To Marry a Texas Outlaw

by Linda Broday

  “Because I accept you as you are and don’t ask for more. I’ll never judge you,” she answered simply. “We’ve all failed in some way. When I regain my ability to recall, I have a feeling I’ll have similar things to share.”

  “I hope not.” He sighed. “At any rate, I got off the devil’s coattails before my mother found out. At least I spared her that.”

  She drew lazy circles on his forearm. “Where did the name Luke Weston come from? No mother of Spanish birth would give you that.”

  “After I got free of my addiction, I was coming down Trammel’s Trace, an old Indian trail in eastern Texas, when I came across a dead man. Someone had bashed in his head. I found the name Luke Weston on a deed in his pocket. I figured he no longer had a use for the identity.”

  “Poor man. And the one you were born with?” she prodded.

  “Rafael Montoya.”

  “I like that. It’s beautiful. It suits you, especially when you wear your black trousers with the conchas.” She grinned, remembering how snug they fit his lean body, showing his nicely formed behind and long legs.

  Josie kissed him, marveling at this outlaw who’d found her. So many things had to fall into place for that to happen. If any one of them hadn’t occurred, they’d never have met.

  By the time daylight came through the cracks in the wall of the squatter’s shack, she had the full picture of Luke Weston. He was much more than the simple killer he claimed to be. So much more. Whatever happened next, she knew that he’d always have a very special place in her heart.

  An unbreakable bond had formed during the dark hours when her outlaw had shared his painful secrets.

  Luke rolled to his feet and reached for his trousers, and Josie got her first glimpse of the horrible scars on his body, each telling a tale of violence…and survival.

  One wound was pretty fresh. She got to her feet and put her arms around him. She laid her face against his back.

  “Thank you for telling me about your life. I know what it cost you to let me see,” she said.

  Luke turned and folded her inside the circle of his arms. Her place of safety. Of comfort.

  “Stoker and my brothers don’t know about any of what I’ve told you. I trust you to keep my secrets.”

  “If that’s what you want. But you know that nothing will change the way they feel about you. Quit expecting everyone to shun you, Luke. Get that through that thick skull of yours. They’re your family, and family has got to love you, no matter what. It’s a rule. I think.” At least she hoped so. When she regained her senses, if she had family, she hoped they’d take her in.

  “I won’t take that chance. I’m already embarrassed enough. But if they knew the whole…”

  He’d left the rest unspoken because fear his family would reject him hurt too much.

  “Only in your mind, Luke. After we get dressed, I want you to tell me about this person you met with last night.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “After coffee.”

  “You said we couldn’t build a fire.”

  “Not outside, but a small one in here won’t hurt. Even so, I doubt anyone will pay any mind to a little smoke in daylight, and the Texas Rangers likely moved out this morning.”

  “That’s good. Even if I didn’t kill that man—”

  “He was an ex-congressman,” Luke interrupted. “From all accounts, due to be the next governor.”

  “Oh no!” Why couldn’t he have been some crook or outlaw? “As I was saying, even if I didn’t kill him, the law thinks I did. They’re still going to come after me. And haul me to jail.”

  Those ugly prison stripes were not going away anytime soon.

  “True. I’ll just have to keep you safe.” He placed his lips on hers.

  The gentle kiss he probably intended turned into one of searing passion that drove her past the point of sanity. She had to have his skin touching hers. His hand slid down her throat to her breast, and when his fingers raked across the sensitive tip, the banked embers flamed tall.

  Josie pulled him down to the bedroll and they spent the next half hour in a most pleasurable way.

  By the time they finally got their clothes on, it was clear to her that she had to stay at least ten feet away from Luke, or they’d spend every second in each other’s arms.

  But moving even an inch from him brought cold loneliness.

  She wondered if he’d come visit her in jail. Maybe her outlaw would ride in and bust her out. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Yes, he’d gallop in, hold the sheriff at gunpoint, and help her escape.

  If not that way, she pictured him strolling in disguised as a nun and giggled at the image. He’d have to shave, of course.

  But no, that wouldn’t work. He had a dark shadow along his jaw even freshly shaven. And a holy sister with a shadow on her face would give him away.

  Josie drew her brows together, searching for a different disguise. A saloon girl? But his legs and chest were too hairy. She burst out laughing.

  Luke raised a questioning brow. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing really. Nothing at all.”

  She finally gave up on her idle musing. The only thing he could pass for was the disguise he had on now. And the warden wouldn’t give a mountain man or a buffalo hunter access to her.

  Oh, shoot!

  This life of crime required too much thought. No wonder Luke had a few streaks of silver at his temples.

  Tingles raced through her as last night’s and this morning’s memories swirled. She didn’t know if she’d ever made love before, but she imagined she had. There was no soreness, not even any flecks of blood that something told her would be present if she was new to a man’s touch.

  Just a heart that beat with love for Luke Weston Legend.

  * * *

  Luke lugged back the abandoned washtub, made a fire, and now sat with a cup of coffee in his hand. Josie seemed quiet, a contrast from her usual habit of chattering like a magpie.

  A very pretty magpie, he added.

  The light caught on her hair just right and the strands looked like pieces of gold in a miner’s pan.

  He had no trouble remembering being inside her—at first fast and furious, consumed by a kind of hunger he’d never felt before. Then progressing during the night to steamy, sultry passion to savor, like Stoker’s finest aged bourbon, letting the fire wind its way through his body.

  One thing he knew—Josie was no virgin. She was accustomed to a man’s touch. Luke frowned. A large part of him found that notion very unsettling. Who had caressed her, kissed her, tasted her sweetness?

  “You seem so far away. A penny for your thoughts, Luke.”

  He took a long sip of coffee. “Not worth sharing.”

  Josie rested her empty cup in her lap. “Luke, I’ve decided I don’t want to find my past. Whatever is there can stay hidden.”

  “You’re just scared.”

  “No, that’s not it. I sense there’s nothing good. Maybe I’m the kind of person that no one would want. I can’t live that way—I have to matter to someone.”

  He met the misery in her changeable eyes and reached for her hand. “Princesa, you matter to me. Don’t ever, ever think you don’t.”

  “Let’s find a place and settle down. Just you and me,” she begged. “Maybe accept that land on the Lone Star.”

  “How long do you think that’ll last? A week? A month? I have a two-thousand-dollar bounty on my head now, and it’s going to rise even higher. Men often kill for mere cents. We wouldn’t make it six months before lawmen and bounty hunters would overrun the ranch. Do you want to live like that?”

  “You know I don’t. Jumping at each sound, waiting for the bullet to end your life—or mine—would kill me.”

  “Exactly.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip. “I won�
�t put you through that.”

  “We can try somewhere else where no one knows you. Don’t you want me?” The question came out bruised, as though the words had been squeezed, fighting their way from her narrowed throat.

  Luke wanted her worse than anything on earth. More than land, clearing his name. More even than claiming his place as a Legend one day.

  He’d give up everything for her if he could. But he wouldn’t ask her to share his dangerous life.

  She would not watch him die or—heaven forbid—take a bullet meant for him.

  “When I find a place where you’ll be happy, our paths must part. It’s what must be,” he said softly, closing his eyes against the torment in her gaze.

  Pain ripped through him to think of never seeing his beautiful Josie again. Never holding her. Never sleeping beside her, her fragrance binding them like a silken rope.

  Dear God, how much agony should one man suffer?

  Riding on without her would plunge him into a living hell.

  Houston’s words echoed in his head. You have to want it so damn bad you don’t care if you eat, sleep, or breathe.

  Of course, his brother had been talking about land, but it might as well apply to Josie Morgan too.

  What was the solution?

  He was back to finding Ned Sweeney. Maybe doubling his efforts, hounding the man night and day would produce results. Or have another chat with Brenner McCall.

  But Josie?

  “I’m going to see what else I can uncover here,” he said. “With luck, I might be able to give you a family or a birthplace.”

  At least he could do that much for the woman who’d stolen his heart. She’d made him feel like he was worth something. He shook his head. He’d told her the very worst, things he’d never uttered to another living soul, and she still hadn’t run. By believing in him and trusting so fully, she’d given him a reason to hang on to her with all his might.

  But how in hell could he do that?

  Josie Morgan didn’t know the danger he’d brought her.

  Twenty

  “And if that life isn’t one I wish to claim?” Josie jerked to her feet. “You can’t give me a family I want, or a home—or respectability—if none exists.”

  Luke suspected fear of what lay ahead made her voice tremble. He’d once heard someone say that three things made you vulnerable—risk, uncertainty, and an emotional stake. All three were at work inside Josie.

  In him also.

  Each time he faced a new day or a man’s gun at twenty paces, he was at the mercy of the unknown. Of fate waiting like a salivating beast, ready to pounce if he faltered.

  In his experience, it seemed that getting something you wanted meant you had to give up something else in return. What more could life take from him? From her?

  Luke stood and moved to her. “I understand how you feel and I know the fine line we have to walk with family.” He tucked a loose strand of sun-drenched hair behind her ear. “We can’t let them get too close or they’ll see the things we hide. I’ll make you a deal. When I—we—find yours, if they fall short, I’ll take you away. Trust me?”

  “With every ounce of my being. Only you.” She leaned in to kiss him and he needed no urging to respond.

  When she ended the kiss, he stepped away before they spent the day engaging in guilty pleasure. He had to make use of the daylight while he could.

  * * *

  Doan’s Trading Post saw a brisk business, with cowboys arriving on one of the frequent cattle drives. A large herd of bellowing cattle stood near, waiting to cross the Red River. The stench from them went up Luke’s nose.

  From the cover of a low-hanging, leafy elm branch, Luke scanned the area. The group of Texas Rangers were gone. Must’ve ridden out. Maybe that meant Munroe O’Keefe had too. He saw no one else who posed a danger. There was no sign of Brenner McCall either. Not here, or at the wind cave where he’d slept. Luke had gone by earlier to check on Brenner and pry more information from him only to find him gone.

  “Is it safe?” Josie whispered.

  “As far as I can tell. We’ll go into the trading post separately. Let me do the talking.” He gave her a stern look. “All right?”

  The mutinous angle of Josie’s mouth did nothing to reassure him. Not one dadgum bit.

  “All right?” he asked again.

  “Fine,” she finally answered. “But I go in first.”

  Adjusting her serape, she strolled inside. Luke counted to twenty before pushing away from the tree trunk.

  He took a dozen long strides before a voice halted him. A man emerged from a group standing at the side of the trading post.

  Munroe O’Keefe. Dammit!

  Luke’s pulse pounded in his temples.

  “Luke Weston! You think you’re better’n me and I’m fixin’ to show everyone what a sorry excuse for a gunfighter you are.”

  Luke forced his heartbeat to slow. He casually fished a match stem from his pocket and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “What took you so long? Someone should tell you that you’re no good at tracking a man. I even left a wide trail for you to follow.”

  Red-faced, O’Keefe strutted toward him. Good. Luke had made him mad. He’d always found anger to be an ally. Boiling-mad men rarely shot straight.

  “If you want to be me so bad, you need to smarten up,” Luke said calmly. “You’ll never fill my shoes being stupid.”

  A crowd had begun to gather. He saw Josie run from the store, her eyes wide. Dammit! He knew without a doubt that if O’Keefe got lucky and shot him, she’d kill O’Keefe on the spot and to hell with the consequences. Her temper wouldn’t let her see that far.

  Or…fear gripped him as his heart raced. This couldn’t happen all over again. Please, not again. He saw Angelina’s face frozen in death as he’d knelt over her that day. Blood oozed from the wound in her chest…from the bullet meant for him.

  And now Josie appeared poised to put herself between him and O’Keefe. Just like Angelina.

  Dear God, don’t let it happen again. Don’t let me lose Josie too. Not this way.

  “I’m going to put a bullet right through your rotten heart, Weston. And then everyone will know I’m the fastest gun in the whole damn state.” O’Keefe glanced at the onlookers, the crowd growing to about two dozen or more. “Place your bets, folks. Here’s a chance to make some money.”

  Luke watched the fool posture and preen. O’Keefe’s ego had outgrown his stature. He was nothing but a little man and always would be, no matter if his bullet found the mark today.

  “You know, O’Keefe, somehow I always thought you’d pick a larger crowd than this to watch you become famous.” Luke’s narrowed gaze moved to the man’s eyes. Always the eyes. Never the hands.

  Right now, he saw the overconfidence of a cocky challenger.

  “I would’ve preferred a big town if I had my druthers. So I could claim the money faster,” O’Keefe crowed. “But here will do fine. Make me rich and famous, Weston.”

  “You’re a low-down, no-good jackass,” Josie hollered. At least she was staying put. For now. He didn’t know how much longer she’d wait, though.

  Please don’t do this, Josie. For once, don’t let your heart overrule your head.

  “Well, since you seem to know what you’re doing, let’s get this over with,” Luke answered with a shrug. “Wouldn’t want to hold you up or keep these fine folks waiting.”

  He stood with his legs apart, barely breathing. Everything seemed to stop, as though the world was waiting. Even the herd of cattle settled down and ceased their bellowing. Maybe they smelled death in the air.

  Minutes seemed to tick by. Though Luke had never fired first in his life, he was tempted to, just to end the delay.

  “Don’t let him do this, Luke!” Josie yelled.

  He heard the cusswords flow from her
mouth in a stream. He spat out the match stem, his hand hovering above the handle of his Colt. His nerves stretched thin.

  Come on, O’Keefe. You wanted this, you bastard. Draw.

  A flurry of movement came from his right but he didn’t glance away from O’Keefe’s eyes. Keep still, Josie.

  “I hope you rot in hell, Munroe O’Keefe,” Josie cried.

  The man blinked hard, then again, and drew.

  When O’Keefe’s gun cleared leather, Luke pulled his Colt and fired.

  Thick smoke blocked his vision for a moment. He felt no pain, nor tasted blood on his tongue.

  He’d survived another bullet. He slid his Colt into the holster and shot a glance to where Josie had stood.

  She was gone. Now she’d seen what he really was for herself and it had turned her stomach. An ache throbbed inside that nothing would ease.

  Someone asked him if he was all right. He’d never be all right. His soul was too pitted and scarred. Each time he put a bullet into someone, it added more.

  He glanced at the braggart lying in the dirt, a boy so sure he was going to become famous. Another challenger, another senseless death, another day alive to fight again.

  Where would it end?

  Luke stalked over to O’Keefe. He picked him up, slinging the man onto his shoulder. He left the dead man’s gun lying in the dirt and strode to the trading post where he dropped his load in the shade of the tree. No one spoke or even glanced his way as the onlookers went about their business.

  A man brought O’Keefe’s hat and stuck it on the braggart’s head. “What will you do with him?”

  “Bury him. That is, if Doan will loan me a shovel.”

  “Nice shooting. It was a fair fight. We all saw it. This man didn’t leave you any choice.” The stranger said goodbye and ran for the ferry.

  Luke went inside.

  A graying man who’d seen the better part of his life glanced up. “Howdy, stranger. I’m Jonathan Doan. Can I help you?”

  “I need to borrow a shovel.” Luke waved toward the door. “Unless you want to draw flies.”