Boxcar turned and glared at him. "What about Tilly?"
Thorn grinned. "What's the matter, did she have a date tonight or something?"
Boxcar stiffened. "Tilly is free to see whoever she wants to see, and so am I."
Thorn shook his dark head. "Never thought I'd see the day when you let a woman walk all over you. The prints of her boots are on the back of your shirt." Boxcar was not being very forthcoming, and Thorn was a little worried about him. Not that it was any of his business. He didn't like anyone messing in his love life, not even Boxcar, who happened to be his woman's brother. Just the same, something didn't feel right.
"Not everyone is a spank first, talk later kind of man, old buddy," retorted Boxcar wryly.
"Tilly's like your sister, she needs a firm hand to keep her from being a brat," argued Thorn.
"And you're an expert on women?" scoffed Boxcar.
"I never said that. I just said Tilly needs a damned good spanking to bring her around, and you refuse to give it to her. And until you do, that ring in your nose is going to continue to hurt. But you do what you want. Right now, we have to get Mary dressed like a boy and get on our way to El Paso." Dropping the subject of Tilly, Thorn climbed the stairs and knocked on Clary's door.
At the bottom of the stairs, Boxcar called up, "I'm heading over to Tilly's, to let her know I'm leaving town again."
Thorn nodded as Clary opened the door and then he stepped inside.
Boxcar turned the corner of the alley leading to the back of Tilly's diner and stopped in his tracks, then hastily backed up, only to furtively peer back around the corner. Tilly was at the back door, leaning up against the wall talking to Nelson Anderson. He could hear the soft laughter that always made his blood run hot. It sounded like she was flirting with the man, though, and Boxcar felt a fierce stab of jealousy. Anderson was supposed to be here getting food, not angling for something more. It stood to reason that he knew Tilly. After all, they had both been here before Boxcar had arrived on the scene, but it bothered him that he should chat her up in the alley like this.
Boxcar had always prided himself on being able to read people, to pick up on small nuances that others missed. But he'd be damned if he understood the workings of Tilly Prentiss's mind. She puzzled him—she was a challenge. When he looked into those deep loch blue eyes, he seemed to float away and all he could focus on was getting to those luscious red lips that seemed to beckon him.
He jammed his hat further on his head, lost in his muddle. He knew she had flashbacks sometimes of the Indian attack that had killed her husband and the rest of the wagon train headed west. And sometimes, she had nightmares so bad that when she came awake crying, he could see that she was still with her dead husband, even though his arms were holding her.
Frustrated, he knew she wasn't ready for a commitment of any sort—and might never be. As for spanking her, Tilly was almost always a lady. And even when she faltered, she wasn't a brat like his sister.
Clary was stubborn, hard headed and always determined to have her way even if she ended up over Thorn's lap for her efforts. She deserved every lick she got. He couldn't believe she was still letting Thorn believe she did her own baking. He snorted softly to himself. If he had a girl like Clary, he'd be spanking her saucy butt, too! But Tilly wasn't like that.
Thorn's words about Tilly needing a damned good spanking mocked him. Was he missing something? If she wanted a spanking, why didn't she just ask? He knew some women liked it rough and tumble, but Tilly had never given him a signal like that. If she had, he'd have willingly obliged! He'd had her across his knee on more than one occasion, but it wasn't a punishment at all. And she certainly seemed to enjoy it then—it turned both of them on. The image of her smooth pale buttocks turned up for his hand made his nether regions stiffen. She had a beautiful ass and milky white skin. That riotous black hair against the pale flesh of her back was a contrast in smooth silks, contrasts he loved to run his fingers over.
The closest he had come to spanking her for punishment was when he'd found her in the alley behind the bank in Silver Springs, dressed like a man and trying to be a spy for the sheriff there. But after the case was finished and he'd come to her room in the hotel, she'd been trembling and distant. She'd had a bad flashback and explained that it had driven her to try to do something to help them all, instead of just hiding, like she'd hidden under a blanket during the Indian attack. She still blamed herself for doing nothing to help Stephen, and the sight of him lying lifeless haunted her. There was no way he was going to spank her after she explained. That haunted look was still in her eyes, and he figured she'd been through enough for one night.
Sometimes, Tilly got involved in Clary's escapades, but that was usually to keep Clary from coming to any harm. Both he and Thorn were grateful that she kept an eye on his sister while they were away. The heartbreak and suffering that Tilly had been through had aged her—aged her emotions. She wasn't the younger, almost carefree girl that Clary was. Clary'd had her bad moments, especially when she found she couldn't have children, but that was nothing like the horrors that Tilly had gone through.
Boxcar figured he was in love with Tilly, but would his love be enough to chase away the night terrors? Or would he always have to live with the shadow of Stephen Prentiss sleeping with them? He wasn't sure he was ready for that, and it all got jumbled and confused. He couldn't see anything clearly when it came to her. Maybe he should move on—find someone else. Someone like Mary. That girl had stunned him like a blow to the stomach when he had laid eyes on her. That wild red hair would be like sinuous flames crawling on his pillow case as he drove into her body, claiming her and making her his. The glow in her eyes was like emerald fire, and her disposition was tempestuous too. All things considered, the girl was all fire and beauty, and he was strongly attracted to her. The trip to El Paso with her was going to be a living hell, but he was determined that no harm would come to her. And even if Frank Ventermin was legally her stepfather, Boxcar would insure that he never had the chance to sell her again.
His head came up when he heard footsteps in the alley, and he quickly went back to the boardwalk and around to the front of the Chuparosa. He'd meet Tilly inside and say his goodbyes, no point in Nelson thinking he was spying on him.
Chapter Six
When Thorn entered Clary's flat, he could see Mary asleep on the settee in the living room. Clary put her fingers on her lips to shush him, and he pulled her into the bedroom and locked the door. His mouth found hers as he picked her up easily in his strong arms and carried her to the bed and dropped her in the middle, giggling. "Where were we earlier?" he growled, peeling off his shirt and undershirt.
Her cornflower blue eyes danced in merriment. "I believe you were eating blackberry cobbler and getting undressed in my kitchen," she whispered baldly. "So how did you like it? Was it as good as Tilly's?" She tried not to sound too anxious.
"It was every bit as good as Tilly's," he whispered into her ear, his voice low and sexy and his breath hot against her throat. His mouth headed down to the peaks of her now naked breasts, gently tasting the hardening nubs with his tongue. "I can't wait to get you all to myself and try that berry juice out on these." His thumbs pushed up under the rosy nipples as he lightly suckled, sending a crashing wave of desire straight to her feminine center.
It seemed like only seconds before they were devoid of clothes and Thorn was impaling her on his long hard shaft as if he would never get the chance again. It was fast, delicious, and wildly erotic as they came together knowing they would soon be apart. Breathless after ascending the sensual peaks of exploding desires, they slowly rode the waves down until Clary simply lay with her head on his broad shoulder, her finger curling around the dark strands of fine hair on his chest. "When do you leave?" she finally asked, hating him going but refusing to put any limits on him by complaining.
He kissed her hair and then placed her fingers against his firm lips to nibble on them. "Within the hour," he said huskily. "Ju
st as soon as you can get Mary dressed in men's clothes and that long hair braided up under a hat. She has to go with us."
Clary sat up and stared doubtfully at him. "But, Thorn, you know she has adamantly refused to go. I'm not even sure spanking her would convince her, she is so afraid of her stepfather."
Thorn swung his long legs off the side of the bed and stood up. Clary couldn't resist running her palm over his taut, muscled buttocks. "Stop that, brat, or I'll never get away," he said hoarsely, grabbing his underwear and pants. "Her mother's still alive; I think that will change her mind."
"Oh, I see." She smiled at him through half closed eyelids, desire building within her again as she watched him trying to get dressed. He was such a handsome man, with that square jaw and those golden eyes that locked with hers. His body was whipcord tough, well muscled, and he moved with precision and grace. She whimpered low in her throat as his shaft sprang to attention when her fingertips reached for him.
"Aw, hell, Clary," he croaked and threw his pants aside. "We'll make time for one more."
He took the belt out of his pants and folded it double. "Turn over, brat, you got some licks for mocking me earlier and for deterring me from my mission." His eyes gleamed at her. "This will be quieter than my hand, and I think you better keep your voice down as much as you can. Wouldn't want to wake our friend out there."
Excitement and fear warring with each other, Clary turned over and put her face on the bed with her buttocks in the air. She tucked the pillow he handed her under her tummy to hold her up if her knees gave out.
"Spread those legs, now," demanded Thorn, running his hand over the soft flesh of her bottom.
She shivered in anticipation, feeling herself totally exposed. She loved this man and trusted him completely. Only to him would she give her submission. When the first lick hit across both buttocks, she gasped at the sting, but didn't cry out. Another one followed the first and then another one and another until she buried her face in the quilt and screamed. Then his warm hand was caressing the welts, massaging away the sharp sting.
"You going to behave while I'm gone?" he asked throatily. "Because if I find out you haven't, this little taste of my belt is going to get serious."
"Yes," she panted, trying to stay still as his fingers explored all her secret places, making her want more. "Please, Thorn," she begged.
"Please what, honey?"
"I need you—I need you now!"
His fingers instantly withdrew, and his hands grasped her hips as he drove home in one hard thrust, filling her completely. "Is this what you want, brat?"
Her hips were pushing back against him, and she was losing control. "Yes, damn you, take me, Thorn!"
He wasted no time in building their pleasure, long and slow, and then fast and hard, alternating to slow her climb. Finally, he reached around and found the nub that controlled the very center of her desires and drove into her harder and harder, expertly bringing them both to the top and over the peak.
Clary couldn't help her screams into the quilt, her body shaking as Thorn branded her his, once again. The submissive position he still held her impaled in declared his possession, and she cried from the sheer force of her emotions. When he finally released her and pulled her over with him to lay together, her face was wet with tears, her chest heaving with small sobs.
"Clary?" He moved up on one elbow and turned her to face him. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" His concerned gaze made her cry harder.
"Oh, Thorn," she sobbed. "I love you so much, I can't stand it sometimes." She couldn't say the rest of it—that she was so afraid of losing him that she never wanted him to be out of her sight. But then, he wouldn't be the man she loved if she tried to change him.
His finger gently brushed away the tears, and he kissed her. "I love you too, honey, I've always loved you. There will never be another woman for me."
They clung together, Clary melting into him like a second skin until he finally brought her hands together and kissed the palms. "I have to go; will you help me get ready?"
Taking a deep breath and forcing her lips into a smile, she nodded. "Of course, I'll help you."
Two hours later, Thorn, Boxcar and Mary were well out of Potluck and headed for El Paso. The trio had been quiet getting out of town and each had been lost in their own thoughts. At last, Boxcar broke the silence. "That was pretty slick, old buddy, getting Mary out that way. I don't think anyone caught on at all, even if someone was watching, I'm not sure they would have caught the trick."
Thorn grunted, his mind still on Clary. "Yeah, having Tilly dress as a boy and go into Clary's shop with Fanny to carry her packages worked real well."
Boxcar grinned. "Yep, when Mary came out in the boy's clothes and Tilly borrowed one of Clary's dresses and came out the back way, no one was the wiser."
They had waited for Fanny and Mary a few miles out of town where Mike Cavanaugh, an old friend of Fanny's, was waiting with them to escort her back to town. It had been as smooth as silk. Even Mike hadn't known the young boy was a girl, and they hadn't told him. Mike had been more than willing, no questions asked. Fanny spent a lot of time in the company of men, young and old alike so what she was doing with a young lad wasn't something anyone would be likely to question.
Thorn hadn't liked getting Tilly involved, but no one was likely to ask Clary or Tilly about a young girl. And Fanny would take a bullet before she would give Mary away. Besides, they had Charlie and Nelson there to look after Fanny, and Holden could still use a gun.
"We got dust up ahead," Boxcar said tightly. "I'll take Mary behind that outcrop of rocks.
Thorn nodded and reined in his pinto while they took cover. It was only a few minutes before a couple of men came into sight, pulling a third horse, a palomino with a man draped over the saddle. Thorn slowed to a stop and waited, his rifle casually across his thighs. He soon realized it was Bill and Henry, Ventermin's errand boys from El Paso, with Mary's horse. When they saw him, they stopped immediately.
"What do you have there, boys?" asked Thorn, eying the man draped over the saddle.
Henry spoke first. "We went down to the stream a few miles back near Gila pass to water the horses and found this man. He's been shot." His long strip of hair blew back in the wind revealing his baldpate, and he scowled and rammed his hat back on his sweaty head.
It was Bill's turn to add to the story. "We figured we better bring him back to Potluck, seeing as how he's getting pretty ripe already. Just in case he has something to do with Mary disappearing."
"Did you search him?" asked Thorn. The man was dressed similar to the corpse Holden had in his cell. But Fanny had given Boxcar a description of a dark haired man, dressed in nice clothing with a red brocade vest.
"No, we just slung him over Mary's palomino here and came back," insisted Bill.
"Turn him over," ordered Thorn. "I want to see his face."
The two men untied the dead man and let him drop to the ground where they kicked the body over. Sure enough, the front of his vest was red brocade. He didn't recognize him.
Thorn dismounted and made the motions of going through all his pockets, but he knew he wasn't going to find anything. He didn't find anything in the brim of his hat either, like Boxcar had found on the other man. He did think it odd that the man's boots were missing. He pinned Bill in a cold stare. "What happened to his boots?"
"We didn't take them," blustered Henry. "If that's what you're getting at. He never had any on when we found him."
Thorn pushed back the brim of his hat and swiped his forehead with his bandana. "Fine, take him on into Potluck and make sure Holden sees him." He swung up into his saddle. "And make sure that palomino gets back to Ventermin. I wouldn't want it to mysteriously disappear."
Henry glared at him. "We planned on keeping Mary's horse with us," he declared.
Once the men were out of site, Thorn waved his hat at the rock outcropping and Boxcar came out, grimly leading Mary's horse. Mary's face was red, and he coul
d tell she was fuming.
"What's wrong with her?" Thorn asked. "Why are you leading her horse?"
"She wanted to get her palomino," snorted Boxcar. "I had to practically hogtie her to keep her out of sight."
"It's my horse," declared Mary hotly. "Those two were leading my horse!"
Thorn pinned her in a hard stare. "Those two work for your father," he snapped. "They got your horse back from those settlers and were headed back to El Paso because they couldn't find you when they came across one of the men that busted up Fanny's place. He's dead, and now they are taking him back to Potluck. What do you suppose would have happened if you had come charging down here to get your horse back, little girl?"
"I'd have taken my horse away from them," she blustered. "I could have done it!"
"And then what would we do with those men who would now know where you are?" He pointed to the badge. "I'm the law now in this area, and they insist that you are Frank's stepdaughter. That means I would have to let them have you to uphold the law. Is that what you want?" he barked.
Mary's face went white, and she stuttered. "I-I-I never thought of that, Senor."
"Look, Mary," coaxed Boxcar. "We've gone to a lot of trouble to keep you safe from your stepfather. We plan to get to the bottom of his claim and make sure you are reunited with your mother. Until then, you're going to have to do things our way. You got that?"
Mary nodded with a sigh. "Si, I just wanted my horse," she quavered.
"And you on that horse would be a dead giveaway," responded Thorn impatiently. "Everyone knows you have that palomino, and even if you are a dressed as a boy, they still know the horse. It's better off with Bill and Henry. They will see it gets back to your father."
Mary hung her head, tears in her eyes and her chin quivering. "Okay," she whispered."
"If I give you back the reins to your horse, are you going to go chasing off after them?" asked Boxcar with a warning glint in his brown eyes. "Or can I trust you now?"
Her pretty eyes flashed but her tone was civil. "You can trust me, Senor, I won't run off," she insisted.
The Heart of Mary: A Thorn Novel Page 7
