Ashes and Memories (28 page)

A horse whinnied, and one of the outlaws went for his gun. Reece flung hot coffee in his face, then drew his own pistol, shooting another man who had gone for his gun. The man he’d thrown coffee on recovered and drew his pistol, and a gunshot from the shadows finished him. By then the third man was on his feet. Reece leveled his gun at his chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Reece warned as the outlaw’s hand inched toward his gun. “There are about half a dozen guns aimed at you right now. So why don’t you just put your gun down and step out toward the fire where I can see you? If your friend’s armed, you’d best talk him out of trying anything. He might kill me, but if he tries anything, you’ll be dead for sure.”

“Tate, if you’ve got a gun, toss it over,” the man said nervously.

Reece had judged him correctly. Living meant more to him than winning or anything else. Convincing him to talk would be almost too easy.

The injured man tossed a pistol at Reece’s feet as his friend had suggested, and Reece turned, calling to his men, “Come on in boys!”

Reece’s men dragged the injured outlaw to his feet, despite his cries of pain. They bound the other man’s hands behind his back and turned him to face Reece.

“You two are under arrest for murder,” Reece announced casually. Casualness, as he’d learned, could have a horrific effect in certain situations. Calmness in the face of desperation only increased that desperation. “What do you have to say for yourselves.”

“You can’t prove nothing!”

Reece smiled. As he’d expected, the outlaw’s initial response was bravado. Next would come anger, then terror and finally capitulation. “Well, maybe you’re right. Then again, maybe I don’t have to prove it.”

Lewis stepped forward, a noose in his hand. He tossed the rope over a stout tree while the outlaws watched in horror.

“You can’t just hang us!”

“I’m afraid we can,” Reece told him.

“You bastard!” the man shouted. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Perhaps,” Reece agreed. “But you’ll be dead and buried long before that happens. Someone get his horse. A man should die on his own horse, so just tell us which one is yours.”

“Look,” the outlaw said, his eyes wide in the light of the fire, his chest heaving with the fear that pulsed through him. “I’m telling you the truth. I --!”

“Of course I might take you back to stand trial. I might even ask the judge to go easy on you if you tell me where Garrett is.”

“I don’t know. I swear.”

“Well, that is unfortunate,” Reece said, feigning regret. “I’ll bet the roan is yours. Am I right? Mr. Lewis, bring the roan over. It’s a fine animal to die on.”

“You can’t do this!” the outlaw cried as the horse was led toward him.

Two of Reece’s men stood on either side of him and started to lift him toward the horse.

“All right! Stop!”

Reece waved his hand and his men relented, though they maintained their hold on the outlaw. “I’m waiting.”

“Look, I really don’t know where he is. He and his little brother took off with another fellow and they headed toward the mountains. I swear.”

“How long ago?”

“This morning.”

“Well, if that’s true, my men should find them. Tell you what, I’m feeling generous tonight. I’m going to let you live a little longer, at least until tomorrow night. If my men don’t find Garrett... well, you’d better pray they do.”

Reece turned to his men. “Make sure they’re both bound securely. We’ll camp here.” Reece motioned toward the injured man. “Mr. Lewis, take a look at this man and see how badly he’s hurt.”

#####

Reece sat in the dark just beyond the light of the camp fire, listening to the muffled voices and the sound of men settling in for the night. To his right, a dozen horses stood tethered, their breath mingling in a fine steam that rose into the night sky and disappeared.

He took a long, contemplative swallow of hot coffee, wrapping both hands around the tin cup for warmth. Damn, he hated sleeping outdoors. Always had.

Someone laughed close to the fire, and Reece jerked at the sound. He was tense tonight, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the outlaws they were tracking or the deafening silence of the night beyond the camp or what waited for him back in Providence.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his flask. He placed his cup on the ground before him and opened the flask, pouring whiskey into the cup.

Emma, he thought. What the hell was he going to do about her?

He cared for her, there was no sense denying it. And that was precisely why he had to distance himself from her. The cost of caring was too high. He’d realized that a long time ago.

Caring had nearly killed him once before. He’d put himself back together, but the road had been long and difficult. After the war, it had taken him nearly a year to come back to life, to decide to live again. Anger had finally broken through the shock and denial that had kept him a living corpse for all those months.

He had been angry at Sarah for dying, angry at Grandfather for not protecting her, angry at the war for robbing him of everything he held dear. Angry at God and at life itself.

Yvette had provided him a safe, warm place to recover, while he floated through life in a kind of stupor, his days and nights filled with drinking, sex and more drinking.

Reece couldn’t say just what had sparked his rebirth. Perhaps it was the poker game he’d been drawn into. He’d won without exerting the slightest effort, of course. He always won at cards, and maybe the pleasure he got from that triumph had awakened the fighting spirit in him.

But something had changed. He’d always enjoyed winning, but now he drew as much pleasure from watching other men lose as he did from the victory.

He had become everything his father had tried to make him.

The long road back had only begun that night. He’d had to fight his way through layers of bitterness, had to do battle with a host of demons that still stalked him even today. And the first thing he’d destroyed in order to be reborn was the part of him that could be hurt, that vulnerable core of emotion that his father had tried so hard to kill.

Reece had cut out his own heart and focused his eyes on one goal -- to amass enough money and power so that nothing could ever touch him again. Nothing -- not a small homeless boy, and certainly not a lovely, vulnerable woman with an iron will and a way of looking at him that made him reevaluate everything he’d become.

He hadn’t formed a permanent relationship with a woman since Yvette, but he was crazy enough to contemplate one with Emma. He didn’t love her, and he had tried very hard not to care for her, but she’d somehow managed to breach his defenses and he was going to have to deal with her, with his own heart that wouldn’t allow him to contemplate the idea of Emma with another man and yet didn’t want her for himself.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted her, but on his terms. He wanted her under his control, in his bed, but otherwise out of his life. He wanted her near because he cared for her in his own way, an admission that cost him dearly, and because he couldn’t abide the thought of another man touching her.

How would she react if he asked her to be his mistress? She wasn’t the kind of woman who would agree to such an arrangement under most conditions. But it was a damned fine solution for both of them. Maybe she would be wise enough to realize that.

He took another drink of whiskey-laced coffee. Yeah, maybe.

#####

“Damn!” Reece cursed the next day as he stood in the midst of another abandoned campsite. He kicked angrily at a tin can the outlaws had left, rage and frustration seething inside him.

“We followed their trail to the foothills, but there was no sign of them,” Stanton said apologetically.

Reece released an angry sigh, relieved in spite of himself. It would have been better if they’d caught Garrett. That way they would know for certain he would never threaten Providence again. But if he’d ridden as far as the mountains, the chances that he meant to return were slim. Still, a sense of disquiet nagged at him.

It was also possible Garrett meant to gather reinforcements and try again, though his ranks had been so devastated it was hard to imagine the man would be that foolish. But he’d lost a brother, and blood could be a powerful bond, even between outlaws.

“What do you want to do?” Stanton asked. “We could go after them.”

“No,” Reece replied. The thought had occurred to him. He wanted Garrett badly, wanted to make him pay for shooting up the town, for Grady and the men whose lives had been lost, for what had happened to Ralphy and to Emma.

He didn’t give a damn whether or not Garrett was directly responsible for a single incident. Garrett was the leader, and a leader had to control his men. The men inevitably reflected the leader’s philosophy, his personality and his values. As the leader, Garrett was responsible for every bit of the destruction and mayhem visited on Providence.

“No,” Reece repeated. “It’s time to go home. We can’t spend our lives chasing after ghosts.”

Reece mounted his horse and led the posse back toward town. He wasn’t giving up, not by a long shot. In a few days, he would send Stanton, Wilson and Lewis after them. The three were his best men, professional gunmen and trackers. He’d give them a week to find the Garretts. If they couldn’t find them, no one could.

He had another reason for wanting to get back to town. He’d made a decision about Emma last night, and he was anxious to see her again, to speak with her about it. He felt foolish in the extreme for taking so long to arrive at the perfect solution. And he felt tremendously relieved to have the matter settled. They would reach some kind of understanding, and he would finally be able to get back to life as usual.

#####

“I see my men repaired your door.”

The soft voice startled Emma, and she whirled around to see Reece step across the threshold, a charming smile curving his sensuous lips.

“Yes,” she replied, smoothing her hands over the folds of her skirt. She’d heard the posse return that morning, and she’d tried very hard to stay busy all day so she wouldn’t have to think about Reece and what would happen when they met again.

She’d used the last days to think and regain her equilibrium and she’d thought she was ready to face him again. But during his absence she’d forgotten the power of his magnetism, the terrible, irresistible attraction she felt for him. His mere appearance in her doorway was enough to chase away her resolve and rob her of her ability to think clearly.

“Guess you’re back in business.” He smiled, white teeth flashing in contrast to his dark beard.

He’d taken the time to bathe and shave before coming here, a fact that filled her foolish heart with hope. As always, he was dressed impeccably. The black suit and burgundy silk vest he wore were her favorites. They brought out his dark good looks and fit him as if they’d been tailored especially for him, which, of course, they probably had been.

He looked like a man completely in control of his environment and his own destiny. It was hard to remember that she’d glimpsed the man underneath, a man whose soul was slowly dying. But if she looked very closely, she could see a shadow of that man in his eyes.

“Yes, in fact I plan to publish an issue tomorrow,” she told him, needlessly polishing the counter because she couldn’t stand still under his intense scrutiny. She felt as if her clothes were being slowly peeled from her body, and far from being alarmed or insulted, she found the warmth that suffused her body pleasurable.

Nothing had changed. She wanted him as much today -- more -- than she had the last time she’d seen him, if that were possible. She wanted to feel his warm hands against her skin, taste the gentle hardness of his lips against hers.

“How’s Ralphy?” he asked, breaking the spell that had possessed her.

“Almost fully recovered,” she answered quickly, grateful for something, anything to occupy her mind other than the fact that he hadn’t been in town a full day yet and he’d felt compelled to come here, to see her.

She was afraid to hope, yet unable prevent it. If he cared about her, maybe she could reach him, reach the man trapped inside. She’d thought about that man for three long days, the man who had cared so deeply about Ralphy, the man who had made love to her so tenderly, so fiercely that even now the very thought made her weak all over.

“Good.” His smile deepened before he turned, stroking his beard as he studied the office with languid interest.

He moved closer to her, so close his male warmth touched her, blending with the heat that already coursed through her. Her heart pounded, and she glanced away shyly from his erotic gaze.

“I know you’ve had a hard time making ends meet,” he said, his voice soft and intimate, “and I just want you to know that there’s no need for you to pay rent on this place. You can use the building and stay in the room upstairs free of charge.”

“I don’t understand.” Emma drew back, suddenly sober, as if someone had thrown cold water in her face. She struggled against the dread that lodged in her throat at the suggestive gleam in his eyes, very afraid that she understood all too well. “Why would you do that?”

He moved even closer, so close she could scarcely breathe. “Well, things have changed between us,” he said, his voice a silken caress.

He touched her arm, running a finger down her sleeve, and her flesh trembled beneath his caress.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked. “I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything. I want to take care of you.”

“You’re asking me to be your mistress,” Emma said when she could speak again. She wasn’t sure if it was mortification or anger that caused the tremors that racked her body.

Reece shrugged. “It’s done all the time, Emma. I take care of you, and you, well, you take care of me.”

For the second time in her life, Emma drew back to slap someone. But this time he grabbed her wrist, and though she tried to jerk and twist it free, he held her tightly.

“You want me as badly as I want you, Emma,” he snarled, his eyes glowing as hard as stones, “admit it.”