"By the way,” Roy asked belatedly, pausing to drink from the pitcher of milk. He wiped his dripping mouth with his coat sleeve. “Who is this Barlow guy, and why are we chasing him?"
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Chapter Eleven
Getting information out of the people of Cornwall was like pulling an ornery tooth, Mac thought with a growl of disgust.
Everyone obviously knew Barlow's sister and the location of the ranch, but their vague responses left Mac with the strong suspicion they were protecting him—or someone. Possibly Barlow himself?
On his way to the livery stable located at the edge of town, he passed several unsavory-looking men whose faces looked familiar. He was certain that if he took the time to search through the pile of wanted posters in his satchel, he'd find a match or two right here in the uncooperative little town of Cornwall.
With a sigh of regret for the lost bounty, Mac entered the dim building where the barber grudgingly assured him he could get a horse.
A man emerged from the shadows as if he'd been waiting for Mac. He thrust his hand out before Mac's eyes could fully adjust to the dim light.
"Mason West, at your service."
Warily, Mac shook the big, meaty hand. “Mackenzy Cord. I need a horse for a few days.” At his request, Mason nodded—too quickly for Mac's piece of mind.
"Got just the horse for you, Mr. Cord. He's a might frisky, but you look like a man who can handle it."
Mason stepped into the light then, and Mac got a good look at his face. He barely suppressed a shocked gasp; one side of Mason's face was hideously disfigured. Mac glanced away out of politeness, but the sight of his scars once again tickled his memory.
"Happened when I was a boy,” Mason volunteered with a careless wave of his hand. “Injuns burned our house plumb to the ground with my Ma and Pa in it.” As he talked, he led the way through the stalls into the heart of the stable. “I tried to pull'em out, but I was a puny thing back then."
Swallowing a murmur of sympathy he suspected Mason didn't want, Mac eyed the man's broad shoulders and thick arms. It was hard to imagine the big man as a puny little boy.
"This here's Buckaroo.” Mason paused at a stall and opened the door. He grabbed the horse by the mane and led him out. “He's strong, but like I said before, he's got a stubborn nature. Once you show him who's boss, he'll come around."
He was a beautiful horse, stocky and strong-looking, but a bit short for Mac's taste. Mac held out his hand to be sniffed, but the horse snorted and gave a disdainful toss of his head.
Mason laughed. “Told you he was a bit feisty."
"I don't mind feisty,” Mac said, casting a narrow-eyed glance along the stalls to the other horses. “But I'd like to make my own choice, if you don't mind."
"Wouldn't mind at all,” Mason said with a toothy smile. “If I had something else for you to chose from.” He indicated the three horses on down the line from Buckaroo. “Billy there, she's going to drop a foal any day now, and the other two horses are spoken for."
Feeling unaccountably contrary, Mac moved to the stall housing a tall, beautiful bay gelding. He dismissed the third horse—a gentle-looking, smaller gray filly. “I don't mind paying extra for what I want."
"Well, I—"
"How about five dollars—plus the dollar a day?"
The amount seemed to temporarily rob Mason of his speech. He looked indecisive for a moment before finally nodding. “I reckon five dollars might persuade me to make an exception."
Mac had suspected that it might. He paid Mason, adding an extra dollar to the five he promised him. “I'll need a bedroll if you've got one handy, and enough supplies to last me a few days."
Now that Mason had made his decision, he was eager to be helpful. “I'll have everything you need, Mr. Cord. Cactus will be ready when you are."
"Good, I'll be back in an hour.” Deliberately, Mac waited until he'd taken a few steps in the direction of the door before he turned around again. “Say, you wouldn't happen to know of a ranch about twenty miles south of here, would ya? A place called Sunset Ranch?"
Fully expecting the same, evasive response he'd so far gotten from the townspeople, Mason surprised him by growling a vicious curse. He spat on the ground, a look of such intense hatred twisting his disfigured face that Mac immediately tensed.
"Reckon I do, and if you're kin to those murdering bastards, then you can have your money back, mister."
Finally Mac had found an ally—one who wasn't afraid to volunteer a little information. He hid his eagerness behind a grim smile. “I'm no kin. In fact, I've got a score to settle with Ned Barlow, and I heard he was heading that way."
Mason, who had doubled his fists and spread his legs in a fighting stance, apparently saw the truth on Mac's face. He visibly relaxed. “You don't want to go out there alone,” he warned. “Those varmints don't hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later."
Mac tipped his hat, deciding to wait until he returned to ask for more specific directions. Give West time to cool down. “I'll keep that in mind, and thanks, Mr. West. See you in an hour."
As he headed back to the hotel to say goodbye to Savannah and remind Roy of his responsibilities, Mac wondered if Mason's show of hatred had anything to do with the hideous scars on the man's face. If it did, he didn't blame the man for his reaction.
One more reason—not that he needed another, he had plenty in his opinion—to find Barlow and put him where he belonged; behind bars.
Back at the hotel, Mac found Savannah pacing the room. She looked agitated. The moment she spotted him, she rushed to him and grabbed his hands, squeezing them so hard Mac felt a rush of alarm.
"Mac, I've changed my mind,” she began in a tumble of words he could scarcely follow, “I don't want you to go after Ned. I don't care about the money anymore, or even the necklace! Let's just forget it and head for Angel Creek."
Ned. Not Barlow, but Ned. Mac felt the vicious hand of jealousy squeeze his heart. Attempting to ignore the weak emotion, Mac lifted a mocking brow. “Have you lost faith in me, my sweet Savannah?” The later slipped out before he could think.
Savannah noticed. “Don't make fun, Mac! Ned's dangerous—he's a bank robber—"
"And catching bank robbers is what I do for a living.” He could have added that he also hunted many other types of unsavory characters, such as murderers who wouldn't hesitate to cut a man's throat as they slept, but her frightened expression stopped him. Savannah was worried about his safety. Dare he hope that it was more than just friendly concern?
His attempts to reassure her appeared to fall on deaf ears. She jiggled his hands for emphasis. “Please, Mac. I—I don't want you to go!"
"So you just want to give up?” Mac challenged. “After the trouble we've gone through?"
"I can reimburse you when we get to Angel Creek."
"It's not about the money, Savannah.” Mac stared into her violet eyes and lost himself again. For a moment he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat. “We're too close to give up now. The man deserves to be put behind bars.” Those great, soul-stirring eyes filled with tears. Genuine or not, Mac wasn't immune.
"I can't change your mind, then?” she asked softly.
Mac shook his head, then grunted as she landed against him and flung her arms around his neck. To his further shock, she planted her mouth square against his and kissed him. His reaction was instant and as natural as the breath he drew; he closed his arms around her waist and took control of the kiss, savoring the sweet warmth of her mouth and the tiny whimpers that rumbled in her throat—or was that his own?
Breathless, they finally drew apart. Mac had to ask. “If that was a good luck kiss, I'll have to leave more often,” he teased huskily. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered with tears.
"I couldn't bear it if I lost you, Mac,” she confessed. “You've been one of my dearest friends for so long, I just can't imagine my life without you."
Friends. Mac closed hi
s eyes before she could see the hurt and pain her words evoked. He let his arms fall to his sides, forcing himself to admit that it wasn't Savannah's fault he was a coward. She didn't know how he truly felt about her because he was afraid to tell her.
Afraid of losing her forever.
* * * *
Well, she had tried.
Savannah leaned into the door and pressed her cheek against the cool wood. Anxiety caused her heart to pound, even as her lips throbbed from his kiss. If something happened to Mac...
It would be her fault. She had persuaded him to go after Barlow. If not for her, he'd be making his way back to Angel Creek to take over Sheriff Cannon's job. Angel Creek was a civilized town, a safe town; an occasional brawl at the saloon, a theft now and then.
Mac wouldn't be in much danger as the new sheriff.
But going after Barlow would be dangerous. What had she done? In her selfish desire to get back at Barlow for not only stealing her money, but humiliating her, had she unwittingly placed Mac in danger? Granted, Mac was a bounty hunter, but Savannah couldn't forget how cleverly Barlow and Raquel had fooled her. Savannah pressed a hand to her hot cheek, recalling how she had confided in Raquel about Jon Paul, and his painful betrayal. In return, Raquel had confessed to Savannah that she and Ned had been notified that their parents had passed away earlier in the year, and she and Ned were traveling to Jamestown to collect their younger sibling. She and Ned traveled a lot, she's said, and had only just gotten the news last week.
Apparently Raquel was an excellent story-teller, because Savannah doubted there was an orphaned sibling, or ever had been. If there was, she doubted Ned and Raquel cared.
Yes, they were dangerous and clever. But then, so was Mac. She had to remain strong in her belief that Mac would prevail. He'd brought in many criminals during his occupation as a bounty hunter. He would be all right. He had to be, because in the last few days she'd discovered that Mac was more precious to her than ever.
Which was exactly why she'd decided that if she couldn't change his mind, then she would disobey him.
She jumped as someone thundered on the door. It was Roy, looking comically secretive as he glanced both ways before slipping into the room.
"Does he suspect anything?” he whispered when the door was closed.
Savannah smiled at the bittersweet memory of their far-from-friendly goodbye kiss. “No, I don't believe he does. We'll give him an hour's head start, then follow him."
Roy thrust his chest out, flipped his coat aside, and showed her the gun strapped to his hip. “Don't be scared, I'm gonna protect you."
"I don't—” Savannah bit her lip, swallowing her spontaneous denial as she reminded herself that Roy was trying to be a man. “Thanks, Roy. I feel safer knowing you're around."
The boy's chest seemed to swell even bigger. With an exaggerated swagger that made Savannah want to giggle, he advanced into the room. His gaze held a youthful scorn as he pointed at her dress. “You gonna wear that?"
Nonplused, Savannah shrugged. “I don't have much choice."
"We'll just see about that,” Roy stated. He strode to the door, tripped on his coat, and fell flat on his face. Savannah winced. Before she could reach him, he bounced up and brushed himself off. His hat had fallen forward, but what little she could view of his face had turned red.
"Come with me,” he growled, shoving his hat into place again. “I've got an idea."
Resigned to building Roy's ego, Savannah followed him through the door. “Did you get the horses, Roy?"
"Yeah. Got you a beaut of a filly, and me a horse by the name of Cactus. The man thought I was a fool—tried to get me to pick a mean-looking horse by the name of Buckaroo.” Roy scowled at the reminder. “I might be young, but I ain't stupid."
The last word had scarcely cleared his throat before a deafening roar filled Savannah's ears. Slack-jawed with shock, she stared at the hole in the floor inches from Roy's foot, then at the smoking gun dangling from his hip.
"Roy...” she began, hesitating to add to his humiliation. His face had darkened from its previous shade to an alarming purple.
Roy's Adam's apple raced to the top of his throat, then back down again as he swallowed hard. He was looking at the hole as if he couldn't believe it was real. “Ah ... we'd better get going before someone comes to investigate."
"Yes, we'd better.” She grabbed his arm and hurried him along the hallway. “When we get clear of town, I'm going to teach you how to handle a gun,” she promised him in an undertone. “So that you can properly protect me.” To her surprise, he didn't argue.
"Yeah, guess that would be a good idea."
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Chapter Twelve
Mac traveled South through the rugged hills and dense forests of West Virginia until dusk. He spent a lot of time thinking about Savannah, wishing she could share the beauty of his surroundings. He could easily imagine her delight in the lush forests, bountiful wildlife, and pure, sparkling streams. What a vision she would make, he mused, sitting astride a horse with the rich sunset of red, orange, and yellow as a backdrop to her incomparable beauty.
It wasn't Mac's first visit to West Virginia, yet he seemed to be viewing everything with a breathtaking new clarity. He supposed being in love heightened ones senses, made one more aware of the wonders of nature.
Cactus snorted as if to mock his poetic thoughts as Mac dismounted near the banks of a creek. According to the directions West had given him, Mac figured he was about three miles from Sunset Ranch. He'd make camp for the night, then head out at first light. Tomorrow he'd spend a few hours observing the ranch and its occupants from a distance.
Until he knew what he was up against, he would not make a move.
After he had taken care of Cactus, Mac ate a cold supper of dried beef and biscuits, washing it down with cold, sparkling water from the creek. With his hunger taken care of, he propped his back against a tree and pulled his hat low. His bed was a soft carpet of pine needles; the air was fresh, crisp, and clean. He inhaled appreciatively. Yes, being in love certainly changed a body's prospective, he mused ruefully.
A gentle breeze tickled his nose, bringing with it the scent of mountain earth, pine, and Jasmine.
The latter reminded him of Savannah.
A delighted smile kicked up the corner of Mac's mouth as he inhaled again. Yes, definitely Jasmine—
"I think we're lost, Roy."
The voice, so dear and familiar to Mac, jolted him upright. For one incredible moment, he believed he had conjured Savannah by the sheer strength of his will.
It was the only explanation that he was willing to believe.
"We're not lost. I know that he came this way because we passed a pile of horse shit a while back."
And then the sweet, arousing sound of Savannah's voice again, patient yet persistent in her quest for logic. “But how do you know the manure belongs to Mac's horse? What if we're following someone else?"
"We aren't,” Roy insisted, but Mac thought he sounded unsure ... and a little frightened? Roy? Frightened? Nah, he had to be dreaming. If Roy was frightened, Mac suspected the boy would take a bullet before he would admit anything so unmanly. He smothered a chuckle at the thought.
What Mac heard next sent his heart to pounding.
Savannah shrieked, then there was a heavy thud, followed by uncensored cursing that made Mac's ears burn.
"Roy? Are you all right?"
"Damned jackass of a horse!” Roy snarled, sounding breathless and furious. “If I ever find out who swindled me out of my horse, I'm gonna shove Buckaroo straight up his—"
"Roy! You shouldn't speak that way in front of a lady."
"You don't mind, do you?"
"Well, no, I don't, but—"
"Then what's the problem?"
In his dazed mind, Mac clearly imagined Savannah's luscious lips purse in a stern line. He wasn't surprised when she decided to ignore Roy's impertinent question. That she had developed a soft
spot for the brat was an obvious fact. He envied the boy.
"I think we should make camp for the night. We've traveled most of the day ... surely we're half-way there by now? I'm dead tired, and so is Billy. Look at the way her head is drooping."
Half-way? Despite his irritation, Mac had to stifle a laugh at Savannah's naive assumption. Thank God they'd managed to somehow trail him, or they might have ran into the ranch before realizing it!
"Besides,” Savannah added, “If we keep going we're liable to stumble over Mac in his sleep!"
Roy snorted at that, which was a good thing because it covered the sound of Mac's helpless laugh. “We're at least two hours behind him."
In reality, they were on the opposite side of the narrow creek from Mac, making their noisy way through the forest. If not for the encroaching night and Cactus's dark coloring, they would have noticed the horse grazing contentedly along the bank.
"Well, me and Billy are stopping right here. You can go on if you like."
"Fine. I think I will."
A coyote howled in the distance. It was a long, mournful sound familiar to Mac.
But not, apparently, to Roy.
"Maybe I should stay with you,” Roy said quickly. “Mac would have my hide if something happened to you."
Mac planned to have Roy's hide anyway, for disobeying his orders. For now he was content to listen to their entertaining conversation and plan just how he was going to let them know he was but a few yards away.
"Why would he be mad at you?” Savannah asked. “It was my idea."
The creak of the saddle and a very plaintive groan told Mac she was dismounting. He should have guessed that Savannah was behind their daring adventure. Pit her stubborn nature against Roy's eagerness to become a man, and was it any wonder they decided to follow him? And Roy was riding Buckaroo, which meant they'd made their plans before he returned to the hotel to say goodbye—before Savannah had thrown herself against him and planted a soul-searing kiss on his mouth, declaring she'd changed her mind and begging him—most prettily—to stay.
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