned as he climbed the last few steps. Only two men were aware of his identity, but many criminals knew of a daring and unknown Ranger who left his mark of victory on their saddles or holsters: a tiny star that symbolized law and revealed a deadly warning. But this man wanted what other Rangers possessed, respect. The mere mention of a Ranger’s name could inspire fear and reluctance in foes. Since he kept his identity concealed, he always had to battle to prove himself or to survive.

  The lithe cowboy unlocked his door and walked inside. Noting the softened glow of a burning lantern, he was instantly on alert, his left hand lightly grazing the butt of his pistol. Soundlessly laying his saddlebag and hat in a chair, he headed for the bed and stared down at the enchanting bundle asleep there. His gaze flickered from the discarded red satin dress to the beautiful
creature clad in a revealing nightgown; the sheet had been shoved aside in the stuffy room and all of the vixen’s treasures were revealed to his surprised eyes.

  With fluid movements, he headed to the window and opened it to invite fresh air inside. He unfastened his hand-tooled double-holstered leather belt and hung it over the chair. He bent down to remove his spurs, and added them to his pile of discarded possessions. The girl hadn’t moved yet. Going over to the bed, he sat down, the mattress sinking under his weight. Still, no response to his arrival.

  He stared at the unfamiliar girl for a time. His loins instinctively and vexingly tightened, but he restrained his physical urge. He was too fatigued to play games with an audacious saloon girl—one as beautiful as this must have had numberless men in her life. All he wanted was her absence and a good night’s sleep. He reached over and shook her, but she didn’t respond. She was stupid and brazen to invade his privacy, but her lesson could be taught later when he was revived.

  “Up, pretty lady, I’m too tired tonight,” he said in a mellow voice, thinking it easier to use fatigue as an excuse for his lack of interest.

  Deeply entrapped by drugged slumber, Calinda didn’t react to his presence or his voice. His gaze eased over her fiery chestnut curls and breath-taking form. Her flesh was smooth and creamy. She was slim, but shapely. Her transparent gown left nothing to his imagination. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As he pondered how many men had caused her exhaustion tonight, he was irrationally provoked by how she was affecting him. She was a whore, probably a very busy one! He shook her, roughly and firmly. “Get your eyes open and your feet moving, Ma’am.” He desired her, but would never stand in a lengthy line for the attentions that paid for her crude survival.

  Calinda stirred and fluttered her green eyes, hazily taking in this image of irresistible manhood.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Ca…” she dreamily attempted to answer, but couldn’t force her name past her dry tongue. She tried to focus on the arresting illusion clad in devilish ebony hovering over her.

  “Callie?” he assisted here, recalling the bartender’s words about a lovely newcomer with that name. Fuzzily hearing the name her mother had called her as a child, she nodded. “What are you doing in here, Callie? This is a private room.”

  “No other place to go,” she murmured hazily.

  “Why did you come to my room?” he persisted, intrigued.

  “Only safe place…Had to get away…”

  “Did Nelle send you here?” he continued in a lazy drawl.

  “Yes. Said stay here until I work out these…”

  “Where did you live?” he asked. “Safe…Get away…” his keen mind echoed. Probably from customers and their abundant demands!

  “No home…Mama dead…Papa…Lost everything…Must stay…” The unfinished, hazy words tumbled out to form mistaken conclusions in his befuddled mind and inflamed body.

  “Ever work in a saloon before?” he demanded casually, sensing something different and haunting about this delicate girl.

  “Never,” she mumbled in answer to the strange question.

  “I see,” he thoughtfully murmured. His investigative mind went to spinning with questions and doubts. Had she completed her first day in this kind of job? Or would she begin tomorrow? Was she here of her own free will? Had that mischievous Nelle sent her for his enjoyment? For certain, this would be his only chance to enjoy this unselfish gift, before she was tarnished from months of visits to countless beds of any male who could afford her price. Common whores didn’t appeal to him, but there was nothing common about his girl. From her looks, she would be in popular demand. How could any female condemn herself to such an existence? Surely one such as Callie could have her choice of husbands. Was she a penniless widow? A runaway from a terrible home? Why would she choose such a degrading life over a respectable one? Despite the temptation this proud Ranger was reluctant to take advantage of this enticing set-up.

  “I’m thirsty,” Calinda managed to say, feeling the room spin around her.

  All he had was a bottle of superior whiskey. He poured her a glass and helped her sit up to drink it, supporting her lax body against his strong one. The biting liquid was strong, but wet. Calinda automatically thanked him, before her senses went rushing around again.

  He placed the empty glass on the table, then eased Calinda down on the bed. He grinned in amusement; she clearly wasn’t used to potent drinks and she possessed good manners. When she smiled up at him, he lazily stretched out beside her, hesitating to end this pleasing contact. He reclined on his left side, his jaw cupped in his hand. He absently shoved a straying vibrant curl from her ivory face. His finger made a compelling trek over her forehead, down her cheek, across her pert nose, past her dainty chin, and to her inviting lips. At the tickling sensations, she smiled and shifted, those verdant green eyes pulling his gaze to hers.

  “Do you want to be here with me, Callie?” he inquired tensely, despite the thunderous warning inside his head that screamed of the danger she presented, a warning he helplessly denied.

  “Yes,” the spoken word escaped her lips softly, as she tried to clear her somnolent wits, too late…

  Chapter Two

  This special Ranger was adept at handling emergencies or hazards; he usually knew how to prepare for them and master them with unerring accuracy, speed, and courage. But this situation was uncommon. Even his many skills couldn’t tell him what to do with this particular crisis. He suspected this new saloon girl had heard of his daring exploits and good looks, and perhaps found him desirable on reputation alone. Was she lurking here to guilefully cast her spell over him? As he eyed her compelling beauty, he grew inexplicably angry. Maybe it was because she looked so innocent and vulnerable. Unlike like the other saloon girls she was unpainted and presented a soft seductiveness which was overwhelming. She looked as if she belonged in elegant silk gowns rather than in the garish red satin one, and he was struck by the dangerous appeal of the sheer nightgown in bright crimson which made a startling contrast to her creamy flesh. Callie was as bewitching and devious as his mother. No, he wouldn’t permit that selfish bitch to torment him tonight.

  Still, that tiny comparison sparked more anger within him, adding dashes of fierce spite. Damn any puta who could retain such a look of purity and charm while she coldly trampled on lonely and unsuspecting male hearts, especially his! How dare this creature set a provocative trap for him! How dare she steal inside his head!

  Even as she slept, her lips curled up in an inviting smile that played havoc on a man’s senses. Evidently she wanted to begin her new career in Fort Worth with him as her first prize. She had probably brazenly entered his hide-away to seduce him, perhaps to prove she possessed the power to captivate even the cynical and elusive Unknown Ranger.

  A beguiling and devilish grin tugged at the corners of his wide and full lips. His tawny eyes glowed with mischievous lights. He ran his strong fingers through his curling mane of dark blond hair. Strangely, he was no longer tired and bored; his senses were alive and alert. It had been a long time since he had taken a woman in bed, and he found Calinda utterly arresting. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he decided to accept her implied invitation.

  The intrigued Ranger stood up and stripped off his clothes and boots. Filling the wash-basin, he removed the trail-dust from his face and hands, leisurely taking the time to shave. He removed the covers and drank in the invigorating sight, then joined her. Drugged with Nelle’s laudanum, the Ranger’s whiskey, and her own exhaustion, Calinda didn’t react as the impulsive stranger undressed her to admire her beauty. He bent over and captured the lips which seemed to beg for his. With expertise, he skillfully stormed her body with deft hands and bedeviling lips, exploring curvy regions and flat planes.

  Calinda lacked the strength, awareness, or logic to resist him as she surrendered to the intoxicating kisses and stirring caresses of the golden man of her dreams.

  As Cal
inda’s arms unknowingly encircled the man’s iron-muscled body and her lips answered the call from his, his resentment melted away. All he wanted was to make tender and passionate love to this mysterious siren. If Calinda’s mind had any intention of freeing her from its torpid state, the thought was quickly dismissed as she revelled in the warmth, protection, and heated desire of this enchanting stranger. Nature took over her blurry senses and demanded she respond to his urgent messages and unleash her unbridled passion to match his.

  The now enraptured Ranger eased between her thighs and tenderly, yet persistently, probed at her maidenhead, ignoring its meaningful presence. Ensnared by potent desire and her eager encouragement, he was hurled beyond control or reason. She smelled as fresh as a field of wildflowers and her loving was as sultry as the hottest summer day. As the barrier against his possession gave way, her small cry of discomfort reached his fuzzy brain. Virgin! The word ricocheted through his confused mind like a perilous gunshot, then gradually receded in a fading echo.

  Governed by the insistent throbbing within his manhood, he entered and withdrew gently until her brief struggle halted. Her skin was as soft and white as the petals on a loquat flower. The peaks on her taut breasts were firm and sweet. As Calinda’s arms eased around his tantalizing body and her lips yielded to his kisses, logic escaped him for a time as his hungry body urged him to feast on the fruits of his labor and to submit to her bewitching pervasion of his senses.

  Blissfully appeased, the sated rogue eased to her side, retaining his possessive hold on her. He shifted his head to gaze down at her; she was snuggled peacefully into his embrace. A curiously warm and happy feeling flowed over him. Bemused by the odd sensations and thoughts which assailed his mind and body, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from her serene face. Watching and touching her gave him intense pleasure. Normally one sexual union was sufficient to satisfy his needs. But he fiercely desired this girl again this moment! He bent over to nibble at her lips, then passed his tongue over them. His body was simmering with desire, preparing to boil with molten passion. There was no way he could go to sleep yet. With renewed vigor, he enticed her once more, whispering, “Love me again, my fiery vixen.”