The Wicked West (5 page)

“Please,” she moaned. “More.”

“Why, Lily?”

“I…” Why, indeed? The answer was simple. “Because I need it. Hard. Please just…hurt me, Sheriff. Hurt me.”

His breath left him on a rush, and he finally gave her what she wanted, spanking her harder and faster than he’d done before. When her skin stung with startling pain, he stepped behind her and buried himself to the hilt, pushing her high with foul words and deep thrusts.

“Yes,” she screamed.

Long minutes later, Lily came, screaming and digging her fists into the blankets, her cheek pressed against the rough rope to remind her of its presence. The sheriff must have finished, too, because he collapsed with her to the mattress, then brushed the hair from her damp face.

After his breathing had calmed, she felt his lips touch her neck. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured. “I can’t believe there’s someone like you.”

She nuzzled her head against his chest in complete contentment. Her skin felt on fire.

“Why did you come here?”

Eyes closed, she breathed in the musk scent of his sweat. “My brother left me the house.”

“You were close to him?”

“For a time.” She wanted to tell him. Not in the way she’d told her husband, not for absolution. Just because he understood regret. His voice was weighted with that understanding. “Before I wronged him.”

“I can’t imagine you wronging anyone.”

“I was young, and I didn’t understand. I came upon Hamilton with a…” He was dead now, and nothing could harm him. “With a stable hand.”

Sheriff Hale’s breath paused for a long moment. “Does
stable hand
mean the same thing in England that it does in Wyoming?”

“It does, yes. I didn’t know it was possible for men to do that together. I thought…I thought Hamilton was being hurt—he was crying out—and I ran to tell my father. He tossed my brother out and disowned him, cut him off entirely. Had the stable hand beaten half to death. It was two years before I realized what I’d really seen, what I’d done. I’m lucky he didn’t hate me.”

“You were just a child.”

“Yes, but that didn’t negate the harm I’d caused. I ended his life, but luckily he found a way to start another.”

His hand stroked her shoulder, then down to her hands to tug the knot free before he rubbed gently at the red marks. “Is that why you’re here in Wyoming? To remember him and punish yourself?”

“No. I want to be here. I wanted to choose my own life, and I couldn’t do that in England. My family and my husband’s family…I felt smothered by them. But here it seems that anything is possible. My brother made a new life for himself. Anyone can become what he wants here.”

“That may be a slight exaggeration.”

“I suppose. But it can also be the truth.”

He kissed her neck again. “And what do you want to be?”

“I’m not sure yet. Right now I’m…experimenting.”

“With me?” He sounded surprised.

“No, I’m quite clear on what we’re doing, Sheriff. I’m experimenting with
me.
” Saying it aloud made her feel daring. “I’m opening a library.”

“A
what?
”

“A lending library. I’ll try my hand at being a librarian. I shall have to practice my look of disapproval for patrons who lose books. Perhaps you’ll teach me how to be intimidating.”

His chuckle ruffled her hair so that it swept forward to tickle her nose. “You’re English. You already sound proper enough that it will pass for sternness.”

“Perfect.”

His mouth touched her shoulder this time. “You’re fascinating, Lily Anders.”

“Not really,” she said, but she was still grinning when she heard his breath fall into the even cadence of sleep. She couldn’t spend the night, she had to go, but she would carry that impossible statement home with her like a priceless gift.

Sheriff Hale found her fascinating. Another layer to add to who she was.

A week of hard riding passed in an exhausting blur, but thoughts of Lily Anders kept Hale company along the way. He’d only been home for four of the past seven nights, but he’d spent each evening with her. Sometimes she offered dinner. Sometimes it was so late that her bedroom was already dark when he entered. But every night she stripped something bare inside his soul. There was frightening power in her acquiescence.

Now as he road through the heat and dust, Hale could call up many images of Lily stretched naked on her deep green quilt. One night, he’d been determined to explore every inch of her body, but the candle he’d used to light his way had dripped wax onto her sensitive skin. Hale had cursed and apologized, but Lily’s hand had stayed his retreat.

“Do it again,” she’d whispered. He’d held his hand to her throat and dripped trails of hot wax over her breasts and belly. The hisses and sighs that had escaped her mouth had become his favorite memory. The only memory that could overcome the images of the last murder victim they’d found.

Emilio Rodriguez had been a well-respected cowboy around these parts. He’d ridden out the week before to round up strays and had gotten shot in the gut for his trouble. Hale and his deputy had stumbled upon Emilio’s body days later. He didn’t want to know how long the man had lived, bleeding and thirsty, rotting alive in the brutal sun. Whether it had been hours or days, it had been too long.

They’d only found one set of tracks leading away from the body. When he found the bastard who’d done this, Hale would see him hanged slowly. A broken neck would be too good for this animal. He deserved to know what his victims had known. He deserved to see death coming.

But before Hale could hang him, he had to find him, and so far they didn’t have even a hint of a clue. Even the tracks had been swept clean by a sudden windstorm.

Glancing toward the figure that rode a hundred yards to his right, Hale raised a hand. Deputy Brady waved back. All clear. Nothing to report.

“Shit.”

They’d have to turn back soon if they meant to make it back to town tonight. Hale wanted desperately to get back, but he made himself keep riding. Brady’s wife was due to give birth any day now, and the deputy hadn’t complained once this week. Hale’s concerns were inconsequential in comparison. Meaningless. But the carpenter had finished up Lily’s shelves today, and he wanted to see her books all in order, wanted to share that with her.

Yet Hale knew that if he rode home tonight and they found a dead cowboy tomorrow, he’d blame himself. Hell, he’d blame himself, regardless. These people were under his protection.

A hawk glided past his field of vision. Her head was down, her path of flight pointed for a spot many yards beyond. As Hale watched her fly, a hint of a smell touched his nose. Reining his tired pony in, he stood in his stirrups and drew a deep breath.

Smoke.

Probably nothing, but he still looked slowly around before urging the horse forward. Fifty feet ahead, the smell grew stronger. Hale narrowed his eyes and held up a hand to signal Brady, but a quick glance showed that Brady stared straight ahead. Hell, he was probably lost in worry over his wife.

Hale kept his hand high and wheeled the horse around in a slow circle. He couldn’t see the smoke, but he could smell it. A low rise offered a hiding place to the north. If the fire were small enough, it could be hidden there.

This time when he looked toward Brady, he saw that his deputy had finally halted and was headed back toward Hale. Easing his horse off the path, Hale walked it toward the swell of rock, drawing his pistol before he’d gotten a dozen feet off the trail.

A sudden clatter of rock set his pulse racing. Without bothering to look back toward Brady, Hale swept his arm around and pointed Brady toward the west. A low whistle gave Brady’s answer. They’d come around the rise from opposite sides and hopefully cornered their prey.

If there was someone here, it was likely a cowboy or a drifter. Maybe even a lone Indian. Still, Hale quietly raised his pistol and edged his mount carefully between the loose stones.

The deep lowing of a steer suddenly pierced the silence. His shoulders were starting to relax as he rounded the edge of the rise. It was just a herd of cattle, clattering around in the rocks. But before his shoulders could return to their normal line, he registered that something was strange about these cattle. They stood too close together, penned in by a low ring of thornbush branches.

He was dropping down behind his pony when he heard the click of a pistol being cocked.

A man peeked his head above a boulder set deep within the shadows of rock. Hale squinted, surprised that he recognized the pale shock of hair.

“Serge?” he called out. “What are you doing out here?”

Serge’s head shifted a little higher. “Sheriff? I ain’t doing much. Just out here rounding up some strays.”

“Why’ve you got your gun out, then?”

“Can’t be too safe these days.”

Well, he had a point there. But Serge wasn’t exactly a trustworthy character. He’d rolled into town a few months ago and Hale had promptly arrested him for cheating at cards. He was a mean drunk and greedy as hell, but Hale wouldn’t have pegged him for a killer.

He glanced toward the cattle. Maybe he was just playing cowboy. “Who you working for, Serge?”

There was an alarming hesitation before Serge answered. “Mr. Henley.”

“All right, then. Let me just take a quick look.” He sidestepped toward the cattle, doing his best to keep one eye on Serge while picking out brands on the nervous, shifting animals.

The first one he spotted was, indeed, Henley’s brand. The second brand was not. Neither was the third. “Serge,” he started, swinging his gun around.

He’d fired a shot before he felt the blow to his stomach. His side heated with a wash of warm blood, and he glanced down in surprise at the sensation. To his shock, he found he was already kneeling on the rocky ground.

“Goddamn it,” Serge cursed. Had he fired by mistake? Hale looked up in confusion, wondering why everything was moving so slowly. Serge was stumbling down the pile of small rocks at the base of the boulder, a hand pressed to his shoulder. Hale had barely grazed him.

Serge shook his blond head. “They’re gonna have the whole damn state after me for this shit.” He grabbed up his saddle and tossed it on his horse, leaving bloody shadows on the leather.

The pistol grew heavy in Hale’s hand, and his fingers worked hard to hold on to the slippery grip. Why was it slippery?

Serge went about saddling his horse, completely unconcerned.

“It was you?” Hale asked, the words careful enough to alarm him.

“Look, it was quick money, all right? I’m sorry about the men, but it couldn’t be avoided. I’m working on my own here.”

“They suffered.” Just as Hale was about to suffer. Gut shot. The worst way to go.

Serge shrugged. “I’m a bad shot. I gotta aim for the broadest target, Sheriff. It’s nothing personal.”

As Hale watched, Serge stiffened and swung around toward the west. Brady. He must be coming. Hale hadn’t heard anything, but Serge backed toward Hale’s horse and crouched low behind the saddle. Between the two horses, the deputy would never be able to spot Serge.

Hale couldn’t let Brady walk into this. The man would be a father soon, maybe even in the next few hours. But Hale’s arm seemed unconcerned with his determination. It didn’t move at all, and he wondered for a moment if his blood was so sticky it had pasted his arm to his side.

Brady’s going to be a father,
he told himself sternly.
You can afford to die. He can’t.
He had to do something. “Brady!” he yelled, pain spiking deep beneath his ribs. “Stop!”

“Shut up,” Serge hissed, swinging toward Hale before he turned his gun back to the west.

“Make me,” Hale slurred, then gathered all his strength to yell. “It’s Serge! Stay back!”

“Shut up!” Serge screamed, taking one menacing step toward Hale.

Hale saw Brady’s horse finally. The deputy wasn’t on it. He must be circling around to come straight over the rise. He just needed time.

“Just shoot me,” Hale said, watching Serge’s brows rise.

“No, sir. You’ll be alive when I ride away. If you die later, it won’t be my fault. I won’t have you on my conscience.”

“You think I want to die like this, you bastard? Shoot me. Even a stupid fuck like you should be able to hit a head from fifteen paces.”

“Screw you, Sheriff.”

Hale tried hard to raise his hand to aim the gun at Serge, but he only managed to jerk a few drops of blood off the muzzle. “You’re a coward.”

The insult that would’ve made other men shake with rage only inspired this one to shrug. “I’ll be a rich coward when I leave here, Sheriff, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I was you.” His eyes cut toward the west, and Hale watched him squint at the approaching horse.

“What the hell,” he muttered.

“You’d better kill me now while you’re still breathing, Serge.”

The man waved him off with an impatient jerk of his gun. “Your arm’s all fucked up. You’re no threat to me.”

“No,” Hale whispered, “but he is.”

Serge’s chest exploded. The man didn’t even have time to look down. He just fell over, dead, exposing Brady standing at the top of the rise, his gun smoking.

Unlike Serge, Hale couldn’t even manage to fall over. He just stayed there, on his knees, staring at the dead man. “There’s at least three different brands in there,” he said matter-of-factly as Brady slid down the rocks toward him.

“Sheriff! Oh, shit, you’re bleeding bad.”

“Go on and get help.”

“It’s too far!”

“Yeah,” Hale sighed. “I know.” And then the sky finally tilted.

He woke to white-hot pain and lingering dreams of Lily. “Stop,” Hale murmured, meaning to scream at the doctor who must be digging the bullet out. His world wobbled roughly before the pain came to an abrupt end.

Brady appeared, leaning down.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff. I’ve got to get you to town.” He pressed blessedly cool water to Hale’s lips. No doctor yet. He hadn’t made it home.

“It’s no use, Deputy,” he said, knowing full well that Brady wouldn’t leave him. “You should hurry back to your wife.” His deputy just remounted and they moved on, the makeshift sled bumping over every last pebble and rut in the trail. Hale thought of telling Brady he’d be better off if he slung Hale facedown over his mount, but the mere thought made his stomach turn. Probably not a good idea to ride upside down in this state.

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. When the faint took him, he was with Lily again. He was inside her, trying to hurt her the way she liked, but for some reason all the pain traveled into him and swelled up deep inside his belly.

He woke again, days later. Or maybe only a few minutes had passed. They were still on the trail, after all, and the pain was worse, as if broken glass were being ground into his side with every inch of movement.

Hale pictured his insides turning black and putrid already, and couldn’t seem to care. He was dying. He knew that. His life didn’t flash before his eyes, but some of his sorrows did.

His first marriage, of course, but it wasn’t the open wound it had been. Lily had begun to convince him that Marie may have been at fault, as well. It hadn’t been a good match, clearly, on either side. She hadn’t liked sex and he’d wanted something even more.

No, what he really regretted now was that he hadn’t bothered to sue for divorce. He hadn’t been free to love Lily.

It was too soon for love, of course. Even his obsession with her body couldn’t convince him that he loved her yet. But he should have had the option.

What he and Lily had might be wrong, but damned if he didn’t want it to go on for a long while. Hell, he’d once known a man obsessed with women’s feet. Didn’t seem to shame him none, either, as he fantasized aloud about the Chinawomen he’d seen in California.

Now Hale found himself wishing he could go back and start over again with Lily, with a little less shame this time.

And he wished he’d seen her library, too.

Damn it.