Texas Heart

by Ruth Ryan Langan

The others roared as he tore the shirt away from her, revealing smooth white flesh barely covered by a pale ivory chemise.

  "Jess Conway, you just get better all the time," the tall one said, clutching her arm and tearing her away from the grasp of the other.

  "I saw her first," the one with the rifle said.

  "But I'm the one who kept her from bolting. The way you shoot, you'd have let her get clean away."

  As the two men fought over her, a third man pulled a hand · exas t:teart la gun from his belt and fired.

  The sound of the gunshot echoed on the still night air.

  "This here gun says I get her first. After that, I don't care who gets her."

  The gunman fixed each of his companions with a hard stare.

  "Understood?"

  Sullenly the others nodded.

  Tossing his handgun to his partner, the man said, "Blair here will see that you two wait your turn."

  Grabbing Jessie by the shoulders, he began dragging her toward a bedroll.

  "Come on, girlie. You and meare going to have some fun."

  In the silence punctuated by the hissing of the fire, the only sound was Jessie's breathing as her heart slammed against her ribs.

  Raw terror gave her renewed strength.

  Twisting, she brought her booted foot hard into the man's groin.

  Yanking free, she began to run.

  A hand caught at a tangle of hair, pulling her head back with a snap.

  Ignoring the pain, she plunged into a thicket and heard the crackle of leaves and twigs as the men followed.

  Her breath was coming faster now as she forced herself to run in the darkness.

  Branches whipped against her, tearing at her flesh, but she ignored them and kept on .

  running.

  She thought she saw a patch of sky through the maze of trees and stumbled forward, keeping her eyes on the distant light.

  Something shot out of the darkness.

  Suddenly she was tripping, then falling through space.

  When she landed, something heavy landed on top of her.

  She started to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, stifling the sound.

  The heavy burden that was pinning her to the ground was a body.

  A man's body, from the size and weight of it.

  One of his hands pinned both of hers in a painful grip above her head.

  The other hand, rough and callused, was covering her mouth.

  Her breath was coming so hard now she thought she would choke.

  And still the hand continued to cover her mouth.

  She heard a thrashing in the undergrowth nearby, and the hand on her mouth tightened.

  She swallowed the knot of fear that had formed a lump in her throat.

  The footsteps came closer, and Jessie felt the figure on top of her stiffen.

  His breath was hot against her cheek.

  The footsteps crunched directly beside him, and she forgot to breathe.

  She heard a voice cursing as the footsteps faded and were joined by the sound of others.

  The hand suddenly left her mouth, and she took in great gulps of air, filling her lungs.

  The body that had been pinning her rolled aside.

  She went very still, fighting the dizziness.

  "You all right?"

  The voice was deep, the tone abrupt.

  "Yes. I'm..."

  She sat up, struggling against a wave of sickness.

  "Better sit still a minute."

  "I'll be fine."

  She came to her knees and pulled herself up, clinging to the branch of a tree.

  Seeing her sway, he said gruffly, "My camp's not far from here.

  Think you can make it?"

  "Yes."

  She stumbled forward and would have fallen if the stranger hadn't caught her.

  Lifting her as easily as if she were a child, he cradled her against his chest and carried her to where a bedroll lay beside a fire.

  Situated between towering boulders, the campsite was completely hidden from view.

  As if, she thought with a sudden chill, this man was accustomed to hiding.

  He laid her on the bedroll, then walked to the fire and poured a tin of steaming coffee that he offered to her without a word.

  He saw the way she shrank from his touch.

  He was also able to see what she really looked like.

  In the firelight, her hair shimmered like spun gold.

  The face turned up to his was exquisite, with perfectly formed features.

  Her eyes were a little too bright.

  He recognized fear and shock in them.

  And her skin.

  He tried not to stare at the soft swell of breasts visible beneath the pale chemise.

  Very deliberately he turned his back on her.

  She sipped the coffee and felt the warmth begin to course through her veins.

  Shivering, she sipped again before glancing up at him.

  The stranger was tall, with wide shoulders and arms corded with muscles.

  His waist was slim, his stomach flat.

  Shaggy hair wasas dark as midnight.

  His holster was slung low over his hips.

  Though he stood almost casually, feet apart, one hand resting at his waist, she sensed there was nothing relaxed about him.

  He strode to his horse and rummaged through his saddlebag.

  "Here."

  He handed her a rough homespun shirt.

  For the first time, Jessie realized the state of her undress.

  In her anxiety she'd been too distressed to notice.

  Her cheeks flamed as she accepted his offering.

  She fumbled with the buttons, then, looking up, felt his cool gaze study her.

  "Thank you."

  It seemed inadequate, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

  "Save your thanks. We're not out of here yet."

  He doused the fire.

  "Are you strong enough to ride?"

  "Ride? I guess so."

  He led his horse closer.

  When she stood uneasily, he bent and began rolling the blankets.

  "I'm betting your friends won't give up until they find you."

  "They're no friends of mine. I stumbled into their camp by mistake."

  He turned to give her a quick look, then stiffened at the sound of horses.

  "Well, well, boys, look what I found."

  The man with the long hair stood silhouetted on a rock ledge just above their' heads.

  A lariat snaked out, landing cleanly over the stranger's shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.

  Though still weak and dazed, Jessie bolted toward the stranger's horse, where she had spotted a rifle.

  Before she could reach it, she was grabbed from behind and yanked roughly into the arms of a man on horseback.

  "Now we'll all go back where we started and have some fun."

  While the men laughed and whooped, the stranger was tied behind a second horse and forced to run as the horse was whipped into a gallop.

  Jessie watched helplessly as the stranger fell and was dragged on the ground until they arrived back at camp.

  Once there, the four men left the stranger roped and tied behind the horse while they argued over who would get her first.

  "She's mine," the long-haired man shouted.

  "I've waited long enough."

  The others laughed their agreement and watched with glittering eyes as the long-haired man pulled Jessie roughly from the horse and gripped her shoulders.

  "Now your hero can get a good look at what he might have had himself.

  My name is Knife," he said with a laugh that clawed at her nerves.

  "Know why? Because I like to carve my brand on a woman when I'm through with her."

  He held up the glittering blade of a knife and laughed again, and she saw in his eyes a mixture of cruelty and madness.

  Jessie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hoping to blot out as much of t
he pain as possible.

  She felt rough hands sliding along her arms and she cringed.

  In the darkness a shot rang out.

  The hands on her body stilled.

  All four men turned toward the figure of the stranger, who had managed to cut the ropes binding him.

  "Sorry to spoil your fun."

  "How did you--" As Blair aimed his pistol, the stranger shot it cleanly from his hand.

  Blair let out a yelp, and the long-haired man, Knife, made 'a dive for the rifle.

  Before he could reach it, the stranger kicked it aside and pressed a gun to his temple.

  "Call off your friends, or I'll blow you apart."

  Jessie felt a chill along her spine at the icy tone of the stranger.

  This was no rancher or farmer.

  And from the way he'd used his gun, he was no passing cowboy.

  Pa said there was a look about a man when he was a professional gunman.

  And this stranger had that look.

  "I don't want to have to kill you. But unless you leave now, I'll have no choice."

  "Kill us?"

  Blair, still holding his injured hand, gave a hollow laugh, and the others joined in.

  "There are four of us. And as I see it, there's just you and one skinny little woman. It hardly seems like a fair fight."

  "Kill him," Knife shouted.

  "You're wasting the whole night jawboning.

  Get rid of him and grab the girl.

  Jessie stared transfixedly at the stranger.

  He was coiled, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

  The most compelling thing about him was the look in his eyes.

  He left no doubt he would kill them if they made the slightest move toward their guns.

  "Looks like I'll have to---" As Blair aimed his pistol a second time, the stranger shot it cleanly from his hand.

  "You."

  He pointed a finger at Jessie while keeping his eye on the others.

  "Take your horse."

  Scrambling to her feet, she grasped the reins and hauled herself into the saddle.

  "She's ours. You can't have her."

  Reaching into his boot, Knife fired.

  Before the shot even rang out, he was clutching his shoulder.

  He whirled and leaped onto the back of a horse.

  Amid a swirl of choking dust, he disappeared into the darkness.

  Jessie turned in time to see the stranger whirl as a second man fell on the rifle and fired.

  Dust kicked up near the stranger's feet, but he didn't flinch as he squeezed off a second shot and killed the man where he lay.

  Blair reached behind his back and produced a second handgun.

  Before he could fire, he fell forward from a gunshot, barely missing the flames of the camp fire.

  The fourth man sprang up and leaped onto her horse, hoping to use Jessie as a shield.

  Jessie watched in horror as the stranger calmly aimed his gun and fired, dropping the man directly behind her.

  An inch in either direction would have left her dead or badly wounded, but the stranger hadn't even hesitated.

  When the carnage was over, Jessie stared dully around the camp fire.

  Three lifeless bodies lay in mottled brown pools of blood and dust.

  In the shadows a horse snorted and blew, then stood calmly while his master mounted.

  Bending in the saddle, the stranger plucked Jessie's sheepskin jacket from the dust and tossed it to her.

  "Here," he said in that chilling tone.

  "You ride ahead of me."

  Her horse shifted uneasily.

  The stranger looked directly at her for the first time, and Jessie felt a stab of fear.

  His eyes were slate, the light in them nearly opaque.

  There was no warmth in them, no compassion.

  Had he saved her out of a sense of honor?

  Or because he wanted her for himself?

  Or worse, because he simply enjoyed killing?

  She'd been saved from a vicious attack.

  But her fate was now in the hands of a cool, calculating gunman.

  Chapter Two

  Cole filled a blackened pot with water from the creek, then added a measure of coffee before stooping to place the pot on the fire.

  Cocking his head to one side, he studied the figure of the girl asleep in the bedroll.

  They had ridden for hours, until he was satisfied that they had put enough distance between them and any friends of the men he had shot.

  As soon as their horses were tethered, he had removed his holster, rolled himself into a faded army blanket and closed his eyes.

  He'd felt the girl watching him, assessing whether to stay or run; had finally heard the slight shuffling sounds as she'd arranged herself into her bedroll a short distance away.

  When her breathing became soft and steady, he'd satisfied himself that she was asleep and allowed himself to give in to an overwhelming exhaustion.

  He had slept soundly for three or four hours.

  Now with the first pale fingers of light streaking the horizon, he crouched back on his heels and studied the figure in the bedroll.

  Who the hell was she?

  And what was she doing alone in the middle of the Texas wasteland?

  Surely there was someone worried about her, searching for her.

  They would know that a lone woman was easy prey for every kind of vulture.

  His gaze slowly skimmed her delicate features, taking in the arched eyebrows, the finely chiseled cheekbones, the slightly upturned nose sprinkled with freckles, giving her an impish appearance.

  A wisp of hair tickled her ear, and she lifted a hand in sleep to brush it aside.

  The blanket shifted, revealing a creamy column of throat and a shadowy cleft between high, firm breasts.

  He felt a rash of heat.

  Suddenly annoyed with himself, he turned away and tossed another log on the fire.

  A female had no place in his plans.

  He was a man in a hurry.

  A woman would only get in the way.

  She sighed in her sleep, then stirred.

  Cole watched as her lids flickered.

  Jessie inhaled.

  The first thing she was aware of was the bite of strong coffee in the morning air.

  Coffee and wood smoke.

  Pa.

  She smiled in her sleep.

  Pa was back, tending to his morning chores.

  She sat up, brushing the hair from her eyes, and stiffened.

  The smile disappeared from her face.

  It wasn't Pa watching her; it was the stranger.

  She saw his eyes narrow before he spoke.

  "I've got to be on the trail before the sun's up."

  She nodded, too uncomfortable to trust her voice.

  He looked taller this morning and even more dangerous.

  His gun belt rode low on his hips.

  She had seen the way he'd handled the Colt Army .

  44.

  Like a man who'd been using it all his life.

  Suddenly aware of her vulnerable position, she pushed aside the blanket and reached for her boots.

  Cole tried not to stare as she flexed first one leg, then the other, shrugging into her boots.

  It gave him an odd sensation to see the rough fabric of his old shirt stretched tautly across her breasts.

  When she looked up he pulled his gaze away.

  Needing to be busy, he filled two tin cups with coffee.

  Handing one to her, he took a long drink from his own.

  "My name's Cole Matthews. What's yours?"

  She watched him over the rim of her cup.

  "Jessie. Jessie Conway."

  "Where're you headed?"

  "Abilene."

  He looked at her as if she'd gone crazy.

  "That's hundreds of miles froTM here."

  "That so?"

  She deliberately took a sip of coffee.

  "S
trong. Good. That's the way I like it."

  Damnable female.

  Cole decided to try again.

  "Where's your family?"

  "In Abilene," she lied.

  There'was no point in telling this stranger any more than she had to.

  She had the impression that he was studying her much more closely than he let on.

  "And you're heading there alone?"

  His words were clipped.

  "Your folks would probably whip you good if they knew what you were planning to do."

  She swallowed the last of her coffee and bent to roll up her blankets.

  "You're probably right."

  He watched her a minute, trying not to stare at her rounded bottom stuck up in the air as she fastened her bedroll.

  "Know much about this area?"

  "Some."

  She carried her bedroll to her horse, tied it securely and reached for the saddle.

  "Any towns nearby?"

  She tightened the cinch.

  "There should be a town called Little Creek."

  "Good. I'll ride with you as far as Little Creek."

  She gave him what she hoped was a cool, appraising look.

  "I'll be turning off before we reach the town."

  She didn't add that it was her intention to avoid any towns nearby where someone might recognize Big Jack Conway's daughter.

  No point in telling the whole world that her father was missing and her little brothers were all alone on the ranch.

  They didn't have a whole lot worth stealing on their poor ranch.

  A couple of saddle horses and the few longhorns left to breed a new herd.

  But men had been known to kill for a lot less.

  "Maybe you'll spot friends in Little Creek who'll take you in."

  "Are you saying I need someone to take care of me?"

  Her eyes darkened to the color of the sky just before a summer storm.

  Fascinated, Cole half expected to see thunder and lightning.

  "I don't need anyone coddling me. I can take care of myself."

  "You did a good job of it last night."

  She flinched.

  "I'm grateful that you rescued me last night. But I'll be just fine on my own."

  The girl wasn't slow-witted; she had to be aware of the dangers.

  But whatever drove her was a need stronger than the need to be comfortable and safe.

  Though he hated to admit it, he'd probably do the same thing if he was missing his family.

  He admired her spunk.

  Still he'd hog-tie any female dumb enough to try crossing from Texas to Kansas herself.

  Dousing the fire, he kept his thoughts to himself.