Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series)

by Stacey Kayne

  “A child?” Wyatt interrupted.

  Salina tensed. Wyatt’s wide eyes slid to her stomach and she wanted to whip the carelessly spoken words back into her mouth. “It was merely a figure of speech.”

  “A figure you’ve never used before.” His eyes narrowed accusingly. “You told me you couldn’t conceive.”

  “The facts are the same, Wyatt. If I lose this ranch, you won’t ever see me again, child or not.”

  “Salina—”

  “We are so close to having it all.”

  “You have lost your mind! You must have if you think I’ll sit by and let Morgan move in while you’re carrying my child!”

  “You are not the only man I’ve been with!”

  “You’ve had no one but me for months! I’ve spent more time in your bed these past few weeks than I have in my own saddle! If you’d stop being so goddamned pigheaded, you’d realize I’m the only man you really want!”

  She stood stiff as a rooted tree, her jaw clamped tight, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “How long have you known?”

  She averted her gaze.

  “How long, Salina?”

  “A few days,” she murmured.

  He’d take that to mean a week or better. She’d been feeling ill for more than a week…because of pregnancy. Having spent hours listening to her rant about her mamma’s endless string of pregnancies, he figured Salina knew the signs well enough to recognize them.

  She’d known. And she’d doubled her efforts to capture Morgan.

  “My God,” he breathed, his breath coming out as though he’d been kicked in the gut. She would have used their child to trap another man.

  He stared at her and had to wonder if he was just seeing her clearly for the first time or if she truly was a stranger to him. How could he love her?

  He turned away, unable to even look at her.

  “Wyatt?” she called after him.

  He kept walking, damned if he’d allow her to devastate another man as she’d just done him. Morgan had suffered enough on account of them.

  “Wyatt, we can still make this work!”

  He spun around. “That’s where you’re wrong, Salina. Do you think we’re just pawns? Me, Cora, our baby! That we’re so insignificant we can be picked up and moved to wherever you’d have us placed?”

  “Wyatt—”

  “And to think I nearly killed a man over you. Fine time to realize you were never worth it.”

  Her eyes popped wide.

  “Hell.” He shook his head in disgust. “Then again, I suppose you’re no better than I deserve.”

  “Wyatt.”

  The tremble in her voice didn’t do a damn thing to stir his sympathy. He turned away and mounted his horse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To do what’s right. For once.” He rode toward her, the moisture in her eyes giving him a sliver of hope she wasn’t completely heartless. “You wanted a ramrod, lady, you got one. If you’re carrying my baby, I’m the only one you’ll have for as long as it takes you to deliver my child.”

  Her eyes widened with fear.

  “When I get back, if Morgan don’t kill me first, you and I are going to have a long talk about this ranch and whether or not I still want you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  S melling nothing but smoke, tasting the soot coating his teeth, Chance couldn’t shake his unease as he watched three men from the Lazy J walk back over the blackened field with Duce and the others. They dug their shovels into patches of ground still smoking, searching for hot spots. Thankfully they’d only lost a solid fifty acres of grass and trees, and none of the horses had been harmed.

  “Awfully neighborly of Wyatt to send his men over to help,” Tucker said as he wiped a bandanna over his soot-covered face.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” said Chance. “If Wyatt didn’t start this, who did?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” said Garret. The kid’s face was fully blackened with ash but for the whites of his eyes. “Sun’s not hot enough and there isn’t a thundercloud in the sky.”

  Chance thumped him on the shoulder. “Nice job cutting the fences, getting the horses out when you did.”

  “Remember that when it’s time to round them up.” His teeth flashed behind his blackened face.

  “I’m gonna head back,” Chance said, anxious to see Cora Mae.

  “Might want to hold up a minute,” said Tucker, looking past him.

  Chance turned to see Wyatt riding toward them over charred ground.

  “Either he’s in a hurry to hear our gratitude,” said Tuck, “or something’s on his mind.”

  The tension in Chance’s spine doubled as Wyatt reined to a hard stop in front of them. To his surprise, Wyatt even stepped down from his saddle. Something was definitely weighing on his mind. His worried gaze moved between him and his brother.

  “Chance?”

  “Yeah?” Chance tugged lightly at the bandanna around his neck, revealing enough of his scar to widen Wyatt’s eyes. His expression twisted with sheer misery as he met Chance’s gaze.

  “If this is about Salina, you can call off your lynch mob, firing squad or whatever the hell you’re planning.”

  “I’m sorry for the hanging. I was—”

  “The hanging?” Tucker shouted.

  Wyatt took a wary step back. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

  “What hanging?” Garret demanded.

  “I’ve never had feelings for her,” Chance said to Wyatt, ignoring the alarm in Garret’s and Tucker’s expressions.

  “Wish I could say the same,” Wyatt muttered. “She wants your land real bad. She won’t stop. She won’t listen. She planned to seduce you and convince you she’s heavy with your child, even though she knows full well she’s carrying mine.”

  Holy hell. No wonder the man looked a breath away from eating a bullet.

  “Wyatt, I married Cora Mae Tindale last night.”

  “That’s why I’m here. They took her.”

  “What?” His gaze whipped in the direction of the house.

  “That fella, Grissom, he took her from—”

  “You little bastard!” Chance lunged. Tucker’s grip on his shoulders was all that restrained him from tearing into Wyatt.

  “What do you mean, he took her?” Garret shouted, closing in beside him.

  Wyatt lurched back. “It wasn’t me! I just found out. Salina and some lady claiming to be her mother set it up!”

  “I swear to God, Wyatt,” Chance said in a growl, “if they hurt her—”

  “I don’t think so,” said Wyatt. “I got to the ranch as they were leaving. She woke up and kicked the lady’s maid from the coach and called for you. Grissom doused a rag with liquid and held it over her mouth until she passed out again.”

  My God. His whole life he’d underestimated Winifred. And yet again, Cora Mae had paid the price.

  “Which way?”

  “Southeast. Her mama said something about making it to a riverboat. But I imagine they’d have to catch the rail first. Nearest rail town is a four-day trail ride.”

  “How long ago?” asked Tucker.

  “Long enough for me to ride out here and find you.”

  A good hour. “If we take the stock trails—”

  “We can make up the time,” Garret said, already running toward their staked horses.

  Chance closed in on Wyatt.

  “You don’t gotta worry none about Salina and me.”

  “I know.” He slammed his fist into Wyatt’s face, knocking him out cold.

  Leaving him lying on the ground with his newfound conscience, he turned and mounted the horse Tucker had retrieved.

  “They’ll stick to the main trail, then follow the stage line,” said Tucker.

  “We’ll head them off.”

  “The bridge before the miner’s camp,” said Garret.

  Tucker looked skeptical. Chance t
ugged his hat low and spurred his horse, ready to ride as far as it took to get her back.

  She hurt everywhere. The room rattled.

  Cora tried to swallow, but her tongue felt as though it had turned to cotton.

  What happened?

  She’d been rolling out pie crusts. The scent of smoke had drawn her outside. She’d spotted the plume rising into the blue sky…She tried to open her heavy eyelids.

  “I’m sorry, madam,” said a girl’s voice—a familiar voice.

  One of the maids, a lady attendant from the manor.

  No.

  It was a dream, a bad dream. She couldn’t be back at the manor.

  “I expect you to take greater care in the future.”

  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Cora forced her heavy eyelids to open. She sat up and blinked, trying to make out two figures sitting across from her in the dim light. The dim light of a coach, she realized.

  “Mother?” she said to the dark figure blending with the shadows.

  “Cora Mae. I do hope you are ready to behave yourself.”

  She leaned back against the cushion, her head throbbing, the shift and jostle of the seat adding to her discomfort. She tried to move her arms and realized her wrists burned from the rope tied around them. Closing her eyes, she remembered waking once before and seeing them, her mother, Salina, and trying to fight off Mr. Grissom. He’d sneaked up on her in the yard, covering her mouth until the world had gone dark.

  Distantly she wondered how long she’d been unconscious. As more of the haze lifted from her mind, her predicament began to sink in. Fear closed over her.

  Mother had kidnapped her.

  “They’re going to come for me,” she said, certain Chance wouldn’t let her be taken this way.

  “My man assures me we have quite a lead,” her mother said mildly.

  As Cora’s eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting, she was able to make out her mother’s relaxed expression. The curtains drawn over the small windows bounced with the movement of the coach, letting in flickers of light. Charity, one of her mother’s maids, stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. A bloody scrape marred her chin.

  “Should they find you worth the trouble of pursuing,” her mother continued in a droll tone, “you will be in Scotland before they make it across the country.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “You will.”

  The finality in her mother’s voice infuriated her. “I’m happy here. I love Chance!”

  “Do not speak to me of love! You are a Tindale.”

  “Does that make me incapable or unworthy of love?”

  “Neither is relevant.”

  Cora slowly twisted her wrists and tried to ignore the sting as she tested the tightness of the rope. “Why couldn’t you have left me in Massachusetts?”

  “You have obligations to the family that raised you, Cora Mae.”

  “Obligations? The Tindales have never done anything for me!”

  “How dare you!” Winifred shouted. “You were raised in the finest of luxuries, provided with the best tutors—though you could never apply yourself, preferring instead to blend in with common filth. When I’m finally able to give you the chance to repay me for the shame and disappointment you’ve put me through, you disgrace me.”

  Realizing her mother couldn’t hurt her any further than she already had, her callous words rolled over Cora like water off a frog’s back. Cora knew what it was to be loved. Nothing her mother said could take that from her.

  “You will marry Laird Ambrose Campbell and you will be grateful!”

  “No.” She’d be with Chance or die trying. “I have a husband,” Cora said, discretely slipping her hands from the coil of rope. “If that Scottish beast is so important to the Tindales, you’ll have to marry him, Mother.”

  Cora lunged up and reached for the door. Her mother moved to block her.

  Cora shoved her away.

  “Grissom!” Her mother’s ear-splitting shriek echoed through the carriage.

  Cora pushed the door open to a flood of sunlight, and jumped.

  She crashed against hard wood, the impact of her fall taking her breath. Pushing up, all she could see was rushing water. The hush of a river filtered through the ringing in her ears.

  A bridge. Her gaze locked on the green hills, the mountains. Home. She pushed to her feet. Before she could take a step, a hand clamped onto her shoulder.

  “I’m sick of chasing you down!” His fingers dug into her arms as he lifted her off her feet.

  She strained against his hold and screamed as she collided with Mr. Grissom’s thick chest.

  A gunshot exploded.

  “Unhand my wife!”

  Cora’s heart leaped. “Chance!”

  Released from the vise of Grissom’s grip, she fell to the bridge.

  Grissom turned and dodged Chance’s fist. Chance’s next punch connected with Grissom’s jaw, knocking him back.

  Cora’s mind spun as a blur of figures flashed before her. She struggled back to her feet and someone grabbed her arm. She saw black from the corner of her eye, and struggled against her mother’s hold. Winifred tripped over the low railing and in a flutter of black fabric, fell to the water below, her scream cut short by a splash.

  Cora gasped at the sight of her mother flailing in the swirling rush of water. “Mother’s in the river!”

  Chance turned toward the sound of Cora Mae’s voice and stepped over an unconscious Grissom. “Cora Mae?”

  “Chance!” She glanced up, her expression distraught. “Mother can’t swim!”

  Tucker stepped up to the edge beside them. “Now ain’t that a cryin’ shame?”

  Chance looked from the cold rage in Tucker’s eyes to the sheer horror in Cora Mae’s. He and Tuck could easily allow Winifred to sink straight to hell without feeling a twinge of guilt, but Cora Mae couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow Winifred to cause her more pain, not even in death.

  Biting out a curse, he unlatched his gun belt, dropped it to the bridge and leaped over the railing.

  “Chance!” Tucker shouted after him.

  Cora’s heart stopped at the sight of Chance diving into the water.

  “Goddamn it!” shouted Tucker. “That’s pure snowmelt! They’re likely to freeze before they drown.”

  Cora held her breath as she watched Chance cutting through the water, risking his life to save a woman he loathed. Her mother went under. Chance dove beneath the surface. Forever seemed to pass as she searched the rippling swirls for signs of him.

  It’s taking too long. Tears fogged her vision.

  Chance’s blond hair broke the surface. He surged up, gasping for breath, hauling a dark figure up beside him.

  Air rushed from Cora’s lungs with a sob of relief. She’d have collapsed to the bridge had a strong arm not caught her.

  “It’s all right,” Garret soothed. “Chance is climbing up the bank and dragging that lady through the mud with him.”

  “Garret,” said Tucker. “Take Cora to Mrs. Stone. Have her tend the rope burns on her wrists.”

  Anxious to see Chance, she didn’t object as Garret led her toward the dirt road. Cora was shocked to discover the bridge was indeed just outside of Slippery Gulch, the stretch of buildings not far off the river. People had gathered at the edge of town, obviously coming to see what all the ruckus was about. Heat burned in her cheeks.

  Oh, my goodness.

  “Hey, kid?” shouted Tucker.

  She and Garret glanced back. Tucker motioned to her mother’s young attendant, trembling and crying beside him. “Take this girl with you.”

  Garret looked questioningly at Cora.

  “She’s just a maid.”

  “Come on!” Garret ordered, glancing back at the girl.

  Cora tried to take a step and swayed. Garret’s arm locked around her shoulders. “I’m quite dizzy,” she said, surprised by the fact.

  Garret held her steady. “We’ll get you inside Mrs. Stone’s kitchen. Af
ter a cup of warm tea, you’ll feel better.”

  She glanced past the bridge as they reached the end, but couldn’t see beyond the bend in the river.

  “Tucker will tell him where you’re at,” Garret assured her, gently urging her toward town. “He’ll come for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Heck, you don’t have to thank me. That’s what family’s for.”

  Not always. She wondered if Garret knew just how fortunate he was to belong to such a family.

  Winifred coughed and sputtered as Chance dragged her to the top of the embankment. He dropped to his knees on the grass beside her. A crowd of folks rushed toward them from the edge of town. He spotted Tucker driving the carriage up to the livery. He didn’t wait for Winifred to catch her breath. Ignoring the chill of his own wet skin, he lifted her slight, trembling form into his arms and stood.

  Spud broke away from the gathering spectators and rushed toward him. “What the hell happened?” he shouted. “I heard gunshots and saw you diving off the bridge. Is that Mrs. Tindale?”

  “Sure is,” Chance said, walking past him, watching his brother haul Grissom’s unconscious hide from the carriage. “She tried to kidnap my wife.”

  “Skylar?” Spud said, rushing along beside him.

  “Cora Mae.”

  “Chance?” said Spud, his eyes wide.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Winifred struggled against his hold. “Put me down!”

  Chance did just that.

  Winifred hit the dirt with a shriek. “How dare you!” She struggled to her feet, fighting the weight of her wet dress.

  “How dare I what?” he said, leaning over her. “Save your worthless life?”

  She blanched. Her mouth snapped shut.

  “Don’t bother thanking me. If it wasn’t for Cora Mae, I’d have let you sink straight to the fires of hell. Walk,” he said, pointing to her carriage waiting beside the livery.

  Shivering, Winifred turned and did as she was told.

  “That’s one way to handle a mother-in-law,” Spud said, staying in step beside him.

  Chance grunted. “Mrs. Tindale needs a ride to the nearest rail town. I’ll pay you or one of your stable hands a hundred dollars to drive her. Right now.”