Mustang Annie

by Rachelle Morgan

  “Not on your life. I made the mistake of doing that once; I won’t make that mistake again. I’ve looked for you in every woman I’ve met, and now that I’ve found you I’m not ever going to let you go.”

  She lifted anguished eyes to his. “You have no choice.”

  She rushed down the steps and past the men standing with hats in their hands and bare heads bowed, toward the stables where Chance would be waiting.

  “Annie!” She heard Brett’s boots hit the steps. “Damn you, don’t do this!”

  “Let her go Ace. She don’t want to be with you.”

  “Get out of my way, Wade Henry.”

  “No. You’ll have to go through me.”

  Dogie stepped forward. “And me.”

  Then Flap Jack. “And me.”

  Even Emilio joined them to stand up for Annie against him.

  “Get the hell out of my way.” He tried dodging past them. The strength of three men converged on him, grabbing each arm and hooking him around the waist. Annie kept walking, each step putting another crack in her heart.

  Then softly, his voice carried across the distance. “He’s gone, Annie.”

  She came to a sudden stop.

  “He’s not coming back.”

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle a sob.

  “But I’m here, and I love you. And you love me. Stop punishing me for it. Stop punishing yourself.”

  Is that what she was doing? Punishing herself for falling in love again? For wanting to live again?

  “Look at me,” Brett beckoned.

  Oh, God . . .

  “Annie, look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

  Knowing she shouldn’t, she turned around. The love in Brett’s eyes reached out to touch her, to warm her, to fill her empty, aching, so desperately lonely heart with bittersweet longing.

  And Annie was lost.

  “Have you forgotten that there’s a bounty on my head?” she asked.

  “I haven’t forgotten.” The men released their hold on him. He gradually closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I’ll take care of it. Will you trust me to do that?”

  Annie couldn’t help a watery chuckle. Leave it to Brett to think he could dictate their way out this one. Then again, if anyone could, Brett could.

  “Even if by some miracle you managed to save my skin, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re asking for. I can’t cook. I can’t clean. I can’t even give you babies.”

  “We’ll hire a cook, we’ll hire a maid, and we’ve got Dogie.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes, his touch so tender she nearly wept. “I don’t deserve a beauty like you, and you don’t deserve a bastard like me. But for as long as I live, I will need and cherish and desire only you. And you’ll never be more loved by anyone, Annie. I’ll remind you every second of every day.”

  It was all Annie could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms. Did she dare take such a risk?

  Buck up, Annie; it’s time to ride.

  Her eyes clenched shut as Sekoda’s voice echoed through her heart and caressed her soul. She could picture him shouting the words from the back of his horse, or from the corral fence, or in the privacy of their bedroom. . . .

  And she realized that Koda never would have wanted her to deny herself happiness should she be lucky enough to find it again. He’d want her to seize it with both hands and hold onto every precious second it lasted. And if she didn’t accept Brett’s offer now, she’d spend every breathing moment regretting it. “Are you sure you’re willing to take your chances on a woman willing to take a chance on life—and love—again?” she asked.

  “Happily. As long as the woman is you and the man is me.”

  The simple ceremony took place on the front gallery, with all the Triple Ace hands in attendance. Dogie stood in as best man. Even Jesse Justiss arrived in time to hear the I-do’s, and before she could say Blue Fire, she’d been pronounced Brett’s wife.

  No sooner were the vows spoken than Brett leaned down to whisper, “I need to talk to Jesse a moment. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  Standing at the window of the room she would share with Brett, Annie tried on her new name the way most women tried on dresses, turning it this way and that way: Annie Corrigan. Annie Harper Corrigan. Mrs. Brett Corrigan.

  What in hell had she done?

  Annie didn’t fool herself into thinking that Jesse had ridden up from Sage Flat to attend their wedding, just as she knew that Ike Savage would not be the only outlaw under discussion. The impression was cinched when the door opened a short while later and a grave silence entered the room. She didn’t have to look to know that her husband stood in the doorway, just as he didn’t have to tell her of the outcome of his meeting.

  Tomorrow, she would pay the piper.

  Annie glanced down at the gold band Brett had placed on her finger barely an hour ago. A heart twined around a single diamond big enough to poke a man’s eye out. “The ring is beautiful,” she said in an effort to delay the inevitable news. “I’ve never worn one before.”

  “Not even Sekoda’s?”

  “Comanche don’t exchange rings. He about pitched a fit when I wanted a preacher to marry us.” She laughed at the memory. Astonishingly enough, for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t hurt to think of him.

  The laughter faded when Brett walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Jesse wants to arrange a meeting with the U.S. Marshals tomorrow.”

  Annie almost cried. “So soon?” But she held her tongue, and only nodded. “I guessed as much.” She leaned back against Brett and absorbed the solid length of him. “If anything happens to me, I want Dogie to have Chance. He’ll take good care of her.”

  His embrace tightened. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that, and neither do I.” She fell silent a moment, then her fears spilled forth as if a damn had busted. “What if I hang? What if I go to prison? Or worse, what if by some cruel stroke of fate I get off scot-free, and someone comes gunning for you?”

  “Don’t, Annie. We are not going to start ‘what if-ing’ everything to death. We are going to take each moment as it comes, and live each day as if it’s our last. And no matter what, there aren’t going to be any regrets.”

  He was right, she admitted. What happened tomorrow was out of her control, so there was no sense borrowing trouble, as Granddad would have said. “You should have given up on me long ago.”

  “That’s like asking me not to breathe. We belong together, Annie, like sunrise and sunset. Without you, I’m only half a man.”

  “And without you, I am nothing.”

  “Don’t ever say that.” He turned her in his arms. “You are not nothing. You don’t need me to validate you. You are a strong, brave, incredibly passionate woman, with more honor in your little finger than most people have in their entire body. And you deserve to love and be loved. Don’t ever doubt that, don’t ever feel guilty for it, and don’t ever deny yourself.”

  “But if anything happened to you—”

  “Then you would go on. And you’d find happiness again.”

  He stared unflinchingly at her, his piercing gray green eyes driving his truths home. In that instant, a band snapped around Annie’s heart, and she suddenly understood herself in a way she never had before. In an effort to bury the wild, reckless side of her character, she’d wrapped her own existence so tightly around Sekoda’s that she’d lost herself in the process. By demanding that she allow herself feel, to dream, to live, and to love, Brett was encouraging her not only to find her own identity again, but also to accept whatever she found. With him . . . and without him.

  No greater gift had she ever been given.

  She touched her fingers to his cheek, her heart so full of love that she wondered how it didn’t burst. “I love you, Brett Corrigan.”

  His eyes closed, and he swallowed roughly. When he opened them again, they
looked suspiciously damp. She was amazed that three tiny words could have such an impact on such a powerful, imposing man.

  He took her hand in his and stroked the band around her finger. “No regrets?” he asked gruffly.

  “Only one,” she softly admitted. “I wish this was our first time.”

  It took only an instant for her words to register, and when they did, his silvery-green eyes darkened with an emotion that sent shivers dancing along her spine. Need. Raw, naked, desperate need. “Every time between us will be a first time.”

  He kept his gaze steady on hers as he loosened the black satin ribbon she’d tied around her collar. “For instance . . . tonight will be the first time we make love as husband and wife.” His mouth curved in a sensuous grin that promised a night of unforgettable delights.

  Annie couldn’t help but smile. He always had the right words to banish her worries. She’d been unforgivably unfair to him before, using him in a desperate bid to put past ghosts to rest. But no ghosts hovered between them any longer, and no secrets. There was just her and Brett and a night of unexplored love ahead of them, and she wouldn’t let a second of it go to waste. “It will also be the first time we make love in a bed.”

  His eyes darkened to slate. He clasped her face in his hands and guided her mouth to his. Annie’s body responded to his kiss in ways that both thrilled and alarmed her. A liquid fire burned low in her belly, and her breasts swelled and grew heavy.

  Then his lips left her mouth to roam down her neck, to the pulse at the base of her throat. Annie closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and moaned. Her hands clutched his arms as sensation rolled over her in waves. Tingling awareness, climbing need, dizzying desire . . .

  She was dimly aware of him unbuttoning her blouse, highly aware of his breath against her breast. Then his tongue flicked over her erect nipple, and Annie cried out as her knees buckled.

  Impatient for the feel of his bare skin, she pushed his coat off his wide shoulders. Buttons pinged as she ripped his vest, and then his shirt, open. She nearly strangled him trying to unknot his tie.

  “Maybe you better let me do that,” Brett chuckled.

  “Just do it quickly.”

  He tore out the starched collar and tossed it to the floor, then made fast work of removing his tie. Annie pushed his shirt down his arms, only to whimper in frustration when the cuffs got caught on his wrists.

  He spared her the trouble of trying to remove his trousers by shucking them off himself, and then . . . ahh . . . hot, smooth skin pressed against her. Annie swept her palms up the backs of his thighs, skimming over the dusting of hair to clutch his smooth, hard buttocks. Proof of his desire pressed long and thick against her belly. The thought of him inside her filled her with giddy anticipation, and she kissed him with savage need. Never before had she felt so weak and so powerful as she did in this moment, and when he gentled the kiss to taste her at his leisure, never had she felt so cherished and adored.

  “Do you want me, Annie?” he whispered against her jaw.

  “More than anything.”

  “Then come and get me.” He stepped back and stood in all his naked glory just out of her reach.

  Annie lowered her lashes to half-mast, and a saucy smile played on her lips. She took a bold, fearless step forward and ran her hand up his chest. “I’ve been bringing studs to their knees for a long time now, gambler. You sure you’re up to the ride?”

  He quirked one brow. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Challenge, hell. It’s a promise.”

  After kissing her senseless yet again, Brett lifted her in his arms. The mattress cushioned her fall as he set her on the bed, then braced above her, his arms locked on either side of her. Sweat beaded on his brow, evidence of the effort of his restraint. She knew he was giving her this last chance to back out, because now, it was all or nothing.

  And damn, she wanted it all.

  She took his face in her hands and whispered against his mouth, “Make me yours, Brett.”

  “With pleasure.”

  And he did. With his hands, his mouth, his body . . . there wasn’t a part of her he didn’t claim. He pleasured her in ways Annie had never imagined, and more times than she ever believed possible; and each time, her spirit received its long-denied freedom to soar.

  And Annie in turn gave him everything of herself—her body, her mind, her soul, her heart; no restrictions, no regrets.

  Only when dawn had begun to glimmer outside their window did she collapse atop him, her cheek to his heartbeat, so limp and sated and so completely at peace that if they came for her at this very moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. At least she’d die a happy woman.

  Brett drew her tight against him, and in her ear he whispered, “I love you, Annie.”

  Her throat went tight.

  He murmured, “Promise me that if I fall asleep, you won’t run off again.”

  It seemed odd yet infinitely touching that such a powerful, commanding man might harbor such vulnerability. “I promise.” She kissed the slick skin over his heart. “The only place I’ll ever run is straight into your arms.”

  Epilogue

  One year later . . .

  She’d gone after the horses.

  The stables were filled to brimming with steeds of every age and color combination. Arabians, Mustangs, and mixed breeds grazed in harmony on the lush grasses of the Triple Ace. Sophie’s Star hadn’t escaped the prowess of the stallion and brought forth a colt the next spring, but Liberty Loo was fast becoming a favorite purebred mare for area Thoroughbreds.

  The rancher at the Bar 7 in Nevada had accepted Brett’s offer of a Triple Ace horse in exchange for dropping the charges against Annie for the one she’d stolen. Of all the horses on Corrigan land, he’d chosen the black stallion called Blue Fire.

  And thanks to Jesse Justiss, she and Henry had received a Governor’s pardon for testifying against Ike Savage, who would be spending the rest of his life in prison.

  Brett had fired all his men the day they’d held him back on Annie’s behalf, and she’d hired every one of them back directly after the wedding that put Mustang Annie to rest, and made her Annie Corrigan. Annie and the men all knew Brett had fired them to save his pride, when in fact he’d never respected them more for being willing to stand up for her—even if it meant standing up against him. He tried to pretend it drove him crazy that they took their orders from her, but one and all knew he was the worst of the lot.

  Dogie bloomed into early manhood under Brett’s guidance, and Annie feared for the young ladies’ hearts when he realized the power of his own charms.

  And as for herself . . . Annie caressed her swollen belly. It had come as quite a surprise to discover that she wasn’t barren after all. In two months time, she hoped to bring into this world a little girl for Brett to cherish, as he cherished her.

  Yes, she’d gone after the horses—but she’d found so much more. She’d found everything worth living for.

  Author’s Note

  Authors are often asked where their ideas come from. This one struck as I was walking through my living room and heard the song Mustang Sally coming from the television. All day that song continued to play in my head, and I found myself humming it in my sleep.

  The very next day, I met “Mustang Annie.” I’d been working on another story when she appeared in my mind and said, “Either tell my story or I’m gone.” Well, many a writer will tell you that if you don’t get the story down when it hits, you won’t get it back. Such was the way with this one: scene after scene showed itself to me, and as I scribbled notes on every napkin, notebook and grocery receipt, I feared if I didn’t tell Annie’s story then, she’d take it away.

  What struck me most significant about Annie was her eyes. They were so flat and lifeless that it almost hurt to look at her. And I knew then, that she needed someone to make her feel alive again—and who better than a man who grabs hold of life with both hands?

  I will always be grateful
to my editor for tolerating the senseless telephone conversation she received shortly after, and for enabling me to temporarily put aside the other story so I could write Annie’s, and for giving me and the characters the time needed to tell their tale.

  I would also like to extend a special thank you to fellow author and dear friend DeWanna Pace for helping me “color” the Texas Panhandle; to my dear friends Jan, Debbie, Alexis, Patti and Peggy for encouraging me to take a risk with this book; and to Eve, Jamie and Kelly for introducing me to Brett. But most of all I’d like to thank R&B artist Wilson Pickett, who sang of Mustang Sally and unknowingly provided me with the inspiration, and to country artists Lone Star, whose beautiful delivery of the song “Amaze” was released right about the time Brett fell in love with Annie, and maintained a permanent spot in my CD player beyond the last page. Thank you, gentlemen, for capturing my hero’s feelings so eloquently in song.

  I’ve taken liberty with several facts in the story. My research proved conflicting on when Tascosa was actually founded, so I chose to leave the year up to the reader’s discretion. Sage Flat is a completely fictional town. Also, though the scenario and the characters are also completely fictional, the scene where Annie saved a herd of mustangs from being driven over a cliff is based on a true incident when the military drove 1,400 head of wild horses over the side of the Palo Duro Canyon in an effort to eradicate the Comanche and their way of life. And finally, although details on the setting and time period are based on research, any discrepancies are mine alone.

  I hope you find Annie as compelling and Brett as irresistible as I did. May all your risks be fruitful, and all your rides be wild.

  PO Box 1217, Hughes Springs, TX 75656

  http://www.angelfire.com/tx2/RachelleMorgan