Kiss Of The Night Wind

by Taylor, Janelle

  “Don’t worry this pretty head about Harding; I’ll take care of him. All you have to think about is getting to Darby, talking to him, and escaping before the law closes in on you two. I’ll help, Carrie Sue.”

  She looked at him and smiled faintly. If he loved her, why wasn’t he insisting she leave the hazardous West immediately? He was tough and strong, so why wasn’t he binding her and dragging her far away? He was smart and careful, so why wasn’t he trying to convince her that searching for Darby Stover was too perilous? He wasn’t a wanted man and didn’t plan to become one, so why wasn’t he more worried about the enormous price on her head and the countless men who were pursuing her at this very time? His words and actions didn’t make sense!

  Yes, her warring mind argued, it did make sense if he was after Darby Stover! In light of his many contradictions and curious behavior, it certainly seemed that way to her, much as she hated to accept that grim fact. The questions were: who did he keep contacting, and why did he want her brother so badly, and when would he betray her?

  Not wanting her to watch him defeat her brother, T.J. suggested desperately, “Since I’m safe for now, Carrie Sue, why don’t you conceal yourself and let me take a message to Darby? You can use one of your old hideouts and tell me how to locate him. If you put something in your letter that only you and Darby know, that’ll convince him I came from you. I can tell him it was too dangerous for you to travel and I can bring him back to where you’re camped. You know, with him in the open again, the law and bounty hunters are going to be everywhere. Please let me go after him alone while you stay safe,” he urged.

  “Even with a lock of my hair and all our family secrets written in a note, Darby Stover wouldn’t believe you. He’d think those things were tortured out of me. He knows I would never, under any circumstances, reveal his location. He’d probably kill you!”

  “It was worth a try, Red; I don’t want to see you harmed.”

  She smiled, wanting to believe that last statement. Maybe it was true; maybe he had fallen enough in love with her to forget about capturing her; maybe all he wanted now was the Stover Gang. But didn’t he realize she could not betray her brother, even for him? And if he loved her and wanted her afterwards, didn’t he realize that could never happen if he was responsible for Darby’s capture and death? How could she ever surrender her heart and body to the man with her brother’s blood on his hands? She couldn’t.

  Carrie Sue comprehended his worry over her, and that teased warmly at her heart. She would let T.J. Rogue use his prowess and wits to get her to El Paso safely, then she would take off on her own. She could easily find Darby’s hideout from there. If her lover tried to stop her from leaving him…

  “Quit frowning, love; everything will be fine soon,” he murmured tenderly and stroked her lined forehead.

  She focused misty eyes on him. “I’m not sure, T.J.; I have this terrible feeling something is going wrong somewhere.”

  “What, love?” he asked. “I’ll protect you with my own life. No one is going to harm you again. Once this is over,” he paused a moment before continuing, “you’ll be safe and happy forever. I swear.”

  Tears, which were unlike her, gathered in her eyes as she thanked him. He had called her “love” twice. Why? And why did it seem as if he was being totally honest at this moment? If he knew how much his betrayal would hurt her, and the sharp-witted male had to know, why would he continue his ruse? Why was he so resolved to capture her brother? And, surely he was. For a man to have such consuming bitterness and determination and to be willing to sacrifice anything for a particular victory, there had to be a good reason. What was T.J.’s?

  Merciful Heavens, if only she could demand the truth! If she did, he would either lie or he would end his cruel ruse or he would jail her and continue his trek after Darby Stover. No, she couldn’t let him know she was on to him! She had to reach her brother first and get him far away from peril. Then, she would seek the truth about her devilish Rogue…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Early the next morning, almost before dawn, they broke camp and headed for Mesilla and another of T.J. Rogue’s friends.

  Before pulling out, T.J. had questioned her silence. She had told him she was worried about Darby being on the move again. If he was captured or slain before she could reach him, her brother wouldn’t stand a chance of having a new beginning, and he deserved one. She told T.J. she had a horrible feeling that she had seen her brother alive for the last time, that some unknown threat was stalking him.

  T.J. had replied, “A man who lives by his guns expects to die by them. You aren’t responsible for his fate, Carrie Sue, and you can’t halt it. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you.”

  As they traveled, she considered her dilemma for the seemingly hundredth time. How could she love a man she distrusted? Yet, she knew it was far more than physical attraction for him, and she suspected it was the same for T.J. Rogue. The only thing she didn’t doubt was the fact they were in love and wanted to be together for keeps!

  T.J.’s grudge against Darby had to be vitally important to him. What, she pondered, could it be? Had one of their victims been his father or brother? No, one was killed long ago by Apaches and the other had died at the hands of Mexican bandits. Or so her lover had claimed. What if the Stover Gang had killed his brother? What if they had killed his best friend? For a man with so few friends, each one would be precious to him, worth dying for while seeking revenge.

  Yes, she concluded, T.J.’s motive had to be personal revenge. That would be the only thing important enough to sacrifice their new and unexpected love and to risk his life and hers. Who was the victim?

  Maybe T.J. had had other family, members he hadn’t mentioned to her, members left behind on that ill-fated journey into the Apaches’ hands. Perhaps a baby brother or sister, she mused. The possibilities were endless and frustrating. For all she knew, one of the men riding with Darby could be T.J.’s long-lost brother who’d gone bad. The ages of most would figure out correctly, and her lover was mighty interested in each one. No, she protested, that was too farfetched.

  But something else wasn’t. If another gang was impersonating them, why couldn’t another gang have killed this person whom her lover wanted to avenge? What if Darby and the others were innocent of T.J.’s mental charges? What if her love was after the wrong killer?

  Darby Stover and T.J. Rogue were the only people in the world that she loved with all her heart and soul. If it came to a choice between the two men, and Darby’s life was at stake, she would have to take her brother’s side. Merciful Heavens, what would she do if it came to a shoot-out between them? If Darby had to die because of his wicked deeds, she prayed that it wouldn’t be at her love’s hands.

  Those agonizing thoughts finished making her decision. Trust him or not, there was no way she could lead T.J. to Darby’s hideout. The two special men in her life must never meet and battle. Besides, she couldn’t endanger T.J.’s life by delivering him into the hands of his unsuspecting enemies, skilled gunmen who made the odds seven-to-one against him! And, since he wasn’t a wanted man, she couldn’t be the one to ensnare her love in a life of crime. Guilty or not of her mental accusations, she had to part ways with T.J. Rogue in El Paso.

  After leaving the Deming area, the landscape was back to dry and sandy terrain which was pancake flat. On occasion it drifted into scrubby spots that abounded in snakeweed, a bushy plant which appeared globular in shape and gave off stinky black smoke when burned. The “matchweed” was known to be poisonous to some stock, but fortunately its foul taste kept them away from it. Most were densely crowded into scattered patches and were covered in clusters of yellow flowers, adding green and yellow coloring to the pale brown earth.

  Suddenly an exquisite section filled their vision, and she was amazed anew at how rapidly and unexpectedly the landscape could alter. All around them thousands of yuccas in full bloom were sighted and enjoyed. The patches were thick and beautiful, appearing like c
ountless white torches held skyward by skinny green hands. Carrie Sue twisted in her saddle to take in the view from all directions.

  Amongst the cloud white abundance were mesquites and cacti. Along the dry washes they passed, blue paloverde edged the rims. She wondered why the tree-like bush was called blue, when it was covered in masses of yellow blossoms! In locations where there were plenty of them, it looked as if the desert washes were lined with a golden trail. She knew that paloverde was Spanish for “green stick” and referred to the bark color. This display of life and beauty distracted her for a time from her troubles. She cleared her mind and let Mother Nature entertain and relax her.

  They were less than forty miles from Las Cruces, a large town adjoining the smaller one of Mesilla. Northward, she could make out the Robledo Mountain in a whitish blue haze which made it appear a ghostly outline against the distant horizon. Southward were the Potrillo Mountains. Eastward—their direction—were the Organ Mountains, before which was spread Las Cruces in a tranquil valley.

  T.J. remained on alert, knowing there would be bounty hunters and lawmen who hadn’t gotten the word about withdrawing her posters from circulation. And, there would be some men who wouldn’t believe the posters had been a mistake. He had to be careful. Wanting to reach Mesilla with its protective cover by nightfall, he urged them onward at an increased pace which wasn’t too demanding on the horses.

  At their mid-way break, they finished off the chicken and biscuits which had been left over from last night. They rested quietly for thirty minutes, then hit the trail once more.

  Carrie Sue didn’t realize the land wasn’t flat ahead until they reached the edge of a downward slope which entered the valley where their destination was located. She reined up and looked at the sight of Las Cruces snuggled at the base of the large mountains. “This is a perfect place to build a house,” she remarked to her companion.

  T.J. lifted himself in his stirrups and looked around, smiling and agreeing, “Yep, this is some pretty view, woman.” He glanced at her and asked, “How does a bed sound for tonight? We’re almost there.”

  “Sounds wonderful, partner. That and hot food and a cool bath. Lead on, my faithful Apache scout,” she jested.

  They crossed a narrow section of the Rio Grande, which miles ahead formed the boundary between Texas and Mexico, and bore south. The area was shrouded in shadows by the time they reached the outskirts of Mesilla. Beneath a half moon, T.J. guided her to his friend’s house.

  For a brief moment as they dismounted, Carrie Sue was consumed with panic and wondered if his betrayal would come here, tonight. No, he needed her to lead him to Darby.

  The trees were larger in this area of adobe homes and Spanish structures. As he put their horses into a small corral, fed and watered them, T.J. related how La Mesilla had started as a Mexican civil colony in eighteen-fifty with around eight hundred Hispanos. He told her that one of the buildings had housed the territorial capitol of the Confederacy. Not too far from his friend’s house was a plaza, to its right was his friend’s saloon, near the La Posta.

  He led her inside the Mexican-style house and put her things down. “You rest while I go tell Hank we’re here. I’ll bring some food back and help you prepare a bath. Stay inside and out of sight, woman; we don’t know what’s waiting out there,” he cautioned.

  Carrie Sue nodded wearily, took a seat, and removed her boots. She flung her hat into another chair and leaned back on the comfortable couch. “Take too long, partner, and I’ll be asleep,” she murmured. She watched T.J. flash her a breathtaking smile, toss his saddlebags over his shoulder, and depart. Without delay or hesitation, she grabbed a colorful poncho from a chair and wiggled it over her head, settling the blanketlike cloak over her feminine body to conceal it and her weapons. She seized a sombrero from a wall hook and stuffed her braid beneath its tall crown. She slipped out the back way to follow him. She peered around the house and edged toward the front.

  Carrie Sue looked in both directions and located her lover’s retreating back as he headed down a narrow street. She waited until he rounded the corner and, sighting no one, she hurried that way. She was careful not to make any noise, and her bare feet aided her.

  She saw him enter a fancy cantina on the next street near a long, cream-colored building which was marked “La Posta.” So far, he had told the truth. She heard the music and laughter and voices from her concealed position, but she couldn’t see inside the swinging doors. She had to get closer! Cautiously she crept toward her destination.

  When two men came outside, she flattened herself against the wall behind her, and her heart pounded in alarm. Fortunately they headed in the other direction and vanished soon. She made it to the side of Hank’s place and peered through a window which looked dirty enough to prevent anyone from sighting her face. It was a large room with wooden tables and chairs, much like most saloons. There was a lengthy bar at the other side, and a hazy glow filled the room from lantern and cigar smoke. Men were drinking, playing cards, and chatting. Mexican girls waited upon the customers, smiling and teasing them. Then, she spotted her lover; he was speaking with a man shorter than he was, an American in a Mexican settlement…

  The redhead studied the stranger. He was dressed in a white shirt, a black and gray striped vest, and dark trousers. She supposed he looked authentic for a gambler and saloon owner. He wasn’t wearing a visible weapon, but most men like him carried smaller ones concealed. His graying hair had once been blond and his face was tanned from hours beneath the sun. Odd, she mused, for a business man who kept late hours and spent so much time inside during the day? Nothing really to go on, she concluded.

  She watched them head into a back room and close the door. She worked her way around the building, but the only window was too high for observation or eavesdropping. She frowned, wondering what was being said inside the room she was leaning against.

  A door opened nearby and a woman walked outside. She glanced in Carrie Sue’s direction and asked in Spanish, “What do you want there?”

  The daring fugitive ignored her and quickly left the scene before the woman summoned her boss and she was caught red-handed. She hurried back to Hank’s house and replaced the borrowed items. Removing her gunbelt and laying it aside, she half-reclined on the couch.

  In twenty minutes, T.J. was back, carrying a meal of floured tortillas, enchiladas oozing with sauce, and other Mexican dishes. He smiled as he placed the food on the table. “Ready?” he hinted.

  Carrie Sue pretended to drag herself wearily from the couch. “Did you find him?” she asked as she sat down at the table.

  “Yep, he’ll be working a few more hours. You’ll have to meet him in the morning, my exhausted vixen. After we eat, you’re getting a bath and turning in.” He dropped his fork and leaned to recover it, taking a look at her feet. As suspected, they were dirty. He grinned, aware she was the one sighted by one of Hank’s woman. He also realized that either his guard was down too low or she possessed more skills than previously believed, as he hadn’t seen or heard her!

  As if reading his thoughts, she remarked, “I checked on Charlie and Nighthawk. We pushed them hard these past few days. I think I got a stone bruise; I should have put on my boots.”

  “It’ll feel better after you soak it a while. Be glad it isn’t a cactus spine; they’re hell to remove. How’s the food?”

  “Delicious, Mr. Rogue, even better than what we had in Tucson. Or I’m twice as hungry.” She laughed and took a few bites before asking, “What did your friend say about you bringing me here?”

  “I trust Hank Peterson. He understands your problem. I told him you’re going straight, so he’s willing to help by hiding us tonight.”

  “Why?” she probed, observing him more closely than he realized.

  “Why what?” he asked, looking baffled.

  She clarified, “Why is he willing to aid a criminal and endanger himself? And why do you two trust each other so much? I’m valuable property, remember?”


  Enlightenment brightened his smokey gray eyes. “We’ve worked together several times in the past. He’s one of my best friends, and he feels the same about me. We’ve saved each other’s lives a few times, so we’re close and tight. He knows I wouldn’t be taking this risk unless I trusted you and believed you, and had good reason.”

  “Which is?” she prompted before sliding a forkful of enchilada into her mouth and licking the mischievous sauce from her lips.

  He stopped eating to gaze at her across the table. “Don’t you know the reason by now, Carrie Sue?” he asked in a quiet tone. “Isn’t it the same reason you let me tag along and have allowed me to stay?”

  “If that’s a sly way of asking me how I feel about you, Mr. Rogue, I think I’ve pretty well exposed myself in that area. Like it is with you and Hank, I think we’re tight and close. You did say your friend has to work late, didn’t you?” she hinted audaciously.

  Passion darkened his eyes and his respiration altered as his heart speeded up with anticipation. “Yep, lucky for us,” he murmured.

  They finished their meal quickly, each continually glancing at the other and smiling in suspense and eagerness. T.J. fetched a metal tub and filled it with tepid well water while she cleared the table. As she bathed inside, T.J. stood at the well in the moonlight to scrub and rinse himself. When he went inside, she was waiting for him in the bed which he had pointed out to her. He approached it, and she lifted her arms in summons.