Shotgun Bride (3 page)

She went downstairs and was immediately impressed at the array of food set out on the table, her mouth watered. Steak, beans, mashed potatoes, green peas, and freshly baked bread, hot out of the oven. She inhaled deeply. So much food. And cold milk. Another low rumble rolled in her stomach, and she glanced around, heat creeping across her cheeks. Had someone heard? After having ordered far too much, she savored the delicious meal and ate until stuffed. Each bite slid across her tongue in delectable satisfaction.

Her mouth watered when she spied the sideboard, loaded with apple pies. This was heaven. Pure heaven.

Sated, Kathleen thanked the cook and wandered outside. As much food as she’d partaken of, a good walk was in order. This time she’d pay attention to where she was going. No more bumping into handsome strangers that she couldn’t get out of her mind.

Kathleen paced down one side of the booming town, crossed the rutted street, and headed toward the hotel.

“Bother.” Here
he
came. She hopped off the sidewalk as he quick stepped around a display of apples, barely avoiding a disaster. Brow cocked, she stifled the urge to laugh. Mr. Perfect was clumsy.

Justice
. That’s what it was. Any man that could stop hearts and steal breath needed something to go wrong.

She balled her fists.
Doggone it, anyway
. Now he’d visit her dreams, clumsy or not.

Mike saw her. A few curls bounced along her cheeks and she reached up to tuck them behind her ear. The stubborn tendrils escaped their prison again and a burst of exasperation flared in her eyes as she blew the strands away from the corner of her mouth.

Watching her so intently, he almost stumbled into a barrel of apples. Jerked to his senses, he swiftly sidestepped the crate and glanced up. She arched one brow in an I-knew-you-didn’t-watch-where-you-were-going smirk and hopped out of the way to avoid a second collision.

Hell
. He forced his gaze straight ahead and refused to turn and watch her backside swish down the street. Then he realized his heart, his traitorous heart, had done a flip in his chest as a surge of blatant want swamped him. Fists clenched tight, he rushed to Hoover’s Bar.

Willie leaned on the wooden bar as Mike stormed up. A glitter of mirth rimmed his bloodshot eyes. “Saw Miguel earlier. Did you catch your skirt?”

Heat stole up his neck. “Damn you, Willie. I’m not chasing anybody and you know it, so back off.”

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

“Shut up.”

Willie laughed and wheeled to the bartender. “Hurry up and give this man your brew before he drops. His lady love is miles away, and he sure does miss her.”

“Beer,” Mike snapped out. Willie always did manage to rub him the wrong way even when he wasn’t goading him.

“You should have gone with the hands if you’re that impatient to see Sally.”

Mike massaged his neck. “Hawkins wanted me to make sure his trunks got there.” He glared at Willie. “And I thought Jimmy told you to ride herd on the new hands. Why aren’t you?”

Willie waved a hand. “I’ll catch up to the boys tonight. They can’t get too lost in one day. Besides, Jimmy’s still my boss, not you.”

Mike tossed back a gulp of the lukewarm drink and scowled. He really wasn’t in a big hurry to see Sally and it rankled. He should be. Instead, visions of a cute little green-eyed girl swirled around in his mind, refusing to be banished. That mouth of hers promised all kinds of passion.

Mike finished off his beer and slammed the mug on the rough sawn counter. Funny how the word
passion
didn’t fit Sally. “Give me another.”

Willie patted his shoulder. “I know a better way to drown your sorrows.”

Mike snorted. “And what’s that?”

“There’s a buxom redhead at the second tent down yonder. She don’t officially work as a soiled dove but she’s willing if the price is right. Never had a better time in my life.”

Disgust rolled over Mike. He didn’t have any desire to catch some debilitating disease. “No, thanks.”

“You don’t have to be so uppity.”

Mike arched his brows. “You want to get sick, go ahead. I’m not going down that road. I’ve seen the results during the war.”

“Fine, get drunk.”

“Don’t plan on that, either.” Although maybe he’d forget a skinny girl if he did.
Hell.
What was the matter with him?
Sally was all curves in the right places. Ample curves that could keep a man well satisfied, not some slip of a girl who wore a dress that hung too lose on her spare shoulders. He gulped his second beer in one long pull.

“Keep that up, and you’ll be falling down in no time.”

Mike slapped Willie roughly on the back. “I’m done. See you later.”

He hustled to the hotel, his chaotic thoughts dogging his steps. Sally’s sky blue eyes accusing him, and the stranger’s green eyes beckoning him. The sunless sky bathed the street in a dim glow as lights began to twinkle in several windows. After a quick bite at the hotel, Mike trudged upstairs and yanked his door open. He tossed his hat on the chair, sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off a boot, and flung it across the room. The other boot landed with a thud at his feet as he stripped his shirt off.
Damn it
. He’d forgotten to send a telegram telling Hank and Juan to have the wagon in town when he arrived.

Kathleen stopped at the mercantile to distract herself and stayed until the owner kicked her out. Dusk had settled in and she hurried to the hotel.

The clerk at the front desk gave her a cursory glance as she rushed inside and headed straight to the stairwell.

At the top of the stairs, Kathleen rounded a corner in the darkened hallway then jumped at the sound of a deep male voice.

“Say, lady, what’s your hurry?”

Plastered against the opposite wall, Kathleen tried to sidestep around the unshaven, burly man. He took one quick step, and shot an arm out to block her path.

Her gut seized as she gasped. “Get out of my way.”

Her skin crawled. Why must men pick on her? She didn’t encourage them. Eyes narrowed, she curled her fingers into fists, disgruntled at the necessity of defending herself. Alone. Always alone.

“Now, lady, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He lunged, pinned her shoulders to the wall, and gave her a toothless grin. “It gets mighty lonely in these parts.”

She crinkled her nose at the stench of beer and unwashed flesh. Revolted, she turned her head to the side, punched out with both fists, and stomped on his foot. A whoosh of air escaped his lungs and he hopped on one leg. He muttered a curse. Twisting away, she lifted her skirts and ran. If she’d had a gun right now, the lowdown cur would find himself full of lead.

She barreled through the door of her room and skidded to a halt as a man whirled around at her approach, his hands stuffed inside the bag, her belongings scattered at his feet. Weaponless, Kathleen did the only thing she knew to get attention. She screamed.

Her heart beat double-time as goose bumps raced across her skin. The gratifying sound of doors slammed against wood and the rush of footsteps in the hallway greeted her ears. Several men, some half-dressed, rushed inside. A few had guns drawn. The thief ran and dove out the window as a couple of younger cowboys whooped and took up the chase.

“You all right miss?” an older man asked, stepping up beside her.

Fury and fear swirled through her as she nodded and sucked in a calming breath. She peered passed the man’s shoulder to see if that horrid man who had accosted her in the hall still lurked around. Instead, sable eyes stared at her as the tall stranger she’d bumped into earlier slowly slid his gun into his holster.

The corner of his lips turned down. He shrugged and ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair. His unbuttoned shirt revealed a patch of curly brown hair on his muscled chest. A gut-wrenching desire to run her fingers through that patch of hair and across his chest smacked into her.
So enticing
. She clutched her hands together.
Oh, yes, she must have developed a fever of the brain
.

Kathleen glanced around. Was anyone else in this crowd involved? The older gentleman appeared kind and fatherly, but looks could deceive.

“Excitement’s over boys.” The older gentleman waved them all out the door.

Distant shouts floated up through the window and intertwined with grumbles about outlaws bothering young women as the men dispersed and her room emptied except for the gray-headed man. He patted her on the shoulder.

“I’ll have the manager get you a different room for the night. You’ll sleep better.”

“Thank you, mister.”

Taking a deep breath, Kathleen rubbed her arms as the rapid thumping of her heart slowed. The awful man in the hall had gone; the thief had been chased away.

“Call me Bill, everybody else does. Come on, I’ll walk you down.”

The dark-eyed cowboy waited in the dimly lit hallway, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. “Anything stolen?” he asked.

Kathleen stumbled.
The will
. Hand slapped to her mouth, ice filling her veins, she tore inside the room and flung the pillow off the bed. Her knees turned to jelly as she sank on the edge, fingered the papers, then released the breath she held. She could not lose these.

“Well?” Bill asked.

“No.” She replaced the pillow, debating whether or not to let the will out of her sight. Concern laced Bill’s eyes, but she glanced past him to the tall, broad-shouldered cowboy. He dominated the doorway of her room. A shudder hit her. How safe was she? She sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. She was so tired of having no one to depend on and being forced to do everything herself. So tired of being alone.

“Would you like me to find someone to stay with you tonight?” The kindness in Bill’s voice brought a smile to her lips.

“Hang on a minute, Bill. I have a better idea.”

Kathleen glanced up at the deep voice that flowed over her like honey.

“I’ll switch rooms with you, ma’am, so no one else knows.” He shot her a measured look. “That way if the thief returns, he’ll get more than he bargained for.”

“Good thinking.” Bill raised a brow at her. “Sound good to you, miss?”

“I guess.” Wary but grateful, she accepted the offer.

“It’s settled then. You try to forget all this fuss and get some rest.” Bill nodded a goodnight and strode off, leaving her with
him
. An annoying rush of excitement flooded through her.

He smiled and waved a hand at the mess. “Want any help?”

What she wanted was to bury her head on his exposed chest, soak up some of his tranquility. “No, give me a minute.”

“Sorry some varmint tried to steal your stuff.”

She scooped up her clothing and stuffed it into the bag. “Guess the town’s living up to its reputation of wild.”

He laughed. “Good to have a sense of humor.”

Straightening, she went to the bed and laid the will inside her bag. “That’s everything.”

As Kathleen flipped the bag shut, she almost jumped out of her skin when he brushed up against her. One strong, tanned hand closed around the handle.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He pressed a palm to her lower back and escorted her to the door. A comforting sense of safety curled around her and she slipped a little closer to his lean side as they entered the darkened hallway.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep the bad guys away.”

“Yeah, well, someone waylaid me in the hall.”

The hand on her back jerked away. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was a little distracted. Besides, how do I know who is trustworthy and who isn’t.”

“You can trust me.” Those four words, delivered in a no-nonsense tone, covered her skin like a soothing balm.

A frown tugged her lips down as she took a dive into murky waters of loneliness-induced desires. In the flickering light of lanterns hung far apart, with a handsome man that showed her kindness instead of harassment, butterflies did a rowdy dance in her stomach now.

She refrained from laughing at her stupidity. For years, she’d avoided such situations and now, all of a sudden, she felt giddy? Any other time she would be walking, no running, away. But this easy-mannered stranger wiped away her normal trepidations of being caught in the dark and deserted hallway with a man.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” she said, meaning it.

He chuckled and nudged her down the hall. “Forget it. Accidents happen.”

He pushed the door to his room, and Kathleen ducked under his extended arm to enter. She waited while he lit a lantern beside the bed. A boot rested up against the far wall and the other lay by the edge of the bed. He tossed her bag onto the ruffled blanket. He must have been sleeping when she screamed. A travel-worn saddlebag rested on the chair under his hat.

She admired his cat-like gracefulness as he snatched his boots up and tossed the saddlebag over his shoulder.

Turning, he grinned. “You know which room I’ll be in if you need anything else.”

“I don’t need anything, thank you.”

When he closed the door, she sagged against the wall.
Oh my.
He was one fine-looking man.
She donned her nightgown and kicked her boots off. She flopped down onto the still-warm bed and hugged the pillow. One night dreaming about gorgeous eyes, rippling muscles, and a killer voice sounded better than agonizing over
who
and
why
someone had tried to rob her.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kathleen bit her lower lip and strained to sort out what noise woke her. She lay perfectly still as an unnatural silence descended. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.

She softly slipped out of bed, tiptoed to the door, and pressed her ear against the rough wood. Nothing. Placing a hand over her heart, she drew in several deep breaths to slow its rapid pace. She braced a hand on the dresser, poured some water, and splashed the tepid liquid over her hot flesh.

Suddenly gunshots split the peaceful night. Kathleen dropped to the floor and huddled next to the washstand. Her heart slammed against her bones. Wood splintered under the impact of bullets and angry shouts erupted as a brawl intensified.

Somehow in the midst of the boisterous clamor, she heard a soft click and her door swung open then closed in a rapid burst. A ray of moonlight from her window glinted off the barrel of a gun. A dark-garbed man crossed the room in two quiet strides. Swallowing the scream in her throat, her eyes widened in fear. Six bullets riddled the bed she had so recently vacated, the loud boom mingling with the new eruption of shots in the hall. A tremor ran down her spine, and she held her breath, petrified the killer would notice her white cotton nightgown against the green paisley wallpaper.

Drops of water tickled her nose as the intruder swiftly climbed out the window. The roar of her pounding heart drowned out all other sounds as she hugged her knees to her chest and stared, unable to suck air into her lungs, as feathers eerily drifted down over the bed and the curtains, caught halfway out the window, flapped against the sill.

A loud commotion sounded outside her door. Still shaking, she pushed herself off the floor and brushed the hair from her face. A violent shudder hit her body. If she hadn’t gotten up, she’d be dead. Her parents must be watching out for her, because something had woken her.

She wanted out of Dodge City, now. She grabbed up the chair and wedged it under the doorknob. Next, she lowered the window and unable to climb back into the bed, huddled in a corner. Several terrifying questions rolled like a steam engine through her. Who and why did someone want her dead? Or were they after the cowboy down the hall? Was he somehow involved?

Someone banged on her door. “You all right in there?”

No, she wasn’t, but there was no way she was going to open that door. “I’m fine.”

In a cabin, well off the beaten path, Tobias Hawkins sat on the porch, drinking a glass of whiskey. He smiled at the sound of approaching horses. Tossing back the last drop, he set the glass down and rubbed his hands. Miss Kathleen Barnes must be dead, and the deed to her land would soon be in his possession. Three of his men rode up to the porch, dismounted, and gave him a wary look.

“Give me the papers.” Tobias stood and stretched out his hand.

One of the men stepped closer and spread his hands out wide. “She didn’t have them with her.”

“What?” He grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and jerked him close. “Where are they?”

“Take it easy, boss,” the other man said. “I searched her bag. No papers. Harv stopped her in the hall to give me more time. I swear to you, they weren’t there.”

Hawkins shoved the man back. “She better be dead.”

“I didn’t have a chance.”

Hawkins threw the empty glass against the wall.

“Hang on. Harv went back,” the man said.

Swiveling his gaze to Harv, Hawkins pinned him with a stare. “Well?”

“She’s dead, I promise,” Harv answered.

Stabbing a finger in the other man’s chest, he said, “You, get yourself to New York and find out if she left the documents there. Harv, you snoop around and find out if she met with anyone here. I want those papers.”

Hawkins reached for a refill, realized his glass was shattered and cursed. Bottle in hand, he kicked the chair and stormed off to his horse. He had a wedding to attend, as soon as Baca returned. The delay chafed, but his recalcitrant daughter had decided to change her mind, forcing him to send a telegram instructing Baca to guard some worthless trunks of her clothes. She wouldn’t disobey him again.