Oklahoma kiss (8 page)

      
"Townsend? Your name is Townsend?"

      
"Yes."

      
"This ranch you speak of, is it the Bar 4?"

      
"Yes."

      
"Is it far from here?" Adam found it difficult to keep the excitement from his voice.

      
Blair's nerves stretched taut. "For your information, no, it's just a few miles from here. But you're awfully nosy all of a sudden. Why?"

      
"No reason." Adam shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I've just heard about the Townsend's Bar 4, that's all." He ducked his head to hide the smile that toyed with his lips. For a moment there it appeared that he could have been in serious trouble, but fortunately for him, he knew one of the brothers she spoke about. Not all that familiar with this area, he'd had no idea the Townsend ranch was the one he had been heading for. It was strange, though; Adam had never heard anything about a sister.

      
"All right, mister, let's get moving. I intend to have you back at the ranch before nightfall. And just leave your horse here. You'll have to walk. I'm not about to risk your making a run for it."

      
A muscle locked in his jaw as he shook his head. "I can't leave him here. My sorrel threw a shoe over ten miles back and quarter-cracked his hoof. Since you are a Townsend, even if you are female, you should know that a wild beast can sense another animal's injuries. While there might not be any wolves or wildcats around since the ranch is so close by, I don't want to take that chance."

      
Blair glanced at the sorrel and slowly shook her head. The man was right, if left out here overnight, even untied, the sorrel would probably be killed by wolves. But still, it was too dangerous for her to bring it along.

      
"I'm sorry, mister ... I really am. But I can't take the chance on your using the horse to distract me. We'll have to leave him here. But I'll come back for him as soon as you have been taken care of."

      
"You mean those brothers of yours allow you to roam about the countryside at night? It seems a bit dangerous, especially since homesteaders have been pouring in to wait for the government to open that land."

      
Not wanting him to suspect that the ranch was deserted except for females, she retorted quickly, "That was merely a figure of speech. I will see to it
      
that your horse is brought in. As for my brothers worrying about me, they know I can take care of myself. You ought to be worrying about what they will do to you."

      
Knowing further argument along that line would be wasting his breath, Adam merely shrugged and started walking in the direction he figured she came.

Chapter 5

      
Telltale shadows had lengthened the trees when they finally reached the spot where Blair's horse was tied. Noticing the man's pronounced limp, she decided against making a comment on it. More than likely it was just a ploy to make her lower her guard. But she could show him that she had a few tricks of her own.

      
Careful to keep the rifle level, Blair removed the hemp rope from the saddle horn and made sure the other end was unsecured in case he tried to yank her off-balance. Keeping her distance, she tossed the running noose to him. "Here, tighten the noose around your middle. I trust this will not tempt you to make a sudden break for freedom."

      
He touched his brow in a mock salute and smiled benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child, but there was a dangerously savage gleam in the man's steel gray eyes as they locked in silent combat with the girl's. "Just around my middle? You're not going to tie my hands?" Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. "And I thought you were being so
      
careful . . . now I am disappointed."

      
Blair could literally feel the vibrant, invisible current passing between them. A powerful ripple of disturbing sensations ran the length of her spine, provoking an acute rise of something akin to panic within her as she met the man's jeering countenance. "Nice try, mister, but it won't work. You must think I am a fool ..."

      
"I'll have to admit, that thought has crossed my mind more than once," he taunted.

      
That remark left Blair thoroughly incensed, though she indifferently shrugged it off. "I cannot tie your hands and still keep this rifle trained on you." Then she smirked; the slight narrowing of her eyes gave evidence of the intense pleasure she received for getting even over his sarcastic comment. "Out of the kindness of my heart I will give you a piece of advice. As soon as I mount, start walking, and be sure you keep the rope good and tight. This mare is one of the best cutting horses we have on the ranch and if the rope becomes too slack, she'll start digging dirt backwards fast enough to yank you off your feet. It would break my heart to have to drag you to the ranch. Oh, and one more thing, if I even suspect that you're trying to make a break for it, or that you're figuring on a way to jump me, I'll shoot your legs right out from under you. Have I made myself clear?"

      
His voice was heavy with sarcasm, "Oh, yes, ma'am. Miss Townsend, perfectly clear." Then a smile spread across his lips, but there was no humor in his cold gray eyes. "Now, let me make something clear to you. I would not escape—even though you have given me several opportunities already, and will no doubt present me with several more before we reach the ranch. Do you want to know why?"

      
"Not particularly," she quipped indifferently, and all the while her mind raced, wondering if she had indeed given him chances to escape. No, she had been too careful . . . hadn't she?

      
"Nevertheless, I’ll tell you-even if you threaten to shoot my legs out from under me for talking. I wouldn't miss the expression on your face when you learn I have been telling the truth. Nor would I miss the expression on your face when I turn you over my knee and give you a good paddling!"

      
Haughtily, she tossed her head. "You wouldn't dare!"

      
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Adam's gray eyes gleamed at such an enjoyable thought. "Since you behave like a wild heathen, that's exactly how you should be treated."

      
"Quit calling me that name! Just because I am part Indian gives you no right . . ."

      
Careful to keep his features expressionless, Adam was inwardly startled over her revelation. From her appearance, he'd had no inkling this girl was part Indian; not with her having a relatively fair complexion, soft green eyes, and no distinct Indian features. He knew Warren was white, and that he had three half-Indian brothers, but to his knowledge Warren had never mentioned having a sister—mixed blood or otherwise. "Your heritage has nothing to do with my statement! It so happens, I was referring to the fact that you charged headlong into a dangerous situation-something a lone man would have given serious consideration to before doing. And if you think you're fooling anyone by running around wearing men's clothes-that are much too tight-and using grammar that makes you sound^ like you’ve never cracked a book, you're not. You're a ... a nuisance, that's what you are . . . worse than a flea on a dog." ,

      
"Y-you have your nerve speaking to me like that! She sputtered indignantly. She thought her charade had been a stroke of genius, but apparently he had seen through it immediately. Then why had he allowed her to capture him? Could it be, he had been telling the truth?

      
Adam continued as though he never heard her, although his voice was now edged with steel, "Furthermore, if you had any brains between your ears you would know that even a tame animal will turn dangerous when cornered. Did you ever stop and consider that you’ve accused me of cattle rustling and murder? Either crime is a hanging offense and a man can only die once. If I was guilty, I would have nothing to lose by trying to get the drop on you. And by damn if I was guilty, I might not stop at stealing your horse and riding away. I might be tempted to see for myself just how much of a woman you are underneath those tight britches." He rocked back on his heels and, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet, smiled smugly. "Judging by the expression on your face, I'll bet you never considered that possibility, did you?"

      
Too stubborn to admit how sensible his argument was, Blair protested, "N-no, but you have underestimated my ability to defend myself. Mister . . ."

      
"Cahill, Adam Cahill. And I think you have overestimated yourself. There is a world of difference in firing at a tin can until you can hit it accurately, or shooting wild game to go on the table. But when a man takes a bead on another man and knows when he pulls the trigger, that man will die . . . well, it sets him to thinking. It is a deed a man with a conscience does not take lightly." The lines deepened along his brows and under his eyes, a muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. "I’ve spoke my piece and you'll hear no more lectures from me. You can stay here until dark if you like, but I'm going to the ranch. I've walked more today and endured more aggrevation than I have in my entire life, and Tm tired." With that, he turned and began walking.

      
Quickly mounting, Blair had to let out enough rope to accommodate his long, limping strides, then quickly shortened it when she nudged the mare to within ten yards of him.

      
Not wanting to admit she might have been mistaken, Blair was determined to have the last word. "You just said all those things in hopes that 1 will relax my guard. Well, I’ll tell you right now, Mr. Adam Cahill, it won't work! It won't work at all!"

      
Adam never said a word. Instead, his jaw thrust more defiantly, and his shoulders squared with renewed determination.

      
The sun was just setting low in the western sky when they entered the front yard. Tillie, who had been standing on the porch, hurried to meet them.

      
"Stay back, Tillie," Blair warned. Although the man's argument had made very good sense, she felt committed to seeing it through until her brothers returned. Then, they could decide whether he was telling the truth. "This man is dangerous. I caught him near Grandfather's meadow. He had just killed one of our steers. Not only that, I've got my suspicions he has murdered the deputy marshal."

      
Tillie's huge black eyes grew even rounder when she looked at the man and saw for herself the dangerous aura he emitted. "Oh, Lord help us all!" she wailed, clutching at her bosom.

      
Minutely shaking her head, Blair shot her a cautious look. "Is Warren here?"

      
"No, don't you remember, child? Ah told you Mr. Warren won't be. . . ."

      
". . . You said you expected him and all of the ranch hands to be here by suppertime."

      
Finally understanding the meaning behind the girl's words, she said hurriedly, "That's right, but Ah ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em yet." Carrying the pretense as far as she knew how, Tillie shaded her eyes and peered into the distance. "Don't know what could be keeping 'em. They should have been back long 'fore now,"

      
Thinking quickly, Blair displayed false bravado. "Don't worry about it, Tillie. We can handle him. We'll just lock him in the storm cellar. Once he is inside there, escape will be impossible."

      
The storm cellar was an impenetrable fortress. It was seven feet deep, measuring twelve by twenty feet in length and width. The top was braced with massive oak logs and covered with six feet of firmly packed red clay. Sometimes, during tornado weather, especially if a bad cloud was brewing, the entire family would sleep down there. She figured if it was strong enough to withstand some of those violent storms, it was strong enough to safely hold Adam Cahill until help arrived.

      
Dismounting, she gestured with the rifle. "All right, mister, go around the side of the house and raise the cellar door. Tillie, don't get close to him, he's a desperate man. There's no telling what he'll try to do."

      
Adam rolled his eyes and merely shook his head to conceal his annoyance.

      
Breathing hard, Tillie followed close behind Blair. "Oh, don't worry none about that. Ain't going to give that hairy-legged man a chance to grab me—or you either for that matter!" She brandished the broom that seemed as much a part of her as her hand. "A'll whomp him across the head if'n he tries! Yes, ma'am," she added empathetically, "Ah'll do it in a minute, so, Mr. Outlaw, don't get any funny notions, you hear!"

      
Reaching the cellar, Blair ordered sharply, "Now, raise the door and go all the way to the back, and I’ll throw the rope in after you."

      
"You mean the condemned prisoner doesn't get a final meal?" Adam questioned, the cynical half-smile acutely marking his attractive yet lethal-appearing countenance.

      
She retorted in a voice that was whipcord sharp, "There's food stored down there, help yourself. There are also beds, quilts and blankets, and there are candles and a tin of matches located in a groove on the left wall close to the bottom step. A lit candle should enable you to find the lamp." A smug, satisfied gleam came into her eyes. "And just to show you that even a wild heathen can have compassion, Tillie, please get a bucket of water and when he gets to the back of the cellar, place it on the first step."

      
"Ifn you ask me, you're treating him too good, 'specially if he killed Mr. Ramsey."

      
"Even though the facts point to his guilt, it hasn't been proven yet. And knowing Pete Ramsey, he would want this man to have a fair trial before he was hanged."