Kid Calhoun

by Joan Johnston

  He hauled her over to where he had left his horse hidden and pulled a length of rawhide rope out of his saddlebags.

  Anabeth tensed. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Make sure we stick together till we get where we’re going.” Jake proceeded to tie both her wrists together in front of her with one end of the rope. The other end he tied around one of his own wrists, leaving about a six-foot length between them.

  “You’re crazy!” Anabeth said. “You can’t tie yourself to a woman like this!”

  “You’re right, Kid. If there were a woman involved, I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. But what we’re talking about here is a troublemaking brat!”

  “But I—but you—” Anabeth’s face flushed red with anger and humiliation. She would kill him. The first chance she got. Shoot him right in the—hell, he didn’t have a heart! A heartless bastard like him would probably laugh if she tried!

  “Are you hungry?” Jake asked. “I could use a cup of coffee and something to eat.”

  Anabeth sat down cross-legged right where she was. Let him see just how far he could get tied to a woman who wasn’t going anywhere. “Fire’s over there,” Anabeth said with a smirk. She gestured with her tied hands back toward the area where she had made camp.

  “You coming?” Jake asked, eyeing the lump of stubbornness at the end of the rope.

  “Thought I’d rest here awhile,” Anabeth said.

  “Uh uh,” Jake said. “Time for breakfast, brat.”

  Anabeth shrieked in outrage when Jake simply curled a huge arm around her waist, lifted her onto his hip, and headed for the fire. He was tall enough that both her hands and her feet barely dragged the ground. When they reached the fire he dropped her so she landed hard on hands and knees.

  “Don’t particularly want to be hauling you around, Kid,” he said. “But I’ll do what’s necessary. Do we understand each other?”

  Anabeth glared at him from ice blue eyes. “Yessss,” she hissed.

  “Now, how about some breakfast?”

  “I’m not hungry!”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “Now, I want you to point your nose toward that valley of yours and lead the way.”

  Anabeth sulked for a moment and then had a brilliant idea. Jake had no idea where the valley was. She would take him back to Santa Fe. He couldn’t keep her tied up in town without attracting unwanted attention. Once they were no longer tied together, she would somehow manage to escape him again.

  “All right,” she said at last. “Let’s go.”

  Anabeth had time later in the day to regret her refusal of breakfast. Jake ate dinner in the saddle, and she was too proud to ask him for something to eat in the middle of the afternoon. By suppertime, she was famished—as well as having other needs that had remained unattended. When at last they stopped for the day, the stars were already out.

  Jake had found a hollow protected from the wind and with enough piñon trees to diffuse the smoke from their fire.

  To Anabeth’s surprise, Jake untied the thong from his wrist. But he left her hands tied together.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy. Make good use of them. They’re all you’re going to get till morning.”

  Jake was grinning when Anabeth returned. “I thought you’d be too smart to run.”

  “I’m hungry,” Anabeth retorted. “I figured I’d eat supper first.”

  Jake laughed as he tied the end of the rawhide thong back around his wrist. “Too bad, Kid. You’ll have to haul me along if you want to leave now.”

  Anabeth ate ravenously, planning her escape the whole while. “I need to be alone again before we bed down,” she said after Jake had banked the fire for the night.

  “Uh uh. Not a chance.”

  “Jake, you have to let me go!” Anabeth pleaded.

  “Uh uh,” he said again. “Bedtime, Kid.” He reeled in the extra rope until Anabeth was standing in front of him. “I have a pretty good idea of your inventiveness, so I think I’ll just nip in the bud any ideas you might have about leaving tonight.”

  As Anabeth watched with incredulous eyes, Jake prepared a blanket for himself and another for her right beside his. There wasn’t enough rope for her to escape to the opposite side of the fire.

  “I’m not sleeping with you, Jake,” she said.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, lying down and pulling her into his arms. “Awake or asleep, this is where you’ll be spending the night.”

  Anabeth felt her breath catch in her throat when Jake’s arm snugged around her waist and pulled her up tight against him. She could feel the heat of him down the entire length of her back. The hard strength of him. The huge maleness of him.

  Jake cursed up one side and down the other. His body had definite ideas about what it would like to do with the woman in his arms. But he would be a fool indeed to lust after an outlaw who didn’t give a spit in the wind for an offer of leniency.

  “Damn you, Kid! Stop squirming!”

  A little voice inside reminded Jake that calling her a kid just didn’t make it so.

  He felt the weight of her breasts on his arm. The hips pressed into his groin definitely belonged to a woman. And the long silky hair flowing over him like a cloak—that belonged to a woman, too. So, maybe he had better rethink this plan of his.

  Jake was on the verge of admitting he had made a dreadful mistake when Anabeth muttered, “If I live to be a hundred I will never forgive you for this!”

  “For what? Holding you in my arms?”

  “For … touching me.”

  Jake’s groin tightened painfully. “Believe me, Kid, this is hurting me as much as it’s hurting you.”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she was quick to reassure him. “Exactly.”

  Jake hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t ask. “What do you mean, it doesn’t hurt exactly.”

  She took his hand and moved it down to her belly. “There it is again. Kind of a squirrely feeling right there when you touch me.”

  Jake’s whole body tensed like a bowstring. “Dammit, Kid. What are you trying to do to me?” He yanked his hand away from her belly and snugged his arm around her midriff once again. And groaned deep in his throat when he felt the soft weight of her breasts against his forearm.

  “Something wrong, Jake?”

  “As if you didn’t know! Go to sleep, Kid.”

  Jake closed his eyes, but he felt anything but sleepy. A few moments later he heard, “Jake? Are you awake?”

  “How can I get any sleep with you making so much noise,” he grumbled.

  “I can’t get comfortable. I always sleep on my other side.”

  “Turn over then.”

  She did. And Jake found out what real hell was. Because now they were lined up breast to breast and thigh to thigh. The only place for his arms was around her, surrounding her. She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled closer.

  “You’re warm,” she said.

  Hot was more like it, Jake thought with a sigh of resignation. “Can you sleep now, Kid?”

  “I think so, Jake.” A pause and then, grudgingly, “Thanks.”

  It was a grumpy man who rolled out of the blankets early the next morning. Jake had spent the night aware of every move the Kid made. The tips of her breasts brushing against his chest. Her silky hair tickling his chin. Her nose pressed against his neck. Her leg shoved between his thighs. He doubted the Apache could have conceived a worse night of torture.

  It soon became apparent to Jake that Anabeth was taking him straight to Santa Fe. Rather than confront her, he remained silent. He was thinking it might not be such a bad idea to go there. At least in Santa Fe he could find a woman upon whom he could ease himself.

  “When we get to Santa Fe, I’ll remove that rope from around your wrists,” Jake said as he saddled his horse. “But I want you to stick close.”

  When they entered Santa Fe, Jake kept to the back alleys. But it didn’t take Anabeth long to figure out where they were headed.


  “This way,” Jake said, turning down a side street.

  Anabeth recognized the two-story building. The small wooden sign that read “Eulalie Schmidt” was swinging back and forth in the breeze.

  Jake knocked on the door, but as usual, didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed his way inside. “Eulalie?”

  Eulalie was surprised to see Jake back again so soon, especially in the company of the woman he had identified to her as the outlaw, Kid Calhoun.

  “What brings you back this way, Jake?” she asked. “Come on in and get comfortable, Anabeth—or should I call you Kid?

  “Anabeth, please.”

  “I must admit you’re the first outlaw I ever had working for me, Anabeth.”

  Eulalie took one look at the dark circles under Anabeth’s eyes and said, “Jake, shame on you! What have you been doing traipsing around the country without taking better care of this poor child?”

  “What have I—? You’ve got the shoe on the wrong foot, Eulalie.”

  By now Eulalie had ushered Anabeth into the kitchen and sat her down at the table. A moment later a cup of coffee appeared in front of both Jake and Anabeth, followed quickly by sauerkraut and sausage.

  “Now, what can I do for you?” Eulalie asked.

  “I need a safe place to leave Anabeth for a while.” He was going to talk to Sierra Starr again. Maybe she would be able to give him a lead to Booth’s secret valley. It was plain the Kid wasn’t going to help him out. While he was at the saloon he would see if Sierra still indulged herself by occasionally inviting a man upstairs. He had high hopes that taking another woman to bed would ease his discomfort around the brat in britches who was too much on his mind.

  “I’ll wait while you lock Anabeth in,” Jake said.

  Eulalie’s brows rose, wrinkling her forehead into a river of lines. “Is that really necessary?”

  “It is if I expect her to be here when I come back,” Jake said flatly.

  “Don’t leave me locked up here!” Anabeth cried. “I’ve told you what I have to do and why. Let me go, Jake.”

  “Forget it, Kid. I’ve also told you what I have to do and why.” Jake followed Anabeth upstairs and ushered her into the corner room he had used the last time he had been here.

  The instant the lock clicked, Anabeth ran to the window of the second-story room, searching for a way to escape her prison. There was no tree, no porch, nothing to help her get to the ground. She looked up and realized the roof was not nearly so far. She remembered seeing an outside stairway on at least one side of the building.

  Before Jake had limped his way through the batwing doors of the Town House Saloon, Anabeth had already reached the roof and was well on her way to escape—and her pursuit of the men who had murdered her uncle. If she checked all the saloons in town, she might very well find Whiskey. And she could count on Whiskey to lead her to the outlaws’ camp.

  Sierra Starr was dealing at the faro table. She was wearing something red and shiny that attracted the eye and left a lot of flesh exposed. She was even more good-looking than Jake remembered. He sat down in an empty chair and put some money on the table.

  “You in, Jake?” Sierra asked.

  “I’m in,” he replied.

  He played faro for an hour, winning some, losing some, and watching Sierra Starr. It was apparent she was selective about bestowing her smiles, and Jake felt privileged to get one. When she passed the box to an older gentleman and left the table, he quickly discovered the smile hadn’t been an invitation to anything more.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” he said when he caught up to her at the bar.

  “Buy me a drink.”

  Jake smiled cynically. Always hustling. He supposed that was how she had gotten where she was, and he admired her more than he blamed her for it. “Sure. What’ll you have?”

  “Rye.”

  Jake ordered the same for himself. “Let’s find a table.”

  She followed him to a table at the corner of the room where Jake sat with his back to the wall.

  “I was wondering whether you might know where Booth Calhoun’s valley is,” he asked.

  Her eyes hardened into chips of green glass. “He didn’t confide in me.”

  Jake decided she was either telling the truth—or a damned good liar. “Have any of the gang been here asking the same question?”

  She lifted her hair from the side of her neck to reveal bruises arrayed in the shape of fingers. “Wat Rankin came by to visit. It took a derringer at his throat to convince him I didn’t know anything. If you’re going after him, I’ll be glad to tell you what I know.”

  “I’d appreciate that. But there’s something else I’d rather give my attention to first.”

  Sierra raised a brow. “What’s that?”

  “You.”

  Sierra met the big man’s heavy-lidded gaze and felt a shiver run down her spine at the sensual look of hunger in his gray eyes. She could pick and choose the men she gave her favors to these days. She had been lonely. And Booth was never coming back.

  “Come with me.” Sierra took the Ranger’s hand and led him up the stairs.

  Jake’s footfalls were barely audible, but they might as well have been drumbeats, for the resounding effect they had on Anabeth Calhoun.

  She had made her way to the Town House Saloon in time to watch from a side window as Jake disappeared upstairs with Sierra Starr. She wasn’t sure exactly what they were going to do up there, but she felt a churning in her belly at the thought of Sierra putting her hands on Jake. Or Jake’s large, callused hands on the other woman.

  Anabeth laid a hand on her stomach to try and stop the queasy feeling there. She was a fool to be thinking about Jake Kearney. Sierra Starr was welcome to him! She had more important business to take care of, or she would have marched right upstairs and told him so!

  The irony was, not thirty seconds after Jake disappeared upstairs, Whiskey walked into the Town House Saloon. He didn’t stay long, just went up to the bar and bought a pint bottle of whiskey and headed out the door.

  Anabeth took one last look at the man disappearing up the stairs before turning her back on him. Right now nothing was more important than keeping her vow to avenge her uncle’s death.

  She slipped away from the window and headed for the livery where she and Jake had left their horses. By the time Jake Kearney found his way out of that woman’s bed, she would have exacted her revenge on Wat Rankin and be on her way back to the valley to hide.

  Anabeth never saw the odd-colored yellow eyes that followed her as she mounted her horse to ride the vengeance trail.

  12

  Wat Rankin watched with a smile on his face as Kid Calhoun left the Town House Saloon. If she followed Whiskey long enough she would walk right into the trap he had set for her. Imagine the Kid being female! Wat still couldn’t believe Booth had been able to practice such a deceit on the gang.

  When the Ranger had started talking about Booth Calhoun’s “niece” helping him find the stolen gold, Wat had become suspicious. He had watched the Chandler house, and sure enough, the Kid had left in the middle of the night. Wat hadn’t been far behind.

  He had been hoping the Kid would lead him straight to the valley. Instead the Ranger had interfered, and they had ended up back in Santa Fe. Well, Jake Kearney had had his chance. Now it was Wat’s turn.

  Rankin had gathered up what was left of Booth’s gang and worked out a plan to capture the Kid. Anabeth Calhoun had become a thorn in his side that needed to be removed—as soon as he had tortured the location of the valley out of her.

  Wat figured Treasure Valley was the most logical place for Booth to hide Sam’s gold. And he was convinced the Kid knew where in the valley the gold was hidden. He planned to make very sure that Anabeth Calhoun told what she knew before she died.

  In fact, the trap Wat had laid for Anabeth worked very well. Her mind was still on Jake, not on the dangers of the trail where it should have been. She had no one to blame but herself
for getting caught. She was crossing a dry creek bed not two miles south of Santa Fe when a lasso settled around her shoulders. An instant later she was yanked from the saddle and landed hard in the dust. Her hat came off and her hair spilled down around her.

  She heard the shocked intake of air and the foul curses that revealed the astonishment of the men who had captured her when they realized she was female.

  “You were right again,” Snake said to Wat. “Who’d have thought we had a girl ridin’ with us!”

  Rough hands grabbed her by the arms and yanked her to her feet. She stood facing the man she had sworn to kill, knowing that the chances were good that she would be the one who didn’t leave this place alive.

  Wat lifted a handful of Anabeth’s hair and let it slide through his fingers. “Very pretty.”

  “To kill a woman, it is a bad thing,” Solano said.

  Even Wat had to admit that Solano had a point. Women were so scarce in the West that they were protected among both honest and dishonest circles alike. Anyone who harmed a woman would likely be hunted down and killed himself. Unless there was no one around to complain.

  Who knew Anabeth Calhoun was here? She had come after them wearing men’s clothes and toting a pair of six-guns. For that matter, who knew this woman was a woman? The answer was Jake Kearney. It was plain Wat would have to take care of the Ranger, as well.

  Anabeth shuddered as Wat fingered her hair. She shrank from his smooth-fingered touch as he caressed the pearl handles of Booth’s revolvers before removing them from the holsters at her sides.

  Finally, Wat loosened the rope that had been used to snatch Anabeth from her mount and began recoiling it. “Hold her,” he ordered Snake.

  Snake’s hands gripped Anabeth’s shoulder painfully. “Why you been followin’ us?” Snake demanded.

  “I saw you kill Booth!” Anabeth spat. “All of you!” She kicked out and caught Snake in the knee. He swore and let go of her, grabbing his injured knee instead.

  Anabeth ran. She was fast, but bullets were faster. The gunshot whizzing past her ear was a warning.