Desperado

by Lisa Bingham

  “Just so’s y’do.” He slapped the envelope against his thigh. “And don’t forget what yer grandpappy told you when you were learning to ride. If you get bucked off, y’ get right back on. Otherwise the fear will cripple you.”

  Elam wasn’t sure what Henry was leading up to, but thank heavens, P.D. burst from the door.

  “Hey, Henry!” She rushed toward them, shoving the last of their things in the saddlebags. “We used some of your food, so I owe you dinner as soon as Vern’s is up and running again.”

  Henry blushed and waved a dismissing hand. “Ah, shucks, you don’t have to do that. But I’ll let you!”

  P.D. gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “So what’s our next challenge?”

  Elam quickly threw the saddle onto the horse’s back, quickening his pace. If they had to continue with the Games, then they may as well win. Because there was nothing Elam wanted more than to provide P.D. with the money she needed for her restaurant. Maybe then he could ease some of the strain that was beginning to settle in her eyes.

  He slid the bridle over the horse’s head, then double-checked everything. Then tying the animal to the buggy, he said, “All right, Henry. Let’s have it.”

  Henry checked his watch again, waiting, waiting. Then he handed the envelope to P.D.

  She ripped it open, reading, “‘Your train is about to leave, so don’t be late. Only one pair of contestants can board at a time. The number of minutes spent waiting for the next train will be added to your score. Hopefully, you’ve still got a few coins left to buy your fare.’”

  “Hell, let’s go!” Elam grabbed their things from the buggy and threw it around the horse’s neck instead. Then he swung into the saddle and reached for P.D.

  As soon as her arms wrapped around his waist, he urged the horse toward the hill.

  “Yee-hah! That’s the way to ride, Elam!” Henry called as they galloped away.

  *

  P.D. thought her teeth would be jarred from her head when the horse lunged forward, clawing its way straight up the side of the hill, rather than the winding road. But as soon as the mount found purchase on flatter ground, Elam spurred the gelding into a gallop.

  Immediately, the ride became smoother, but after only one peek at the ground rushing by, P.D. screwed her eyes shut and clutched Elam’s waist in a death grip.

  She was still struggling with lack of sleep and sensory overload from the night before. There was a part of her that insisted that none of it was real, that Elam hadn’t made love to her with such tender ferocity.

  But the evidence was there in the thrum of her body and in the carefully trimmed hair and shaved chin. As daylight broke, sunlight stroked cheekbones sharp as an ax and a jaw that could have been hewn from a block of wood.

  What did a man like that see in her? Again, she was struck by the fact that men like this didn’t gravitate toward women like her. As soon as they returned to their everyday activities and it became apparent that Elam had rejoined mainstream life, he would be beating beauties off his doorstep with a stick. And that was the way it should be. He needed to be living it up, indulging in his bachelor status, playing the field.

  But as much as she told herself that she’d never expected a binding relationship with Elam Taggart, that didn’t seem to make her feel any better. Too late, she realized that she’d let herself become too emotionally involved. She’d ignored her own warnings and wallowed in Elam’s touch, his concern, his gentleness. Worse yet, a part of her soul which she had always kept hidden from the world had been awakened. She’d begun to feel, really feel. And all of those emotions revolved around Elam.

  The thought took her by surprise and she tried to thrust it away, but once it had emerged, there was no denying the truth. She’d always thought that Elam was the one guilty of closing himself off from the people around him. But hadn’t she done the same thing?

  If her upbringing had taught her anything, it had made her see that loving someone didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would love her back. She’d carried that lesson wherever she went. She kept to herself, made few friends, and moved to a new job, a new home, anytime she felt someone was growing too close.

  Then, she’d come to Bliss. The moment she’d entered the valley, she’d felt a sense of peace. She hadn’t felt the need to prove anything here. She’d been accepted for who she was, no questions asked.

  Bliss was home.

  Was that part of the reason she’d been able to trust Elam with her secrets? Was it because she’d sunk her roots deep into this place and knew that, no matter what happened, she would still belong? She had a house, a business. Friends. No, not just friends. She had family here. Helen was mother and sister combined. And the Taggarts?

  Jace was her knight, showing up when her battery was dead or snow needed to be shoveled. Bodey was the closest thing that she’d ever had to a brother. He was her confidant, her cheerleader. Dear, sweet Barry was like a younger sibling, one to be spoiled and protected.

  And Elam?

  She cared for him.

  Perhaps too much.

  The thought pierced her heart like lightning, and she couldn’t deny it. She could tell herself that they’d known each other only a short while. She could insist that real devotion didn’t develop that fast.

  But the truth was … she’d begun caring about him the minute he’d appeared on his deck the first day she’d met him.

  “Almost there!” Elam called.

  She nodded against his back, suddenly panicked. She wasn’t ready for anything too serious. She had her restaurant to repair and expenses to recoup—both of which would take most of her time and energy in the coming weeks. And they were only halfway through the Games. She had to keep all her wits about her since she was going to need the money for Vern’s now more than ever.

  Peeking over Elam’s shoulder, she could see the station ahead. The tiny building had once been a hub of commerce for the area, especially when sugar beets had been a key crop in the valley. But now, houses crowded close on all sides. The rail spur had officially been abandoned long ago by the railroad, but the tracks remained. And somehow, the contest committee had obtained a steam locomotive, a passenger car, and a boxcar.

  “Are we really riding on a train?” P.D. asked in disbelief.

  “It looks like it.”

  She could barely hear the words as the wind snatched them away.

  “Shit! There’s another group.”

  Squinting over his shoulder again, she could see a pair of men in buckskins racing toward the train from the opposite direction.

  “It’s the pair that stole our horse!”

  Elam slapped the reins against the gelding’s rump, but P.D.’s skirts probably dampened the effect. She groaned when it became clear that the men were going to reach the passenger car seconds before them.

  “Damn, damn, damn!”

  Elam was reining in the horse when P.D. suddenly remembered their instructions.

  Hopefully, you’ve still got a few coins left to buy your fare.

  “Go to the ticket booth,” she shouted.

  “Wha—”

  “The ticket booth!”

  Elam altered course, causing the horse to turn on a dime. As soon as they came to a stop, P.D. slid to the ground and grabbed the saddlebags.

  She could hear a commotion near the passenger car, but she ignored it.

  “How much?” she gasped to the woman behind the ticket gate.

  “Ten dollars. If you don’t have that much, you’ll have to earn it by doing an extra challenge. If you have a horse or buggy, it will be another ten dollars to take them as well.”

  P.D. dug through the saddlebags—praying that the Wild West Bucks hadn’t fallen out in their haste to pack things up before Henry had arrived that morning.

  The other team was rushing toward her now, and she damned the way her fingers had gone completely numb and fumbly. But finally, she felt the betraying rustle of paper.

  Hauling out the colored “
coins,” she paid for their fare and that of their horse. But she knew that they could still lose their chance to ride first.

  “Get the horse on the boxcar!” she called as she ran toward the passenger car.

  Elam had anticipated her orders. He was already leading the horse up a ramp and into the railway car.

  “Just get on the passenger carriage,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute!”

  Lifting her skirts, P.D. rushed to the steps. She could hear the other men thundering toward her. Scrambling into the car, she rushed to the conductor, handing him the tickets.

  The elderly gentlemen punched the tickets, then shouted, “All aboard!”

  Immediately, the buckskin pair was stopped before they could climb onto the car.

  Steam poured from either side of the engine as it began to chuff, chuff slowly at first, then more deliberately. Then, as if breaking free from the bonds of gravity, the car shuddered forward.

  Elam. Where was Elam? Did he get trapped in the boxcar with the horse or was he still trying to make his way to join her?

  “Wait! My partner!”

  The conductor shook his head. “Sorry, miss. Once the train starts, there’s no stopping it.” He handed her an envelope, but for the first time, she didn’t immediately open it. She had the ammunition and her pistols, but Elam had the rifle and shotgun.

  The train was picking up speed, leaving the onlookers and the opposing team behind, but P.D. stood in a daze, feeling suddenly bereft. Without Elam beside her, working with her, spurring her on, she was immediately inundated with doubts and apprehension—and that fact was even more troubling. She’d always been a person who prided herself on being independent and resourceful. And here at the first setback, she longed for Elam’s support? How had that happened?

  But just as soon as she was filled with uncertainty, she pushed it away. Thanks to Elam’s expertise, he’d brought them this far in the competition, and she couldn’t let him down. They were still a team, even if they weren’t together.

  Ripping open the envelope, she quickly read the scenario.

  The train is being watched by the infamous Hole in the Wall Gang. They’ve laid an ambush at Little Bear Canyon. You may have to shoot your way out of this one.

  There was a drawing of the train tracks up ahead. She was supposed to hit each target in order. If she missed, she could try again, but there wouldn’t be much time to reload. Glancing out the window, she could see that she had less than a mile to get ready.

  With shaking fingers, she removed her ammunition and carefully loaded her pistols. She was just sliding the last Ruger into her holster when there was a loud thump behind her.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Elam on the outer platform. Hurrying forward, she opened the door.

  “How did you—”

  “I forgot the long guns and had to go back for them. By that time, the train had started rolling.” He grinned. “I had to climb up the boxcar and swing myself over to this car. Trust me. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” He spied the challenge paper on one of the seats. “What do we have to do?”

  “Hole in the Wall Gang up ahead. Six pistol targets, two rifle, pop-up shotgun.”

  He squinted down the tracks. “I need to load. You take the pistols, I’ll take the others.”

  P.D. had never gone first, but there was no time to argue. She could see the metal targets up ahead. She ran out onto the platform, unholstered her first weapon, and aimed carefully.

  The train slowed to take the bend. She lined up her sights.

  Ping, ping, ping.

  There was a break. This time the targets were farther up the hill and staggered.

  Ping, ping.

  She quickly changed to the other pistol.

  Breathe!

  Ping!

  “Good girl!”

  She quickly switched places with Elam, taking the shotgun from his grasp. Whipping the rifle into position, Elam aimed.

  And missed. Elam Taggart missed.

  P.D.’s heart lurched into her throat, but he quickly recovered, trying again. Just before the target was out of sight, he shot again.

  Ping. Ping.

  He handed the rifle to P.D., taking the shotgun. This time, the target was on a faux water tower. Elam waited until the train drew as close to the target as possible. At the last minute, he shot the release mechanism.

  Bang … ping!

  A charcoal briquette launched into the air. Elam aimed, and fired.

  Puff!

  The briquette exploded into dust.

  P.D. squealed, jumping up and down.

  “Yes!” Elam gave her a high five, then hauled her close for a searing kiss.

  “None o’ that, now,” the conductor said from the doorway. “Soon as the train stops, you have exactly one minute to get your things off the train. Anything not unloaded in that time stays on the train.”

  P.D. had barely met Elam’s gaze before he was handing her the shotgun. “Can you bring the weapons and the saddlebags?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re sure? It’ll be a handful, but we need that horse.”

  “I can do it.”

  He kissed her again. Then, grasping the ornate ironwork on either side of the platform, he climbed onto the railing. “See you soon.”

  Her heart leapt to her throat, thudding behind her ears, as he jumped forward, grabbing the iron rungs bolted to the back of the boxcar. Only once she saw him reach carefully around the car and swing to the other side was she able to move.

  Back in the passenger car, she carefully unloaded the remaining ammo from their weapons, returning it to the proper boxes in the saddlebags. Then, throwing the bags and the drawstring sack with her extra underwear over her shoulder, she grabbed a long gun in each hand.

  The train was grinding to a slow halt.

  “Good luck to you, miss,” the conductor said, opening the door for her. “Once you debark, there’s a volunteer waiting with your next challenge.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stood impatiently on the platform until the train came to a stop. Then she quickly jumped down and moved toward the waiting volunteer.

  “Any other cargo?” asked a woman dressed in gauchos and a bolero adorned with elaborate cabochons.

  “A horse.”

  At that instant, the door to the boxcar rolled open and Elam called out, “Grab the ramp!”

  P.D. set the guns and saddlebags on a table provided and hurried to grapple the length of wood and put it in position. But the horse wasn’t too keen on getting out of the boxcar now that he was in it. Even with Elam tugging on the reins, it was digging its heels into the wood, refusing to budge.

  The train whistle blew.

  “Ten seconds!” warned the volunteer.

  At the last minute, P.D. whirled toward the saddlebags. Digging inside, she grabbed one of the plastic-wrapped Twinkies that she’d stuffed there that morning. Ripping open the plastic, she ran to hold it under the gelding’s nose. In the movies, she was always seeing people feeding animals lumps of sugars. Hopefully, the animal could smell something in the Twinkie that might tempt him.

  The whistle squealed again.

  “Five seconds.”

  “Come on. Pretty please,” she crooned.

  The horse’s ears twitched. Its velvety lips wrinkled. Then, just when it would have opened its mouth to nibble on the treat, P.D. backed away.

  Miffed, the gelding reared its head, but finally followed.

  “Grab the reins, P.D.!”

  She reached for the strips of leather, pulling hard. The final squeal of the train sounded just as the animal cleared the ramp.

  “All aboard!” the conductor called from the train.

  Elam had time to throw the ramp back into the boxcar, but he didn’t bother to close the door. Instead, he backed to safety while P.D. shamelessly allowed the horse to nibble on the Twinkie.

  “Here you go, folks.” The volunteer held out a fistful of colored
envelopes fanned out like a poker hand. “Congratulations.”

  Elam snatched the yellow one. Inside was a crude document entitled “Land Deed” with another map.

  Elam read the directions and sighed. “You know, I used to wonder why my ancestors traveled all the way from the fertile farmlands of Ohio to Utah, a spot that is basically an inhospitable desert.”

  He looked up at P.D., his expression rueful. “I’m beginning to believe they were just too damned tired to keep going.”

  P.D. laughed. “We’re close to the end. Maybe two more challenges, three at the most.”

  “Then let’s get this one over with.”

  SEVENTEEN

  BY this time, lack of sleep had blurred reality to a point where the challenges had become … normal. More and more, P.D. felt as if she were disappearing into the fantasy of the Games. She was having a hard time remembering the responsibilities that awaited her—repairs at Vern’s, her need for more cash. Instead, she was sinking into the role of partner and pioneer bride. And there was some danger to that.

  Fantasy could never become reality.

  As their horse skidded to a stop and P.D. slid to the ground, she forced herself to remember that none of this was real. It was merely a harmless game, a flirtation, a quick passionate affair.

  “What do we need to do?” she panted, hoping that whatever was involved this time would keep them off a horse for a while.

  Elam looked at the laminated scenario pinned to an old dilapidated cabin on the outskirts of the valley. “Plow a furrow between the markers …” Elam glanced at the field nearby and grimaced, then at the very modern awning that shaded a table with a variety of tools, foodstuff, and housewares they would need to complete their assignment. “Then we need to use the ingredients provided to make a meal with at least three items, one of which needs to be bread. For that bread, we are required to grind wheat for flour, gather eggs, milk a cow, churn at least a half cup of butter, and cook the loaf in the wood-burning stove—all of which will be graded on taste and originality.”

  “Good grief! The bread alone will need an hour to rise.”

  “Oh, there’s more. Chopping wood, herding cattle …”

  P.D. rubbed at her throbbing temples. “No rest for the wicked,” she muttered.