Lipstick and Lead Series: The Complete Box Set With a Bonus Book

by Sylvia McDaniel

  The lawman started laughing. "Never would have thought you capable of doing that Mr. Holmes. Makes me think more of you."

  "Thank you, sir," he responded. Out west, the more outlandish your history, the better, and Trent could tell a tall tale.

  "Excuse me," she said in that soft little voice of hers that sent an awareness rushing through him, culminating in his center. "Could we get back to my prisoner. I need to collect on this man."

  Staring at him, Trent felt a trickle of alarm go down his spine, especially when he compared the poster to him. "Hate to say this Miss McKenzie, but I can vouch for this man and he's not a bank robber. He is not Frank Colten. Don't you think I would have arrested the man if he'd been in my town?"

  The sheriff acted a little put off that she would think a dangerous criminal resided in his town without his knowledge. "I'm releasing your prisoner, and no, I'm not paying you the bounty."

  Watching her, she tensed as she whirled to stare at him. "We're not done yet. When you look behind you, I'll be there and when the marshal comes to town, I'm going to turn you over to him. Be prepared to spend time in jail for your crimes."

  The sheriff snorted and Trent's insides clenched. If only she knew how close she really was, but he couldn't let her arrest him. Right now, the gang believed he was dead and he wanted them to continue to brag about how they killed him.

  With that, she turned and flounced out of the office, her skirts swishing as she went. She had a cute little behind that he enjoyed watching leave.

  Somehow, he would use her, a scared, but stubborn woman in his next story. Already his mind was spinning with the ideas of the character he'd create.

  Chapter 2

  Of all the humiliating events in her life, that one just about topped the cake. The man was her outlaw, and though he'd gotten away for now, that didn't mean she was done with her prey yet. If she followed him, she'd know where he lived.

  Afterward she had to find a place to bed down for the night and get a bite to eat. The canned meat had been tasteless the last few days.

  Building a fire each evening, dinning on potted meat had not been appetizing. Until she brought in her first bounty, it was the best she could do. Her cash funds were meager and had to last as long as possible. Unless she gave up and returned home, but that would certainly mean a wedding, and she wasn't ready to admit defeat.

  Standing in the shadows, she watched the gunslinger walk down the main avenue, whistling. Tall and lean, yet he walked with an obvious limp and used a cane to support his right side.

  A cold breeze whipped dust about the street. It was going to be another miserable night of sleeping on the ground, huddled in her saddle blankets, trying to stay warm. Dozing with one eye open afraid someone would sneak up on her and haul her out of her bedroll.

  Walking in the eerie darkness, she tailed him through town, until he turned to go down a residential street. He disappeared behind some shrubs and she hurried along the lane fearful of losing him.

  Suddenly an arm reached out and pulled her in, hauling her against a male chest, causing panic to send her heart beating out of control.

  "Following me, Miss McKenzie?" Trent said near her ear.

  "Of course," she breathed, soaking up the leather and manly cologne. "I'm still certain you're the man I'm looking for."

  Laughing, he released her, the sound uncanny and sinister, yet, kind of thrilling. "Would you like to see my leg? Would that prove to you I'm not a gunslinger? Would my scars convince you I'm just a man, a sometimes gambler, trying to survive?"

  With a step back, she moved away from his hold and gazed at him in the moonlight.

  "At the loud groans coming from your stomach, I think you're hungry. Would you like to dine with me? I hate eating alone and my housekeeper is a great cook."

  The thought of food made her ravenous and she hesitated, wanting that bit of nourishment, eager to continue on with her investigation. Maybe she'd learn more about him if they ate together. Enough to finally convict him.

  "Come on, I'm starving myself. We'll have a nightcap and then you can return to your hunting for killers and I can disappear into my dreams."

  "Dreams?"

  A smile spread across his face. "Sleep."

  Why did she feel like the spider was drawing her into his web and this couldn't be good for her? Yet, she felt attracted to him. The man had a bum leg, kind eyes and she was confidant about her ability to protect herself from his clutches. With her Colts by her side, there was nothing to fear.

  By going into his home, maybe she could somehow tie together the man and the poster. The sheriff would be no help, but soon the marshal should be arriving and she would give him her evidence. But did she have the money to wait?

  She needed to catch a wanted man and fast. She needed that money to rescue her or find herself wearing white lace.

  A good meal would make her stronger. While she waited for this man's secrets to unravel, she would locate several other wanted men.

  "What are you going to fix?" she asked before she committed herself.

  "Fix? You mean serve?"

  With a shake of her head, she said, "You're a little fancy for the criminal life."

  "That's because I'm not the criminal you want me to be. My housekeeper will serve us chicken sandwiches."

  At the temptation of eating a good dinner, her taste glands were salivating. "Do you have tea?"

  "Absolutely," he said, taking her by the arm. "And real cream."

  Unable to resist, she willingly walked into what might be a trap, but the food called to her growling, empty stomach and at the moment all she cared about was having a decent meal for the first time in days.

  It seemed like she was being lured into a tangle of lies, but the spider had a weak limb, she could outrun and she might even be able to tangle him in his own deceitful ensnarement.

  Trent had known she was following him, but waited, his mind whirling with the possibilities of how he could use her to his advantage. That is if she really had the knowledge of how a woman did bounty hunting.

  Ideas were swirling in his head creating new scenes and he didn't want this spark of creation to stop. Caroline seemed to fuel his creativity.

  The next installment in his serial sat on his desk ready to go to the editor and the man had asked him to come up with something new. Could that new idea be walking beside him?

  "You have a housekeeper?" she asked. "I shouldn't go in your house alone, unless there is another woman there."

  "You're safe with me. Maria does all my cooking and cleaning and has her own area of the house."

  The woman acted like a genteel lady, yet she considered herself someone who chased down criminals. What did she arrest them with? Her handkerchief? Her lace doily? Her shawl?

  That shaking gun was frightening not because of her sharp shooter skills, but rather her lack of mastery. After years of training, he knew the ins and outs of handling a weapon and this woman certainly needed to learn to control her nerves.

  "After you leave my house, where are you going next?"

  "Don't know. Tomorrow, I'll check the posters at the sheriff's office and make my decision. You're still not completely off the hook. The resemblance is much too uncanny."

  Opening the door to his house, he stepped aside and motioned her in. Big blue eyes stared at him like she searched his soul. Hopefully she didn't look too closely.

  "Honest, you're safe with me," he said. "Maria, I'm home. We have a guest."

  His housekeeper hurried from the back of the house and Caroline glanced from him to her.

  "Good evening. Please come in," she said reaching for the woman's jacket.

  "Thank you," Caroline said.

  "Would you bring us two hot teas and we'd like some of those delicious chicken sandwiches you make," he said. "Oh, and don't forget the salsa."

  The woman smiled.

  When he had needed someone to help him, he found Maria living on the streets. Now, because he rescued her, she
took excellent care of him and he paid her a decent wage.

  "You live very well," she said, gazing around the room. "Robbing banks gives you a nice lifestyle."

  With a laugh, he shook his head. "You're just not going to give it up, are you?"

  "Why should I? There's a five-hundred-dollar bounty on your head. That money would change my life."

  "How?" he asked, wondering what a woman like her would do with that much cash. Women didn't normally earn the big bucks.

  "For starters, my mother would maybe stop trying to marry me off."

  Whoa, that was telling.

  Needing to get off his leg, he pointed to a sofa and took the chair across from her. The cold and the walking made it ache, and later, the pain would keep him from sleeping. He slept when he could and wrote while he was awake.

  Tonight, he went to the saloon to celebrate finishing his last installment. And yet, his new idea sat before him, beautiful and challenging.

  A celebration only he knew about. No one in town realized he was a writer. Fear of Butch and the Jones Boys gang kept his life quiet and secluded.

  "Don't you want to get married?"

  "Yes, but only to the right man. Someone I'm in love with and I'm not attracted to Levy. He's a kind man, but...wait a minute, why am I sitting here telling you this. Tell me about your time riding with the Jones Boys gang."

  Chuckling, he smiled. "Good try, but I didn't ride with those outlaws. And I never robbed a bank. My leg wouldn't let me even if I wanted to."

  Oh, he had some hair-raising stories about the ruthless outlaws, but that would put him behind bars. For the last two years, he penned his life experiences, hiding out in this small town, writing his tales, lucky to be alive.

  "How did you hurt your leg?"

  A question he always avoided. This is where he could easily get into trouble.

  "Riding accident," he lied.

  Never would he tell anyone about the night they shot and left him for dead. If he hadn't been found and taken to a surgeon, he would have died. Trent was lucky the doctor didn't cut his leg off.

  "What happened?"

  "The horse tripped and fell on top of me," he embellished the fabrication. The truth was better kept to himself.

  In the light of the room, a frown burrowed between her large sapphire eyes. Somehow she didn't believe him, but would she accept anything he told her?

  "Do you have family?"

  "My mother and my..." she stopped and smiled. "Once again, we're talking about me."

  "That's what people do. They ask about each other."

  "Why do you need to know about me?”

  "Because you're an interesting person."

  "I want to learn more about you. Where did you grow up?"

  "Easy, New York. I'm a misplaced Yankee who will one day go home," he said, knowing he only waited until he was certain his family would not be endangered by his return.

  But if Butch ever learned he still walked the earth, the criminal would search high and low until he found Trent. Then the outlaw would kill him and everyone he cared about. Until either Butch was dead or the risk was minimal, he would stay. While riding with the monster, Trent witnessed his ruthlessness and even been on the wrong side of his gun.

  "Now, it's my turn," he said. "Where did you grow up?"

  "Zenith, Texas," she said. "Do you only have a brother? What about sisters?"

  "Two," he answered as a wave of homesickness overwhelmed him. The years had gone quickly and he missed his siblings immensely. "What is your favorite thing about Zenith?"

  "My cousins. They're the ones who taught me to be a bounty hunter."

  Oh, dear God, they had done a lousy job and he feared for Caroline's life. All it would take would be one strong man to take a gun away from her and use the weapon to kill her.

  "Your cousins approved of you going out on your own?"

  "They run the Lipstick and Lead bounty hunting school," she said.

  "An intriguing and weird name," he replied, wondering why a man named a school after a beauty product.

  “My cousin Meg came up with the name. Before she went out on a hunt, she always put on lipstick," Caroline said with a laugh.

  "Wait, your cousins are women bounty hunters?"

  With a shrug of her shoulders, she answered him. "Yes."

  The very thought of women chasing criminals was shocking. "How many outlaws have you captured?"

  "Whoo...wait, just a minute. You've asked more than your share of questions," she said in the softest, sweetest southern drawl. "It's my turn to ask you a question. Why did you come here from New York?"

  A smile crossed his face as he remembered how naive he'd been. Like any other young man heading west, the consequences applied to everyone else. "Like all men, I craved adventure, never realizing the danger I ran towards."

  "Spoken like a true gunslinger," she said.

  The woman was sharp. For a moment, he let his guard down. "Then I guess you're going to need to teach me how to handle a gun, because I don't know."

  Dark brows rose over her blue eyes that reminded him of the Texas bluebonnets in spring. "That's hard to accept."

  "My father didn't believe in owning guns," he lied, remembering his father's extensive collection of firearms. As a boy, he spent hours learning to shoot. Yes, he hated lying to anyone, but for her safety and his own, it was better this way.

  Just then his housekeeper walked through the door. "Your dinner is ready."

  "May I escort you into the dining room?"

  A frown drew her brows together and she glanced to where his Maria had once again disappeared. "Is there some place I can wash my hands. I've been riding for several days and would like to freshen up."

  It was then he noticed the smudge of dirt on her hands and nodded. "Of course, I should have shown you earlier."

  Leading her down the hall, he took her to the spare bedroom where she hurried through the door. Just then his muse decided to enlighten him with his best idea ever.

  "I'll meet you back in the living room," he said and left her with the wash bowl and soap. "Let me know if you need anything."

  "Thank you," she said and he walked out the door.

  In a regular dress and with a little pampering, Caroline would be a beauty. As a character in his book, she would be fantastic. A story was already forming and he was impatient to sit down and sketch out the details.

  Caroline tried very hard to remember her manners and eat like a lady. The moist chicken was delicious and until that moment, she hadn't known the full extent of her hunger. She'd been starving.

  As she ate, she focused on Trent, not his housekeeper, and the way he lived an opulent lifestyle. While she was positive her mother had more money than she let on, the woman could squeeze a penny and get change.

  "Maria's chicken salad is the best," he said, watching her as she reminded herself to slow down eating.

  She nodded chewing deliberately trying to savor the food not knowing when or where her next meal would arrive.

  Staring at her, he asked, "Tell me why you've chosen chasing criminals over marrying a man who would take care of you."

  There were so many reasons, and yet, the last few days had shown her this was not going to be a painless task. It would be so much easier to marry Levy.

  "Why do men assume that a woman wants to be taken care of? I'm not saying I won't ever wed, but the idea of that man kissing me makes me nauseous."

  Trent laughed. "The right man hasn't kissed you yet."

  Levy might be the sweetest man on the planet, but something about him caused a shiver of revulsion to spiral through her at the thought of his fingers caressing her skin. Even if he cleaned up, the man had her running from the church.

  "Well, it's true. And there was no one else in town I would consider. Only Levy and the undertaker were available. So, my choices are a pig farmer or an undertaker. Even my mother agreed that someone who preps the dead is a little weird. Though mother dearest had no proble
ms whatsoever with a man who reeks of manure. A husband for me is all she requires."

  Years ago, she would have considered a boy she went to school with, but one night he disappeared and had not been heard from again. Not that she was wildly in love with him, she found him attractive and, at least, would have given him a chance for marriage. Now, she wanted to live on her own. Never depend on anyone for anything.

  "Men have it so easy. No one makes money on your dowry. There's no rush to be married by a certain age or be considered on the shelf. Mother thinks I'm getting old and that no one will want me."

  Trent frowned. "You're a beautiful woman. There are so many professions besides a bounty hunter to choose from. Why would someone with your beauty want to sleep on the trail and risk being shot or killed?"

  When she traveled with Ruby, she'd gotten a taste of the reward money. Her split of the ransom for a criminal they caught, she still lived on. All she needed was a couple of hefty bounties and then she would hop on a train going east. Though she had no plans, just a longing to slip away and see a different area of the country

  “Simple. Pay. Being a bar maid is hazardous. A seamstress gets paid next to nothing, a teacher gets only room and board, and a servant - who desires to clean other people’s houses? Plus, the other occupations offered a woman I'll never consider. So my only options are wedding bells or bounty hunter. One year is all I need."

  Shaking his head, he stared at her.

  "You don't believe me?"

  "Oh, I believe you're going to get killed or worse," he said. "This is a dangerous occupation."

  One trip with Ruby had demonstrated to her the danger, but spending her life with a man she didn't want could not be a happy fulfilled life.

  "That's the beauty of it. A woman is ridding the country of threatening criminals. They don't expect I'm earning a living at hauling them off to jail. I can do this. Don't think this appetizing meal, your neat house, and housekeeper are going to convince me you're innocent."

  Maybe the local sheriff knew he was wanted, but chose to look the other way. Whatever the reason, she still believed he was Frank Colten.