Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends) (6 page)

Finally, her traitorous feet obeyed, and she plodded forward. She’d just put one soggy boot on the bottom porch step when she heard him say, “You’ll find matches in my saddlebags.” How could she have mistrusted a man who had no problem with her rifling through his gear? Nodding, Kate hurried into the dank, little hovel and walked face-first into a sticky cobweb.

“And close the confounded door,” he said as she spat and sputtered and plucked at the web. What sort of silly twit did he think she was? She grumbled inwardly at how calmly he’d announced that he’d take care of the “man’s work” while she busied herself inside, doing “woman’s work.” And yet she couldn’t help smiling, despite the stink of wet mud coming up through the cracks in the floor and the steady plop, plop, plop of rain seeping through the thatched roof. The sudden urge to tidy up the place and make it cozy seemed more important than the fact that her soggy skirt and petticoats were leaving a trail of dime-sized drips all over the floor.

“You do know how to make a fire, right?” came Josh’s voice from outside.

“Hmpf,” she said as she rummaged through his saddlebags to find the matches.

Minutes later, thanks to some old twine and twigs she’d found in the cupboard drawer, she had a good base fire going. By the time Josh dug through that teetering heap for more dry logs, the bottom of the stove would be aglow with hot coals.

Leaving the stove door ajar to increase the flow of air over the kindling, Kate slung a blanket over the rope that stretched from one side of the room to the other, then grabbed the broom and began whacking down cobwebs. “Pity it isn’t part of the ‘unwritten rule,’” she muttered to herself, “to clean up for the next man—”

At the sound of Josh’s boots thudding across the porch, Kate fell silent. She put the broom back where she’d found it and flung open the door. “Good thing you wrapped our spare clothes in that oilcloth of yours,” she said as he dropped another load of firewood near the stove. “I’ve got a good base going and made us a privacy screen, so you can change into some dry things.” She sounded bossy, even to herself. “If you’ve a mind to, that is,” she added in a softer tone.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, “but ladies first.”

She could tell by his no-nonsense expression that he meant it, so she grabbed one of the two outfits he’d bought her in Uvalde and ducked behind the blanket. She was down to her petticoats when he said, “Let’s pray that the good Lord will see fit to dry our wet clothes by morning.”

“Morning?” But even as the word slid past her lips, Kate knew what a foolish question it had been. It would be dark soon, and they certainly couldn’t travel in this weather. Of course, they’d have to spend the night here. Alone. Way out in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ve seen storms like this before,” he went on. “If it lets up by daybreak, I’ll be surprised.”

During the weeks Kate had been forced to travel with Frank and his gang, she’d had plenty of time to think about the character traits and tendencies of men. Just because her stepfather and Frank Michaels had been brutally abusive was no reason to judge all men as beasts and bullies. Josh Neville didn’t seem any more likely to force himself on her than 99 percent of the men she’d entertained in the saloon. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep her distance from him, just in case. And if anyone found out that she’d spent a night alone with a man, it wasn’t likely to damage her already tarnished reputation. She’d been making the best of bad situations for as long as she could remember. She’d gotten herself into this mess, and she’d get herself out, somehow.

“I noticed some tin cans in the cupboard,” she said, mustering a courage she didn’t feel. “They’re not labeled, but if I can find something to open them with, I might just be able to rustle us up a decent supper.”

Squatting in front of the stove, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll show you how to use a hunting knife to do the job.”

---

He eased three slender logs onto the glowing coals and closed the stove’s door with a clang. Then, getting to his feet, he said, “It’ll take a while before this beast gets hot enough to cook anything on it. Might be better if we just finish off those muffins I bought in Uvalde.”

“Coward.”

“Coward?”

“Afraid I’ll start a bigger fire on the stove than you made in it?”

Her playful smirk woke those feelings inside him again, the ones he’d thought he’d never experience again. But before he could tell her that he had complete confidence in her cooking abilities, a gigantic dollop of water leaked through a hole in the roof and landed with a noisy plop on her head.

“Goodness,” she said as a second drop splashed onto her head, “that might feel refreshing, if my hair wasn’t already soaked to the scalp.” She punctuated the admission with a shiver and a giggle. “So, you’re sure, are you, that this storm will last all night?”

“Could end sooner, but I don’t think so.”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “Well, for the love of honey biscuits, even I could have come up with an answer like that!”

The logs popped and sizzled, making her jump. My, but she looked tiny, standing there near the rough-hewn table. “How tall are you?” he asked, out of curiosity.

“Don’t rightly know. Last time my mama got her yardstick after me, it wasn’t to take my measure.”

“Now, why don’t I have trouble believing that?” Using his rain-soaked bandanna, he wiped down two of the four rough-hewn chairs.

She relieved him of it, looking shy and frightened when their fingers touched. “Let me do that—woman’s work, you know?” she said, winking. Then, pointing at the blanket, she added, “You should get out of those wet things.”

Josh quickly did as she suggested. For one thing, it made perfect sense to comply. For another, he didn’t like the cold, clammy feel of his clothes sticking to his skin. Mostly, though, he’d gone along with her suggestion because she’d looked downright concerned while delivering it—the way a loving wife might.

By the time he came out from behind the curtain, she’d lit every lantern in the place. “Feels good to be warm and dry, doesn’t it?” she said, adding his sodden clothes to her own on the table. Then, one by one, she wrung the water from each article of clothing into a dishpan while humming a happy little tune.

Josh picked up a sock and started squeezing the water from the toe, thinking that if they both worked at it, they could make the job go more quickly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Dinah said, grabbing the sock from him. When he started to protest, she held up a finger. “This is woman’s work, too,” she said with calm authority, then pointed to the nearest chair. “Take a load off, cowboy.”

Like an obedient child, he sat. “Are you hungry?”

“I’ll tell you a little secret about me,” she whispered, leaning closer. “I have a serious medical condition.”

Josh felt a surge of worry.

“My mama called it a hollow leg.”

A wave of relief and amusement mingled in his mind, prompting a quiet chuckle. Being this near to her roused a recollection of when they’d stood outside earlier, Dinah staring up at him and looking for all the world like a drowned angel. She’d been close enough to kiss, if he’d wanted to—and he’d wanted to, all right!

So, why hadn’t he?

His stomach growled, rescuing him from having to come up with an answer.

Dinah took the blanket from the rope and folded it into a tidy square, just as she’d done with the one he’d loaned her the night he’d found her, cold and cringing, behind that big rock. She draped his socks over the rope, then patted her flat stomach. “My mama always used to say you could feed me to overflowing, and then, in ten minutes, do it all over again.”

“That’s what Lucinda and my ma say about me.”

But Dinah didn’t seem to have heard him. She stood at the door with her nose pressed to the wood, peering through the cracks. “In case you’re wondering,” he joked, “I think it’s raining out there.”

“I thought I heard something. Sort of like thunder, only—”

He heard it then, too—hoofbeats closing in on the shack, hard and fast.

“I count three men,” she said, her voice raspy, as if she believed whispering would keep them from stopping. “They must have seen our lights. And the smoke from the stovepipe.”

Josh was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Get your pistol,” he barked. “Put it in your boot. And I know it’s warm in here, but put all your clothes back on. Everything, wet or dry.”

That got her attention. When she turned, her eyes sparkled like emeralds. “Even my hat?”

“Even your hat.”

Concern flickered in the green orbs. “But—but why?”

“Whoever they are, they’ve a mind to get in out of this mess, same as us.” As he spoke, he shoved his own revolver into his belt and shrugged into his jacket. “And if they’re bandits, they’ll take anything that isn’t nailed down or tacked on, that’s why.”

It took most of his willpower to tear his gaze from hers. He hated scaring her, but if it meant keeping her safe, so be it. Fully dressed, he peered through the opening between the window frame and the wooden door. “You know how to use that thing?” he asked without looking around.

“I—I think so.”

Fear rang loud in her voice, and he turned around. “Just pull back on the hammer, aim, and fire.” He forced a grin. “Just be sure you’re aiming at the man you hope to stop, not me.”

Dinah nodded, which told him she knew it would take only minutes for the riders to hitch their mounts out front, and that, seconds later, they’d burst through the door. He then realized that he had only minutes to teach her a thing or two—lessons that could very well save her life. And, quite possibly, his, too. He gripped Dinah’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Did your mama ever say, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’?”

Another nod.

“Well, keep that in mind once they’re inside, in case I have to do or say something that doesn’t seem to make sense. I think we’ll be all right.”

“Y-you think we’ll be all ri—”

“What did I promise you out there on the trail?” he interrupted her.

The way she stood there, trembling and blinking up at him, told Josh he’d been right. Brutal bandits—or outlaws of some sort—had been responsible for her predicament and her paranoia.

“You said….” She licked her lips and straightened her shoulders. “You said I’d always be safe with you.”

The thundering hoofbeats stopped.

The riders had arrived.

In no time, they’d step inside and shake the rain from their coats. Could he convince her in the next few seconds to trust him completely? “Did you believe me?”

She bit down hard on her lower lip. “I did. And I believe you now, too.”

“Good. Then follow my lead. Got it? And quit lookin’ so all-fired scared. We’ll just pretend to be a nice married couple who came in here to wait out the storm. Bandits are like cougars; if they smell fear, they’ll be all over you.”

Dinah took a gulp of air and let it out slowly as the door burst open and slammed against the wall.

In all his years, Josh had never seen a larger man. Rain poured down his coat in torrents and formed puddles between his muddy boots. He was chewing a thin twig that extended out of the right corner of his dark-mustached mouth, and, in one swift move, he shrugged out of his slicker, exposing a rifle—and a badge. “Gus Applegate,” he said, extending a beefy hand toward Josh.

Josh breathed a silent sigh of relief as he gripped it. The encircled silver star was all the proof he needed that these men were Texas Rangers.

“Sorry ’bout the mess, ma’am,” Gus said to Dinah, stepping into the center of the room as his comrades stomped inside behind him. “I’d sure as shootin’ like to know who riled ol’ Mother Nature, ’cause that’s one powerful-bad storm out there!” As the door closed behind the last of the Rangers, he said, “So, what brings you nice folks out here in this weather?”

“Just heading home from doing business in San Antonio,” Josh said in as casual a voice as he could.

Gus gave Dinah a quick survey. “Long way for a purty young thing like this to ride.” He scowled at Josh in disapproval. “And dangerous, to boot.”

“Tried to talk her out of coming with me,” Josh said, shrugging, “but—”

“No need to say more,” said the second Ranger. “Women. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.” Chuckling at his own joke, he stuck out his hand. “Shorty McAllister. And you are?”

“Neville,” Josh said, shaking it. “Josh Neville.”

The third man stepped up and offered his hand, too. “Name’s Ephram Bradley, but, mostly, folks just call me Stretch.”

“Not ’cause he’s tall, mind you,” Gus put in, “but ’cause he can take two hours to tell you what he ate for breakfast.”

After a moment of jovial laughter, all three hung up their coats and hats. They leaned their rifles against the wall, Josh noted, but kept their sidearms. Not that he blamed them. It was reassuring to have his own Colt belted to his hip.

“What sorta business put you in San Antone, if you don’t mind my askin’?” Shorty said.

Josh had witnessed a Gatling gun demonstration a while back, and if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed any weapon could fire a thousand rounds in a minute. Well, Shorty McAllister talked even faster than that. He stood barely taller than Dinah, but his stance—chest puffed out and chin raised high—made it clear he wanted an answer, whether Josh minded giving it or not. Since he’d never liked playing cat and mouse, he said, “Anthrax epidemic killed off a thousand head of cattle, and now the land where they’d been grazing is tainted. Had to sell some acres to make up the loss, and the only interested buyer wouldn’t pay up unless I met him on his own turf. So.…” Josh let a nonchalant shrug finish his sentence, hoping he hadn’t offered too much information, because, in his experience, that’s what made a man look guilty.