by Connie Mason
“Ja, I’m Klaus Spindler,” Klaus acknowledged, puffing out his chest. “And now that you mention it, I do recall hearing that the Howard ranch became available at five o’clock this afternoon. Miss Howard never showed up to pay the note due. But I’m surprised Herr Vern suggested it. I thought… well, never mind, obviously I was wrong.”
“The property sounds perfect for my needs. If it’s for sale I’d like to buy it. How much is it?”
“I see no problem if Herr Calvin agrees. The note is for three thousand dollars. Come back tomorrow, Herr Colter, and either Herr Vern or Herr Calvin will handle the sale for you.”
“That won’t do,” Colt replied evenly. “I want it done now.”
“But…but…” sputtered Spindler. “We close in less than an hour. I couldn’t possibly…not without Herr Calvin’s approval. Not even Herr Vern does anything without his daddy’s approval.”
“Was I wrong to assume you are in charge, Mr. Spindler? Are you too inexperienced to draw up the papers without help?” Colt used his most condescending tone and it appeared to produce the required results.
“No!” Spindler said huffily. “I’m a trusted employee. I’ve worked in this bank for over five years. There’s nothing I don’t know about procedures.” He knew that wasn’t entirely true, but close enough. Sometimes Klaus felt more like an errand boy than head clerk. The Logans, especially Calvin, kept him woefully uninformed about most of their secretive dealings.
“Then you’ll draw up the papers?” Colt prodded.
“I… I… This will require some time, and as I mentioned before we close promptly at six o’clock.”
“A hundred-dollar bonus is yours if you accommodate me before closing,” Colt replied, pleased to note the covetous gleam in Spindler’s pale blue eyes.
“That’s very generous, Herr Colter, but—”
“Two hundred, Mr. Spindler. Cash.”
Klaus’ eyes bulged greedily. Two hundred dollars! Except in the bank vault he’d never handled that much money at one time. It would give him the freedom he only dared dream about. He could leave Karlsburg, flee the straightlaced atmosphere of his father’s house and the homely bride chosen for him.
“I always did want to see New Orleans,” Klaus mused wistfully, unaware he had spoken aloud.
“A fine place to visit, Mr. Spindler.” Colt smiled knowingly. “Or settle, if one has a mind to. Two hundred dollars will go a long way toward establishin’ yourself, if that’s your wish.”
“I assume you have the money, Herr Colter?” Spindler asked cautiously.
“I have a letter of credit for five thousand dollars drawn on the San Antonio Bank,” Colt said. “More than enough to purchase the Circle H. The remainder can be deposited in an account in my name.”
The money represented the amount Colt had received for the sale of his father’s homestead. His daily needs were modest and he had saved most of his earnings over the past twelve years. Bounty hunting had proved most rewarding, and Colt’s savings had accumulated faster than he could spend them. A firm believer in being prepared, he usually carried the letter of credit wherever he went, though it represented only a portion of the monies deposited under his name in San Antonio.
“I’ll have you out of here long before six o’clock.” Spindler grinned, feeling more carefree than he had in years.
True to his word, it was fifteen minutes before six when Colt signed two copies of the transfer papers and accepted the deed to 20,000 acres of prime land. The rest of his money was safe in the bank, and Klaus Spindler had two hundred dollars in his pocket. Before he left, Colt penned a brief statement giving Samantha and Will Howard authority to live on the ranch until he saw fit to claim it on some future date. The note was clipped to the transfer document and left in a conspicuous place on the elder Logan’s desk.
A few minutes after six Vern Logan staggered out of the saloon, having overindulged in both whiskey and sex. He knew he should have returned to the bank before closing, but Molly’s soft flesh proved too tempting to leave so soon. Besides, he knew Klaus to be capable of handling whatever mundane transactions might have occurred during the past hour. But to salve his conscience, he walked past the bank and checked the doors to make certain they were locked before heading home.
It was dark when Colt returned to the ranch. His meeting with Mayor Mohler had taken longer than he had anticipated. But he felt he now had a factual account of the Crowders’ assault on Karlsburg. During the past six months they had inflicted untold damage and killed several innocent people, including Sam’s father. Many shop owners were paying the outlaws to leave them alone, and ranchers in the area found themselves minus their herds when the Crowders rode their way. Ten men in all made up the gang, most of them related. They delighted in terrorizing the town and had left the saloons in shambles too many times to count. The bank had been robbed once, but evidently banker Logan had struck up some kind of bargain with their leader for he’d not been bothered since.
Riding directly to the stables, Colt wondered where Sanchez was as he rubbed the horse down and put fresh hay in the stall. His own mustang was exactly where he had left him earlier that day. He didn’t tarry to find out whether Sanchez had replaced the thrown shoe but went directly to the house.
It was pitch black inside. In fact, it appeared so deserted Colt’s first thought was that somehow Sam had mustered sufficient strength to leave bed and flee, thinking he meant to turn her over to the sheriff. Of course, he had intended to do exactly that until he met the despicable man.
“Christ!” Colt cursed, bumping his shin in the dark. He struck a match, located a lamp, and waited until the dim glow lighted his way. Automatically his steps led him to Sam’s room, a helpless feeling grinding his gut at the thought of facing an empty bed.
A muffled sob sharpened his wits and made him aware that he was not alone. As he transferred the lamp to his left hand, his right hovered close to his six-shooter. The door stood slightly ajar and he carefully nudged it open with his booted toe. Sam lay in the center of the bed, quietly sobbing. She blinked at the sudden blaze of light and stared warily at Colt, waiting for him to explode once he learned about Will.
Discovering Sam in bed where he had left her hours earlier gave Colt an unexpected jolt of pleasure that surprised as well as nettled him. No woman had ever caused him the anguish Sam had. Nor made him angrier. He had no idea what to do with her. That’s why he had left instructions allowing her to continue living on the ranch, for Colt was astute enough to realize that this was not the time to tell her he was the new owner of the Circle H. Somehow he doubted she would understand. Yet he couldn’t deny the vast sense of relief he felt upon finding she hadn’t left. What in the hell was the matter with him? He was in the midst of an assignment dealing with vicious outlaws and needed no distractions, certainly none like the feisty Samantha Howard.
“Where is Sanchez?” Colt asked, setting the lamp on the nightstand. “Why is it so dark in here? Have you eaten?”
“Sanchez is gone,” Sam replied cautiously. “He left shortly after you did.”
“You’ve been alone all this time? Damn that man! When he returns I’ll—”
“He’s not coming back.”
“I don’t believe that,” scoffed Colt. “The man is devoted to you. Why would he leave?”
Abruptly Sam changed the subject. “How long do I have before you take me to jail?”
Taken aback by her bluntness, Colt said slowly, “I haven’t decided. Though you might be interested to know I turned in the gold you stole. Mr. Logan should have it tomorrow.”
“So it was you,” Sam accused bitterly. “How did you know where it was?”
“It doesn’t matter. Reckon by now you know I found out Will is your young brother. I found out where he hid the gold, and since I’m a lawman and the robbery occurred under my nose, so to speak, I felt it my duty to retrieve it and turn it over to the sheriff. He’ll see it gets to the bank.”
“Don’t be so
sure,” Sam muttered disparagingly.
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean,” Colt readily concurred. “The man’s character leaves much to be desired. By the way, your brother may as well show himself, now that I know where he’s hidin’.”
One corner of Sam’s mouth quirked upward in a satisfied smirk. “Will has gone where you won’t find him. Someplace where you can’t hurt him.”
“What makes you think I’d harm a half-grown boy?” Colt countered.
“You shot a woman, why should a young boy stop you?”
“Christ! Must you keep throwin’ that in my face? You took a calculated risk and lost. Did you send Will away with Sanchez?” he asked astutely.
“I suppose there’s no harm in admitting it. By now they’re long gone.”
“You could have trusted me to do the right thing by the lad,” Colt defended. “Contrary to what you believe, I don’t harm children.”
“It’s too late,” Sam said wearily.
Noting the pinched look around her mouth and the paleness beneath the natural golden hue of her skin, Colt decided to drop the subject for the time being. What’s done was done. Besides, he had no time to go after the boy. It was up to God and Sanchez to keep him safe for Sam.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not since morning. I’m not very hungry.”
“I’ll fix us somethin’.”
Twenty minutes later Colt pulled up a table beside the bed and shared with Sam a makeshift meal of beans, bacon, biscuits, and canned peaches. He was pleased to note she ate ravenously, consuming nearly as much as he did. Afterwards, he cleaned up and prepared to change Sam’s bandage.
“I’ll help you remove your nightgown,” Colt said with a mischievous grin as he moved the lamp closer to the bed.
“My bandage doesn’t need changing,” Sam refuted, stirring uncomfortably beneath his probing tawny eyes. Why did he make her feel like this? she wondered distractedly. Those strange golden brown eyes of his made her experience things she knew nothing about. She hated him, of course. Because of him she and Will had lost the ranch. She wished she’d never heard of a Texas Ranger named Colt Andrews. She’d rather tangle with a rattlesnake.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Colt said, his fingertips playing with the drawstring at the neck of her voluminous white nightgown.
Sam assumed a stoic facade as she felt cool air fan her flesh. Carefully Colt raised her to a sitting position and lowered the gown to her waist. Lack of strength made Sam pliable to his wishes and she submitted ungraciously to his ministrations, noting on the fringe of awareness the gentleness of his touch. When his hands lingered overlong on the rise of soft flesh, Sam inhaled sharply, drawing a reaction from Colt she was unprepared to deal with.
“You have beautiful breasts,” he shocked her by saying. “About as perfect as I’ve ever seen.”
“Why, you lowdown skunk! How dare you,” Sam gasped, groping futilely for her nightgown. “It’s bad enough I have to submit to your clumsy doctoring, but I don’t have to listen to your crude remarks. After this I’ll change my own bandage. In any event, I’m healing nicely and need no more of your vile attentions.”
“I fear you’re right,” Colt sighed with a hint of regret. “I’m a better doctor than I gave myself credit for. You’re comin’ along fine.”
Mesmerized, he watched as Sam shoved her arms into her nightgown and primly retied the drawstring beneath her chin. Slowly his eyes slid upwards to linger on her lips, struggling to resist an emotion completely foreign to him. Suddenly some force stronger than the life coursing through him made him want to kiss her, the need so urgent it bordered on pain.
Sam saw the look in Colt’s tawny eyes change from teasing interest to hot, molten desire, and could not turn away from it, nor did she want to. She felt the soft fullness of his mouth cover hers, moving slowly and sensuously, his tongue gently probing to part her lips. The feeling was so exquisite Sam was too stunned to resist. Against her will her mouth opened and his bold tongue slipped easily inside, teasing, cajoling, taking, until she threw caution to the wind and kissed him back, with all thought, all reason, falling away. He continued to kiss her in ways she could never have imagined.
When his hands moved to her breasts, stroking the soft mounds and stimulating her nipples through her nightgown with his thumbs, Sam suddenly came to her senses. With a start she realized something was happening between them that shouldn’t be. She might be a prisoner, but that didn’t give him the right to use her for his own pleasure. Breathless from his kiss, reeling from shock over her unprecedented response, Sam pulled free and struggled within the circle of Colt’s arms.
Regaining his wits, Colt reared back, staring at Sam with something akin to horror. What in the hell was the matter with him? He had no business involving himself in a situation that could adversely affect his performance in the line of duty. He had no experience with women like Samantha Howard. For all her daring and courage, she was innocent of the type of games he usually played with the opposite sex. Sex and gratification with no commitments was the code he lived by. His kind abhorred permanence and involvements that tied them down and interfered with their wild ways. Not once did Colt delve deeply into his reasons for buying the Circle H Ranch. He assumed it was to keep skunks like Vern Logan and his rather from taking what they wanted no matter who the victim. Had he bothered to examine his conscience, Colt would have been astounded to find it went far beyond anything so simple.
Chapter Four
You’re a strange and complicated man, Colt Andrews,” Sam mused as Colt stared at her warily. You’re hard as nails, yet I’ve never felt a more tender touch when you dressed my wound. First you shoot me, then save my life just so you can send me to prison. Everything about you is a contradiction.
“Who are you really? Are you a hardbitten Texas Ranger or a caring man beneath that rough exterior? I sense in you a loneliness, a yearning, a need for…for…”
“Don’t try to analyze me, darlin’,” Colt drawled lazily, stunned by Sam’s astute summation of his character, “for you’ll find me lackin’.” How could this mere slip of a girl he hardly knew strip away the layers of carefully built reserve and unbare his soul so thoroughly? No man or woman alive had ventured past his tough veneer, and he wasn’t certain he liked the feeling.
Sam accepted Colt’s statement at face value. Besides, it mattered little what made Colt tick. What concerned her were his plans for her future—if she had one.
“Get some sleep,” Colt said gruffly. “Tomorrow you can get out of bed and move around some. I’m takin’ you into town real soon. My assignment is to rid the town of the Crowders, and I can’t do it playin’ nursemaid to a lady outlaw with no more sense than a rabbit dumb enough to get snared.”
“I expected as much,” Sam said with a defeated sigh. “I was right, you are a—”
“…Heartless bastard who’d shoot a woman, then send her to jail,” Colt finished, an amused smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. “I’ll try to live up to your high regard.”
“You have already exceeded my expectations,” Sam retorted. “Will I be allowed to take a few of my belongings with me?”
“Take anythin’, darlin’, as long as you can stuff it in a saddlebag. Goodnight, Sam.”
Bewildered, Sam stared at Colt’s departing back. After acting like a no-account polecat he did something so totally out of character it left her stunned. If only things had turned out differently. If Ranger Colt Andrews hadn’t been on that stagecoach she’d still have her ranch and Will wouldn’t be halfway to Loredo. Sam felt no remorse over stealing from Calvin Logan. If he hadn’t foreclosed on Pop’s loan she wouldn’t be in this fix now.
Of course, she could have married Vern Logan and lived a comfortable life as a banker’s wife. Perhaps she might have persuaded the elder Logan not to call in the loan and she and Vern could have lived here until Will reached his majority and took over his inheritance. But she didn’t love Vern. Though he was nice enoug
h to her, something deep inside told her he couldn’t be trusted. Months ago she’d learned about the woman he kept at the Palace Saloon, and that hardly endeared him to her. No, marrying Vern Logan was not the answer, Sam reflected, sighing wearily as she turned over, trimmed the wick on the lamp, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Pacing restlessly in the bedroom across the hall, Colt was not so lucky. It rankled to think that this woman, a young, inexperienced one at that, could penetrate the carefully constructed wall shielding his emotions—a barrier that had taken years to erect. He had racked his brain trying to decide what to do with Sam. Since Sanchez and her foolish brother bolted, he couldn’t leave her on the ranch by herself. The Crowders might get wind of it and pay her a surprise visit. Or an Indian raiding party might come down out of the hills and attack the house. Yet placing her in Sheriff Bauer’s jail was completely out of the question now that he knew what would happen to her under the man’s dubious care.
Taking Sam to San Antonio was an alternative Colt considered. He knew Sheriff Cole well enough to know he wouldn’t harm Sam. But he had no time for a trip to San Antonio, nor the inclination to see Sam behind bars. She was just a silly little girl struggling to hang on to a ranch for the sake of her young brother and had chosen the wrong way to go about it. True, he was a Texas Ranger sworn to uphold the law, but Rangers were notorious for bending the law to fit their own purposes. The best thing to do, in Colt’s estimation, was find a suitable place for Sam to stay where she would be properly cared for.
Sam found she could easily manage her own dressing when she arose the next morning. Disdaining the accepted woman’s garb she considered too frivolous for ranch work, she donned tight buckskin trousers much like Colt wore and a plaid shirt. A pair of sturdy boots completed the outfit. Pop preferred her in dresses, but she had neither time nor inclination for fancy fripperies. Actually, Sam had no idea how seductive she looked with the tight pants hugging her round little bottom and long sleek thighs. In keeping with her no-nonsense mode of dress, she braided her long hair in a fat plait that hung down her back.
