Wild Is My Heart

by Connie Mason

  Inside, Calvin Logan sat in brooding silence while his son, Vern, made a substantial dent in the bottle of whiskey sitting between them on the desk. Word had gotten to them about the Crowders’ ignominious flight out of town, and they sat pondering that astounding event. In fact, if Vern hadn’t been trying to impress his rather by remaining home he might have been there to witness it.

  “What in the hell is keeping him?” Calvin growled, glancing toward the door. “You don’t think he—”

  “He’ll be here, Daddy,” Vern said with more conviction than he felt. “Crowder may be a lot of things but he’s not stupid. If I know him, he’s headin’ into town for his money right now.”

  “If you had talked the Howard girl into marrying you, she wouldn’t have made such a spectacle of herself in the Palace tonight,” accused Calvin relentlessly. “What’s that Ranger to her anyway?”

  “I talked to her today,” Vern rejoined lamely. “I think I’ll win her over soon. As for the Ranger, I ain’t figured him out yet.”

  “Bah! You must have inherited your mother’s weakness. You’re a poor excuse for a man, Vern. If you’d spend less time with that whore down at the Palace and more time tending to business, you might amount to something one day. You’re absolutely worthless to me.”

  Accustomed to being constantly belittled by his father, Vern merely flushed and took another healthy slug of whiskey. One day he’d show him, Vern silently vowed. One day he’d make his father proud of him. And when he did, everything his father had cheated and lied for would be his, including the hot-tempered Samantha Howard. Tonight she proved she had a fire in her that went beyond his wild imaginings. A blaze he longed to quench in a special way she wasn’t likely to forget.

  A soft rapping interrupted Vern’s lewd musings and he leaped to attention. “Let him in,” Calvin ordered, jerking his head toward the private door to the office. Vern jumped to obey, and Lyle Crowder sidled into the room, an ugly sneer contorting his features.

  “It’s about time, Crowder,” complained Calvin. “What in the hell kept you?”

  “The boys wanted to move on and it took plenty of talkin’ to convince them you’d make it worth their time to stick around a while longer,” Lyle grumbled. “I hope you don’t make no liar outta me, Logan.”

  “You’ll get your money, Crowder, plenty of it. When you’re finished with this job and not before.”

  “We wasn’t countin’ on no Texas Rangers comin’ to town,” Crowder said sullenly.

  “Only one,” Vern corrected. Crowder bent him an austere glare.

  “Makes no never mind. One Ranger or twenty, they’re all bad news. The boys think it’s time to move on. There’s plenty of towns left in Texas ripe for plunderin’. The Rangers mean trouble—big trouble. Can’t do a damn thing with them breathin’ down our necks.”

  “You’ve still got a job to do for me,” Calvin reminded him. “There’s a great deal of money involved here.”

  “That’s ‘zactly what I told the boys,” Crowder concurred. “What about the Ranger?”

  “Steer clear of town for a few days. There’s nothing further to be gained here. I want you and the boys to concentrate on the Krebs ranch west of town. He’s our last holdout. I need his property, and his note doesn’t come due until after he sells his cows and then he’ll have plenty of cash to meet the note. That can’t happen,” Calvin said, smiling deviously, “if he doesn’t have any cattle to sell, now, can it?”

  “You want us to steal his catde? Just like the other times when we made it look like Injuns done it?”

  “Precisely. Any questions?”

  “Yeh, I need money. Enough to keep the boys happy till we get the job done.”

  “You can have half now and half when the job is done. See to it, Vern, I’m going to bed.” He rose stiffly and left the room.

  Vern’s mind had been working furiously while Crowder and Calvin talked. An idea began to form in his mind. If it worked, he could become a hero to Sam and a man his father could respect.

  Moving to the steel safe behind the desk, Vern fiddled with the dial before the door swung open on silent hinges. Following his father’s instructions, he counted out a wad of bills and wordlessly handed them to Crowder, who grunted and stuffed them in his pocket. Then Crowder watched narrow-eyed as Vern counted out an extra thousand dollars before closing the safe and twirling the dial.

  “What’s that for?”

  “A little private job, if you’re willin’. Just between us. Daddy doesn’t have to know.”

  “For another thousand?”

  Vern nodded. He could easily replace it before his father noticed it was gone. With Spindler no longer at the bank to keep his eagle eye on things, Vern could juggle the bank ledgers so that the money was never missed. He wasn’t his father’s son for nothing.

  “Who do I have to kill?”

  “No one,” Vern returned quickly. “In fact, killin’ is me last thing on my mind. I want you to kidnap someone for me.”

  “Kidnap—well, I don’t righdy know ‘bout that. Do you mean that Ranger fella? If I could get my hands on him I’d kill him.”

  “What you do with Andrews is your business,” Vern said with a shrug. “I want you to kidnap a woman and then let me rescue her. I don’t want her hurt, mind you, just roughed up enough to make her beholden to me when I save her skin.”

  “She must be somethin’ special,” said Crowder, eyeing the money in Vern’s hands greedily. “But how will I know if we have the right woman?”

  “You’ll know her. You already saw her at the Palace tonight.”

  “You mean that black-haired bitch with the shotgun? Shit! Once I get my hands on her there won’t be nothin’ left to save.”

  “Do you want the money or not?”

  It took Crowder only a few minutes to make up his mind. “Where do I find her?”

  “She’s stayin’ with Ida Scheuer and works at the grocery. You’ll have to keep watch and catch her alone. Oh, yeh, her name is Samantha Howard.”

  “Howard … Howard,” mused Crowder, rubbing his stubbled chin. “Ain’t her pa the man your daddy paid us to kill? You must want her pretty bad to go to all this trouble.”

  “Yeh,” agreed Vern, “real bad. As soon as it’s done, send a man to tell me and I’ll ride out to your camp to get her. Be sure and tell the boys she’s not to be touched. When I get there we’ll pretend to negotiate for her release. We’ll reach an agreement, I’ll hand you the money and ride off with the woman. Understood?”

  “Sure, nothin’ to it,” boasted Crowder. “Do I get the money now?”

  “Half now,” offered Vern shrewdly as he peeled off five one hundred dollar bills and pocketed the rest, “and the other half when I ride out to get her.”

  “Agreed,” grinned Crowder. “You’ll be hearin’ from me soon.”

  “I’d better,” Vern said, “for if you double-cross either me or Daddy you’ll find yourself in a heap of trouble. If you think one Texas Ranger is dangerous, wait till there’s twenty or thirty on your tail. I understand they shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Don’t get your dander up, a Crowder keeps his word. You’ll be hearin’ from me.”

  “Good enough. And Crowder, this is between you and me. What Daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Chapter Seven

  An uneasy peace hung over the city. Sam had neither seen nor heard from Colt since the night the Crowder gang rode into town. She assumed he was too busy with Dolly Douglas to spare her a thought. He had taken what he wanted from her and couldn’t wait now until he was rid of her for good. If the town was truly free of the Crowders, it couldn’t be much longer before Colt would take her to San Antonio to jail.

  Sam had no way of knowing that Colt had deliberately kept his distance in order to give her time to cool off—though he wanted her back in his bed so badly his every waking moment was consumed with his need for her. Dolly’s silken flesh no longer held any appeal, and ever since
he had held, kissed, and made love to Sam he had room for no other woman in his life. He wouldn’t be satisfied, he reckoned, until he sated himself with her sweet body and the urge to possess her totally was no longer a demon driving him.

  Sam’s thoughts took her in another direction—to San Antonio and what awaited her there. If she was to go to jail soon, she wanted to go back to visit the ranch one last time. Besides, the rest of her clothes were there, as well as personal mementos. Mr. Colter may own the land, but that didn’t give him the right to her personal belongings. One slow day at the store Sam informed Ida of her intention to retrieve some things at the ranch and asked for the rest of the day off.

  Poor Ida was beside herself. Nothing she said could persuade Sam from taking off by herself. Just because the Crowders hadn’t returned didn’t mean they weren’t out there somewhere in the hills waiting to commit mayhem. Why, Ida heard that just last night Herr Krebs had lost half his herd to Indians—another danger to reckon with. Sam was being bullheaded as usual, insisting she had ridden the distance between the ranch and Karlsburg a thousand times in the past and not been molested, so why should today be any different? Sam chose to ignore the volatile situation that existed in the area and scoffed at the danger, daring—no, defying—fate to alter the course of her uncertain future. Changing into tight denim pants and a checkered shirt, Sam picked up her horse at the livery stable and rode off.

  Ida sat on the horns of dilemma for all of fifteen minutes before concern for Sam sent her searching for Colt. But to her growing dismay he was nowhere to be found. She returned to the store praying that Sam’s recklessness would not be rewarded by more trouble than she could handle.

  Colt reined in Thunder atop a hill overlooking the ranch he now owned. Already he detected an abandoned look about the place and hoped to change all that with the telegrams he had sent shortly after purchasing the Circle H. Not for one minute did he believe the Crowders were finished with Karlsburg, so it looked as if he’d be here for some time. Since his confrontation with the Crowders he had definitely made up his mind about Sam’s future, and it didn’t include jail. That damn little nuisance had been a thorn in his side from the moment he set eyes on her. The longer it remained, the more it festered into a kind of sickness from which there was no cure.

  Colt had spent the entire day searching the hills, valleys, and mesas surrounding Karlsburg for the Crowder gang. He was willing to bet they were camped somewhere nearby and were responsible for the cattle rustling at the Krebs ranch—not Indians as everyone assumed. He had been out there, talked to Krebs, and examined the evidence. The arrow he found was a white man’s attempt to copy a technique the Indians had spent centuries perfecting. And he never knew Indians to ride shod horses. He had even discovered a boot print. Too many conflicting signs roused his suspicions, so instead of returning to town he took his search into the hills and eventually ended up gazing down on his own property.

  The house, fence, corral, and stock pen looked in worse shape than when he had first set eyes on them weeks ago. A deserted aura had settled over the land and buildings, and if something wasn’t done soon, nothing would be left to salvage. Weeks ago he had acted to prevent just such a catastrophe, and now expected that things would look different when his men arrived.

  Suddenly Colt noted a movement near the corral and positioned himself for a better view. The horse he saw tethered to a fence post looked vaguely familiar and he moved in for a closer look, his right hand dangling loosely above the holstered gun riding comfortably on his hip. He relaxed somewhat when he recognized the horse as belonging to Sam. But that knowledge served only to release a string of foul oaths tumbling from Colt’s lips and bring a ferocious scowl to his face.

  What in tarnation was Sam doing out here alone after he forbade her to return? Didn’t she realize the dangerous situation that existed since the Crowders had returned? Her father hadn’t done her any favors by allowing her to grow up as wild and untamed as a Texas tornado, Colt reflected. Didn’t she realize she was a woman whose extraordinary beauty made her more vulnerable than most? Her undisciplined ways had already gotten her into a heap of trouble, but the little firebrand wouldn’t listen. He had a mighty urge to turn her over his knee and blister her backside. But he knew exactly where that would lead.

  Reining in beside Sam’s mount, Colt tethered Thunder nearby and moved noiselessly toward the house. He entered through the front door, but Sam was nowhere in sight, evidently too engrossed with what she was doing to hear his approach. A noise from the back of the house brought a smile to Colt’s lips, and he aimed his steps toward the bedroom.

  Sam had just finished packing the clothing she had left behind and was tucking into an old carpetbag a few family keepsakes when a shadow loomed above her. With a speed born of panic she reached for the revolver strapped to her waist, the same gun she’d worn when she held up the stagecoach. Colt had put it in a drawer and she had just found it, feeling more at ease with it buckled around her slim hips.

  “Don’t even think it, darlin’,” Colt warned.

  “Hellfire and damnation, you scared the living daylight out of me!” Sam scolded, whirling to face the man who had turned her life upside down. “What are you doing here? Have you been following me?”

  “Christ! I was about to ask you the same question, you little hellion. What are you doin’ here by yourself? Must you be so damn contrary?”

  “You told me I couldn’t live out here, but you never said I couldn’t return for my belongings!” Sam defied.

  “I would have brought you here myself if you had said somethin’.”

  “I haven’t seen you since—” she flushed with warm remembrance, “well … since the Crowders returned to town,” she finished lamely.

  “You mean that day we made love?” A lazy grin touched his lips.

  “If you want to call it that,” Sam returned disdainfully. “Personally I think what we did had little to do with love. We wanted each other and were honest enough to admit it and take what we wanted.” Her cynicism was as sharp as a cactus spine. “Besides,” she added coolly, “it would have happened with me sooner or later anyway. You were in the right place when … the urge struck me to find out what loving was all about. I doubt you’ll be the last.”

  Colt ground his teeth and glared at Sam. Had she used him? Had she known what would happen when she came to his room? Had she wanted it to happen? Perhaps he was right in the first place when he accused her of buying her way to freedom with her body. “Well, darlin’, ‘pears like we’re two of a kind. Shall we strike a deal? You’re an enticin’ little piece, and one taste wasn’t near enough to satisfy my cravin’.”

  Was he testing her? “You lowdown, no-good sidewinder!” Sam spat. “You’ve no more scruples than a rattlesnake. What makes you think I’d …”

  Colt’s brows arched and he regarded her defiant expression for a long silent moment. “If I created an itch in you, darlin’, I’m the one who’s goin’ to scratch it.”

  Sam flinched. Damnation, when was she going to learn to keep her mouth shut? “You’d be the last man I’d let touch me.”

  Impulsively Colt clutched her arm, yanking her to him until their bodies were plastered together tighter than wallpaper on a wall.

  “Christ, Sam, you’d try the patience of a saint.” This slip of a girl had the uncanny knack of turning his guts inside out. She had him acting like a jealous husband. He had taken his pleasure from dozens of women and knew nothing of jealousy—until now. The mere thought of another man touching Sam drove him to do and say things he surely would regret later.

  Sam was never more aware of Colt as a man. He was so close, so virile, so damn masculine it shattered her self-control. She was positive no other man would never affect her in such a manner, but she dang sure wasn’t about to let him know that. Then his words about striking a deal came back to haunt her. “What…what kind of a deal?”

  “What!”

  “You said something about a deal.�
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  Colt’s original purpose had been to tell Sam he no longer intended to take her to jail. Never had meant to, actually. But she had angered him so with her open defiance and taunts about taking other men to her bed that he changed his mind. It was obvious he was never going to rest until he satisfied his craving for the little wildcat. Once he appeased this maddening need, he’d be shed of her for good. Colt knew only one way to prove that Sam was merely a woman like all the others who had come and gone from his arms in moments of passion. But, knowing Sam, she was likely to balk unless he continued to maintain control over her life.

  “You want your freedom, don’t you?”

  Wide violet eyes searched Colt’s face, wary yet wildly eager. “You know dang well I do.”

  “Okay, darlin’, it’s yours.”

  “Just… just like that?” Openly skeptical, Sam waited for his answer with bated breath.

  “Well … not ‘zacdy,” Colt hedged, smiling wolfishly. “I reckon I did mention a deal.”

  “Go on.”

  “I want to continue makin’ love to you for as long as I’m around.”

  “You want me to be your whore?”

  Colt frowned, not exactly pleased with her choice of words. “I want to be your lover. I want you to be available when I … need you.”

  “Need me?”

  “Christ, Sam, you’re not witless. No commitments are necessary for a man and woman to enjoy each other. Bindin’ promises only cause resentment. You know what kind of man I am. I live for the moment, knowin’ I might not be around tomorrow. I want you, dammit! For as long as I’m in Karlsburg. When I leave, you’ll be a free woman.”

  For some obscure reason Colt was not yet ready to let go of the delightful pleasure her body brought him, totally denying he would ever be ready.

  “So I’m to earn my freedom,” Sam snarled bitingly.