Deirdre's True Desire

by Heather McCorkle

  Kinan’s eyes turned hard and dark as chips of brown jasper. “If he has bothered you in any way—”

  She held up a hand. “No need to get worked up. I can handle myself.”

  He glared at Dylan a moment longer, but said nothing more. All that anger and resentment fell away when she reached his side.

  “You can at that,” he agreed as he offered her a hand up.

  The hand she put in Kinan’s shook a bit. She hadn’t been afraid Dylan would press things any further; he didn’t seem like that kind of man. It had nothing to do with the unwanted kiss. Her anger just got the better of her when a man didn’t believe she could take care of herself. She settled onto the saddle—shifting her legs a bit when the pistol pinched—and took up the reins.

  “Thank you, Kinan.”

  He dipped his head low in a very gentlemanly bow. The chivalrous, respectful act calmed her wildly thudding heart and cooled her anger. With a press of her leg, she urged Ciaren out into the warm sunlight. The mare touched noses with Kinan’s white stallion while Kinan swung up into the saddle.

  “You are most welcome. Shall we go break out this outlaw of yours then?” he asked through a grin so large it was clear he was enjoying himself to no end. The sheer joy in his eyes made it impossible not to return his smile. Could it be only a small indulgence he was allowing himself because he felt she was safe with him, Rick, and Dylan present? Or could he possibly have an adventurous streak deep down beneath that proper demeanor? Best not to read too much into it and get disappointed yet again.

  “We shall,” she said as she rode with him up to the carriage.

  The fast clip of a trotting horse came up behind them. “Careful, innkeeper. You could put the lady in more danger by making light of the situation,” Dylan all but growled.

  From around the side of the carriage came a stout buckskin that would have seemed big were it not for Kinan’s tall stallion. On its back sat Rick, reins held loosely in one hand, the other resting on his thigh beside his pistol. Both the pistol belt and wide-brimmed hat made him look like a ruggedly handsome outlaw out of a penny-dreadful novel. A shot of envy for Cat having snared such a catch mingled pleasantly with pride over her friend having done so. Rick tipped his hat to her before glaring at Dylan.

  “Is there a problem here, lads?” he asked.

  Kinan waved a hand. “Not at all. Dylan here was just expressing his concern for the ladies’ welfare.”

  As Kinan rode up alongside her, Deirdre realized he had a rifle holster rigged to his saddle. Her thighs clenched together, but not out of fear. She hadn’t thought Kinan had it in him to be so bold, so daring as to partake in the potentially dangerous—and illegal—part of this. It thrilled her in an entirely unexpected way to think of him as a fighter.

  Rick laughed. “Clearly you don’t know my Cat, or Deirdre here, well enough. ’Tis the deputy’s welfare you should concern yourself with,” he said.

  Deirdre smiled. She really liked this man. “Or Sadie. You should see the woman when it comes to someone messing with the household she manages. She is downright frightening,” Deirdre said.

  The carriage window slid open and Sadie’s carefully tamed bun of hair popped out. “Did I hear my name? Deirdre, you’re not riding with the men, are you?”

  “Oh no, I’m merely riding alongside the carriage to entice the deputies to stop by showing a bit of ankle.”

  Cat’s head came out next. “What’s that Deirdre’s up to?”

  Sadie’s bun bobbed. “Just scandalizing us all.”

  “But o’ course,” Cat said.

  Deirdre rolled her eyes. “Oh, you two! Would you rather we let the men go in pistols blazing? You run the risk of sounding like Dylan.”

  Cat’s gaze narrowed as it fixed on Dylan, who was climbing into the saddle of his brown stallion. “No. I will not have innocents harmed to free Cofield.”

  Dylan held his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, Miss Catriona. I only meant to warn Mrs. Quinn of the dangerous nature of our endeavor,” he said.

  A sharp laugh shot from Cat. “That was a mistake of epic proportions. Now she’ll be downright impossible,” she said.

  Both women sat back in the carriage and began conversing in harsh whispers. The window panel slid shut and a loud rap on the roof sounded from within.

  Rick grinned at the driver. “That’s our cue. Let’s go break out an outlaw.”

  Chapter 12

  Chains rattled from within the back of the prisoner transport wagon as it rolled to a stop. The moment the big bay draft horses halted, Deirdre gave Ciaren the cue. The mare reared up and pawed at the air—a neat little trick Deirdre had learned from a trainer in New York. Though her grip was strong and her seat secure, she cried out and wobbled with a dramatic flair. At a press of her heels, Ciaren backed away from the carriage Sadie and Cat sat within. Their driver looked up from where he was bent over a slightly askew wheel and feigned a cry of surprise.

  Once again, Deirdre cued the mare to rear. Ciaren went up onto her hind legs and pawed the air like a wild thing, enjoying the game a little too much. A glance back showed Deirdre she was in the designated spot. Crying out in fake alarm—brilliantly, if she did say so herself—she pinwheeled her arms and tumbled from the saddle. A bed of leaves and forest duff softened her landing. Yellow and orange leaves blown up by her impact floated back down to land around and on her. She lay still, feigning being stunned. Ciaren’s big nose soon blocked her view of the cloudy sky. The horse sniffed at her, big brown eyes filled with judgment. Deirdre blew out a breath, trying to shoo her off. The whiskers around her mare’s nose moved, but Ciaren did not.

  “You’re supposed to run,” Deirdre whispered harshly. The nose came closer. “If you snort on me…”

  The creak of someone stepping down from a wagon halted her words. Another creak followed and two sets of footsteps approached.

  “Oh no, Mrs. Quinn!” came the voice of Henry, the elderly man who had been pretending to work on Cat and Sadie’s carriage. He groaned and wheezed as he tottered along at a rushed limp that wouldn’t outrun a snail. The two deputies approaching from the wagon reached her long before he did. Ciaren’s equine snout disappeared and a young man with a bushy beard took her place. From the chest of his blue wool jacket shone a silver star.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

  She fluttered her eyes and groaned. Another face came into view, this one with mutton chops and a full beard, but not a speck of hair on his head. His fingers worried over a hat in his hands. The younger man knelt down and reached toward her.

  “Wait now!” the bald deputy said. “Me uncle’s a doc and he says you’ve got to be careful of moving a person when they’ve taken a fall. She could’a hit her head,” he warned.

  While they fussed over her and discussed what to do, she groaned and faked being on the edge of consciousness. Through her lashes, she saw Henry, Cat, and Sadie coming closer. After much discussion, and some pretty decent acting on her friends’ parts, they decided to try and sit her up. Mostly to sneak a peek at the prisoner wagon, Deirdre opened her eyes. Behind the wagon she saw Kinan and Rick helping Cofield climb out. Thankfully, Cat and Sadie were making enough racket fussing over her to cover any sound the men might have made. Just for good measure, Deirdre groaned a little louder.

  Rubbing the back of her head, she asked, “What happened?”

  The deputies fumbled over each other trying to explain, and her friends continued to chat in excited tones about her welfare. She glimpsed at Henry, who gave her the sign to keep it up.

  “Where am I?” she asked, batting her lashes at the deputies.

  They devoured her flirtations, going so far as to let her stroke their badges and answering her every question about their exciting jobs. The older one finally offered to help Henry with their wheel. It was about bloody time. She had started to fear he�
��d never offer.

  “That’d be splendid, thank you,” Henry said.

  The deputies each took an arm and stood with her until she stopped swaying, which she dragged out only as long as she dared. During that time, Henry gave her a slight nod, the all-clear sign they had agreed on. The deputies walked her to the carriage, with Cat, Sadie, and Henry in tow. Taking great care, they eased her down onto the step of the carriage.

  “Thank you ever so much. You’re both too kind,” she said as she patted each of their hands in turn.

  The younger deputy grinned, his cheeks turning bright pink. He became tongue-tied, so the elder answered for him. “You’re quite welcome, miss.” He looked to the younger man. “Go wait back at the wagon, I’ll help the ladies here.”

  The young deputy straightened, pushing his chest out a bit. “Why don’t you wait at the wagon,” he mumbled.

  The bald deputy shot him a glare that sent him marching back to the prisoner wagon, grumbling all the way. To keep the younger deputy’s attention on her, Deirdre leaned forward to give him an eyeful of her cleavage, and shot him a disappointed look. Cheeks deepening to scarlet, his gaze descended to her breasts, which she heaved with a deep sigh. He climbed into the driver’s seat of the prisoner wagon without taking his gaze off her once. Running her finger along the square neckline of her bodice, Deirdre chewed her bottom lip and watched him from beneath her lashes. He stared back.

  The elder deputy soon finished helping them secure their wagon wheel, bid them farewell and rejoined the other deputy in the driver’s seat of the prisoner wagon. Henry pulled their carriage around and got out of the way of the prisoner wagon. The deputies waved as they drove past. Deirdre smiled in triumph. Keeping an eye on the retreating wagon, she rode alongside the carriage. The chilly morning air exposed each breath as puffs of white mist. She pulled the collar of her cloak up higher and ducked down into its warmth. Up ahead, a copse of trees surrounded the road, spindly white and black trunks choked so close together they were impossible to see through. More telltale puffs of white let her know their menfolk waited within. A carpet of yellow leaves crackled beneath the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels. Bare white branches stretched overhead in a mesmerizing web that served as a concealing canopy. Or at least, she hoped it would be concealing, should anyone be watching. Halfway through the trees, she reined Ciaren in. Henry stopped the carriage behind her.

  The creaks and groans of the carriage eventually settled. Deirdre’s back went rigid as she waited for the men to emerge from the trees. She could no longer see their breath, or that of their horses. Not knowing what direction they’d come from made the skin on the back of her neck feel like a spider danced across it. Her encounter with Cofield back on the trail to California ran through her mind. Such a ruthless, opportunistic man was capable of terrible things. What if he had overcome the men? No, that wasn’t likely. Rick was a big half-Scot and both Kinan and Dylan were quite strapping in their own rights. She recalled Cofield being thin and gangly. Surely he couldn’t overcome them, could he?

  The thought of Kinan or Dylan coming to harm because of her scheme made her ill to her stomach. And Rick, of course. She didn’t want Rick hurt. Her gaze darted about the trees as she contemplated drawing her pistol. Just as she started to lift her skirts, leaves crunched under several sets of hooves. Deirdre scooted the blue satin back over her legs just as three horses emerged from the trees to her right. Ciaren rumbled beneath her as she neighed to Kinan’s white stallion. A smirk pulled up one corner of Kinan’s lips, and he had a brow raised, gaze fixed on her legs. She smiled back and shrugged. Beside him, Dylan glared in annoyance, not at Kinan, but at her. Was it the look she had given Kinan that bothered him, or the fact that he guessed she’d been about to draw her pistol? Regardless, it only exacerbated her irritation toward Dylan.

  Ropes knotted about Cofield’s hands tethered him to Rick’s buckskin horse. He stumbled along behind, his beady eyes darting every which way. Those eyes fixed on Deirdre and narrowed, but it wasn’t anger that filled them, it was confusion. Dylan positioned his horse slightly between her and Cofield, while Kinan rode to her side. It was all she could do not to snap at Dylan for being so ridiculously overprotective. But, with Ciaren being taller than Dylan’s horse, she could still see Cofield. That would do for now. She could lecture Dylan later. Right now, they needed to display a unified front.

  Rick gave the rope holding Cofield a little jerk. Yanked forward by his bound hands, Cofield sprawled face-first into the dirt and leaves. Seeing him treated in such a manner stirred only regret in Deirdre that she hadn’t been the one to do it. Not only had he once taken her at knifepoint, intending to use her for leverage, but he had also tried multiple times to kill Cat and Rick. Despite the fact that she had overcome the man, he had made her feel weak and afraid, and she hated that. It made her wonder if she really could work with him.

  “All clear,” Rick called.

  The carriage door opened and out strode Cat, each step of her boots sharp. Long red hair flew about her upper body like flames eager to devour any that got too close. Her fierce countenance and aggressive steps made both Rick’s and Dylan’s horses take a step back. Deirdre grinned. Eager to join Cat, she started to free her legs from the sidesaddle bars. Kinan appeared on the ground at her side before she could leap down. At first she thought him there to stop her, but then he reached his hands up to her. Eyes going wide, she nodded. Hands on her waist, he helped ease her way down to the ground. They shared a long look during which she tried to read what he was thinking. The man was too adept at hiding his emotions, though. But one thing was clear, he wouldn’t stop her. She gave him a deep nod of gratitude before marching over to Cat’s side. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Dylan watching her, glowering.

  Cofield let out a groan as he pushed himself upright. When his gaze traveled up their dresses to their faces, his eyes went wide, then his gaze darted to Rick. “Not like this; killed while bound, on my knees, by women. At least do me the courtesy of killing me yourself,” he begged.

  Rick’s chin lifted. “You talk to them, not to me. If it were up to me, you would die a slow, dishonorable death.”

  Cofield looked to Kinan, who lifted his chin. “My sentiments are the same,” Kinan said.

  The man’s desperate gaze turned to Dylan. “You’d be dead already if it were up to me,” Dylan all but growled. The vehemence in his voice startled Deirdre and made her wonder. She realized she didn’t know much about him. Had he served in the war like Rick and Kinan? Could some of his overprotective attitude be that of a soldier’s nature to protect?

  Cofield turned back to her and Cat. Knowing how much her friend needed this, Deirdre let Cat do the talking. “I rather like the idea of you dying by our hands, bound and on your knees,” Cat said through a smile that bared teeth.

  Deirdre made a sort of purring noise. “As do I.”

  Cofield’s bottom lip quivered. Teary eyes beseeched them. “Please don’t. I…I can be useful to you.”

  Deirdre and Cat looked to one another and smiled. “Aye, you can,” they said in unison.

  Cofield’s brow furrowed and confusion clouded his already muddy eyes. He shook his head, then began nodding, as if the words had finally sunk in. “Yes, yes, I can, very useful!” He half rose, jerking to a startled halt when his rope went taut. Deirdre was disgusted by the fear in his eyes as he glanced back at Rick.

  “’Tis going to be a long, cold winter, Cofield. I don’t imagine you want to spend it on the run, do you?” Cat asked.

  His mouth gaped, as if he weren’t sure how to answer and was afraid to get it wrong. A touch of guilt pinched at Deirdre for enjoying the effect they had on him.

  “Well, uh…no. But if that’s what you want, I’ll do it,” Cofield said.

  Again, Deirdre and Cat exchanged a look, this time a long, thoughtful one, as if they hadn’t figured out how he could be useful
yet. Deirdre shrugged. “If he went south, Ainsworth would catch him and finish him off so there’s no chance he’d testify against him,” she said.

  Cat cocked her head as if in thought. “Well, he can’t go north or east, else he’ll get caught in the Sierras and likely die chewing his own arm off, like that poor Donner party,” she said.

  Mention of that recent, frightful incident almost made Deirdre shiver, but she suppressed it. Around the dark of the campfire their guides had told it like a ghost story with a horrible lesson for any who wanted to take that shortcut. “Likely,” Deirdre agreed.

  Sweat started to drip down Cofield’s brow despite the chill in the air. “Useful, I can be useful,” he mumbled as his eyes cast to the ground and flitted across the leaves as if they held the answers.

  “But he’s Ainsworth’s man. What use could he possibly be to us?” Deirdre asked.

  Cat let out a dramatic sigh that might have been overdoing it if Cofield wasn’t so out of his mind with fear. “We can’t have him ask Ainsworth to allow us to cross his land with the timber we’re purchasing. The man would shoot him as soon as look at him.”

  Deirdre waved a hand. “Maybe we should just let him. I don’t see what use he could be to us.”

  Cofield stood a little taller. “Timber, you need timber?” he latched on to the words.

  Finally, Cat looked at him, but her expression was aloof, doubtful. “Aye, but Ainsworth has everyone south of town convinced not to sell to us, and he won’t let us cross his land to get it from anyone else. You can’t help us with that.”

  A wild desperation entered Cofield’s eyes. He stood. “But I can. I can show you how to get through his land without him ever knowing. The man has two thousand acres and doesn’t know his way around but a hundred of it.”