by Linda Broday
Tingles at the thought of spending the rest of her life with Sam swept over her.
The slight pressure of his hand below her jaw made her feel cherished, as though he thought her a treasure of some kind.
Warmth flooded over her as her heart beat wildly. The excitement and hunger racing through her blood was like a thundering herd of buffalo.
She needed Sam. She had to feel him inside her. She had to know he wanted this too.
He broke the kiss and murmured against her skin, “Lady, you light a fire inside me like no one ever has. You’re all I want, all I can think about. With you, I have everything I need. You make life worth living again.”
His large hands drifted down her back and cupped her bottom. Sierra could feel the hardness of his jutting need pressing against her.
As a woman possessed, she worked at the buttons of his shirt and flung it aside. When she fumbled with his gun belt, his hands replaced hers.
Sam chuckled. “Let me help, darlin’.”
After he laid the belt and holster on a chair, she aimed him toward the bed. “Sit down.”
Darn all these clothes. She had a bonfire blazing inside her and couldn’t get to what would put it out fast enough.
“I like a bossy woman.” Again came a soft chuckle.
She didn’t care. She knew he wanted what she did. Straddling first one leg and then the other, she pulled off his tight boots. But it probably was his hand on her rear that helped.
Quickly, they shed the rest of the bothersome barriers.
“Come here, pretty lady.” Sam picked her up and laid her on the Bible verse quilt, then curled beside her.
He nuzzled her neck and trailed kisses between her breasts, then down to her flat stomach, where he placed his lips.
Sierra wound her fingers in his hair. “I love you, Sam. I think I always have, even before you kissed me.”
Sam stilled for a moment and Sierra held her breath. She shouldn’t have spoken the words aloud. She could tell by his silence he wasn’t ready to hear the talk of love.
Finally, his lips brushed the hair at her temple. His voice was raspy. “I didn’t know exactly how bone deep I cared until I faced losing you. ‘Keep me or let me go,’ you said. That scared ten years off my life. I knew you were ready to walk away.”
“I was. I’d come to the end.”
“It was the kick in the pants I needed.” He pressed kisses to the insides of her thighs.
A moan slipped from her throat. “Make love to me, Sam. Take me to heaven as only you can. Let me dance among the stars. I’m already barefoot.”
She would enjoy this night to the fullest and pray he met no harm in a few hours as he did the job he was born to do.
With a loving touch, she ran her hands across his broad back and felt the muscles quiver beneath her fingers.
Now Sam Legend belonged to her forever—even if he couldn’t say the words she longed to hear.
Thirty-six
Sam didn’t know if he could contain the hunger driving him. Having Sierra beneath him, his body pressed to hers, was still like a dream he feared would end.
As he slipped inside her warmth, he marveled at the love that swept over him for this beautiful, sensitive woman.
She had changed his life and given him hope again. For the first time in a while, he’d not had any nightmares about the hanging, or thought about drawings of black widow spiders. His captain had ordered him to get his head on straight. It was straighter and clearer than it had ever been.
He loved the feel of her body around him, the little quivers of her muscles with each thrust.
Her moans and gasps told him she was getting close. The waves were building and would soon crest. He maneuvered one hand between them and found her breast. With his thumb and forefinger, he rolled the hard nub of her nipple.
With a cry and an arch of her body, Sierra found her bliss that relieved the burning hunger. Sam gave in at the same time, exploding in wave after wave of ecstasy that hung him suspended, until at last he fell back to earth.
His shuddering release had never been deeper. Or as full of passion for her.
Sam fell to the side, gasping for air, wondering what had just happened. In all his experience over the years, he’d never felt this way, as though he’d died and been reborn.
He reached for Sierra and pulled her against him. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her body. He curled around her curves, loving the warmth of her back pressing to his chest.
“I’m not sure how or when, but some day I’m going to show you what you mean to me.”
“Sam, this thing we have is special, and I’m not going away. Even if you can’t voice the words, I know how you feel.”
Moving her hair aside, he kissed the back of her neck. “You’re a special woman, Sierra Hunt.”
Truth was he didn’t deserve her. He fell far short of being worthy of the love she’d freely confessed to. Why couldn’t he just say the words? Why couldn’t he just admit that he loved her?
Maybe because it meant he’d have to choose either her or his job.
She chewed her lip. “I know how dangerous those men are. If something happens tomorrow…if you don’t make it…” Her trembling voice trailed off.
“Darlin’, please don’t worry,” he murmured into her ear. “I’ll be okay.”
Sierra stroked the hair on Sam’s arm. “If you’re not…I think I’ll stay here with your father. It’ll be like having you with me.”
He turned her to face him. Moonlight spilling through the window let him see the tears shimmering in her beautiful blue eyes. He kissed her long and deep.
“Nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, I know Stoker and Houston will take care of you. I’m glad you’re staying.”
“Me too.” She pressed a kiss to his throat before laying her head on his shoulder.
The soothing fragrance of her washed over him. Nothing would happen. He’d have his father and brothers with him. Legends were unbeatable when they fought side by side.
Sam let the night settle around him and waited for the dawn.
About an hour later, gunshots startled him.
He jumped up and hurriedly dressed. He could see Sierra’s eyes wide with worry. “Darlin’, lock the door, and don’t open it for anyone but me,” he said, strapping on his gun belt.
“I will. Please be careful.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you for long.” He pulled her naked body to him for one last kiss. Then, without looking back, he raced to join whatever hell had broken loose.
* * *
Sam found Luke’s house ablaze. Thank goodness his brother rode out earlier. Houston and his father had taken cover next to the mercantile. “What’s happening?” Sam barked.
“We’re under attack,” Stoker yelled. “Don’t know who or why yet.”
Houston reloaded. “Someone tossed a lit torch into Luke’s house to start this mess, then began shooting. The attackers are keeping us from fighting the fire.”
“It’s no huge loss. At least Luke’s not in it,” Sam said. “Where are the ranch hands? I don’t want to hit one of them.”
“They’re scattered behind us.” Stoker quickly pushed fresh cartridges into the chamber of his Colt. “I told them to call out if they come forward beyond this store.”
“Good.” Relief filled Sam.
A flash of orange spat from the dark shadows of the elm tree, and a half second later, a bullet splintered the wood next to him. A lucky shot, or had the shooter seen them? He took aim and returned fire. In the blackness, he couldn’t tell if he hit anyone.
“Cover me,” he told Houston. “I’m going to work over to that tree.”
“Be careful, brother.”
Using the blistering firepower to his advantage, Sam sprinted from one building to another li
ke a silent shadow. He constantly scanned around him as he ran.
The attackers blended in with the thick darkness. Evil always chose to hide, to curl and strike on a moonless night.
Sam’s gut clenched. Whoever they were, they’d made the wrong move. They’d find the Legends were hard to kill. He crept noiselessly along the side of the telegraph office.
Silent.
Deadly.
Focused.
Root out the scourge that had attacked and kill them. They’d find no mercy in him. Sam hunkered low, waiting. At last he saw the flash of orange fire. He had him. He raised his Colt and squeezed the trigger.
Through the smoke, he watched the man tumble. Sam ran to him. Kicking the gun away, he turned him over.
No mistaking that hooked nose. The dead eyes of Ford’s man John stared up at him. This confirmed it. These shooters were outlaws. Some belonged to Ford’s gang, but there were far too many to be just them. Ford had to have joined forces with others. Probably the same bunch he and Luke fought the day they arrived. Sam itched to know who they were.
Felix Bardo?
Suddenly, he remembered the initials on the telegram that had been with the outlaw loot. FB. Felix Bardo.
Maybe this attack was an attempt to get that money back. He stared toward headquarters and saw a man going up the steps. Sam fired and dropped him, then quickly swung to three horsemen galloping toward him.
Flames from the burning structure lit the face of the nearest one. Shock ran through Sam.
Luke Weston!
Hell and be damned! Aching heaviness filled Sam’s chest. His brother. He rode in this attack, fighting the only people in world who gave a damn about him.
Luke’s words the morning after the revelation that he was Sam’s brother filled his head. “I am bad to the core, and don’t you ever forget it.”
That had been a warning to Sam to never trust him.
Only Sam had forgotten. Hope that he could save his outlaw brother had wiped out those words. Now Luke had turned on them, just like he’d tried to tell him.
Out of choices, Sam set his jaw and aimed his pistol at his brother’s forehead. Putting a bullet there would be quick. No suffering. Tears blurred his vision.
He loved Luke Weston as a brother. They shared the same blood—Legend blood.
They’d been too late to save him.
Gritting his teeth, Sam tightened his finger on the trigger. All he had to do was pull it. He’d just be doing his job. One more outlaw sent to hell.
One second passed, then two. Sweat trickled into Sam’s eyes, and his palms grew sweaty.
He couldn’t make himself do it.
Instead, he shifted aim to the rider next to Luke, and fired. The man slumped in the saddle. His partner on the other side grabbed the reins of his horse and headed back toward the ranch entrance.
Luke’s hard eyes met Sam’s for an instant before he turned to follow the others. “Retreat!” he yelled.
As Sam stared after his brother, a woman’s bloodcurdling scream brought shivers up his spine.
“Sam!” she cried. “Sam!”
He ran toward the sound as a horse galloped away from the little schoolteacher’s house. The light picked out a woman’s dress rippling in the wind.
Sierra!
The rider anchored the woman Sam loved in front of him.
With his aching heart pounding, he raced toward the horse. Neither bullets nor getting trampled entered his mind.
Desperation to save Sierra filled his brain. She was his reason for living.
He’d vowed to keep her safe, assured that no one could get her inside the compound. They employed a hundred men. His promise had been worthless.
Hell had opened up, and the devil snatched her. The diversion, chaos, catching them off guard, and now they had her.
He had to stop the bastards. Just give him one more chance. He’d tell her he loved her and shout it to the world. His job meant nothing if she wasn’t by his side. Life meant nothing without her. He was nothing. And evil hands had plucked her from him.
Please let him stop me.
His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Thick fear clogged his throat as desperation crawled up his spine.
When the horse Sierra rode neared, Sam lunged and grabbed the stirrup, holding on for dear life. The animal dragged him past headquarters and toward the huge crossbar marking the ranch entrance.
Rocks and brush tore into him, the rough ground peeling away skin. He clenched his jaw against the blinding pain. His arms burned, stretched beyond their limit.
Finally, with the horse’s thundering hooves barely missing him, and unable to bear any more of the brutal punishment, he lost his grip.
Lying hurt and bleeding, Sam watched her vanish from sight.
They’d taken the woman he loved.
And Luke had helped.
Thirty-seven
Stoker touched Sam. “Son, don’t move. You’re probably hurt bad. The doctor’s coming.”
How had his father gotten there so fast?
Sam groaned in pain. He’d probably left all the hide from his face on the dirt road.
But he was alive.
Another rider arrived, and Houston’s face joined his father’s above him.
“They got Sierra. I couldn’t stop them.” Her screams still echoed in Sam’s head. “She called my name, and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything.” He tried to jerk to his feet, but Houston held him down.
“Damn it, Houston, let me go, or I’ll mop up this road with you.”
Stoker touched his shoulder. “Stop, son. Doc needs to look at you.”
Sam glared at his father. “No one is going to keep me from riding after her. Not even you, Pa.” He’d fight them all if they didn’t let him go.
Houston finally helped him stand. “We’ll get her back. They haven’t won.”
“Did you see Luke?” Sam asked, striding toward headquarters and the corral. He had to get Trooper saddled and ride. Precious minutes ticked by in his head.
“Yes.” Houston let out a curse. “The traitor.”
A growl rumbled in Stoker’s chest. “Don’t be hasty. It doesn’t mean he’s joined them.”
“Doesn’t it?” Sam glared. “What else could it mean?”
“We have to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Stoker insisted. “They may have forced him to attack us.”
Small chance. Luke Weston was a killer, an expert one. He’d have drawn his Colt in a split second and killed again before letting anyone force him to fight against them if he didn’t want to.
No, his brother was there because he wanted to be. Luke had finally taken his vengeance.
Sam closed his eyes a moment, and her terrified face stared back. God, she was so scared and in the hands of horrible outlaws who’d stalked her like prey. Trembles shook him. They’d do unimaginable things to her before they took her life. He increased the length of his stride.
Sierra needed him. And he needed her like he needed air.
Those who took her had better find a hole. He’d tear that town apart, board by board, until he found her.
Dear God, please let her be alive.
Sam didn’t have time to waste. But the corral was too far away, and his wobbly legs weren’t going to make it. Just then a wagon rumbled down the road and stopped. He, his father, and Houston jumped on.
“Hurry!” Sam yelled to the driver.
“You look like hell, little brother,” Houston said. “Added a bunch more scars to the mess you already have.”
“Thanks for that observation, Houston.”
“You gave me a heart attack when I saw that horse dragging you. What gave you the idea that you could stop that horse? I’m beginning to think you really were dropped on your head.”
“I used the only thing available,” Sam snapped. “You would’ve done the same if it had been Becky.”
“For damn sure,” Houston growled.
* * *
Bound tightly, Sierra found herself in a room in the pitch-dark. Somewhere close by, she heard the rustle of clothing.
“Is anyone in here?” she called softly.
“Sierra, is that you?”
Excitement swept over her. “Oh, Rocky, you’re alive! I was so afraid. Are you hurt?”
“Not too bad. How about you?”
“These ropes bite into my wrists, but other than that I’m fine. They attacked the Lone Star Ranch tonight and took me.” Her lips quivered. Had they killed Sam? She didn’t know how anyone could survive being dragged by a horse that far.
If not dead, he’d be in horrible pain.
Sam wouldn’t be coming. Maybe no help would arrive. She took in a shuddering breath. What would these ruthless men do to her? To Rocky?
“I’m relieved they haven’t hurt you yet. But then you only got here. Give them time.”
Sierra tried to curb the panic racing through her. “Why are we here? Do you know?”
“They think either you or I have a map or know where one is to whatever they want. These people are determined to get it. The trouble is, I don’t know what they’re talking about. Do you?”
“No. The first time they took me, they…” Sierra forced back the memories. “They like to hurt people. They insisted I turn over this map, but I don’t know anything.”
What would the outlaws do to them if they didn’t have the answers? She didn’t want to think about that. They had to find a way to get loose. Except they’d taken her shoes when she got there. She couldn’t go far barefoot.
“Are you bound also? And did they take your shoes?”
“Yes to both questions. I’ve tried to loosen the ropes with no luck,” Rocky replied.
