Gunslinger (21 page)

“Don’t worry, Jones,” Tate gloated. “You can have her after I’m through with her. If you still want her, that is. Just remember this while I’m rutting with your woman; I had her first. My leavings are all you’ve ever had of her.”

“Bastard!” Logan hissed, struggling to free himself. “I’ll follow you to hell and back if I have to.”

The color drained from Tate’s face. Logan’s threat might have frightened him but it didn’t deter him. “Be grateful that you don’t have to watch,” he said in parting. “By the time I’m through with Chloe and she works free of the ropes, I’ll be long gone. I had a friend follow the buckboard with my horse. When the buckboard stopped, he tied my horse out of sight and skedaddled, like I instructed.”

Logan cursed violently as Tate returned to the buckboard, but Tate was so intent upon having his way with Chloe that he paid Logan little heed. He climbed into the wagon bed and unrolled the canvas imprisoning Chloe. She came out kicking and yelling.

“Damn you! What have you done to Logan?”

“Your lover is fine, just don’t expect any help from him. I didn’t kill him, if that’s what’s worrying you. I don’t want the law on my tail.” He placed his gun down where he could reach it in a hurry and pulled off her boots. Then he began unfastening her trousers. “This was a lot easier when you wore skirts,” he complained. “Hold still. You’re hurting my shoulder with all your squirming and lurching. This ain’t gonna hurt you. I just want that wedding night we never had.”

“I’m warning you, Tate,” Chloe hissed. “I’m not going to let you do this to me.”

He gave a vicious snarl and slapped her, hard. “How are you going to stop me?”

Chloe reeled from the blow. While she lay stunned and in pain, Tate managed to work her trousers and drawers down her hips. Chloe cried out a protest when she felt him jerk her trousers and drawers the rest of the way down her legs and over her feet.

Apparently Logan heard her cry for he called out her name.

Chloe watched in trepidation as Tate sat back on his haunches and stared at her, his eyes glittering lasciviously. He licked his lips and grinned at her. “I didn’t get to see you the last time. It was too dark. You’re one fine-looking woman, Chloe. All over.” Squatting at her feet, he reached over to unbutton her blouse. “Now let me see your titties. They look bigger than they were the last time I had my hands on them.”

Rage built inside Chloe. She wasn’t going to let Tate do this to her again. The moment he bent over her to remove her blouse, she pulled her legs back and kicked him in the chest. Tate grunted and went flying over the side of the buckboard. He landed hard, and she heard him scream. She scooted to the side of the buckboard and gazed down at Tate, her face filled with loathing.

“My shoulder, I’m dying,” he hollered, rolling on the ground and grasping the shoulder that had never mended properly.

“Chloe, what’s going on?” Logan yelled. “Talk to me. What did the bastard do to you?”

“I’m fine, Logan, really,” Chloe called back. “I’ll free you as soon as I get rid of these dang ropes.”

“Where is Tate?”

“On the ground. I think he re-injured his collarbone when I kicked him out of the wagon.” She gave Tate a contemptuous look. “He’s no longer a threat.”

“You kicked him out of the wagon?” Logan repeated incredulously.

She heard Logan laughing, and suddenly the tension drained from her. She knew intuitively that Tate Talbot would never be a threat to her again. The fear and terror of that night he had raped her would no longer invade her dreams. She had vanquished them along with the man himself.

It took five minutes for Chloe to work her wrists free. Tate’s one-handed knot hadn’t been strong enough to hold and she was able to slip her hands free. Then she donned her clothing and boots and leaped down from the wagon bed. Tate was still lying on the ground, sobbing like a baby. She wasted little sympathy on him as she deftly removed his knife from the sheath at his waist.

“Help me,” he cried as she stepped over him.

Chloe didn’t bother to answer as she raced to Logan’s side.

Logan searched Chloe’s face; then he let his troubled gaze wander over her body as she sawed at the ropes binding him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Chloe assured him as the last rope fell away from him.

He was literally shaking when he finally held her in his arms. The knowledge that the legendary Desperado Jones had been helpless to save the woman he loved tormented him. He thanked a God he had abandoned years ago for giving Chloe the strength and courage to singlehandedly save herself. Then he kissed her. He tasted salt from her tears and his own eyes misted.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s over,” Logan soothed. “I’m going to kill the bastard so he’ll never hurt you again.”

“Your cheeks are wet,” Chloe said in wonder as she brushed away moisture from the corners of his eyes. It seemed inconceivable that a strong man like Logan would cry.

“Something must have gotten in my eyes,” Logan said gruffly as he blinked away the telltale moisture. His arm hugged her shoulders as he led her back to the buckboard and lifted her onto the seat. “Stay here,” he advised.

“Where are you going?”

He located his gun in the bed of the buckboard and walked over to Tate.

“Logan, what are you going to do?” Chloe asked, alarmed by the look of cold fury on Logan’s face.

“I’m going to put a wounded animal out of his misery,” he said as he aimed his weapon at Tate.

“Go ahead,” Tate groaned. “You’d be doing me a favor. The pain will kill me if you don’t.”

“Noooo!” Chloe cried, scrambling down from the buckboard. “You can’t kill him. That would make you a cold-blooded murderer. Do you want that on your conscience the rest of your life?”

Logan cocked his gun. “I’d be doing the world a favor.”

His voice was hard, cold, emotionless. This wasn’t the man Chloe knew and loved. This was Desperado Jones, a man without a conscience. A hired gunman. She couldn’t let him turn back into the legend. “You once told me you never killed in cold blood. You said you rarely killed at all, only when your life was threatened.”

“This scum threatened
your
life,” Logan said through gritted teeth. He aimed for Tate’s heart; a clean shot that would end his suffering as well as his miserable life.

“Desperado!” Chloe screamed, hoping her use of his professional name would break through his icy veneer. “Desperado Jones! Is that the name you want to carry the rest of your life? Logan Ralston wouldn’t kill; he’d hand his enemy over to the law.”

The hollow look in Logan’s eyes slowly faded and his fierce expression melted away as he released the hammer and shoved his pistol into his gunbelt. “Desperado Jones has been laid to rest,” he vowed. “I promise he’ll never surface again. Thank you for preventing me from doing something I’d regret the rest of my life.”

“I know how much you hate Tate, but you can’t hate him more than I do. You know what we have to do, don’t you?”

Logan nodded and walked over to the buckboard.

“You’re not leaving him here, are you?”

“No. I’m going to put Tate in the buckboard and take him back to Trouble Creek. I’m sure Captain Danson will know what to do with him.”

“I’ll get the rest of the guns from the wagon bed,” Chloe said.

When Logan lifted Tate to place him in the buckboard, he screamed and passed out.

“It’s just as well,” Logan said. “The trip back to town won’t be pleasant for him.”

Tate remained mercifully unconscious. He revived shortly before Logan drove the buckboard down the muddy main street. “Wait here,” Logan said to Chloe as he drew rein in front of the now vacant town marshal’s office and climbed down from the seat. “I’m going to look for Captain Danson. Keep an eye on Tate. If he looks like he’s going to run, shoot him.”

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Tate gasped. “Get me to a doctor. Find Pa. Tell him I’m in a bad way.”

“First things first,” Logan said as he walked away.

Logan found Captain Danson in the cafe, eating supper.

“What brings you back to town?” Danson asked, surprised to see Logan again so soon.

“I’ve got Tate Talbot in the back of my wagon,” Logan explained. “He hid beneath the canvas covering our supplies and got the drop on us. He’s as obsessed with Chloe as his father is with me.” His voice lowered as he explained what Tate had done and how Chloe had saved herself.

“That’s one spunky woman you’ve got, Ralston,” Danson chuckled. “I’ve got Tate’s old man in jail. Caught him leaving town. I’ve found enough evidence against him to send him to prison for a long time. After what you’ve just told me, Tate will be joining him.”

“You’d better send for old Doc Hockmeyer,” Logan suggested. “Talbot is in a great deal of pain. An old wound he sustained never healed properly, and when Chloe kicked him out of the buckboard he must have landed on his bad shoulder and aggravated the injury. He’s been screaming like a stuck pig.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Danson said, rising. “You and your woman no longer need to worry about the Talbots. I’ll be taking them both to Amarillo to stand trial.”

Chloe and Logan watched dispassionately as Danson and a volunteer carried Tate to the veterinarian’s office. Then they climbed back into the buckboard and headed home.

“I’ve had about all the excitement I can take for one day,” Chloe sighed as she leaned her head against Logan’s broad shoulder.

“Can I interest you in a different kind of excitement tonight?”

“I’m always interested in
that
kind of excitement,” Chloe said, smiling up at him.

“Maybe we should wait until we’re married,” Logan suggested.

Chloe sent him a startled look. “Is that what you want?”

“No. I just thought you might.”

Chloe settled more comfortably against Logan’s shoulder, growing drowsy as the moon came up to guide them home. She must have slept for a time; when she awakened she remembered there was something she needed to tell Logan.

“Logan…”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, it can’t. You see—”

“Riders coming,” Logan said, removing his arm from around her and reaching for his weapon.

He didn’t relax until he heard someone call out, “Is that you, Logan?”

A half dozen riders approached the buckboard and drew rein. “Yeah, Cory, it’s me. Something wrong at the ranch?”

“No. We thought something had happened to you and Miss Chloe. When you didn’t return from town before dark, me and some of the boys thought we’d ride out to see if you’d encountered trouble.”

“We’re fine, Cory,” Chloe assured him. “We had a run-in with Tate Talbot, but I’ll let Logan tell you about it later.”

The buckboard and its escort reached the ranch a short time later. Juanita had supper waiting for Chloe and Logan. They washed up in the bucket of clean water beside the back door and sat down to eat.

“I reckon the boys are anxious to hear about our delay,” Logan said after he’d eaten his fill of Juanita’s excellent meal. He scraped back his chair and rose. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

While he was gone, Chloe heated water on the stove and filled the brass tub with Juanita’s help. Juanita stood guard at the kitchen door while Chloe had a good long soak. After she washed her hair and rinsed the soap off her body, she dried herself with a soft cloth and went up to bed, sliding naked between the sheets. She was dozing when Logan slipped into the room.

“Are you awake, honey?”

“Almost. What took you so long?”

“I took a bath in the bunkhouse. Randy heated water for me in the cookhouse.”

Lamplight highlighted the glistening drops of water clinging to his dark hair as he quickly undressed and slid into bed beside her.

“Ummm, you smell good enough to eat.” To prove his words, he gnawed delicately at her earlobe.

“So do you.”

“You’re not too tired, are you?”

“For you? Never.”

“I was so proud of you today,” Logan said. “Most women would have fainted dead away had they found themselves in your situation. But not my brave Chloe.”

“I wasn’t going to let Tate ravish me again,” Chloe murmured. “Tate Talbot is an abomination; I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Neither do I. I just wanted you to know how much I love you. It wouldn’t have mattered if Tate had…well, you know. It wouldn’t make me love you any less. What scared the hell out of me was the possibility that he would do you serious harm, or kill you.”

“Thank you for that, Logan. You’re one man in a million, the only man I want to make love to me.”

She snuggled against him, smiling when she felt his erection prodding against her stomach. She ground her loins against his, savoring his hardness, his need for her, and felt blessed.

He aroused her slowly, taking his time to taste and touch her in all the places that gave her the most pleasure. Then she loved him, using her mouth and hands to rouse him to a fever pitch. When he finally eased into her, they were both so wildly excited they climaxed too quickly. After they had rested, there was nothing for it but to begin again.

“Was that the kind of excitement you had in mind?” Logan teased much later as they rested quietly in each other’s arms.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind. Now can I tell you what I’ve been meaning to tell you for the past few days?”

“Ummm.”

Chloe took that for a yes. “I’m going to have a baby. Are you happy?”

No answer except for his slow, even breathing.

“You’re sleeping!” Chloe charged, exasperated. “Oh, well, I reckon it will keep.” She yawned as she fit herself into the curve of his body and joined him in slumber.

Chapter Twenty

The church was packed. People had swarmed in from surrounding ranches to attend the wedding of the notorious Desperado Jones and Miss Chloe Sommers, the gun-toting young lady from the Ralston spread. A group of drifters had read the open invitation Logan had posted and had spruced up to attend the wedding. The word among the drifters was that they were attending not only a wedding but a funeral. In years to come they could brag about witnessing the death of Desperado Jones at the same time they attended the wedding of Logan Ralston.

It was widely circulated about town that Desperado Jones was abandoning his life as a gunslinger and turning respectable. By now most everyone knew that he was the long-lost son of Ted Ralston and owner of the Ralston spread. Though many doubted that a restless spirit like Desperado Jones could settle down to ranching, there were those who predicted that Chloe Sommers was the one woman who could tame the legendary gunslinger. They made one helluva pair. Together they had defeated the land-grabbing Talbots. The pair of crooks were in jail waiting to be transported to Amarillo for trial.

A murmur arose from the crowd when Logan entered the church with Cory, his best man, and strode down the aisle to where Reverend Tully was waiting to perform the ceremony. Logan looked dashing and more than a little dangerous in his newly purchased Sunday best, making more than one woman’s heart flutter. He was dressed all in black, down to his black silk shirt, neckcloth and superfine jacket. His trousers hugged his muscular thighs like a second skin and his boots were polished to a splendid luster. His ebony hair was slicked back from his forehead and tied at his nape with a black cord.

Logan fidgeted nervously as he waited for Chloe to walk down the aisle. She hadn’t allowed him to see beforehand what she was wearing, but it didn’t matter. She could wear sackcloth and she’d still be breathtakingly beautiful. He had caught her rummaging in a trunk in the attic yesterday, but she’d chased him away before he caught a glimpse of what she was digging for.

Beside him Cory appeared as nervous as he. Unaccustomed to wearing fancy duds, he constantly ran his finger around the constricting neckline of his white shirt.

Suddenly the church grew quiet and Logan glanced toward the entrance. His gasp of admiration combined with those of the spectators to produce a hum of approval. Logan had never seen Chloe like this. Couldn’t even picture her in such finery. She was a vision in blue velvet trimmed with antique lace. The gown must have come from the trunk, Logan decided, for a town like Trouble Creek couldn’t possibly provide so elaborate a dress on such short notice.

Juanita, wearing typical Mexican wedding finery, preceded Chloe down the aisle. Chloe followed, clinging tightly to Thadeous Baker’s arm, her wide skirts swaying provocatively, her smile directed at Logan, as if no one existed but him.

Since no flowers were available in winter, Chloe carried the Ralston family Bible, decorated with white ribbon and a bow. As she floated down the aisle, Logan wondered how he had lived to be nearly thirty without her.

Logan glanced at the front pews, noting that all the ranch hands were present. Even Rowdy was there, pale but looking better than he had yesterday. Suddenly Chloe was standing beside him. Thadeous kissed her cheek and placed her arm on Logan’s. Smiling into each other’s eyes, Logan and Chloe turned to face the preacher.

The ceremony began.

Chloe repeated her vows loud and clear. Logan’s voice wobbled slightly but never faltered as he spoke his vow. Then Reverend Tully pronounced them husband and wife, and Logan pulled her into his arms and kissed her amid enthusiastic cheers.

Afterward Chloe couldn’t recall how they had arrived outside, or what she’d said to the well-wishers who congratulated them. Her husband was so handsome her heart pounded with pride. She hoped her baby would look just like him if it turned out to be a boy. Her silent musings halted when Logan lifted her into the buckboard for the ride home. They left town in a flurry of dust. They had scant time to prepare for the guests that would begin arriving at the ranch to partake of food and drink.

“I’m never going to forget today,” Chloe sighed as she leaned against her husband’s broad shoulder.

“As soon as it’s dark I’m chasing every one home,” Logan vowed. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful. There’s a special sparkle in your eyes I hadn’t noticed before. Did getting hitched put it there?”

“It’s the dress,” Chloe teased. “Ted bought it for me on his last trip to San Antonio before he died. But don’t get used to it, Logan Ralston. Trousers are too comfortable to give up forever. I’m going right back to wearing them after the ba—” Her mouth snapped shut.

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

His dark enigmatic gaze rested disconcertingly on her. “Tell me, Chloe. I think it might be important.”

She flushed. “Why would you think that?”

“Let me guess. You’re going to have a child.” Her mouth dropped open. “I’ve noticed changes in your body lately and it just dawned on me what you almost said. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She gave him a wobbly smile. “I did try to tell you on more than one occasion, but something kept interfering.”

He flashed his dimples, momentarily distracting her. “Are you happy?” she asked.

“I couldn’t ask for anyone more perfect for the mother of my children. How long have you known?”

“A month or so. I’m well into my third month.”

Logan sawed on the reins and the team came to a halt. His face drained of all color as he stared at her. “You knew before you were attacked by Tate Talbot?”

“Yes. Why?”

He spit out a curse. “You should have let me kill Tate,” he rasped in a voice reminiscent of Desperado Jones, a man Chloe thought had been laid to rest forever.

“You did the right thing, Logan. Tate didn’t hurt me.”

“You could have been hurt badly. And the baby…” She saw his hands shaking and realized just how upset he really was.

“We’re both fine, Logan,” she said soothingly. “As soon as we get rid of all our guests tonight, I’ll show you how well I am.”

“Is that a promise, sweetheart?”

She gave him a teasing smile. “You can depend on it.”

“Damn,” Logan rasped, “let’s get this party over with. I want to see if what I told you is true.”

Puzzled, Chloe asked, “What was that?”

“I told you sex would be better after we married and I can’t wait to test my theory. But I’m warning you now, it will probably take years of steady love-making to prove my theory.”

“I’ve always been good at tests,” she said with a twinkle. “Let’s go home and celebrate the beginning of the rest of our lives.”

Logan picked up the reins and the team jerked forward, carrying them home.

The last of the wedding guests had left. Chloe and Logan walked arm in arm up the stairs. In the cozy confines of their bed they loved, then loved again, and yet again.

The rest of their lives had begun.