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Authors: Stacey Kayne

Tags: #General, #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #Man-woman relationships, #Western

Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (20 page)

BOOK: Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series)
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Assuring herself they likely had everything under control, she turned back to the house.

Movement to her left caught her eye. She turned as someone grabbed her from behind. A man’s bruising grip strapped around her arms. His other hand clamped over her mouth as he lifted her off the ground.

Cora twisted and tried to scream. Each strained breath sucked in the foul scent of a cloth he held over her nose and mouth.

Her vision blurred.

Oh no.

 

Wyatt rode toward the Lazy J, anxious to see Salina’s reaction to the news he’d just heard about Chance Morgan. Having spotted what looked to be a brush fire on Morgan land, they’d gone to investigate and found a blaze moving through trees and pasture. A fire was every rancher’s worst fear. He’d sent his crew to help contain it, and would have gone himself but he didn’t put it past Morgan to shoot him on sight.

Not that he’d blame him. Blinded by jealousy, he’d been ready to kill the man. As it turned out, Morgan had married Miss Tindale after all.

A smile pushed high into his cheeks as Wyatt rode into the yard, but his good cheer was cut short.

A tall, sharply dressed stranger stood beside a fancy black coach, talking to Salina. Another woman dressed in black stood beside them.

What the hell is she up to now?

Wyatt spurred his horse. Salina turned, seeming startled to see him barreling into the yard. He leaped from his saddle, noting the tense expression of all three, as though he’d just intruded on a meeting of some importance.

“This is my foreman,” Salina said, introducing him like some common cowpuncher as he stomped toward her. “Wy—”

“Wyatt McNealy,” he said, extending his hand toward the fancy-dressed stranger. He slid his arm around Salina’s waist and pulled her against his side, ignoring her pinched expression.

“Grissom,” the man said, shaking his hand. “My mistress, Winifred Tindale.” He motioned to the woman.

Mrs. Tindale’s smile was more smirk than grin, her slender arching eyebrow suggesting amusement. She gave a regal nod, and Wyatt couldn’t help but think how she reminded him of a much-older version of Salina.

“Tindale? You’re kin to Miss Cora Tindale, or rather
Mrs. Morgan
, going by the news I heard this afternoon.”

Salina stiffened beside him.
“What?”

“According to one of their ranch hands, they were wed last night.”

“Utter nonsense,” said Mrs. Tindale. “She’s been promised to another. Now that we have what I came for,” she said brightly, “we’ll be on our way.”

A loud shriek drew their gazes to the tall black carriage.

“Miz Tindale!” shouted a girl’s voice. The small carriage door burst open and a young girl dressed in white leaned out, her eyes wide with fear. “She’s waking up!”

The girl yelped as she was forced forward and landed face-first in the dirt.

Cora fell to her knees in the open doorway, her hands bound in front of her. She blinked as though fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Chance!”

Grissom was over her in a flash, pushing her back into the carriage as he pulled a brown bottle from his pocket.

“You can’t do this!” she screamed, twisting as he struggled to hold a white cloth over her mouth. “Chance,” she called, her voice reduced to a whisper.

Wyatt stared in horror as Grissom stepped up into the coach and tossed Cora’s limp body onto the padded bench, none too gently. He glanced at the woman before him watching the scene with blue eyes that could have been cut from a glacier.

“You kidnapped her?” he asked, hardly able to believe what he’d just witnessed.

“I’m merely taking what’s mine,” said Mrs. Tindale.

“Madam,” said Grissom, holding his hand out to help the widow lady into the carriage. “We should go if we’re to make the riverboat.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said to Salina, a pleasant smile transforming the woman’s expression to one of sheer elegance.

The burning in Wyatt’s gut intensified.

“My warm regards to her new husband,” Salina said.

The look of satisfaction on her face sickened him.

Who the hell were they to take Cora from the man she’d chosen?

Grissom snapped a whip, and the coach rocked forward, pulling out of the yard.

“Salina, what have you done?”

“I fixed my problem,” she said in a huff, “and helped a mother reclaim her daughter.”


Reclaim?
Seems to me Cora Tindale is old enough to think for herself. She married Chance Morgan last night.”

“You heard her mother,” Salina protested. “She’s been promised to another.”

“Promises don’t change the fact that Reverend Keats was at Morgan’s place last night! I heard it straight from one of Morgan’s men when we went to see about a fire on their—”

“Wait a minute,” he said, the pieces clashing together in his mind the way thunder breaks through storm clouds. “Tell me you didn’t have one of our men set that fire.”

Salina pursed her lips, her usually pretty face set in a stubborn scowl. “Grissom did what he had to. There was no chance of it spreading here.”

Wyatt could hardly believe the lengths she’d gone to in order to catch a Morgan. Then he reminded himself he’d lynched the man to ensure he’d have Salina all to himself.

My God. We’re two of a kind
. Ruthless, blind and dumb as ax handles.

“It’s not going to work, Salina,” he said, sounding as defeated as he felt. “How do you think Morgan is going to react to the news that
you
had a hand in kidnapping his wife?”

“How will he know?”

“Hell, woman! You took his wife! You think he won’t be looking for answers? I’d be shooting down any man who took you from me! I hanged the last man who hinted at trying!”

Salina’s mouth dropped open. “You did?”

“He doesn’t want you, but
I do
. I’ve played along with all your schemes, knowing Mr. Almighty and Righteous wouldn’t want a tramp for a wife.”

Salina gasped.

“I don’t even mind that, Salina. I know how it was with the old man, you needed time to test your freedom. And you kept coming back to
me
. I keep waiting for you to see, to realize—”

“Realize
what?

“That I love you!”

Salina jerked back, his words hitting her like a slap in the face. How dare he use something like that against her!

“Do you think I’d have stuck around this past year, putting up with other men in your bed, if I didn’t love you? I know you have feelings for me, Salina.”

No. Wyatt had his place. She enjoyed his company, but he couldn’t give her the security she required.

“We’ve been through too much,” he said.

She wouldn’t be swayed. “Love won’t save this ranch.”

“To hell with this ranch! All I want is
you
.”

She shook her head, refusing to give up her plans. She didn’t need love—she wanted her house, her space, her comfort. “The Morgans have the land we need to expand our ranging. You can’t manage this ranch well enough to support me, much less a child. How am I supposed—”

“A
child?
” Wyatt interrupted.

Salina tensed. Wyatt’s wide eyes slid to her stomach and she wanted to whip the carelessly spoken words back into her mouth. “It was merely a figure of speech.”

“A figure you’ve never used before.” His eyes narrowed accusingly. “You told me you couldn’t conceive.”

“The facts are the same, Wyatt. If I lose this ranch, you won’t ever see me again, child or not.”

“Salina—”

“We are so close to having it all.”

“You have lost your mind! You must have if you think I’ll sit by and let Morgan move in while you’re carrying my child!”

“You are not the only man I’ve been with!”

“You’ve had no one but me for months! I’ve spent more time in your bed these past few weeks than I have in my own saddle! If you’d stop being so goddamned pigheaded, you’d realize I’m the only man you really want!”

She stood stiff as a rooted tree, her jaw clamped tight, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“How long have you known?”

She averted her gaze.

“How long, Salina?”

“A few days,” she murmured.

He’d take that to mean a week or better. She’d been feeling ill for more than a week…
because of pregnancy
. Having spent hours listening to her rant about her mamma’s endless string of pregnancies, he figured Salina knew the signs well enough to recognize them.

She’d known
. And she’d doubled her efforts to capture Morgan.

“My God,” he breathed, his breath coming out as though he’d been kicked in the gut. She would have used their child to trap another man.

He stared at her and had to wonder if he was just seeing her clearly for the first time or if she truly was a stranger to him. How could he love her?

He turned away, unable to even look at her.

“Wyatt?” she called after him.

He kept walking, damned if he’d allow her to devastate another man as she’d just done him. Morgan had suffered enough on account of them.

“Wyatt, we can still make this work!”

He spun around. “That’s where you’re wrong, Salina. Do you think we’re just pawns? Me, Cora,
our baby!
That we’re so insignificant we can be picked up and moved to wherever you’d have us placed?”

“Wyatt—”

“And to think I nearly killed a man over you. Fine time to realize you were never worth it.”

Her eyes popped wide.

“Hell.” He shook his head in disgust. “Then again, I suppose you’re no better than I deserve.”

“Wyatt.”

The tremble in her voice didn’t do a damn thing to stir his sympathy. He turned away and mounted his horse.

“Where are you going?”

“To do what’s right.
For once
.” He rode toward her, the moisture in her eyes giving him a sliver of hope she wasn’t completely heartless. “You wanted a ramrod, lady, you got one. If you’re carrying my baby, I’m the only one you’ll have for as long as it takes you to deliver my child.”

Her eyes widened with fear.

“When I get back, if Morgan don’t kill me first, you and I are going to have a long talk about this ranch and whether or not I still want you.”

Chapter Twenty

S
melling nothing but smoke, tasting the soot coating his teeth, Chance couldn’t shake his unease as he watched three men from the Lazy J walk back over the blackened field with Duce and the others. They dug their shovels into patches of ground still smoking, searching for hot spots. Thankfully they’d only lost a solid fifty acres of grass and trees, and none of the horses had been harmed.

“Awfully neighborly of Wyatt to send his men over to help,” Tucker said as he wiped a bandanna over his soot-covered face.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Chance. “If Wyatt didn’t start this, who did?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Garret. The kid’s face was fully blackened with ash but for the whites of his eyes. “Sun’s not hot enough and there isn’t a thundercloud in the sky.”

Chance thumped him on the shoulder. “Nice job cutting the fences, getting the horses out when you did.”

“Remember that when it’s time to round them up.” His teeth flashed behind his blackened face.

“I’m gonna head back,” Chance said, anxious to see Cora Mae.

“Might want to hold up a minute,” said Tucker, looking past him.

Chance turned to see Wyatt riding toward them over charred ground.

“Either he’s in a hurry to hear our gratitude,” said Tuck, “or something’s on his mind.”

The tension in Chance’s spine doubled as Wyatt reined to a hard stop in front of them. To his surprise, Wyatt even stepped down from his saddle. Something was definitely weighing on his mind. His worried gaze moved between him and his brother.

“Chance?”

“Yeah?” Chance tugged lightly at the bandanna around his neck, revealing enough of his scar to widen Wyatt’s eyes. His expression twisted with sheer misery as he met Chance’s gaze.

“If this is about Salina, you can call off your lynch mob, firing squad or whatever the hell you’re planning.”

“I’m sorry for the hanging. I was—”

“The
hanging?
” Tucker shouted.

Wyatt took a wary step back. “You didn’t tell him?”

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

“What hanging?” Garret demanded.

“I’ve never had feelings for her,” Chance said to Wyatt, ignoring the alarm in Garret’s and Tucker’s expressions.

“Wish I could say the same,” Wyatt muttered. “She wants your land real bad. She won’t stop. She won’t listen. She planned to seduce you and convince you she’s heavy with your child, even though she knows full well she’s carrying
mine
.”

Holy hell
. No wonder the man looked a breath away from eating a bullet.

“Wyatt, I married Cora Mae Tindale last night.”

“That’s why I’m here. They took her.”

“What?”
His gaze whipped in the direction of the house.

“That fella, Grissom, he took her from—”

“You little bastard!”
Chance lunged. Tucker’s grip on his shoulders was all that restrained him from tearing into Wyatt.

“What do you mean,
he took her?”
Garret shouted, closing in beside him.

Wyatt lurched back. “It wasn’t me! I just found out. Salina and some lady claiming to be her mother set it up!”

“I swear to God, Wyatt,” Chance said in a growl, “if they hurt her—”

“I don’t think so,” said Wyatt. “I got to the ranch as they were leaving. She woke up and kicked the lady’s maid from the coach and called for you. Grissom doused a rag with liquid and held it over her mouth until she passed out again.”

My God
. His whole life he’d underestimated Winifred. And yet again, Cora Mae had paid the price.

“Which way?”

“Southeast. Her mama said something about making it to a riverboat. But I imagine they’d have to catch the rail first. Nearest rail town is a four-day trail ride.”

“How long ago?” asked Tucker.

“Long enough for me to ride out here and find you.”

A good hour
. “If we take the stock trails—”

“We can make up the time,” Garret said, already running toward their staked horses.

Chance closed in on Wyatt.

“You don’t gotta worry none about Salina and me.”

“I know.” He slammed his fist into Wyatt’s face, knocking him out cold.

Leaving him lying on the ground with his newfound conscience, he turned and mounted the horse Tucker had retrieved.

“They’ll stick to the main trail, then follow the stage line,” said Tucker.

“We’ll head them off.”

“The bridge before the miner’s camp,” said Garret.

Tucker looked skeptical. Chance tugged his hat low and spurred his horse, ready to ride as far as it took to get her back.

 

She hurt everywhere. The room rattled.

Cora tried to swallow, but her tongue felt as though it had turned to cotton.

What happened?

She’d been rolling out pie crusts. The scent of smoke had drawn her outside. She’d spotted the plume rising into the blue sky…She tried to open her heavy eyelids.

“I’m sorry, madam,” said a girl’s voice—a familiar voice.

One of the maids, a lady attendant from the manor.

No.

It was a dream,
a bad dream
. She couldn’t be back at the manor.

“I expect you to take greater care in the future.”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Cora forced her heavy eyelids to open. She sat up and blinked, trying to make out two figures sitting across from her in the dim light. The dim light of a coach, she realized.

“Mother?” she said to the dark figure blending with the shadows.

“Cora Mae. I do hope you are ready to behave yourself.”

She leaned back against the cushion, her head throbbing, the shift and jostle of the seat adding to her discomfort. She tried to move her arms and realized her wrists burned from the rope tied around them. Closing her eyes, she remembered waking once before and seeing them, her mother, Salina, and trying to fight off Mr. Grissom. He’d sneaked up on her in the yard, covering her mouth until the world had gone dark.

Distantly she wondered how long she’d been unconscious. As more of the haze lifted from her mind, her predicament began to sink in. Fear closed over her.

Mother had kidnapped her.

“They’re going to come for me,” she said, certain Chance wouldn’t let her be taken this way.

“My man assures me we have quite a lead,” her mother said mildly.

As Cora’s eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting, she was able to make out her mother’s relaxed expression. The curtains drawn over the small windows bounced with the movement of the coach, letting in flickers of light. Charity, one of her mother’s maids, stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. A bloody scrape marred her chin.

“Should they find you worth the trouble of pursuing,” her mother continued in a droll tone, “
you
will be in Scotland before they make it across the country.”

“I won’t go.”

“You will.”

The finality in her mother’s voice infuriated her. “I’m happy here. I love Chance!”

“Do not speak to me of love! You are a Tindale.”

“Does that make me incapable or unworthy of love?”

“Neither is relevant.”

Cora slowly twisted her wrists and tried to ignore the sting as she tested the tightness of the rope. “Why couldn’t you have left me in Massachusetts?”

“You have obligations to the family that raised you, Cora Mae.”


Obligations?
The Tindales have never done anything for me!”

“How dare you!” Winifred shouted. “You were raised in the finest of luxuries, provided with the best tutors—though you could never apply yourself, preferring instead to blend in with common filth. When I’m finally able to give you the chance to repay me for the shame and disappointment you’ve put me through, you
disgrace
me.”

Realizing her mother couldn’t hurt her any further than she already had, her callous words rolled over Cora like water off a frog’s back. Cora knew what it was to be loved. Nothing her mother said could take that from her.

“You will marry Laird Ambrose Campbell and you will be grateful!”

“No.” She’d be with Chance or die trying. “I have a husband,” Cora said, discretely slipping her hands from the coil of rope. “If that Scottish beast is so important to the Tindales,
you’ll
have to marry him, Mother.”

Cora lunged up and reached for the door. Her mother moved to block her.

Cora shoved her away.

“Grissom!” Her mother’s ear-splitting shriek echoed through the carriage.

Cora pushed the door open to a flood of sunlight, and jumped.

She crashed against hard wood, the impact of her fall taking her breath. Pushing up, all she could see was rushing water. The hush of a river filtered through the ringing in her ears.

A bridge
. Her gaze locked on the green hills, the mountains.
Home
. She pushed to her feet. Before she could take a step, a hand clamped onto her shoulder.

“I’m sick of chasing you down!” His fingers dug into her arms as he lifted her off her feet.

She strained against his hold and screamed as she collided with Mr. Grissom’s thick chest.

A gunshot exploded.

“Unhand my wife!”

Cora’s heart leaped. “Chance!”

Released from the vise of Grissom’s grip, she fell to the bridge.

Grissom turned and dodged Chance’s fist. Chance’s next punch connected with Grissom’s jaw, knocking him back.

Cora’s mind spun as a blur of figures flashed before her. She struggled back to her feet and someone grabbed her arm. She saw black from the corner of her eye, and struggled against her mother’s hold. Winifred tripped over the low railing and in a flutter of black fabric, fell to the water below, her scream cut short by a splash.

Cora gasped at the sight of her mother flailing in the swirling rush of water. “Mother’s in the river!”

Chance turned toward the sound of Cora Mae’s voice and stepped over an unconscious Grissom. “Cora Mae?”

“Chance!” She glanced up, her expression distraught. “Mother can’t swim!”

Tucker stepped up to the edge beside them. “Now ain’t that a cryin’ shame?”

Chance looked from the cold rage in Tucker’s eyes to the sheer horror in Cora Mae’s. He and Tuck could easily allow Winifred to sink straight to hell without feeling a twinge of guilt, but Cora Mae couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow Winifred to cause her more pain, not even in death.

Biting out a curse, he unlatched his gun belt, dropped it to the bridge and leaped over the railing.

“Chance!” Tucker shouted after him.

Cora’s heart stopped at the sight of Chance diving into the water.

“Goddamn it!” shouted Tucker. “That’s pure snowmelt! They’re likely to freeze before they drown.”

Cora held her breath as she watched Chance cutting through the water, risking his life to save a woman he loathed. Her mother went under. Chance dove beneath the surface. Forever seemed to pass as she searched the rippling swirls for signs of him.

It’s taking too long
. Tears fogged her vision.

Chance’s blond hair broke the surface. He surged up, gasping for breath, hauling a dark figure up beside him.

Air rushed from Cora’s lungs with a sob of relief. She’d have collapsed to the bridge had a strong arm not caught her.

“It’s all right,” Garret soothed. “Chance is climbing up the bank and dragging that lady through the mud with him.”

“Garret,” said Tucker. “Take Cora to Mrs. Stone. Have her tend the rope burns on her wrists.”

Anxious to see Chance, she didn’t object as Garret led her toward the dirt road. Cora was shocked to discover the bridge was indeed just outside of Slippery Gulch, the stretch of buildings not far off the river. People had gathered at the edge of town, obviously coming to see what all the ruckus was about. Heat burned in her cheeks.

Oh, my goodness
.

“Hey, kid?” shouted Tucker.

She and Garret glanced back. Tucker motioned to her mother’s young attendant, trembling and crying beside him. “Take this girl with you.”

Garret looked questioningly at Cora.

“She’s just a maid.”

“Come on!” Garret ordered, glancing back at the girl.

Cora tried to take a step and swayed. Garret’s arm locked around her shoulders. “I’m quite dizzy,” she said, surprised by the fact.

Garret held her steady. “We’ll get you inside Mrs. Stone’s kitchen. After a cup of warm tea, you’ll feel better.”

She glanced past the bridge as they reached the end, but couldn’t see beyond the bend in the river.

“Tucker will tell him where you’re at,” Garret assured her, gently urging her toward town. “He’ll come for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Heck, you don’t have to thank me. That’s what family’s for.”

Not always
. She wondered if Garret knew just how fortunate he was to belong to such a family.

 

Winifred coughed and sputtered as Chance dragged her to the top of the embankment. He dropped to his knees on the grass beside her. A crowd of folks rushed toward them from the edge of town. He spotted Tucker driving the carriage up to the livery. He didn’t wait for Winifred to catch her breath. Ignoring the chill of his own wet skin, he lifted her slight, trembling form into his arms and stood.

Spud broke away from the gathering spectators and rushed toward him. “What the hell happened?” he shouted. “I heard gunshots and saw you diving off the bridge. Is that Mrs. Tindale?”

“Sure is,” Chance said, walking past him, watching his brother haul Grissom’s unconscious hide from the carriage. “She tried to kidnap my wife.”

“Skylar?” Spud said, rushing along beside him.

“Cora Mae.”

“Chance?”
said Spud, his eyes wide.

“That’s right.”

“I’ll be damned.”

Winifred struggled against his hold. “Put me down!”

Chance did just that.

Winifred hit the dirt with a shriek. “How dare you!” She struggled to her feet, fighting the weight of her wet dress.

“How dare I what?” he said, leaning over her. “Save your worthless life?”

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