by Multiple
Her father. It was the first mention of her people she’d made. He thought back to the man in the bank. The one who walked through the walls.
The one she’d called Rudy.
Was he a brother?
He was definitely gifted and in ways different from Scarlett. There were no scorch marks or burned holes in the bank wall. She pressed a hand to her mouth, covering up a yawn.
“You should sleep. I can stretch the bedroll out. The storm will likely go on for hours.” His conscience nagged at him. He had more questions. Had she met those that would use her? Was the gang she rode with the same? What the hell had they needed the gold for?
How soft would her lips feel under his?
“No,” she shook her head. “I can’t go to sleep. Not now.”
“You’re exhausted.” Sam gentled his voice.
“It doesn’t matter, Marshal…”
“…Sam…”
“…it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be safe for you if I went to sleep. Not now.”
Safe for him? It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned that. She’d said something similar to Micah. His brother relayed their conversation and her determination to protect his family.
“Why wouldn’t it be safe?”
“My brothers are coming,” she confessed, meeting his gaze across the fire. There was a sorrow in them that stabbed him to his core. “If I go to sleep, they’ll find me for certain.”
“Don’t you want to go home?” Brothers or not, if she didn’t want to go, Sam wouldn’t let them have her.
“I do.” She admitted. Scarlett scrubbed a hand over her face, her distress beckoned him and he gave in, rising to circle the fire and squat down next to her. He caught her hands in his, marveling at the simple softness of her skin.
“But?”
“It won’t be safe for you, Marshal…”
“…Sam.”
She sighed. “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Insist that we become friends. It was easier when I didn’t like you.”
He smiled. She liked him. He could work with that.
“And now you’re smiling.” Scarlett shook her head at him, glancing down at their entwined fingers. “And you’re holding my hands.”
“I am.”
“Marshal…”
“Sam.”
She growled, her glare cutting through the pinch of worry on her face. Sam grinned. The tart sass was back. He preferred her temper, the way it kindled like sparks struck by flints in her eyes. It suited his fiery haired minx far more than the quake of fear, shame or regret.
“Samuel.”
“Better, but I prefer Sam.”
“You are impossible.” A smile peeked out from behind her scowl.
“No, ma’am. I am entirely possible. But regardless of which, if you do not want to go anywhere, you do not have to.”
“And if I want to go?” She challenged him boldly, lifting her gaze and holding his. Sam’s stomach clenched. His heart kicked against his ribs, a wild beast, desperate for escape.
Could he let her go?
Chapter Thirteen
“Any luck?” Cody studied the wet landscape around them. The stream they’d paralleled since the marshal crossed over onto his own land had swollen to twice its size in the downpour. Rain rolled off the brim of Cody’s hat, splashing down onto the oiled buckskin he wore as a coat.
“No. There’s no safe place to ford.” Buck answered. He’d taken Ike and Noah north along the streambed while Jimmy and Rudy rode with Cody south. “Whatever keeps us from making the crossing does not weaken with running water.”
The marshal’s trail had been easy enough to pick out when he’d ridden out of Dorado hours before dawn, but after just one hour on the trail, they’d discovered an invisible barrier none of the brothers could penetrate.
“Dammit.” Cody’s oath startled Scarlett’s rider less mare. The empty saddle taunted their failure. They knew where she was, but they still couldn’t get to her. “What the hell is it?”
“I don’t know.” Buck shook his head. “I’ve only ever heard stories of places where entry was barred to others, holy places, places of reflection … but it bars us, not the horses.”
Cody paused. “It lets animals across.”
“Cody,” Jimmy called through the rain. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Not if it gets Scarlett back. We can’t cross. It could take days to find a weakness in this barrier, whatever it is.”
“Buck can dream to Quanto,” Ike joined the protest. The brothers were circling their horses around Cody, their voices lifting to be heard over the rain that hammered down on them, relentlessly pressing them to pull back. “Even if you can go across, you’d be alone.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Fur scratched and surged under his skin. The horses shied, snorting and stamping their feet. Cody tossed the reins to Scarlett’s mare over to Buck. “What matters is getting to her. If I’m there, I can protect her, help her get out. Then we can cross over and meet you safely.”
“What if she can’t cross back out?” Noah asked the question that Cody tried to ignore.
“Then she won’t be alone.” The wolf inside of him scratched harder, eager to attempt the thought that had formed in Cody’s mind. They’d spent hours riding up and down the line of the barrier, searching for a weak point and the day wore on, the storm rolled in and they were no closer to Scarlett than they’d been before. Four days was rapidly becoming five.
He needed to get to her. To make sure she was all right.
“You said she’d been sick,” he glanced at Buck for confirmation. But his brother avoided his eyes, concentrating on calming the horses that were growing wilder by the moment. Cody’s scent was changing, the wolf riding very close to the surface. He dropped off his own horse and tossed the reins to Jimmy. “Then she needs us.”
He strode away from them, the rain turning the grass and dirt to mud, which sucked greedily at his boots. He could roll his clothes up, carry them in his teeth if he had to.
“Cody,” Jimmy followed, hard on his heels. Cody whirled, glaring until Jimmy lifted his hands in a gesture of supplication. “Think about this. We don’t even know why we can’t cross onto their land. This entire venture has been fucked from the beginning.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Cody snarled. The wolf snapped its teeth. “It’s my fault she’s there. It’s my fault she was caught. Now she’s sick. We don’t know if the fever has her again or if it's her gift. We don’t know if she’s out of control. It will kill her if she hurts someone.”
Jimmy’s teeth clenched, his expression a grimace as the rain flattened the edges of his hat. “I know. We all know. We all let her come. Not just you. It was a mistake, but you were right when you said that if we didn’t let her come she would have followed us anyway…that’s why she was in town. Because she didn’t listen. She followed us to the bank.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Cody made a slicing gesture with his hand. “Quanto said he could hold Wyatt off for three days. If he hasn’t heard from us that she is safe by then, Wyatt will ride.”
Cody didn’t need to explain what would happen then.
“She’s alone.” The wolf scrabbled against his skin. “Jimmy. She’s alone.”
His brother bowed his head and nodded. “You have to try.”
Cody clapped him on his shoulders. “Take the others, head back to Dorado. Find that younger brother of the marshal’s, the one that spoke to me. Find out what he knows, keep him in sight, if I can’t get to her, maybe we can arrange a trade.”
Jimmy nodded. “All right. Be careful. Scarlett won’t be the only one alone out there.”
“She won’t be alone when I get there,” Cody grinned fiercely, stripping off his gun, hat and clothes, passing them to his brother. “Tie up the clothes so I can take them.”
The rain beat slivers of ice against his s
kin, but he ignored it. The wolf was stretched, popping his skin, his bones and fur sprouted. He landed on all fours, shaking the water off his fur and glared his yellow eyes upwards at Jimmy. His brother knelt, careful to telegraph his movements.
“I’ll tie this around your sides. You can tear it off when you’re ready to change.”
Cody let the words sink in, the explanation sliding around the wolf’s consciousness. He bobbed his head, giving his permission. Jimmy fastened the bundle to his back, cinching it to his sides with the belt, but careful not to touch anymore than he had to.
The wolf disliked any of them touching him. He darted away the moment Jimmy removed his hands, ignoring the calls of the other brothers as he followed the stream back to where they lost the marshal. On four legs, he moved swiftly, the fur protecting him from the cold despite the soaking.
Within the hour he found the space where the barrier was on this side of the stream. He tested it with his nose, then his head. No impediment.
He tested it twice more before plunging into the racing stream, his head bobbed above the water and his legs kicked fiercely as he swam across. The rain had doubled the size of the crossing and the current pushed him downstream even as he cut his way across. By the time he heaved himself out of the water and shook, the wolf was numb with tired.
The miles to Scarlett stretched out on front of him. The rain had washed away most of the fresh scent trails, but the wolf trusted its instincts. His instincts said north.
Kid leaned against the roof post. The rain came down in great, gusting sheets, spilling over the lip of the veranda’s roof in a cascading waterfall. The storm rolled in like a trail driver and parked liked an angry bull, bellowing and snorting. The air carried a bite to it, the summer heat thoroughly doused. A slender pair of feminine hands glided over his bare belly and then up to his chest.
Mrs. Carson pressed her weight into the embrace and her lips feathered a kiss to his shoulder.
“You should come back to bed,” she murmured in a low contralto that still carried the accent of warm Georgia peaches. She’d come west with her husband four years before. Buried him a year later and taken Kid into her bed a year beyond that.
“It’s nearly midday.” Kid chuckled, stroking his palm over the backs of her hands.
“And you’ll be going nowhere till the storm is passed.” Her bold hands dipped lower, stroking him through the pair of britches he’d dragged on to come outside. He’d left Sam in a fit of pique the night before, but after washing up, he’d reclaimed his horse from the livery and ridden to the Flying K.
Straight for the Carson cabin, tucked away at the southern end of the property. Mrs. Carson was a handsome woman, having crossed the line to thirty with her slim figure still intact. He knew she longed for children, but had also resigned herself to the fact that she would have none. Her ten-year marriage to Henry ended when a stampede, injury and infection conspired to take him away.
Kid had helped to bury him. He’d also gladly taken his father’s charge to tend her place, repairing the cabin and her slender, lean to barn where his horse was currently stabled along with two mules. He also enjoyed tending her other needs.
Her kisses drew a line across his shoulders, even as her hand stroked him to life. Firm teeth bit down lightly on his arm and he dropped his gaze from the rain to see the simple curiosity gazing up at him from her brown eyes.
“You’re very quiet, William.” She was also the only person to call him by his middle name, his actual name, not the nickname his family dumped on him or the first name he shared with the father who couldn’t be bothered with him.
“It’s been a long few days, Caroline.”
Her gentle teasing caresses slowed and her arms firmed around him in a comforting embrace. Caroline Carson was a plain woman, with a warm spirit and a kind smile. She doted on him, often as not fixing him at least one meal every time he visited, mending his shirts and letting him ply her body with every intimacy.
It was an altogether wonderful arrangement. She never expected him. She never made demands. She was always happy to see him. It was his respite from his father’s disappointment and the demands of his older brothers to conform to what they thought he should be doing.
He stroked his hand lazily against the back of hers.
“You found the gold?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve returned it to the bank?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Then you should be pleased.”
“That I should.” The rain transformed the trail along the front of the cabin into mud speckled by large puddles. Twenty feet away, the swollen creek verged up to the rocks. If the rain continued, the creek would push over the edges.
He might have to sandbag around the porch. The cabin was sturdy, built up so that it was still a few feet higher than the creek, but flash floods didn’t pay as much attention to landscaping choices.
“But you’re not.” Her teeth scored against his shoulder, the bite hard enough to jerk his mind back to the porch and the woman leaning against him. He twisted, picking her up and kissing her until she was warm, soft and pliable once more.
“No biting.” He admonished with a grin. Not that he minded her teeth. His back was already littered with the lusty reminders of her nails digging into him as his flesh pounded into hers. He liked the absolute abandon with which she engaged him.
Caroline twined her arms around his neck, forehead coming to rest against his. She was such a slip of a thing, it was hard to remember that she was nearly twelve years his senior.
“Then stop sulking and be here with me. It’s been weeks since your last visit and it could be weeks again if your father insists on sending you with the herd to Kansas.”
Kid slid his hands over her round bottom, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his hips. She rolled her hips invitingly against him, every bit as generous and wanton, as she had been their first time.
“I thought Mr. Lattimer was calling on you these days.” He tugged up the shift, until his fingers could explore the bare contours of her ass. He liked the way it filled his palm, soft and firm at the same time.
“Mr. Lattimer is a proper gentleman. He only calls when a chaperone can be present and leaves me with the barest touch of lips to my cheek. He’s hardly worth noticing, I’m afraid.” Her lips nuzzled his chin, teasing the whiskers he’d grown over the four days he’d followed the gang. “You need a shave.”
“My apologies.” He rubbed the bristle against her cheek and she laughed. “And I am sure Mr. Lattimer would give you more than a chaste peck on the cheek if you encouraged him.”
Caroline snorted, a most unladylike and amusing sound. “Mr. Lattimer wants a mother for his two children and a keeper for his house. His wife died in childbirth last year, God rest her soul.”
He slipped a hand down under the curve of her bottom, teasing the moist entrance of her sex and chuckling as her back arched. He adored the lusty side of Caroline, the side not afraid to demand what she wanted.
“Maybe you just need to tell him what you want. Educate him, if you will?” He dipped a finger inside, swelling at the heat he encountered.
“Hmm,” Caroline found his mouth with hers and kissed him. It was an open-mouthed battle of tongues, her teeth gently scraping, her fingers fisting in his hair. He swirled his finger, adding a second to the first for the gentlest of thrusts.
Despite his earlier distractions, his own arousal was straining against the unbuttoned britches. She pulled away from the kiss, wiggling on his fingers as she dipped her hand down to free him.
Breath hissed out of him as those nimble fingers teased the head of his cock, drawing it taut.
“What do you want, Mrs. Carson?” He pushed the words past the tension in his throat. Her shift bunched around her waist as he lifted her, fingers sliding free and his cock straining as he brought her back down, nudging inside slowly. Her back arched as he pushed in, inch by agon
izing inch. The muscles in his arms bulged, but he refused to be hurried, enjoying the expressions of pleasure rolling over her face.
“You,” she ground her hips towards his, trying to force him deeper, faster, but he held off, lifting her up teasingly.
“But I am here,” he gave her a teasing thrust, groaning at the way her greedy sex clenched around him. “You have to be explicit…pretend I am Mr. Lattimer…how would you have him court you?”
She struggled against him as he lifted her up, his cock just barely pulsing, aching to drive home, but he held off the want in him. He met her disbelieving gaze with teasing challenge.
“William…”
He laughed, teasing her with another aborted thrust, and her body went warm and slack around him, desperate.
“Tell me.”
The shift peeked open over lush, full breasts.
“Take me inside.” Her words were a shaking command. Her fingers clutched at him and he shifted, securing his hand under her bottom, controlling her as he walked towards the door, each step a gentle thrust allowing him to go deeper.
Her whimpers climbed as they pushed the door open. He stood in the middle of her gentle cabin with its dress stands, long wooden tables and warm fire burning cheerfully in the stone hearth.
“Close the door and take us to the bed.” Despite the threading tremble in her words, she was growing bolder.
Kid nudged the door closed and walked her to the bed tucked behind the hearth. Colorful, distinctly feminine, quilts decorated the doublewide bed. The air warmed around him as he struggled to maintain his hold, never quite thrusting home, despite the driving need in his hips.
Caroline was far from cooperative, her body eagerly pushing against him, held back only by the grip of his hands on her bottom. When he bumped the bed with his knees, he paused, looking at her expectantly.
