“That sounds awfully pessimistic to me, Marsh.”
He politely refuted, “I’m only being realistic, Miss Hollis. A pessimist is always gloomy, and thinking the worst of everything and everybody. I’m not like that, am I?”
She reluctantly told him, “I must admit, you appear totally satisfied with yourself and your hazardous lifestyle.”
“Do I hear a bit of resentment in your tone?” he teased.
“It’s more like envy, Mr. Logan. Or should I say, Durango?”
“I guess it’s according to which man and life you envy.”
Randee sighed heavily, then asked, “Aren’t you both the same?”
“Every person has many sides, Randee, including you. If you had a choice, which man would you prefer as your partner? Be honest.”
Without hesitating, she disclosed, “Marsh Logan.”
He looked surprised. “Why?” he asked, highly intrigued.
“Because hell stay alive longer than the Durango Kid, and I need my partner around for a long time.” Marsh studied her for a while and felt her pull on him. He could tell that she was as tense as he was, but she never broke their interlocked gaze. He smiled almost sadly and revealed, “Would you be shocked if I told you I wish I were only Marsh Logan again? That isn’t possible, Randee, and never will be. Too much has happened since I left home.”
Randee nodded and replied, “I know what you mean, Marsh.” She stretched and yawned as if very tired. “We should get moving, or we won’t make that wonderful campsite you mentioned earlier. Oh, yes,” she added, “None of those bandits were gang members.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, dropping the other subject as she had.
“I’m more than positive they weren’t at the Carson Ranch. I thought of something else this afternoon. Do you think those squatters on Bill Sharp’s ranch were gang members in disguise? That would be a perfect way to hang around until everyone arrived for the attack.”
“I’m lost.” He confessed ignorance of her meaning.
“The day before I left Wadesville, Brody was called to the Sharp’s Ranch to handle trouble with squatters. That next morning, the Epson Gang attacked there. Could it be coincidental?”
“Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt to start checking for a pattern there. I’ll mark it on our list of clues. Randee,” he started hesitantly, “I want you to know you have nothing to fear from the Durango Kid.”
“I know, Marsh, thanks. Will you promise me one thing?”
He laughed. “Another promise?” he jested, winking at her.
Undaunted, she pressed, “Promise me you’ll remain Marsh Logan as much as possible on this journey.”
“If you knew what he was like, you might not ask that.”
“Do it anyway” she entreated.
“For a long time I tried to be anybody except Marsh Logan; now you seem to like him better than who I am today. That worries me.”
“It shouldn’t, because you’re more Marsh Logan than you realize. Your father would be very proud of you and what you’re doing.”
“Would he, Randee?” Marsh asked a little sarcastically. If he had been home where he belonged, his parents would be alive today! And he would have been home if his father hadn’t driven him away! Marsh could still recall the anguish, rebelliousness, disappointment, and resentment which had filled him years ago. Thank God, he had learned the truth two years past about his father’s treachery in ’56, even though the old man had died believing his son still hated and disrespected him, died believing Marsh was “a bad apple.” Maybe that was why he hated apples and could hardly get them down, because they symbolized what his parents died believing about him.
As if knowing what the man was thinking and agonizing over, Randee said, “You’re wrong, Marsh. You would be dead, too, if you’d been home that day. Don’t let the past rip you apart and force you into death’s eager embrace. You’re too good to die, and it isn’t too late to change your life. You aren’t the heartless and selfish person you claim to be, Marsh Logan, so stop trying to convince me you are. If you’re afraid that by being yourself you’ll provoke me into chasing after you, I promise you have nothing to worry about where I’m concerned.” She mounted up and rode off before he could argue or agree.
They traveled until darkness had almost encompassed them. Marsh showed her where to camp, then unloaded their possessions and rode off to check out the security of the area. Randee prepared the fire and started their evening meal. When Marsh returned, he tended his black stallion, then went for a soothing swim in the river nearby.
After joining her, he inhaled deeply and said, “That smells good.”
“Only because you didn’t have to cook it,” she teased. “I might as well confess that I’m not very good in the kitchen, if you haven’t noticed already. My mother preferred to do the cooking, so I have little training in that area. Be patient and a good teacher, and I promise to learn more. Did you see anything suspicious out there?”
“No one around for miles, partner, so you can have your coveted bath. I swear, not one peek,” he teased huskily. Mercy, how she made him more nervous every hour they spent together. He was afraid of getting her injured and slain. He was afraid of resisting her, but more afraid of yielding to her pull. She wasn’t a woman merely to enjoy physically; she was a woman who became a vital part of you, like eating and breathing. If he allowed her to get to. him, then what would happen to both of them when they parted? It would be selfish to only live for today where she was concerned. Not knowing her past, he feared saying or doing the wrong thing. If her trouble was over another man, that could determine if and how she responded to him. If he pressed and she wasn’t ready …
Randee interrupted his line of thought, “If I didn’t trust you, Marsh Logan, I wouldn’t be here tonight.”
He jested mirthfully, “Do you think that’s wise, Miss Hollis? You are the most tempting creature I’ve met to date. The only reasons I’ve kept my self-control are thoughts of losing my hand and that reward. I didn’t scare you this afternoon with my impulsive conduct, did I?”
“You, impulsive?” she taunted with a skeptical grin.
“Not in the past, but I find it happening frequently around you.”
“Is that good or bad?” she questioned, her heart pounding.
“Considering the danger we’re facing every day, probably bad.”
“Frankly, Mr. Logan, I think you’re right.”
“I was afraid you’d agree with my stupidity.”
They both laughed. She passed him his plate and said, “If it’s too bad, maybe you’ll cook every day from now on.”
“No way, woman. If you’re messing up on purpose to avoid your share of the chores, you’ll be sorry.”
“Isn’t that what you men usually do to get out of them?”
“Mercy, what kind of monster have I linked up with?” he teased.
“Challenge me, Durango, and you’ll find out.”
“Will I like what I unearth, my golden treasure?”
Randee’s smile faded, as did her joyous mood. “Will you please not use that phrase again? Nothing golden, all right?”
“It’s easier to fight a battle when you understand it, Randee. Since you can’t tell me about it yet, just tell me when I make a wrong step. Agreed?” As she nodded, Marsh saw unshed tears glistening in her green eyes as she mutely thanked him for his kindness. He smiled and said, “Somewhere along the trail you’ve had a rough time, Randee. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
“So am I,” she confessed honestly, hoarsely. “Maybe you will be next time, because I don’t think my past is dead yet. Please, no jokes or compliments about golden treasures and promises, or golden hair and skin.” She licked her dry lips and revealed slowly, “Just so you can be prepared in case that Kansas trouble does locate me here, I’ll tell you all about it soon. I didn’t exactly lie to you about being pursued, because I honestly don’t believe I can be traced here—not after the false trail I le
ft behind. Just so you won’t worry, I’m not running from the law and I didn’t steal that ten thousand dollars. My uncle hid it in the attic with me before the raid. Since it was his money, I thought it should pay for bringing his killers to justice. Please don’t ask any questions, because that’s all I can tell you tonight.” She set her plate aside and excused herself to take a bath.
Marsh retrieved the whiskey from his saddlebag and took a deep drink from the bottle. He realized this was either going to be a very long and painful night, or a very short and blissful one… .
Chapter Nine
It was neither kind of night for Marsh. He was more fatigued than he realized, and the whiskey had relaxed him more than he had intended, causing him to fall into a deep sleep before Randee returned to camp.
Noticing the slumbering man, Randee moved quietly to avoid disturbing him. She knew he had to be very tired after their long journey and his continual guard, which required light sleep. He looked so peaceful—and vulnerable— lying there. She was glad he could relax so fully for a change, as it had to be extremely demanding to remain on full alert around the clock. Since no one was in the area and it was late, they shouldn’t be in any peril tonight, a fact of which he must be aware. She was careful not to make any noise as she put away her belongings and climbed into her sleeping roll.
Randee decided that she made Marsh just as nervous as he made her, and that experience probably was new and difficult for him. He was not a man who wanted to be vulnerable to anything or anyone, as his survival could depend on being hardhearted and clear-headed. Carefree loners like him often believed that strong emotions—those which were distracting, demanding, and consuming—usually made a man feel defensive and anxious, made him reluctant to surrender any part of himself to another person for fear of losing some special edge which he possessed over others. Perhaps he was also concerned about what he had witnessed between her and Sheriff Wade. Perhaps he worried that she might, or could, fool him as easily and insensitively as she had deceived Brody. Somehow she needed to let him discover that she viewed the two men differently, that she would not dupe him romantically or in any other way. Soon, she would reveal everything about herself and this task, and he would realize she could be trusted implicitly. He would realize he could be himself around her, that he could tell her anything, that he could depend on her fully, that he could finally lean on someone for understanding and comfort and help. Yes, she decided wishfully, she had to prove that she could be all things to him: friend, partner, companion, confidante, and … yes, his lover.
The more she was around Marsh Logan, the more she wanted to get to know him better and the more she liked him. No, her mind refuted, the more they were together, the more she came to love and desire him. Perhaps that was what made Marsh different from the other men she had met and known: She liked him and she loved him. It was possible to feel either emotion without the other; but when both were felt for the same person, it was rare and wonderful. Perhaps that was the secret to real love, lasting love, powerful love: truly liking and respecting the person you loved. And, despite his lifestyle and reputation, she respected him and admired him, as he had enjoyed his stimulating existence without going afoul of the law.
Hopefully Marsh would come to feel the same way about her before this mission ended one way or another. If she had him pinpointed correctly, he was the perfect man for her, and she couldn’t imagine being so wrong about him after all the time they had spent together. All she had to do was convince him she was perfect for him and persuade him to give up his deadly lifestyle. If only he would let down his guard so she could sneak past that loner-fence which surrounded him. As she drifted off to sleep, she was envisioning them together on his land, building a wonderful life as newlyweds… .
At dawn the next morning, the Epson Gang made another vicious raid above Fort Worth.
As they traveled that day, Marsh kept thinking about what Randee had hinted at the night before. As much as he wanted to have her explanation, he dreaded it, because he assumed she would want him to open up to her after she did so with him. As long as he could keep quiet, he wouldn’t have to lie to her again, verbally that is. For some strange reason, he found being deceitful with this woman as vexing as it had been with his parents. Maybe it was because she was as special to him as they were, and that probably explained why he was becoming more apprehensive around her. Since she was getting to him, he warned himself to watch his step with her. At least one thing was clear to him now; her problem was personal, not criminal. He was surprised at how deeply he had slept last night, and was more amazed that her stirrings hadn’t aroused him. Either he had been awfully tired or she was becoming good at stealth.
They halted at midday to eat and rest. Marsh pointed to tracks nearby and asked, “What can you tell me about them?”
Randee studied them for a moment, then replied, “Two riders passed this way during or right after a heavy rain. I can tell that because of the number of hoof prints, and the ground had to be mushy when they were made, because they’re deep and unclear. The dirt around them has dried and hardened enough to crumble into the tracks, and the grass isn’t newly damaged. I would guess about a month.”
Marsh grinned in pleasure. “I would guess the same thing. What else have you learned?”
“I guessed two riders because the prints are about the same depth. I don’t think a supply horse would weigh that much. They were heading northwest, possibly to Santa Fe.”
“Excellent, partner. Looks as if I’ll have to keep you around.”
Randee smiled and thanked him. She withdrew a ribbon from her stuffed saddlebag and secured her hair behind her nape. The day was getting warmer and she wanted to stay as cool as possible. As Brody had intended, the blue ribbon reminded her of him. Yet, she hastily dismissed him from mind, to deal with him much later.
They rode until late afternoon and halted again. Marsh suggested a longer rest break for the horses this time, because the day was hot and humid, a condition which tired the animals more quickly than usual. His shirt and hat were sweaty, so he removed them and hung them over his saddle horn to dry. Unrolling his sleeping bag, he stretched out on it.
Randee tossed a blanket on the ground and took a seat. She noticed the way the sun seemingly caressed his bronzed flesh and caused his ebony hair to shine. She watched beads of sweat glisten’ on the furry mat on that hard chest, and her eyes roamed over his flat stomach and powerful shoulders. She wanted to press her lips to every spot that shone in the sun’s glare. She imagined how hot and smooth each area was and how sensuous it would be to carry out her thought. There was very little breeze to ruffle his hair, but it was mussed from his hat and damp with perspiration. Her gaze drifted over his strong features and darkened jawline. He was so entrancing she could have stared at him for hours without ceasing. His eyes were closed; yet, he was frowning slightly as if the brilliant sun was penetrating his lids. She wondered what he was thinking and feeling at this very moment. Who, she pondered, was Marsh Logan and what haunted him from his past? She yearned to know anything and everything about him.
Her green eyes wandered past his slim hips and long legs, which were crossed at the ankles. His faded jeans fit him snugly, but not indecently. She eyed the metal buttons and brazenly wondered how it would feel to unfasten each one and to slip off his … Randee squirmed on her seat and glanced away from the tempting sight which had her mind and body traveling rapidly in a dangerous direction.
Marsh lifted his shoulders, propped himself up on his left elbow, and shaded his eyes with his right forearm. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Randee’s gaze returned to him. The sun was slightly to his left, causing provocative shadows to dance over his masculine frame and to darken his face. She saw how the muscles rippled over his abdomen from his position, and how those in his left arm bulged from the pressure of his weight on it. Both fists were lightly balled, and moisture gleamed on his tanned arms and face. His azure eyes were squinted as much
from curiosity as from the bright sunlight. She should have known he would sense her bold scrutiny! She inhaled deeply and exhaled, its sound ragged in the silence which surrounded them. “The humidity is terrible today,” she remarked to stall for recovery time. “It makes you feel as if you have a rock on your chest. I’m almost drenched.”
Marsh looked her over snailishly. Perspiration was glistening on her face, and her cheeks were flushed. Despite wearing the hat he had purchased for her, Randee’s nose was very pink today. He was mildly surprised, that someone so tanned could sunburn so easily. He wondered what shade the rest of her body was, and knew he would learn that secret one day. It was inevitable; his gut instinct told him so, just as it told him what was disturbing Randee this afternoon.
With her hair pulled back and secured loosely, the soft and enchanting angle of her jawline was most noticeable. He wanted to trail his quivering fingers over her satiny flesh and becoming features, and he must do so soon or go crazy with longing. His gaze roamed the damp fringe of tawny hair across her forehead. He had the urge to blow on it, to make her bangs dance and to cool her face. The color of her eyes reminded him of new grass and leaves in the spring, and he was aroused by the way they were resting on him. Her lips were made for kissing endlessly and he craved to taste them again, even if it did inspire his head to spin more wildly than drinking a full canteen of Indian mescal. That one kiss had been much too brief, and he hadn’t held her in his arms. Mercy, she was a breathtaking creature, the only one whom he’d ever had trouble resisting. He wanted to pull her down beside him and make rapturous love to her beneath the blazing sun. Yep, this woman made his unleashed passions race wild and free like an unbroken stallion. He cautioned himself to clear his head of such wanton thoughts, or his tight jeans would reveal his urgent desire!
Marsh finally spoke, “We’ll make camp in another abandoned fort tonight. There’s a lake nearby, so you can take a nice, long swim if nobody’s around. I can use one myself,” he remarked, mopping sweat from his brow and above his upper lip. “If we’re lucky, it’ll rain soon and cool things off a bit.”
Passions Wild And Free Page 18
